Chapter Four

Three Months Later - December 2015

I would wait to see him at the Scott's house. I didn’t. I had drove past his apartment many times, but his car was never there. - Had I dreamt him?

There was nothing worse than waiting, everything still moved, when it felt like it shouldn’t. I’d spent six days with the Scott's in the mean time - three award winning dinners, and two nights at their apartment - and one more at our own house. Then five more dinners, three charity events, a halloween party with Oliver and three boat trips with Callum.

It was 10 days until Christmas. The tree was too big - the presents under it over whelming. The Scott's had invited themselves around. Meaning we’d still too many chairs. 

“I’ve bought you a new dress for christmas.” my dad spoke over breakfast, I hummed an ‘ok’. 

“I remember when she was always so excited for christmas - and now look at you - you barely even smile at the mention of the word.” my mother spoke, between me and my father. 

“I don’t see why we need so much, that’s all.” I shrug, “Don’t be ungrateful.” my father warned me, “I’m not. I’ve never have been. But I have dresses. I have jewellery. I don’t need more.” I said, and put down my knife and fork, and left for university. 

The walk was long, and I walked passed that forsaken house again. I tried not to long, but eyes couldn’t help but wander to see if there was any sight of him but, unfortunately, it was too warm for him to be here.

I went to my coffee shop. I’d handed in essays that needed handing in, and I got the brief for the next term, so in that coffee shop once again, I sat in the rain.

“Did you order this?” I heard a voice, and looked up over the rim of my glasses to see a blonde haired boy, with a ring in his lip, and his eyebrow - little ink covered his body, but splashed places. “No.” I said, and he peered down, and smirked, “I know.” he laughed.

The boy that stood before me, I couldn’t anticipate what effect this boy would have on me. On my life. He wouldn’t ruin me like Alec did, no, he do something far worse. He’d taken every ounce of my soul and try to fix it, try to decorate my eyes with sparkles instead of tears, my ear with sweet words instead of lies, he really did try. However, I ruined him, when he saved me.

He looked familiar - some kind of memories, tangled and dizzy called me. Was he the boy that told me with a jelly ring, one day he’d marry me? Slowly, fond memories approached me, memories of strawberry fields, and lying in meadows.

“I know you.” I whispered and he nodded, “You’re my dad’s business partner’s son, Oliver. We went to Norway, Sweden and Belgium together, three years in a run. You even told me you’d marry once or twice.” I smiled, and he sat down in front of me, he has a somewhat naive charm about him - fond memories of chocolate by lakes, and coldness in the fire nights, and laughter in the snow. 

Oliver had been my best friend many years ago. At the age of six, business meetings were always more fun when he was there. He knew Amelia too. In fact, they had dated for a brief period. 

Honey thick hair masked his head then, and it still now, but now it was in a messy fashion. I couldn’t count the times I drowned in his pools - deep blue, that made you feel safe “I am. You’re Indie - The eighth wonder of the world, if I do remember rightly.” he smirked, and the rest of that day he told me about how he’d wrote poetry - we were on the same course at Queen’s, but he was in with a different crowd than me - I said I’d like to read it sometime.

We met for coffee several times after this. Discussing literature, I had grown fond of his juvenile smile, and his crooked little smirk. Even his hands, not much larger than my own, seemed to touch the pen in a way that was almost magic - I could not complain, those hands were good for many things.

 His poetry often made me cry, often made me want to die - he spoke of such heartache, such a longing for a lost soul, that I felt as if he was writing about my life, had he seen everything before I knew it myself? Those hands would hold me - in months to come - and listen to my sobs.

Three months before the crash I had been lying in the arms of Oliver. He wrote me something, he wasn’t good with speaking them so he wrote it down, then he added Ah, this will make for good work and I didn’t mind. 

I don’t like to see you cry. You fight all of these battles. 

My darling, you are a solider. 

Don’t all good soldiers die for a good cause? 

You must remember your cause. Because after all, we are told we can’t feed the poor but we can start a war? 

He is a war. One of you will die. I hope it will be him. 

Soldiers are the true hero’s - though he be one too,

he is a villain - ruin him.

Do it! For America.

I won’t lie - I hated him for all of two minutes. Though I knew it was a work of art, I could not stay mad at something so ridden with emotion, the words cried as my tears dripped onto the ink.

“It’s beautiful.” I whispered. “I know you love him - but you should ruin him, before the whiskey does.” he struggled with the words. It was only a week after this that I lost Oliver - I gave him to the wolves.

