The Sun and The Moon

Chapter Three

A/N: cover credits to @Mae-Day . Thanks so much, again.

I leaned against the wall, listening to the dial tone through the phone. I couldn't believe that it was finally morning. I had waited hours, all night counting down to an acceptable time for phoning Paul. Sleep, again had escaped me. When I dialed the familiar number, and the phone began to ring, I stifled a yawn. I looked at my dad, who flipped through a magazine about fishing.

"Hello?" cackled a woman's voice.

"Oh, Hi, is Paul around?"

"Who's Paul?"

"Marmee, how are you? It's Ella," I said, quite confident that if Paul's grandmother couldn't remember him, she wouldn't remember me.

"Hello Ella, I'm fine! I'll have to get you over here for a haircut one of these days. I can't remember my last one," she chatted. I was surprised.

"Marmee, you wear a wig," I said. She paused.

"That's right, I suppose I do. I seem to forget these types of things..."

"Is Paul there?" I wrapped a peice of hair around my finger.

"Paul... Why, I'm not sure, I'll take a look," she said, and I heard her set down the phone. After about five minutes, I hung up. Grandma Manet was unreliable at best. When I tried calling back, the line was busy. I sighed, putting the phone in it's bed and joining my dad in the living room.

"Maybe next week I'll be able to go ice fishing again," he said.

"The lake's going to melt soon, I don't think the rink will even be good for much longer," I pointed out.

"Poppycock."

"Daddy, it's March." I hadn't called my father Daddy since I was twelve. Now I was saying it almost everytime we spoke.

"I am a man of experience, believe me, I'll be fishing again this winter," he protested. I rolled my eyes. I spent the morning shovelling the roof of the shed off. It didn't look like it had been done that winter yet, which wasn't like my father. After lunch, I finally heard back from Paul.

"I tried calling... Marmee was distracted," I said, cradling the phone.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No, don't be," I protested.

"Did you sleep last night?" Paul asked. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine him the way he used to be when we talked-- at his desk, holding the lucky sock doll I had made him.

"No."

"You don't even have the energy to lie anymore?"

"Precisely," I whispered.

"I'll come over tonight, talk you to sleep," Paul suggested. Bad idea, I told myself.

"Okay," I said. Really bad idea. I couldn't help but remember what our old sleepovers were like.

That afternoon, Geoff came over with his mother and younger sister. I gave the girls haircuts and Geoff talked hockey with my dad. It was good to have other people around the house. They brought flowers, brightening up the place. I felt like the Johnson family were flowers brightening up my life. Maybe they were gone sometimes, but rebloomed consistently. I needed them, like a bee. I wondered if they needed me. They certainly seemed happy I was back.

From my room, I heard a gentle knocking on the door, and then it opened. I heard the rise and fall of men's voices. I lay on my back, on my bed, staring at the moon through my window. She was my constant companion. The moon was my shadow, an untouchable part of me. She looked down on me and I looked up at her, both of us listening to Paul and my father speaking.

"Ella?" Paul whispered outside my door. He gentley pushed it open. I turned my head to look at him. His blonde hair seemed to glow in the darkness.

"I was hoping you'd be asleep," he said, sitting down by my knees.

"Why? So you wouldn't have to stay?" I asked.

"No, that's not it at all. You just need some sleep," he said.

"Will you stay even if i fall asleep? Incase I wake up?" I asked. He put his hand on my leg.

"Of course, baby," he said. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of him breathing.

"Why don't you get under the blankets?" he asked. I complied, and before he could wrap them around me, pulled him under too. He chuckled softly.

"Hey, no jeans allowed," I reproached. He complied, settling back under the blankets in just his t-shirt and boxers. I wore pants and a longsleeve shirt, and was still cold. I curled into a ball, gripping my legs. He scratched my back lightly.

"Marmee is getting worse," he said, "And Rachel is going crazy. She is demanding my mom pay for her to go to school, but also quit one of her jobs to take care of Kelly." Paul referred to his younger sister and her three year old daughter. "I think my mom is going to have a mental breakdown one of these days. Marmee tries so hard to help, but sometimes I don't even know who she is. She's scared I think. I hate not being able to help her. Or my mom."

"You help," I whispered. "You help everyone."

"No, I try, but I can't. Everyone else from our year is so far in their lives... Sam's having a baby for godsake. I haven't even gone to school yet. I haven't even commited to an idea of what I want to do."

"Oh, Paul," I sighed. He lied to himself more than me.

"I'm happy you're home, baby angel," he said. "I missed you." I heard him, but I was almost asleep. His hands traced relaxing shapes on my back and I could hardly keep my eyes open. "I miss you even now that you're home. It's been the worst time of my life since you left. It was so hard not to picture you in some fancy loft apartment in Ottawa, having dinner parties and going dancing... Cutting famous people's hair... Having the time of your life, and barely sparing a seconds' thought for us back here. I just imagined the men you would meet... How I could never compare to them. It was hard not to feel... worthless. Did you know you would do that to me? I've never had a single other person... Not someone that understands me. Accepts me. You're the only person who has ever loved me, Elle, and now you don't even love me anymore." Silence, silence, silence. "Elle?... Ella?" But I was out cold.

When I woke up, Paul was sound asleep. Light played across him through my window, creating dancing shadows. I looked at his eyelashes, like gold. I watched his chest rise and fall and longed to hear the sound of his heart beating again. I felt a sorrow inside of me. I had loved Paul, he had loved me, I had hurt him, and now, I was the one hurting. I never stopped loving him, but of course he had moved on. Paul was one of those guys that every girl knows is an amazing catch. Paul was the light in the darkness, the warmth in the cold, the laughter in the soul, the sun in the sky. My heart felt pained and I rolled over, unable to stand looking at him and not having him.

My movements woke him, and he whispered my name. I turned to look at him, and he smiled.

"Have you been awake long?" he wondered.

"No, only a few minutes," I said. It was true, I felt the most well-rested I had in a week. I also felt the crappiest.

"We should go to the library, get some things for your dad to read," he suggested.

"Don't you even want breakfast?" I asked. He laughed.

"Of course, I meant after," Paul cleared up.