April's Glow Read online

  ‘All of Me,’ the woman said. ‘Beautiful isn’t it? My cousin had it at her wedding.’

  That was why. It was one of those that-would-be-perfect-at-my-wedding songs. They always made people emotional.

  When she walked out of the store, her breaths came faster. Was she having a panic attack or something? Maybe she was dehydrated having walked halfway around town. She should rest. She grabbed a coffee from Café Lagoon and sat on a picnic table in Miracle Park. The same one she’d sat at the day she’d been stood up. She scanned her surroundings and imagined the community event and how it might look. She could use her battery-operated candles on the night to create a glowing atmosphere without causing a safety issue. Maybe she could line the walking and bike track with them, creating a Hansel and Gretel trail towards her store’s stall.

  The song lyrics suddenly interrupted her thoughts.

  Go away, she muttered to herself.

  She used to love music, and singing along to songs, and hadn’t experienced that sense of connection to a song in a long time. She barely even knew the lyrics to this, but snippets of words crept into her mind. And heart. Something about loving someone for who they were. She would have loved Kyle for who he was, who the accident caused him to be. Somehow. If he’d let her. She missed his smile, his voice, his support. But now he needed support, and his parents and carers were providing it instead of her.

  A thin film of tears spread across her eyes and she dabbed at the inside corners of her eyes.

  No tears.

  And no music.

  That’s all it was. And that’s why she didn’t listen. Songs only triggered deeply buried emotions and made things more difficult.

  Damn memories.

  She would just keep focused on her business birthday plans, doing her daily meditation, and reminding herself she was only ever going to be friends with Zac.

  * * *

  By the end of May she had finished reading The Prophet. It was a Monday afternoon and she was off work, and had been relaxing on the couch with her legs up.

  No time like the present, she thought, getting up and heading towards Zac’s house.

  She knocked on his front door and waited. She could have called him, but liked to be spontaneous. She had planned to greet him by reciting one of the pieces of wisdom in the book, but the door remained closed.

  She peered through the gap in the curtains at the dim interior. Angling her ear towards the window, the faint sound of water trickled, like he was in the shower.

  Oh well. She could come back later. Or …

  She dashed back home and got a piece of paper and pen, then came back to his front door. The water sound was still present. She nibbled her bottom lip as she thought, then wrote on the paper:

  The book was great

  It kept me up late

  It made me think a lot

  About the life I’ve got

  But my words can’t express

  I’ll have to confess

  It takes talent not luck

  Yep, my poems really suck

  She placed it inside the book and on his doormat, then went back home and sent a text:

  Surprise on your doorstep. Open it at own risk.

  She giggled to herself then flopped on the couch again and scrolled through Facebook. As she ignored a video-gone-viral of some amazing thirteen-year-old singer, the words to that song she’d heard in the clothing store invaded her mind again.

  This time it didn’t trigger sadness about Kyle. Not as much as before anyway. This time there was something else. Intrigue. Hope. She needed to hear the lyrics, the song, just once, and then maybe she could get it out of her head and move on.

  She took a deep breath and searched for All of Me by John Legend on iTunes. She only used the account for her store’s music. This would be a first.

  Her finger tentatively hovered over the preview button, then as she pressed it she closed her eyes. A sneak peek of the song played and she panicked. She pressed pause.

  Okay, okay, it’s just one song. I can do this. How can I encourage Zac to get out in the world again if I can’t listen to a simple song?

  But instead of resuming the preview she clicked ‘buy’.

  When the song had downloaded she allowed the music to wash over her, through her, as she closed her eyes and lay on the couch.

  As soon as the lyrics started so did the tears. Slowly at first, then in a deluge of overflowing emotion. She leaned over to the drawer under the coffee table and got the box of tissues, dabbing one at her face.

  It was too much. She had to press stop.

  No, something wouldn’t let her. She needed this. Strangely, she needed the pain, the intensity, the cathartic power of the song.

  When it had finished, she immediately pressed play again. There was something she couldn’t quite grasp the first time, something that made her mind and soul go places that were new. New and intriguing, exhilarating, terrifying, but she wanted it. She wanted it all right now in this moment. The words rang true; some made her think of Kyle, but more so …

  It made her think of Zac.

  Crazy, weird, amazing, beautiful, damaged Zac.

  Oh God, it made her want him. Want to risk it all and accept him the way he was, take a chance. But she had promised herself no. Besides, she’d barely known him long enough to be good friends, let alone more than that. But their conversations had bypassed much of the polite small talk and gone straight to no holds barred, raw, honest interaction.

  Why? Why did she have to feel something for someone so wrong?

  If the accident hadn’t happened she would be married to Kyle and would never have met Zac. None of this would be happening. But it was. And her life was unrecognisable from the one she’d had and the one she’d planned for.

  When the singer sang about crying, she cried even more. The chorus came again and she ached for that unconditional love that she thought would be part of her life by now, that complete acceptance and love for another person that you felt no matter what. Yet here she was, judging someone she hardly knew because he had the same addiction her father had. She didn’t know if she could ever love unconditionally again. It was too risky. Too dangerous.

