The Curves Ahead - Wattpad Award Winner

Chapter 24

I grieved like a pro – like it was my career, and I was a ladder-climbing corporate junkie. I literally Googled 'grieving customs around the world,' and began to work my way through a very strange list.

Food was easy; keeping to Hindu tradition I'd read about online, I would only eat one vegetarian meal a day. My appetite seemed to have vanished along with Heather, so it wasn't a struggle. I would have been happy with a bowl of cold rice every day, but Matt, once he realised I wouldn't change my mind and eat more, threw his energy into creating carb and protein loaded meals for us in the early afternoons.

He was cooking a creamy risotto one day when I walked past the kitchen with an armful of blankets. "What are you doing?"

I reached up with a thick coverlet in my hands, tucking the corners behind the large standing mirror in the corner of my room. "In Shiva, they cover every mirror in the house."

"Shiva?"

"Jewish mourning period."

"Oh." He reached for a sheet, without any further questioning. "I'll tack these up in the bathroom."

Weirdly, with the reflective surfaces covered, I felt my grief lighten; as if, without being able to stare into my pain-riddled eyes I could have a moment of rest. It worked for a day, then my endless thoughts began to spiral inwards again.

Getting dressed most days seemed like too much effort. My wardrobe glared at me with garish colours. I couldn't handle the vibrant pinks and reds – especially since I'd read that in the Philippines, wearing red during mourning was considered particularly disrespectful. I jumped online and ordered tracksuits and tees in black and indigo, a traditional colour of grief in Brazil.

Matt pretty much moved in for the first few weeks; he and Taylor had both taken some time off, so the weekend Jump Start crew were running the show in the meantime. He accepted all my grief, however it came. The sad part was, I was so far down the rabbit hole, I could barely acknowledge him or everything he was doing for me.

It wasn't a selfish act. Every part of my bereaved mindset was conspiring to convince me of one thing; I am not worthy. Andie's words had burrowed inside my subconsciousness and I couldn't see a way free.

It all came to a head one night about a month after the funeral. I'd actually had a pretty good day; the sun had been out, I'd managed to lose myself inside a good book for a few hours, and the doctor had cleared me to stop wearing my shoulder sling. Matt had been back at work for two weeks, but he made his way to my house as usual after filming and began to craft our dinner.

"Looks like a storm is rolling in," he said, staring out the window and across the ocean, where sooty cumulous clouds were billowing towards us.

"I love a good storm. I think they're sexy." The words fell from my mouth before I could take them back.

Matt raised a sculpted eyebrow as he stirred a saucepan, his eyes reflecting the silver of the sky. "Really? How so?"

"They're primal, and once they get going, you can't control anything, you just hold on and ride them through." A rare grin tugged at my features. "Besides, all those parallels between rain and fertility, plus there's no better feeling in the world than hiding under the covers with someone while thunder rolls outside."

"You've convinced me." Matt lifted a wooden spoon in my direction. "Try this."

I blew gently on the sauce, and tasted the tomato-based concoction. "Mmm... Amazing."

"It should go well with the spinach and ricotta ravioli, and I bought some sea-salted dark chocolate for dessert."

A vision of the night appeared in front of me; Matt and I with full bellies on the couch, chatting happily while the storm blew around us, a calm eye protected from the world. I smiled at the silky-haired man in my kitchen and felt... happy?