Bloom (21 page)

Do you know what it’s like to spend years building your life, truly enjoying it even amidst the twists and turns, only to wake up one day and realize everything you once knew is gone? Lying there in that hospital bed for months, hearing the pretty nurses talk about their dates and husbands, I began to die. Right there, wrapped up in bandages and unable to move, a piece of me wilted. And another. And another. Until I finally wheeled outside for the first time and prepared to go home—to Ella’s house. Dead.

I watched Vasili park his car outside of the coffee shop on Chestnut Street and that hospital experience seemed like another life. Another person. So disconnected from me that I wondered if I really did endure those long nights or if I floated by as an onlooker. How did I get here?

Alive.

I still didn’t know how to greet Vasili since we both revealed our feelings, even hugging him made me want to hide under the table. So I stayed in my seat and smiled as he rushed toward me and pulled a chair around so we were sitting close enough to touch elbows. Warmth radiated my body as he rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. I tapped my fingers on the table and blushed.

“So,” he said. “How are you, friend? How was the shoot for Ella’s brother?”

“Oh, it was perfect.” I lit up inside. Most people never asked about my photography sessions.

“Can’t wait to see the pictures.”

I pulled out my phone. “I saved one on here.” I leaned toward him. We both hovered over the screen. “This was my favorite. She reached up to hug him after he asked. I love the way the su—”

“The sun is reflecting on the ring in his hand.” He looked closer. “And wow, the way the light trims them both. Oh, and the foreground with the picnic blanket. It looks—”

“Surreal. I know. It’s amazing.”

“I think it’s pretty amazing how we’ve been finishing each other’s sentences since we met. Right ... friend?”

I gently hit his arm and looked down. “Okay, friend. I have a photo shoot planned today for our friendly date. It’s really meaningful to me.” I pulled an 8x10 picture from my purse. “This is a self-portrait I did when I was living with Ella. She was walking around one day and I caught her as I was heading to the cemetery. I love cemetery photography. We did a few artsy shots of her, then I did this.”

He analyzed the picture of me. My long blonde hair curled and sprawled around my head as I lay on the vibrant grass. A gravestone, behind my head, was blurred so you couldn’t read the name. I held a pile of dirt in my hand and had sprinkled it around my torso. My face, serene and austere, tilted up toward the camera.

“We did it for fun,” I said. “There’s no profound meaning behind it, but I feel like it has meaning now. When I took those pictures of Anastasia I thought they were the most beautiful pictures I’ve ever taken in my life. They weren’t photoshopped and manipulated. I didn’t smooth over the skin and brighten the eyes. It was so real. A dying child embracing life.”

He nodded, probably imagining her face.

“I want that person I was before this to be dead. The more I try to hold on to her and wish I could be her again, the more locked inside myself I get. I feel alive again, Vasili. I feel so good. I want a picture of me, this new me, walking away from the grave.”

“I like that idea.” He paused and held his chin. “I was just thinking today about how so many people say things like, ‘Oh, you’re always the same person underneath.’ I know I’ve probably been guilty of saying that, but I don’t believe it anymore. I think a person can endure something or meet someone so life-changing that it not only changes his life, but his entire self. Heart, mind, soul—all of it becomes new.”

I wanted to wrap my fingers around his and feel his skin against my lips. Strange as it sounds, the way he talked about life excited me. He awakened so much passion inside of me that I didn’t know existed.

Internally, I fanned myself and turned my gaze from his intriguing eyes.

Regardless of my flaws and lacking curves, he made me feel like a woman. And I think that made me notice his masculine features even more.

“I have something I want to do with you first.” He stood and pulled my chair. “Do we have a few hours before heading off to your grave?”

He laughed at himself. I shook my head and slipped my arms through my jacket as he held it behind me.

“How did you propose to Natalie?” I said as we walked outside.

“Random.”

“Yeah. I don’t know where that came from.”

“She said to me, ‘I want that one,’ and I bought it.”

“Let’s take mine,” I pointed to my car. “Camera stuff in there. You can drive though.” We stood by the passengers door. “But you loved her.”

“I did.” He sucked in his top lip and took my keys. “Didn’t you love James?”