  She allowed the tears to flow freely, and played the song a third time. By this time the tears were slowing, but her face was aching and her eyes burning. Halfway through the song there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Oh crap!’ She stood, wiping her face fiercely.

  She dashed to the bathroom and patted her red face with cold water. Her phone beeped as the song went softer for a second, and when she returned to the living room she looked at the text:

  I know you’re in there. Are you embarrassed by your pathetic poem?

  If she hadn’t been crying so much she would have laughed.

  She glanced at the door, a shadow behind it. His shadow. She could ignore it or say she’d just got out of the shower and was naked. But the song, him, it made her want to try to be honest, open, vulnerable. She needed to let people in, not just on the surface, but deeply. Inside her heart. Even if for a moment.

  She opened the door and turned her face away slightly. ‘Sorry, I …’

  ‘April, what’s wrong?’ Zac came in, put something down on the couch, then grasped her arms.

  She shook her head and covered her eyes with her hand. ‘I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m so embarrassed.’

  ‘Hey, your poem was bad, but not that bad.’

  She managed a weak chuckle.

  His gaze went to the phone on the coffee table, the song still playing. ‘You’re listening to music?’

  She held up her hands in a shrug. ‘See? Can’t handle it.’

  ‘But you took a step forward. That’s good.’

  ‘It’s just …’ she wiped her eyes, ‘so intense. The feelings, the …’

  ‘I know, I know.’ He slowly slid his arms around her waist, gently pulling her towards his chest. ‘Just be with it. Let it flow.’

&
nbsp; His voice was smooth and warm beside her ear, like honey; warm, oozing honey that soothed and sweetened the sour, raw intensity of emotion.

  He held her like that for the rest of the song, and she tentatively held the sides of his waist. Though his arms were all the way around her, she couldn’t quite bring hers to do the same. But this was enough for now. This was okay. This was … nice.

  ‘You okay?’ He moved his head back slightly to look at her.

  ‘I will be,’ she whispered.

  ‘Do you want me to go now? Or should I–’

  ‘Stay,’ she blurted, before knowing what she was doing. ‘Stay.’

  Chapter 18

  It was late by the time he’d arrived home. They’d ordered pizza and watched mindless TV, which had opened him up to a whole new world he’d forgotten existed. But it was cool in a way, taking a break from the constant awareness and alertness that occupied his mind. He’d also handed her the book he’d brought over, Ask and it is Given, by Esther and Jerry Hicks. One of his favourites. She’d said since it was so big it would take her at least till the end of the year to read. To encourage her, he’d promised that for every two chapters she read he’d reward her with some kind of food or beverage. She agreed.

  Two and a half months later she was still not finished the book, but was enjoying regular free food courtesy of Zac’s Kitchen. And they seemed to have mastered the platonic friendship thing. Tonight’s reward was cinnamon cupcakes, made with honey instead of refined sugar, for dessert.

  He piped the frosting on top into swirls, pleased with how skilled he’d become in the kitchen. There was one advantage to being home all the time, you had to learn to provide for yourself and get creative. He sprinkled cinnamon on top and smiled at his accomplishment. He placed them on the dining table near the cinnamon candle, which, although burnt down halfway now, still burned bright in the centre of the table.

  He glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the mantle.

  She’d be here any second.

  * * *

  April knew it had to be done. Zac had suggested it ages ago, but she’d never felt ready. Now she was. Finally.

  Before she went to Zac’s place for dessert, she needed to put the letter in the envelope and seal it. Sealing the past where it belonged, never to be opened again.

  Before she could, though, she had to read it one last time.

  Dear Kyle,

  This letter has been a long time coming.

  I almost didn’t write it, and didn’t want to bring up the past for you, but the thought of not writing it felt worse, so here goes …

  What I really want to say is: it’s okay. It’s okay that you didn’t want me to stay with you. I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I only want you to have the best life possible with what you’ve got. You’ve got a beautiful heart, a strong mind, and amazing parents who I’m sure are doing as much as they can to make your life the best it can be. And your sister, and your brother, too. I’m grateful to them for being there, knowing you have a great support network brings me peace.

  I know you think I wouldn’t have wanted to stay, but I would have. I want you to know that. Yes it would have been incredibly hard, the hardest thing both you and I would have ever had to face. But I was committed to you.

  I know it hurt you too, to say goodbye. Probably more than me. Definitely more than me. I can’t imagine what must have been going through your mind, but now, in hindsight, I think you did what was right for you. And I understand. I’m okay.

  I’m doing well, my new leg is making itself at home. So I might not be the best dancer these days, oh well! I have a new business. New friends. A new life. And I want to thank you for that. Because you gave that to me. You let me go, even though I didn’t want to leave, so I could have the life you wanted for me. It hurt at first, but now I can see the gift. Thank you.

  And thank you for the memories. I’ll cherish them. They all matter. You matter. You were an important part of my life, and I’m grateful and honoured to have known you.

