Beauty of Darkness (Elijah Mikaelson)

Chapter 3

I never expected somewhere that wasn't my personal cave to be so comforting. Following Cami around an old, dark bar in the middle of the arguably most vibrant town in the United States was the calmest I had felt in public in months. Who knew that training to make Manhattans and scrubbing wooden bar counters would be the best therapy. Cami was the only person I had met since everything happened that I could actually tolerate (don't tell Danielle). It amazed me that I didn't just tolerate her: I could see myself becoming friends with her. Her warm and charming personality and her understanding made her so easy to chat with. I had only known the woman for less than eight hours, but I could feel myself starting to slowly take off the mask that had become so comfortable. 

After only two customers and Cami's hours-long talk about her psychology thesis, the clock struck five. Despite slowly becoming more positive throughout the day, the most I had been in months, the darkness had no issue crawling right back into its usual position. I flashed my classic "smile" to Cami, and tried to make an exit before the street was flooded with insufferably happy tourists. 

"Wait, Wynter!"

Cami quickly ran to my side with a sense of indescribable urgency. I was assuming she was going to tell me to leave, and never come back. I dreaded the thought of having to find another job and repeat this terrible process once again. I could feel my mask slowly start to tighten tighter and tighter once again. 

"You were absolutely amazing today! I am so sorry you had to put up with me today" Cami exclaimed with a large grin. "Here's my number; I would love to talk with you sometime about something other than how many ounces of vodka are in a cocktail."

I could swear I felt my jaw open at the sound of those words. This charming, happy person wanted to be friends with me? The girl who can't even walk across the street without sulking about how bright the world is? 

"Sure, sounds amazing" I quickly replied with a smile that actually had a glimpse of truth behind it. 

After exchanging numbers and closing out the day with talks of schedules for next week, I waved goodbye to the old, decrepit sign that finally let me feel some sort of relief in months. That night, while walking through crowds of eager partiers, I wasn't as quick to dart to the negatives. While, of course, I wasn't skipping on the cobblestone like a toddler, I finally allowed myself to walk without consideration of my existential crisis. I couldn't tell why, but Cami and that tiny dive bar allowed me to forget my train-wreck of an existence for a fleeting second. Oh, and the beer helped. 

Before I knew it, I opened the door to the array of brown boxes that reminded me of how little I had accomplished in my week in New Orleans. The dread slowly started to make itself comfortable once again. Danielle was home, eagerly waiting to tell me about her glorious first day at her new firm. Of course I listened, or pretended to at least, while stirring a cup of tea that had been on the table since breakfast. The talk slowly reminded me of everything Danielle had accomplished while I shut out so many opportunities and relationships. The darkness grabbed its usual home once again - it couldn't let me have more than an hour of peace.

Danielle finally stopped rambling about her new clients and fancy lawyer colleagues, and I had the chance to retreat to my "happy" place: the small corner room of the apartment adorned with no decor, a Hello Kitty blanket from a flea market, and boxes upon boxes of untouched memories I didn't have the strength to open again. 

Before retreating to my nightly routine of sulking and sobbing about that night, I looked outside. I never realized the beautiful view I had from my balcony: or at least I never appreciated it. I opened the dusty glass door to an array of lights and beautiful metal arches that spanned the entire street. Hundreds of people danced and effortlessly swayed to the beat of a jazz band parading across the cobblestone. Witnessing the beauty of this new place, and listening to the wind brushing against my neighbor's antique chimes perfectly in time with the band gave me something I hadn't had in a long time: hope for a new beginning.