Intertwined

Still

Post therapy session for Mia, Autumn and Reece. This is a much gentler chapter. One emetophobia trigger warning, paragraph beginning 'She felt it rising... a bus drove past'.

The clouds were high, like whispers of thin cotton placed by an artists hand. Slivers of orange and pink shaded the sky as the sun crept lower to sleep. The garden outside was like a water colour, somber, but hopeful, a soft release of something heavy and weighted.

The breeze played with branches and leaves, gentle melodies of the days stories, carried along for the night to add its harmony.

I wondered if the natural world knew what my redhead and the siblings had spoken of. Were hints of their past and present released and decorating the world I saw before me?

I pulled the cannelloni out of the oven and set it on the bench to cool. The aromas of garlic, the fresh, sweet and cool scent of basil and the comforting smell of roast tomatoes and cheeses filled the kitchen. It was a comfort food for Mia and I knew that she would need familiar comforts and a soft landing after her therapy session with Reece and Aut. Whatever they spoke about, even if it went well, would have been difficult for all of them.

As I was getting plates out I heard her car pull in, idle for a moment and then the engine stopped.

Since living together, I had come to recognise certain things about my fiancé that would tell me what mood she was in before we had even seen each other.

The pace her car pulled up just now, was calm, but the time it idled before she turned off the engine let me know she was preparing herself, taking a deep breath, perhaps or wiping tears. I heard the car door open and then close fairly quickly, but she didn't slam the door. So Mia wasn't angry. It took a little longer than normal before I heard the front gate open, she was hesitant, her steps were heavy, not angry but slow heavy. Tired heavy.

I knew those feelings, that exhaustion after a therapy session, you might have lifted or shifted some weight, but it can come at a cost. You've just been through emotional surgery, the wounds are still delicate and close the surface. They need time and medicine to heal, maybe even further emotional operations and revealing of other wounds. You can't heal them if don't realise they are there.

When Mia opened the door, I could see the exhaustion all over her.
'Hello sweetheart,' she mumbled and slumped onto the piano stool as I made my way over to her.
'Hey baby,' I sat down gently beside my unusually quiet redhead, and put my hands on hers. 'How was,' but before I got to finish that sentence Mia leant into me and cried. I just held her close and let her tears fall.

With her arms drawn in close to her chest and her head rested on my shoulder, Mia cried heavy tears. She must have held them in the whole way home. I wrapped my arms around her body holding her tight and close. I knew this brought her comfort and a sense of safety.

As she started to calm down her arms released from her chest and she wrapped them softly around me. Mia took a deep breath and I looked at her tear stained face and wiped her cheeks.

'Thank you Char,' she said softly, her voice still shaking.
'I'm always here baby,' I gave her a smile and kissed her forehead.
'Can you just stay with me for a while and I can play some music. I can smell dinner, but,'

I put my hand on hers, 'We can reheat dinner. We can stay at the piano as long as you need,' she turned and started to glide over the keys. Her rhythm steady and the notes mournful to hopeful, heartbroken to joyful. It was like she could process her emotions through her body and into the piano. The sound releasing some of the tension, releasing the emotion of things too hard to say right now.

It was creating a stillness in her as she played. Her body began to sway and her hands flowed effortlessly, but the way she felt beside me was becoming more peaceful and still.