I nodded. “It was more like a friend though.”

“Me too.” He opened the door and I sat down. “Just like us.” He leaned in and winked as he started to shut my door. “Right ... friend?”

He sat down, put the keys in the ignition, and flung a black scarf on my lap.

“What’s this?” I picked it up and looked for a hint.

“Put it on.”

“Why?” I wrapped it around my neck.

“No.” He laughed. “Blindfold yourself.”

“Oooh.” I placed it over my eyes. “An adventure.”

“Okay.” The car finally
stopped moving and the radio
turned off. “Now. In the most friend-ish way possible ... I’m gonna have to hold that hand of yours.”

I smiled. “Mmmhmm.”

“Wouldn’t want you to fall, of course.”

No need to worry about that, I thought. Already did.

The car door opened and the sunlight warmed my skin.

“We won’t be in the sun for long,” he said as I stood.

His hand rested on my shoulder as the door shut. Judging by the sounds of many cars passing nearby, we were around some kind of busy street.

He cupped my hand in his and pulled me into him. I tried to suppress the giddy little girl inside and for some reason that equaled me licking my lips a thousand times.

We walked for a minute or so, up a hill, then he placed my hand on a cool cement block.

“Hold on to that as we walk.” He held my other hand.

I wanted to see his face so bad. Cars passed, tossing sharp gusts of air in our direction as we walked. My hair whipped around my face and stuck to my lips.

He stopped and turned me toward the cement wall, then whispered in my ear, “Are we in an ugly place?”

“What do you mean? I don’t know where we are.”

“Tell me where we are. Listen. Smell. Find a way.”

The cars continued to whoosh behind us. When they stopped for a second I listened for other sounds. Birds. Geese. The sound of rustling leaves and a train in the distance. I inhaled. And again. Couldn’t place the smell. Somewhat like aged leaves and soil-covered rocks. The breeze tugged at my hair again.

“Is it ugly or beautiful?” he said.

“Beautiful.”

“Okay, next place.”

We walked up a soft
hill, down a hard hill, and stopped.
The smell grossed me out.

“Is this an ugly place?” I said, holding my nose.

“Feel it out.”

I let go of my nose and held my breath as I took a few steps. “Am I going to trip on something?”

“Free and clear.”

I kicked my feet each time I took a step, trying to feel out the ground. Seemed like pavement, mixed with gravel. Smelled like rotten eggs mixed with cow manure.

He touched my shoulder. “Step up here.”

I did, then knelt down. Rows of cool metal lined up beneath us. They seemed to go on for a while.

I stood. “Are we on train tracks?”

“Yep.” He took my hand and led me off the bumpy rails. “Wasn’t expecting the skunk though.”

I laughed.

He escorted me through sticks and rocks and what felt like a dirt path, then helped me sit down.

“Sit here for a while. In silence. Then tell me what you feel.”

I leaned back on my hands. The chilly rock under me must’ve been big enough to hold both of us, because he was sitting beside me. I could feel his arm against mine and it made me want to move closer.

I listened to the bubbling sounds of a rolling brook. Reminded me of Ella’s house. Birds chirped and fluttered about. Trees rustled in the breeze. Off in the distance I heard a woodpecker going to town. The sweet earthy scents filled my nose every time a breeze swept by. I inhaled to get more, but I was getting used to the smell.

Nature had its own orchestra. Every sound contributed to a masterful symphony. This place sounded like a soft piano. Spring Morning, I’d call it.

Ten minutes later Vasili took my hand and said, “How do you feel?”

“Beautiful.” I smiled. “I feel beautiful.”

Nature’s melody was replaced
by a new one. As we
drove I listened to the clicking sounds as we drove on the highway. The rush of wind and smell of exhaust fumes. I let my hand sail out the window like the wing of an airplane. The pressure forced my arm back and felt so good.

Taking away my vision made every other sensation more intense. Especially when Vasili touched me. I wanted to kiss him, but I still feared a real future with him.

He parked, then led me to a door and opened it.

“This,” he said, “you’ll love.”

As soon as I entered I heard a blender buzzing. The scent of coffee and books immediately gave it away.

