Golden

28

I stood in front of the cabin door with my suitcase hanging in front of me, clasped in my quivering grip. My eyes scanned the rust on the hinges of the door and the yellow paint staining the wood that was badly chipped, giving away the old age of this place and it's rich history. I stared at the ornate and intricate door knob, telling myself to just get it over with open it already. I stretched out my fingers, but every time I reached out to turn it, my hands stopped, hovering just above the handle, unable to find the will to close my fist around it.
I knew Harry wasn't inside. I knew he was thousands of miles away from me, in an entirely different continent, country and time zone.
But still...
I couldn't help and think, or wish, rather – what if he was inside? What if he decided to skip his London trip and show up after all? What if he was waiting just behind this door for me? What if he wanted me? What if he picked me this time?
Holding my breath and clinging to desperate, wretched hope, I wrapped my hand around the door handle and pushed it open. I walked through the threshold and placed my bag down at my feet, looking around the little foyer with wide, expectant eyes.
"Hello?" I called out into the darkness, stepping forward hesitantly. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest with wild anticipation as I stood in the doorway, waiting and watching the stillness surrounding me.
Nothing and no one returned my call.
It was far too quiet for anyone else to be here.
That's the terrible thing about hope: it can trick you, twist your entire perception of reality, manipulate your mind into thinking that maybe, just maybe, all promise is not lost. Hope can offer a brief, glistening glimmer of glowing optimism even in the most dark and abysmal circumstances. It can make you believe that enchanting, sweet salvation is waiting just beyond the reach of your fingertips – if you just stretch a little further...a tiny bit more...almost there...
But it never comes.
The spark that could have lit a thousand fires flames out, leaving only charred embers and scorched ash in its wake. The river that could have quenched your insatiable thirst runs dry. The thread that sewed your heart strings back together pulls itself loose.
And you're left with a pit in your stomach and a hole in your heart, longing for another time, desperate for another chance, craving another life.
I sighed heavily, accepting that I was alone and swallowing the crushing disappointment that was quickly rising in my throat. I pushed all my wandering thoughts to the back of my mind and focused all of my attention and energy on exploring my new home.
And thankfully it was a beautiful distraction.
The entire cabin was constructed from oak wood and had high ceilings and giant windows that allowed the sunlight to pour in and brighten the small space. I shivered slightly as a chilly breeze swept through the door before I closed it gently behind me. I began walking through the tight entryway, feeling a weight lift off my chest with my first step inside my personal, little sanctuary.
The tiny kitchen was sunny, clean and painted yellow to match the vividness of the front door's color. To my surprise, the refrigerator and pantry were already stocked with food and all the essentials needed for cooking and baking and not one thing more than was necessary, given the compact area. I ran my hand over the top of the countertops, already imagining myself making meals and pouring my morning coffee here.
I sauntered into the living room next, which was overflowing with cozy blankets and colorful pillows with an emerald green couch that was just big enough for two people to comfortably fit. There were paintings on the walls of lush, woodland scenery and expansive mountain landscapes, adding to the house's breathtaking rustic aesthetic. It felt truly like a private hideaway, only accessible through magic spells and secret passwords shared in hushed whispers in the dark of the night. I was taken aback that I already felt safe here; though I prayed that I could keep the suffocating loneliness at bay.
There were no TVs or phones in the entire house and only two electric lamps that I had counted so far as I made my way through each room. Instead, delicious smelling candles covered nearly every side table and surface and I bent down and lit a few as I passed by, making sure I could see where I was going as I continued my exploration.
There was a small bathroom and shower as well as a side porch area that I could already see myself writing in for hours surrounded by the vibrant colors of autumn. There was also an outdoor shower, a small hot tub and a fully stocked minibar, which I planned on utilizing as soon as my initial introduction to the home was finished.
I wandered to another dark room on the main floor and I flicked the light switch on the side of the wall, but of course, nothing happened. I grabbed a candle from the kitchen and walked back into the room with it, poking my head in once more, now able to see what was inside.
I gasped in disbelief, hardly daring to blink as I stared at two gorgeous, old grand pianos sitting side by side on the back wall that took up nearly the entire room. I slowly sauntered over to them, expecting them to be dusty and full of grime from lack of use and care; but they were pristinely clean and perfectly tuned, to my surprise and delight. I caught myself smiling, already looking forward to playing; but I felt a sharp pang of sadness knowing that the other piano was meant for Harry. His absence was already made very apparent and following me everywhere, no matter where I went.
I climbed the flight of stairs up to the top floor that turned out to be one giant loft spanning the entire second story of the house. There was an enormous bed in the corner of the room directly underneath an expansive skylight that I was sure provided stunning views of the stars at night.
I had missed stargazing. The city never allowed for it. It was always too bright, too noisy, too erratic in New York to ever see anything other than illuminated skyscrapers and traffic lights, which were beautiful in their own way. But there was something about staying still and looking up at the celestial skies that always centered me, always reminded me to stop and take it all in because moments, like everything in this life, are fleeting.
I cranked my neck around the room, looking for another place to sleep. Finding none, I gulped.
One bed? There must be another guest room somewhere...
But I searched the entire house again and found none. My heart was thundering loudly as I imagined what Harry would say when he got here (when, not if!) and discovered there was only one bed for both of us. Would he leave? Would he care? Should I care?
I shook my head, not wanting to think of the potential problems that could arise with Harry's hopeful arrival right now. Instead, I pulled out my notebook from my suitcase, opting to sit in a small nook on the opposite side of the room as opposed to the bed. I turned my journal to a blank page, waiting for inspiration to strike, but I felt nothing. My pen tapped against the paper lightly, expecting the words to just pour out of me like most times I settled down to write. But I felt empty, helpless, hopeless.
I stretched out on the bench on the windowsill, sprawling out on top of the overflowing pillows, letting my mind aimlessly wander wherever it chose to go. I closed my eyes, listening to the silence of the thickly settled woods outside, well aware that I was the only person for miles and miles.
Everything was so quiet and peaceful, in stark contrast to the constantly busy and bustling city streets I was used to. Instead of car horns and sirens, I only heard soft wind chimes blowing in the gentle breeze from the front porch and the occasional creak of the house settling around me.
I sighed deeply, unable to stay awake anymore. I rolled onto my side, pulling my legs up and curling into a ball, as I closed my heavy eyes, prepared to face the demons in my nightmares.