Bittersweet Moments

40 | Apple Pie

40 | Apple Pie

It was Harmony's funeral today.

So wondrous, how three days since the escape from the hospital passed by. I did record my own demo, singing Alive by Sia (almost ran out of breath there). And via Brennan, it was delivered to the Dale Studios. The shop was fixed up, halfway there, too and it made clear that Dad spent a huge sum of money for the renovation. It felt new sleeping in closed quarters, in a penthouse, but Jackson was always there by me.

Our conversations almost always led to our past relationship. For example, the morning went like this:

I had just come out of the bathroom, clad in a comfy bathrobe. Jackson was the one surprised to see me emerge from the door. He sat on my bed, gaping at me. As usual, I wore an impassive face. How many times will I have to appear in a towel in front of him for him to get used to this?

"Sorry," clearing his throat, Jackson averted his gaze.

Wordlessly, I moved in front of the mirror and unraveled my towel hat. And to my delight, it was time to use the hair drier. I plugged it in and aimed it at my face – ah, it tickled.

"So, uh, how did you sleep?" Jackson had to raise his voice to compete with the blow drier. A smile flickered on my face, seeing him struggle for my attention.

I turned the drier off. "Just fine." Then on again.

"No nightmares?"

Off. I stopped first, staring into the mirror. Staring at Jackson through the mirror. Doctor Nash had warned that nightmares may be an after-effect. She was right. Every night, I get haunted by a repeated memory of that night, and sometimes my mind twisted the story so that it was worse.

One time I dreamt of my own self shooting my baby sister.

"There were some. Two, three, or more maybe," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. To distract me from that heavy feeling, I turned on the blow drier again. But the normal elation was absent.

"You know, you can tell be about it," said he.

"I know."

"Ollie – sweets."

Sighing, I put down the hair drier, turned it off and unplugged it. Slouching, I made my way to my bed to sit beside Jackson. "You have been waking up, haven't you?" he traced the spot underneath my eye, "You look like you haven't slept that much."

Knowing about my condition, Jackson had offered to sleep beside me at night in case I had nightmares – or sleep in my bedroom at least. But I didn't want him to. I didn't want him to think that I couldn't go through it on my own. I liked very well keeping those nightmares to myself, so no need to fuss.

"I'm fine," I brought his hand down. He didn't look convinced. "It's not getting worse or anything. It will pass. I'm fine."

He pursed his lips, "What about food? You're not eating. You barely finish half of the plate."

Yes, of course, the eating part. Until now, my body was in no mood to consume food, but desserts had successfully wriggled their way into my liking for the time being. That was why most of the time, I skipped the main course and headed straight for dessert.

I believed the chocolate surprise was still in my tastebuds.

"I'm trying, can't you see? Plus, I have been eating sweets right now. Later on, I'll be wishing for chips, meat and others."

"I'm just worried about you," Jackson murmured, looking all over my face. Slowly, he leaned closer to kiss me, but I put a palm on top of his face. Not now, idiot. He grumbled behind my hand.