Cherries

Chapter 25

Adam

The question now is, how do I fight?
How will she know that I'm fighting?
How the fuck do I do this?

I'm on my way to mum and dad's for dinner. Tacos. Sober. Thoughts are clearer than they have been for a while. Nikki is in the passenger seat. It feels good to have her back in my life after months of anger and frustration. Her song choices still suck though. As does her fucking singing.

We walk into the house and wander around to the kitchen. Mum and dad greet us both with a smile and a hug. The comforting smell of dinner wafts around us as well as the smell of flowers. Dad never fails to remind mum that he's thinking of her, and buys her fresh flowers almost every other day. I reach for the fridge for a soda and smile to myself at the colourful post-it-notes plastered all over the door. Little reminders written by mum, shopping lists, water the plants, visit the new neighbours, return Aunt Lily's casserole dish. And notes from and to dad, I love you and I miss you and I'll be thinking of you all day. It's sweet. It shows how much they cherish each other. Every single day.

And there it is.

I wake the next morning at the arse crack of dawn, which forces me to have to wait for a few hours before I make an important call to Silver Burch Hospital. That is when I first encounter Ms Sandra Gallon, Senior Office Manager at the hospital. She's authoritative, bossy and definitely the one in charge. She agrees to my plan to send flowers to Summer, however I'm not happy to learn that she isn't permitted to have them in her room. The only time she'll see them is during sanctioned movement in and around the hospital, attending the various meetings and appointments required of her during her detention. The flowers are to be kept in the administration office and she can see them through a long window from the back corridor. Ms Gallon concedes a small amount and promises to notify Summer that the flowers are for her and who they are from. I'm also permitted to send her letters. No pins, paper clips or staples allowed. Only the paper, the envelope and the ink on them. The letters will be opened by the office staff to verify the contents, before they are delivered to Summer. First part of the plan is in place.

Time for part two.

I try and hide my smirk as I think to myself that this has to be from a porno... a fucking cheesy one at that. Daisy... yes, Daisy... from Buttercup Florist... yep... smiles at me from behind the counter in her tight yellow shirt... yep... and her long platinum blonde hair. Not my type but her super sweet face and her infectious personality wins me over in the first few minutes of our conversation. We discuss floral arrangements, delivery details and cost, not that money will be an issue. I make one last adjustment to the weekly order and it's all done.

Now for the most difficult... part three.

Dearest Summer....

To My Summer....

Summer....

Hi there Summer....

Oh my fucking god. It's getting worse every time I try and write something. Anything. I can't fathom how bad I am at this. I thought it would just come so easily. That my feelings and observations would just flow out of my brain onto the paper. The thud, thud of the music from the gym floor vibrates around my head. The television in my office is on and only adds to the noise. Toby picks that very moment to barge into my office and starts banging on about the sparring session he just held. He's been actively taking on more responsibilities around the place and it's working out well for both of us. We have total trust in each other and hold the same values around work ethic and respect. With taking on more of the operational aspects of the gym, it's allowed me more freedom to work on the business rather than in it. But I simply don't have the patience for anything today and I snap at him to fucking knock first before he comes barging in.

"What the fuck man?" Toby is pissed and I don't blame him. I was just a total jerk to him.

"Look... I'm sorry man. I'm just trying to... well I'm trying to write a letter and it's not fucking happening," I scrunch up another failed start and lob it at the bin.

"Why are you trying to do that here?" He asks a very good question. I shrug my shoulders at him and wait for more Toby fucking Franklin wisdom.

"Get the fuck outa here man. Find somewhere quieter so you can actually hear yourself think about what you want to say to her."

Funny how I never said who I was writing to. Smug clever bastard and he's right of course. I need somewhere else to get this letter right.

I swing my car into the perfect spot, overlooking the town from the hillside which of course was the location of the picnic date that Summer took us on. I smile at the memories of that night, the beautiful view, dinner, a few beers and kissing her.
Kissing her.
Kissing her.

What I would give to be able to do that, right here, right now. I spread out a rug under our tree and settle myself down comfortably. All of the smells and sounds around me remind me of her and that night. I close my eyes, breath her in deeply, fill my lungs to capacity, then let out all the air. This is where I can feel her, where I can grasp onto how she felt in my arms, my hands on her skin, our mouths touching. Here at our hillside, I can imagine her smile and that gorgeous laugh that I miss so much. I open my eyes and feel the weight of her absence bear down on me, as a loan tear escapes from my eye and drips onto the rug. I run my hands down my face and try and refocus. I'm here to fight for her, not cry over her.

I press the pen to the paper and let the words come.