In Every Waking Moment

CHAPTER TWO

The letter written on the second page of Aidan William's new book truly spoke to me right! I can't wait to read more. - Franchesca Diaz, Paddy Best Selling Author

Serafine,

There's a painting of red and blues and lavenders, in summertime by the lake and as I touched its rickety canvas, I am transmitted into that moments, drench in all the color and hues and filled with this warm feeling of overwhelming contentment, until your lips touched my cheeks and the feeling lingered but only from where you've touched me. But you weren't there when I turned around, and the painting turned into shadows, and the feeling still lingers but in hush tones, slowly fading, and here I write I still write, a mad mans letter, to the one he lost,hoping that memory will unravel itself before this very page.

In the the colors of the world, you, were the liveliest to me.

Yours, Aidan.

----

Amelia

It's been a week since I threw a hissy fit at Aidan's apartment, I mean, whoever that guy who now lives at Aidan's apartments, apartment. Ever since then I haven't left home. I forgot what it feels like to not be whole. To physically feel the pain in your chest. The ride home after that day just wiz by, I didn't even remember if I said sorry to that guy, I did not remember arriving home either, all I could think of was him, the absence of him.

Aidan and I met three years ago at a funeral, I know, out of every places, that was when I saw him. I did not particularly care about whose funeral it was, but apparently whoever died was close to my cousins family, and her wake was almost the same time as my local Young Elite, club for young aspirant artists, art gallery exposure at the mall, an hour away from my cousins place, that day my car broke, and they agree to drop me off right after they visited whoever that is who died.

They took longer than usual so I walked over the nearest shade, away from the people and started sketching, and that was when I saw him, looking at them as if they were the most vile people he has seen, in his hands a note, and a white rose almost bald from loosing all its petals.
I sketched him because he looked so raw, so angry and lost, he looked like everything was recently taken from him, and the way he held his stance from the distance made him seem like he has the power to stop the air from any mortals lungs.

I was so busy and entrance by him that I did not feel him walk over to me until he snatched my sketchpad away from my hands. "Hey!"

I looked up to the iciest eyes I've seen, the coldest, the emptiest. I thought he was going to get mad, artists sometimes like to steal essence of strangers, and strangers are not often happy about that.

But instead he gave me the rose. Nothing by three petals left on its stem, and scratched paper of the first poetry I've ever read from him.

"A nun once told me, that the reason why our world is full of distractions is because people are afraid of silence, it is in silence that our innermost confessions catches up with us like a thief in the night, and that is why nuns pray in silence, for themselves, for the world, for those people who are utterly caught by that thief of the night, suffering. Am I your thief? Or your Prayers?"

Those words sang to them and consumed me now, he may have lost someone's essence then but he stole mine and I had been exactly that, the perfect coincidence and distraction, if only I had not broken down that day, if only I've waited by my cousins side, or stayed in their car, if I could have chosen a different tree, if I could have left my sketchbook, then I wouldn't be feeling a lost this deep.

You were always both, I whispered, Aiden you were my thief and my prayers.

I looked at my phone, one am, I can't live another voice message, it will make me look derange now, well, I was crazy two days ago but if I left another one now, it will make me look exactly like a criminal, a pathetic one to add to that, besides, even if I can, I couldn't, he blocked me in everything and his inbox is full.

I took three consecutive shots of tequila and opened good reads for the hundredth time, and posted a one star review on his book, I started doing this three days ago, even went to the effort of creating fake accounts, three days ago I've written an essay of five hundred plus words of how much his book sucks, and now, all I could think of is , "Laaaaaaaaammmeeeee!!!!!" I wrote, erase, wrote again and added an extra exclamation point.

"You have been restricted from posting any more comments." My phone says, "What!" I'll show him, I mumbled and took another three rounds of shots.

--------

I woke up the next day to the smell of bacon, my head was killing me, the sun was blinding my eyes. "Morning sweet heart." Someone said with an undeniable British accent, when did Aidan ever had an accent like that? I rolled to my left, Aidan usually puts meds on the left side of his bed in case he needs it, I half-blindly rummage through the drawer and touched something scaly, I absentmindedly grabbed it and opened my eyes and screamed, running towards the kitchen.

"What the fuck Aiden, you know how much I hate snakes!" I yelled, jumping towards his arms. Clutching to him tightly. Feeling a little more secure now that I'm in his big, muscular arms...wait, Aiden is not muscular, Aiden hates working out, not only that, he hates wearing tank tops or anything that would show his pale thin body.

Whoever this guy is, walk over the kitchen countertop and put me there, "I didn't know that love, I do apologize." He faces me, nothing but a few inches apart and smiled, "I hope my snake did not scare you that much." Suddenly I was aware of how close we where, chest to chest, my arms still draping across his shoulders, his loop sided grin looking even more mischievous every second, I stifled a scream and head butted him.

"Ow! Bloody hell!" He screamed.

"Do not come closer! I will call 911 and have them arrest your ass!" Shit. Shit. SHit. Where's my phone.

"Your phone is next to your bra at the tip of the bed." He said, clutching his head. "Oh and please do call the police so they could arrest your ass for trespassing." He walked towards the bathroom door and slammed it shut.

Slowly the memories came crashing down on me.

My grabing my coat, wearing nothing but underwear underneath.

No.

Crying on the taxi drivers side while wiping my smeared mascara over his shoulder.

No.

Trying to walk straight towards Aidan's apartment, and puking by his door.

No. No. No.

Knocking on his door a hundred times, wiping my puke and flashing him, flashing him with my undies when he opened the door with a girl on his arms.

Oh my fucking God, kill me now,

Charging over to the girl he's with because at that moment he looked like Serafine. Him pulling off the girl and watching the girl slapped him across the cheek.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Him holding my while I lunged towards him, straddled his lap and made a poor attempt of sexily pulling off my bra.

Holy shit I want to die.

Him flipping me over and covering me with his sheets. Telling me how much of a crazy bitch I was and that must be the exact reason why Aidan left me.