I loved Oliver. In some kind of warped way, waking up in his room, smelling his parent’s cooking. I imagined sometimes - to my own regret - being happy with him. Feeling like a normal family.

I’d have finished University, and I wouldn’t be so caught up and tangled with that other boy. I’d be a teacher, maybe a writer - Oliver would be a magazine column writer. I would be able to come home and know that he loved me - but he didn’t love me, not the way I needed him too.

However, I took him home that day. Making sure to walk past the Scott house, which still shone too brightly. Callum stood in the top window, I didn’t see him, but he stood lurking often enough. 

When we went to the hotel that was my home, my mother smirked at the boy next to me, “Oliver Chambers, the last time I say you you were in wellington’s on a farm.” she smirked, he’d told me his dad owned a farm as well as half of my dad’s company.

“It’s lovely to see you, Allison.” he grinned, and looked down at me - “Your daughter has brought a stray in for dinner.” he licked his lips and followed her through to the kitchen. 

I loved how he looked in the kitchen, standing with my mother, laughing at her jokes. He belonged. Everywhere he went he had this sense of being. Oliver always had purpose. My best friend, who there were never complications with.

“Oliver!” I heard my father bellow, “Andrew!” he grinned back at they shook hands - “I never knew you two still knew each other, still went out!” and before I could interrupt, “Of course, isn’t that part of your contract with my dad?” Oliver squinted, in a teasing manner, but he got away with him.

After about forty minutes, of questions I couldn’t breath. All the talk of contracts had me flushed. “I’m more in to poetry than bonds, Andrew.” Oliver chuckled and sent me a glance, and stifled a laugh. “Well, I know your dad is very hopeful that you’ll take the business on.” my father rambled, “Well, I have a suggestion!” I sat up straight.

They both looked my way. “If I marry Oliver, then you get the whole business - No need for Callum.” I smirked, and my father rolled your eyes, “Well, I never agreed to this.” Oliver laughed, and I blushed, “Not that I am saying no.” he winked.

My mother came back in with bags then, she must have been at the shop for the past half an hour, I thought it had got a bit quite. “It’s so busy.” she shook the rain of her hat, “That’s because it’s nearly christmas.” I spoke, she clicked then, “Oh this came for you.” my mother rummaged through four bags and retrieved a rather stuffed envelope, all tied with him a pretty red bow. 

‘Indie - My little forest fire.’

My heart swelled, and with it fit to burst, I excused myself. Pressing the small object to my chest, smelling his aftershave, hearing his voice whisper those words. 

Inside was a small letter - finely crafted with wonderful words. Scribbled effortlessly onto parchment Scott paper. Underneath pictures fell. Polaroids. Me. The fell over my oak floor, and I spread them out to look at myself. 

I smiled so wide, and peered down the camera like had told me too. I remember his hand on my shoulder like it was yesterday, the picture he took - me straight faced with nothing but my shoulder bare.

 Pictures lay everywhere, and the way I look in those pictures - he promises when I am gone he will remember me like that. 

Good and Pure.

I didn’t want to look at these anymore. I’ve kept two. I pinned it on my wall, and thrown one in my wallet. Sometimes, beauty is pain - that must be why I can’t look at these pictures anymore. 

Merry Christmas. There’s a necklace too, it looks better than that diamond. I promise, I will be home for new year.

Yours

Alec.

He hadn’t forgot me and in my right hand I held the small letter, and in my left I held a small silver necklace with a ‘H’ on.

This answered nothing though.

It only answered that he was thinking about me. Where was he? Who was he with? Burning questions, waiting to be put out.

“Look’s like this house is going to be a busy one tonight, the Scott's are coming over too.” my dad called up the winding stairs, but sat down at the table. “Tonight?” I coughed a little.

I left my photographs on the floor, ran down the stairs. “Why? We are already spending christmas with them?” I snarled in the kitchen, pouting. “They said the have some news. They want us to be the first to hear it.” mother said. “Oliver you’re more than welcome to stay.” she then added, flashing him a smile.

“Now go and get dressed, make yourself decent - Oliver, I think I have some suits your size from the latest collection models.” she smirked, and nodded for him to go with her. 

“Good luck.” I whispered, and he twitched his nose, and went away.

“Have you heard anything from, Alec?” my father asked, and I turned around, gulped, and sat down. “Why?” I caught a lump in my throat. “It’s called taking an interest, don’t get to defensive.” he rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve not seen you wear that necklace in a while.” he pulled his glasses on his face, “I don’t want to loose it.” I reply quickly. “We’ll get another if you loose it, put it on for dinner tonight.” he nodded at me. “I have another one I’d like to wear.” I spoke, and his eyes peered over at me, “I’d much rather you wear the diamond.” he snarled under his newspaper.