  I’ll say goodbye, once again. But this time with a grateful heart.

  And I want you to know that even though our relationship as it was has come to an end, you were, are, and always will be, loved.

  April.

  She’d thought there’d be tears, but they’d come and gone as she’d written it. Re-reading it was easier, and solidified the resolve within her to finally move on from her history with Kyle and turn the page to a new chapter.

  She folded the letter and slid it into the envelope that she’d addressed to his parents’ house. She’d post it tomorrow, and didn’t mind one way or the other if she got a reply in some shape or form, she only needed to say the words and be done with it.

  It was over.

  Kyle was her past, and her future lay open and ready for her to grasp and embrace, wherever it may lead.

  She slipped her arms into her light cotton cardigan, pushing up the three-quarter sleeves to below her elbows, picked up her phone and keys, and stepped outside. The night was cool but comfortable, a slight warmth teasing and tempting her as the breeze tickled her skin. Spring would be here soon. So would Zac’s twelve-month mark. Over the past few months they’d become closer, but more like good friends, and she was happy with that. She could handle that. In fact, she wasn’t sure she even felt the same level of attraction as before. Maybe it had only been temporary lust. Either way, things were good. And safe. Because she knew he would not risk his recovery by trying to become more than friends before his anniversary. Even his poems had slowed down, and the ones he did share on the blog were more about his own journey than the elusive next-door neighbour. After September first, however, that was something she had tried her hardest not to think about. Wait till the time comes, Zoe had advised.

  But tonight: cupcakes.

  ‘What will you do when the book is finished and you are no longer entitled to free food rewards?’ Zac asked as soon as he opened the door to her arrival.

  ‘Um,’ she said, ‘bribe you?’

  He smiled and welcomed her inside.

  ‘Oh yum.’ She eyed the cupcakes on the table. ‘I could get used to this.’

  ‘If you eat more than one you have to help me clean up,’ he said.

  ‘Fair enough.’ She sat and Zac placed a cupcake on a small plate for her. ‘Do you need a fork?’

  ‘Huh?’ She glanced at him. ‘Oh, a fork. No, cupcakes need to be eaten with the hands, they taste better that way.’ She smiled.

  Zac grinned. ‘What did you think I said?’

  ‘Huh? Nothing. Fork. I don’t need one. All good. Let’s eat.’ She picked up the cupcake and took a bite. ‘Mmm, very good,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Weren’t you taught not to talk with your mouth full?’ Zac spoke, as he munched on his cupcake.

  ‘Weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but do I follow the rules?’ he replied.

  ‘That was going to be my answer. Answer thief.’

  ‘You started it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By talking with your mouth full.’

  She tore off a small fragment of her cupcake and tossed it at him. He picked it up from near his plate where it landed and tossed it back at her. She returned the favour; this time, it landed on the floor beside him.

  ‘You mess, you clean,’ he said.

  She stood, a smug smile on her face, and walked to his side of the table. Kneeling had once been extremely difficult, but she was used to it now, having to bend down to deal with Romeo. She stood right beside Zac, eyeing him off, then slowly bent to the floor and picked up the crumb near his foot. On the way up, her gaze traced the length of his legs, his waist, his torso, and then met his face. ‘Five second rule?’ she asked, holding the crumb near his mouth.

  He took her hand. ‘If that’s the case, you eat it.’

  Maintaining her eye contact with him, she opened her mouth slowly, held the crumb close to her lips.

  ‘You like tasking risks?’ he asked.<
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  ‘Maybe,’ she put the crumb down on the edge of his plate and went back to her chair.

  Maybe she did.

  * * *

  This was getting dangerous. She was clearly flirting. He could barely keep his eyes off her plump lips when she’d eaten her cupcakes. Two and a half cupcakes, because they’d shared the third one. He had to keep his cool though. Still two weeks until September. And even so, who knew what she’d be like then. She’d made it clear she thought getting involved with a recovering alcoholic would be trouble. She was probably flirting now, testing the waters, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t give in, his stubbornness and determination standing strong to make the twelve-month mark without any disruptions.

  Housework.

  That might help.

  ‘Time to clean up,’ he said, standing abruptly. He went into the kitchen and filled the sink with soapy water.

  ‘You already licked the bowl?’ she asked, sidling up next to him.

  ‘Yep. Sorry.’ He shrugged, then picked up the bowl he’d made the frosting in. ‘Wash or dry?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll wash. You dry.’ She grabbed a tea towel and flicked it at him. He grabbed it off her and flung it over his shoulder.

  She giggled, then washed the bowl and handed it to him.

  ‘You missed a bit.’ He pointed to a microscopic piece of frosting.

  She peered closely. ‘So I did.’ She wiped it off. ‘Well, it is challenging to concentrate with you looking all masculine and sexy with that tea towel slung over your shoulder.’

  He laughed. So much for housework dampening the flirty atmosphere. ‘In that case, I’d better take it off.’ He caught her gaze then grasped the end of the tea towel and slowly slid it off his shoulder, then flung it around in circles above his head.