CHECKERED FLAG - c.l [2]

Let it happen

We spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the house up, opening up all the windows and doors while we dusted and swept the cabin, despite the wind outside nipping away at my bare arms, too hot to wear a jumper.

We barely spoke, only indulging in a conversation over a smoke break on the back porch, looking out over the valley below, where summer bloomed and the sunlight danced, but up here, where it was cold, a graveyard.

I was singing to the radio that was playing, sweeping up the hallway when I spun and saw Charles leaning against the doorway, his hand above his head as he smiled.

I continued on, sweeping and singing while he watched from afar, never saying anything or interrupting me.

The sun was starting to set by the time we sat down on the back porch, covered in dust and grime from scrubbing the floors and cupboards, making the place liveable again.

I groaned, my back aching from being on my hands and knees all day as I sat down on the step leading out into the backyard, the snow a mere memory as all that remained was the small puddles on the ground now.

I felt the wood step bow as Charles sat down next to me, leaning onto his knees as he let out a sigh, reaching for the cigarette box in his pocket, passing me one without saying a word.

We smoke in silence, the echoing sound of loud exhausts and cars from the road a few miles off bouncing off the side of the house, flowing through the pine trees that blocked the evening sun from our faces.

As I'm tapping the ash off my straight, I feel the cool of his fingers brushing away some lose strands of hair that had fallen from my ponytail, sucking in a sharp breath at the coldness, I close my eyes, his touch warm despite the cold of his skin.

"I dreamt of you every night those months we didn't speak," he mumbles as another gust of wind threatens to blow me away with his words.

My heart strains at his voice, reminding me of those nights I wished I could forget about, burned into my memory as a reminder of what happens when you let people too close.

"I dreamt of a moment like this, peaceful, calm," he continues, dropping his hand from my face, placing it back down in his lap as he chucks the cigarette butt off the porch and into the stoned path, "my dad would murder me for smoking," a chuckle escaped his mouth and I pained myself to glace at him, smiling.

I needed him, and he needed me more than he liked to admit.

We understood the pain of our grief that we were yet to face. I refused to allow myself to indulge into those emotions because I was so scared they would ruin me and everything and everyone around me.

I kept the death of my dad locked into the back of my mind and I would continue to do that until I knew I could handle it, but I know I couldn't right now.

It felt like Charles was stood at the doors of my heart, a metal chain with a million padlocks keeping him out, but one by one he was cutting them open, the gates threatening to open back up to him.

"You make me calm, Madeline."

We ate dinner, our voices hushed as if there was anyone around to hear us conversing, sitting on the couch tucked under a blanket with a bowl of soup I had brought with us, the old TV struggling to find signal as the snow threatened to burst the windows open again.

"What happens when summer is over Charles? Tell me this isn't going to be repeat of last year," I had sprung the question on him as I sat up, placing the bowl onto the coffee table, turning on the sofa to face him.

His posture stiffened as he sat up straighter, "what do you want to happen Madeline? It's your call."

Wasn't what I wanted to hear, but he had enough respect to give me this chance, to have my say and opinion without forcing me into something I didn't want to be apart of.