How She Came Home

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Note: I guess everyone's expecting a heavy angst from this story. Well... Anyways, a lot of things could still possibly happen, we're not even half way done through the story yet, I hope you will be there until the end.
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The first week passed by agonisingly slow but after that, Becca seemed to settle into a routine. The July nights were cloyingly hot and she didn't sleep well without Freen. Sprawling across the bedcovers, she breathed in the lingering smell of her, until her housekeeper changed the sheets and it was no longer there.

She was at the office every day, putting in twelve hours and only dragging herself home to the chidings of Mind and Nam, and Freen too when they tattled on her.

They seemed to think of it as an unhealthy coping mechanism for Freen being gone, and while it might have been unhealthy, it was familiar to Becca - that had been her life for far longer than she'd known Freen.

Becca would go for early morning walks in the borough surrounding her house, when the city was still eerily quiet and the sky lingered in the blue hour of morning.

The city's old buildings seemed tired, or maybe it was just her, dark circles beneath her eyes and her dragging footsteps as she itched to get back in the office.

After showering and getting ready, she'd make the drive to A-Corp and stand on the balcony, looking out at the tall glass buildings with all their lights off.

Her heart would hurt for what should be vibrant, everything seeming washed of its colour as she lingered in a loneliness she couldn't stand anymore.

She did take proper weekends though - not out of her own desire for a healthy work and life balance, but so she could appreciate things on Freen's behalf.

On her days off she woke up late - for her - and went to various coffee shops, ordering cappuccinos and reading.

She made time for lunch with Nam and game nights with Freen's other friends, quiz night at the bar and cocktails on the riverfront after a movie. She had come to appreciate a good movie and frequented the old cinema Freen had taken her too so many months before.

Her favourite time was the evenings though, when she was alone and another day was about to come to a close, bringing her one day closer to Freen.

Around seven o'clock, when the light was failing, she would take out a bottle of dry sherry and pour herself a glass, take out a jar of green olives, put on Miles Davis and read in the attic.

She didn't know why it felt so indulgent, but one day Becca realized that ritual was why she had moved to National City - to eat olives and get tipsy and read about people who had done great things while the sun set.

She had created a life that was bent in service to living , something she had staunchly refused to do before as she curated a smattering of things and forgot to enjoy them.

It seemed almost wrong to have figured out how to live and be left in that colourful world without the object of its source; her grey life before Freen was more fitting to her mood.

Still, she coped as one week became two, filling every part of her waking hours with something to do to distract her.

The nights still worried her though, and no matter what she did, Becca would lie awake - for hours usually - filled with dread. She had no more tears in her after that first week.

For someone who didn't cry that often, it seemed silly and trivial to do it every night, something embarrassing that she imagined would be seen on her the next day.

On her days off, she would take two Ambien and nap to make up for sleepless nights, sprawled out on her bed, freshly showered on the light linen sheets, the floral smell of detergent soothing and the windows thrown open to the heat of the day.