“We’re at Barnes and Noble,” I said. “The books smell even better today.”

I rushed into the store, almost forgetting to let Vasili lead me. I wondered what people would think, but quickly realized I didn’t care. He stopped and set my hand on the shelf. It’s smooth wood holding hundreds of books. I could see it in my imagination as though my eyes were opened.

“Pick one,” he said. “Pick the most interesting story on this shelf.”

I ran my fingers along the spines. “Just randomly? How will I know of I can’t see them?”

“Ask me to describe them.”

I picked one from the shelf, peeled back the cover and sniffed the pages. “Mmmm.”

He laughed. “That one is about a lawyer who kills his wife and takes on the case, against the one falsely accused.”

I put it back and chose another. The smooth cover and pages beckoned me to smell it again, but I refrained for the sake of maintaining a smidgen of normalcy.

I didn’t realize how much I judged books by their covers until now. I couldn’t choose one without asking questions about the interior. And even then, it was hard to pick one.

I saw his point.

“Wait there,” he said. “Grab that one.”

I pulled out a book. “This one?”

“Sociopath nut-job who solves cases with his roommate.”

“Awww.” I pressed the book against my chest. “It’s my beloved Sherlock.” I smelled the pages, then stopped myself and closed the book. “I’ll take it.”

We paid for the book and left the store. He didn’t let go of my hand when we reached the car. Instead, he took the book from my hands. I heard it plop into my seat as he held both of my hands.

Don’t kiss me, I said inside, hoping somehow he’d hear it. Not now. Don’t do it.

His hands touched the back of my neck and his arms rested on my shoulders. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh ... dear!

My pulse skipped beats, creating its own unique rhythm.

Then, he slipped the blindfold off and made a weird face at me. He looked like some kind of angry rat with his head tilted and his brow all scrunched.

I laughed, hiding the disappointment that he didn’t kiss me. Yes, even though it would’ve freaked me out a tad.

“All this time you’ve been holding this weird guy’s hand.” He let his face go back to normal. “Amazing how our perspective on life changes when you’re blind, huh?”

I nodded, then noticed a glimmer on my chest. I touched the charm. “Did you just put this on my neck?”

“Do you like it?”

I covered my mouth with my hand as my eyes watered. “I ... Vasili ... how?” I let it drop to my chest and searched his eyes. “How did you know?”

“Heard you telling Anastasia one day. You told her not to be afraid to leave the cage.” He rubbed his hands together. “Saw it and thought of you.”

I held it again. “It’s perfect.”

The necklace had a special meaning to me. When I was sixteen my first serious boyfriend broke my heart. I caught him kissing Tiffany Jefferson under the bleachers during a pep rally. I pretended I didn’t see them and showed up at my house while my parents were talking in the dining room. Mom saw me standing in the doorway and motioned for me to sit. I spilled my heart onto the table, then Dad mopped it up and told me, “Sometimes life shoves you into a cage and locks the door. Don’t be afraid to fly again when the door finally opens. Someday it will open again. Courage, my girl. Never lose heart.”

During the entire drive to the cemetery I replayed scenes from my life as I cupped the necklace in my hands. A sterling silver cage with small diamonds and a tiny bird further up the chain, flying away. Free.

Vasili would never understand how much this gift meant to me. I’d cherish it forever.

We set up the camera
and tripod as the sun settled in
an ideal spot. The golden hour. A photographers dream. When the sun casted everything with a picturesque glow, bringing subtle warmth from just the right angle.

I set the timer and stood with my back to the camera, the sunlight hitting my face. Then, I turned my head and looked back toward the grave. A few pictures were snapped, thanks to my timer. Vasili watched me.

He sat against a tree, a content grin across his face. I waved him over.

He walked toward me. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. My throat thickened, preventing all words from escaping. Vasili held my face in his hands and we stayed like that for minutes—or ten very long seconds. Our sun-brushed faces inches from each other. Time froze. It froze and held us there in silence. Like a movie scene that cuts the soundtrack so the only sound you hear is their breathing.

And then time melted.

He kissed my hand and began to put away my equipment. I couldn’t move. Still frozen, standing in the puddle of time, I watched him.