I wouldn’t be able to wear it - I had left it on the floor when Alec told me he didn’t like it. “I’m going to wear my other one.” I stood up, and left to find Oliver and my mother.

“I’m going to get myself ready now!” my mother exclaimed, “Just finish your tie off.” she smiled, and laughed wandering off. 

I pushed open the cream door and the cherub was hidden behind it, wrapping a tie three times over, not seeming to know how it should be. “Need a hand?” I smirked, and he stood in his skinny black dress pants, and a white shirt, another black jacket lay on the bed of my mother. 

Oliver nodded, and I stood in front of him, wrapping my hands around the two ends of the tie to untangle it, and gently I pulled the pieces of fabric, and he watched my every move. 

“Done.” I whispered, and ran my hand down the tie, my delicate little fingers ran away from him, and back into my pockets.

“I missed your company.” Oliver blurted softly, “Is that a good thing?” I asked, and turned by back, sitting down in front of my mother hollywood mirror - looking at him in it. 

“Do you remember that year we went to Long Island -  We were six. I told you one day, I would marry you.” he paused and sat on the end of the bed. “I didn’t really want too. I just enjoyed your company.” 

I laughed and turned around to face him - “I wouldn’t want to marry you either.” I told him, and he stood up, and smiled “Good.” he replied, and offered me his hand, and I took it calmly. “May I take you out? Just for a coffee, or a beer? Friends.” he asked me, and I blushed - “I’d like that very much.” I looked down, and he stepped forward and kissed my cheek giving me a warm hug - and it felt wonderful know that he would be there for every heart break.

“I will let you get ready.” he spoke leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

I slid into the dress that I had chosen for the night, a navy colour, long-sleeved and tight around my waist. Black heels, and my face shone from the light bronzer - winged eyeliner finished my feline look. My hair was smooth, straightened and giggled under the brush.

I heard that knock at the door, and I waited for a moment, letting everyone say their welcomes. A laugh came from Oliver - I could tell.

“Indie?” the door opened, and Callum stood there. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking, I could be indecent for all you know?” I stood up, and faced him crossing my arms over my chest. “I wouldn’t be complaining.” he smirked.

“Your mother told me to come and get you.” he spoke and opened the door for me, I rushed passed him, and he stopped me. “I don’t appreciate you bringing other boys home.” he grimaced in my ear, and I yanked myself away from him, “I didn’t ask for your permission.” I snapped.

I hated standing in this house. Knowing Alec wasn’t here made it ugly. They seemed to love money and status more than their own son. I loved looking at the pretty things, but the chandelier wasn’t pretty anymore. It had fogged, and dust was collecting. The large oak table had become stained with wine and other dirty things. 

I sat through that meal, and two more after that - One of those being christmas. Everyone laughed money that day, a turkey that was too big for seven of us, and jewellery that was forced onto me whispered wicked things.

My mother had come into my room later on christmas night. “You don’t seem yourself, honey?” she sat at the foot of my bed, I looked up at her, and the small fragile H necklace that was laced around my hand felt heavy. “Is it Alec?” she asked me, and I shook at the mention of his name.

“How did you know?” I handed her the necklace, she let out a wonderful noise, “I’m your mother, I know what a girl in love looks like.” she giggled.

“Love? No. I’m intrigued, that’s all.” Lying felt good, but I was never convincing. “Well, whatever he has done to my little girl, he has certainly made an impression.” she handed me back the necklace. 

“When I was your age, I knew a boy like Alec. Then I met your father, and they were so different -  and it’s difficult to chose between your heart and your head. I chose stability, but there isn’t any night that goes past that I don’t think about my Alec, and how he would have loved me - I know, your sensible choice is Callum, he’s not quite your father, he’s more - more free from the entrapments of money. But Alec, he’s something else - he will fill you with every feeling, you’ll love him, and you’ll hate him - but he will love you with a force that is like nothing else that the human race knows.” 

My mother spoke with such conviction, but she was wrong.  She has known love - she had known passion. But she wasn’t done.

“One day, whether you are 12, 19, 27 or as old as me you will stumble upon someone who will start a certain fire in you that will not die. However, the saddest part and the most awful part that you will come to find, is that they are not always the person whom we get to spend our life with.” and with that she kissed my forehead and left just as quickly as she came.