The Men Next Door

Ch 41 - Campbell

Ashes always made me think of moving on. Maybe that's just a thing for kids who lost a parent too soon, or maybe it's a thing for everyone, but either way, there was something therapeutic about burning Vera's candle out on my balcony.

Or my candle, if you want to be technical.

But it hadn't felt that way in years.

I told myself I wasn't getting rid of it because it would be wasteful, and it smelled good, and throwing it in the trash for no reason other than the fact that she gave it to me would give her too much power. In reality, though, I was going to hear her voice in my head for as long as I let the damn thing linger on a side table. That much was clear after how I'd reacted to Brooks seeing my mom. So early that morning, after he left to think things through, I decided to light it outside — where I couldn't smell the sweet fragrance, even as the wick flaked off and floated in the pool of milky wax.

Kind of like ashes in a little glass urn.

Or maybe that's just how I saw it, because, you know... dead dad, recent funeral attendance, questionable mental stability. I really had all my ducks in a row, if the end game was fully losing my mind. But deep, dark symbolism or not, watching Vera's gift literally go up in flames was my way of letting go of her, once and for all.

Even if I did look insane to whoever lived in the apartment building across the street.

But if the point of my little holistic healing excursion was to let go of Vera, then I also had to let go of the way I judged myself. That was a big part of being with her, too. And in this case, cupping a candle in my hands and burning it outside, in clear view of some strangers who I could also call neighbors, was a thorn to my shame and fears. Who cared what those people thought about me or my unconventional coping mechanisms? I didn't know them at all. They had no bearing on my life. And besides, even if I did look insane, what were the chances of me running into them if I hadn't done it yet?

Pretty high, since you might need a new place to live, my conscience reminded me, interrupting all the magic of the sooty, flickering flame. And I guess that little voice in my head must have spoken to Brooks too, because a moment later, he was bursting into my apartment like a madman.

I turned to face him with a start. I'd left my door unlocked on purpose, hoping he'd come back soon, but this wasn't exactly how I'd pictured his return. And unless he had some sort of epiphany, then his quicker-than-expected re-entrance probably meant...

"You ended your lease," he accused, tone landing somewhere between anger and disbelief.

"I'm trying to undo it," I defended swiftly. In fact, I'd already tried to call the leasing office that morning, before I grabbed the candle and a lighter. But until they answered the phone — or the email address that I was pretty sure no one monitored — I was trapped on a ledge with the ugly truth: I did end my lease, and it was one of the dumbest choices I'd ever made, and I wasn't sure if there was any way to take it back.

"And you didn't think to tell me this? At any point last night?"

Of course I'd thought of it. It was all I'd thought about for hours, while we both tossed and turned on my sleepless bed. I had a whole speech planned out for the leasing office about how my non-existent new job opportunity was canceled due to a change in business needs, and I understood that the fee was nonrefundable, but I'd really love to remain in my apartment for the following year. It was supposed to be resolved by the time Brooks came back, so I could pretend that it had never happened.

But these things never go to plan.

"I was going to tell you," I explained, with a voice as weak as my logic. "After it was fixed. I wanted to fix it first."