40 | The Calm
"No way am I doing that," Ava protests, looking at me like I've just suggested she jump into the fountain. Her eyebrows crease, pouting lips almost insulted.
"You wanted exposure therapy, right?"
"I didn't sayexposure therapy,I said help, and this is not going to help," She insists back, attempting to step away but being forced back beside me when she remembers we're sharing an umbrella.
Rain patters down around us, hitting trees and park benches. I glance around at the empty space, the gentle silence, the way droplets cling to everything. Wind blows against leafless trees and down my hand as it clasps Ava's tighter.
"I'm asking you to pose for a few photos in an empty park, it won't kill you."
She huffs, turning to face me reluctantly, "It might."
I'm almost about to say something in the same vein but decide against it - pushing her clearly isn't working.
My mouth falls shut, hesitating and watching the way her eyes scan my jaw, my lips slightly curled into a smile.
I try to soften my expression, leading down to press a kiss to her forehead.
I forget how much I love her stubborn streak
"Come on, you wanted me to try my old style of photography," I murmur, her skin warm against my lips, "I usually ignore any creative inspiration I have, you wanted me to embrace it, right?"
And just like that, with a soft graze of her cheek and gentler words, I can feel her open up more. She sighs, eyes wide as I pull back to stare at them. They're bluer today, prettier than ever.
"I guess I asked for this," She murmurs, "But I didn't think that meant in public."
I glance around a little purposefully, demonstrating that we are practically the only people here. The second the clouds started to grey everyone retreated to the nearest cafe.
"It'll be fine. This will be good for your confidence, I promise."
I squeeze her hand in mine, trying to channel some reassurance.
She's on the edge of giving in, I can see it.
I'm ignoring all my hesitance too, the parts of me that aren't ready to think about anything outside of the controlled life I've built.
It's just a camera, just photos, but it puts me back into the headspace of my younger self. It's hard to comprehend.
"Okay, but don't take too long," She huffs, slipping from my warmth and wrapping a hand around the umbrella, "Wait, what about you?"
I shuffle, stepping under a tree with just enough branches that I can avoid most of the downpour.
It keeps my camera mostly safe and I can angle it directly at where Ava now stands in front of a fountain.
She holds the umbrella hesitantly, like she doesn't know what to do with any of her limbs. It makes me smile.
I know that with a tiny bit of direction she'll fall into place perfectly, she always does.
"Move back a little," I say, watching her through the digital screen, "Okay.. and turn to the side slightly, angle your head down...pause."
I zoom in a few frames, positioning her to the right.
The settings on the camera make everything slightly green-tinted, almost like film.
Ava stands, umbrella in hand, face slightly hidden, blonde hair visible against her brown jacket.
I up the shutter speed so when she twiddles the handle absentmindedly there's a blur effect, everything merging into a perfect shot.
I capture a few photos and they almost look like stills from a movie.
When I get her closer, so the frame is almost completely taken up by the umbrella and then her face beneath it, a water droplet catches on the lens, blurring the corners in a hazy way.
I take some where she's smiling, only coaxed out of her through a few terrible dad jokes.
There's some with a straight face too, her pink lips shiny against her skin.
After ten minutes she's more relaxed. I can see it in her shoulders, the way she's giggling more freely.
She only makes a passing glance when someone walks by, re-focusing her attention on me straight away.
I want to saythis isn't that bad, see?
But I don't, not wanting to ruin some of my favourite photos in years with an I told you so.
I take a couple more, including one with her reflection obscured in a puddle. I know, even with the pattering of rain in my ears and cold wind across my skin, I'm going to love looking at these later.
It doesn't feel like a chore, like something I'm doing to make money. For a second I remember why I clung on so tightly to this thing back when I was a teenager. I enjoyed it. I actually fucking enjoyed it, and with Ava as my subject I might be able to do it forever.
The second I notice her shiver, just a little, I pull myself out of concentration, walking up to hold my hand to her cheek. It's cold, colder than it should be.
"I'm fine," She insists, "I can do more...if you want?"
I shake my head, "You're not fine. We're going inside."
"I can handle the cold, we can do a few more-"
I raise a brow, "So now you want to do the photos?"
"I..." She trails off, embarrassment replaced by a gentle curse, "Fuck you.
" But she's smiling, something in her realising that that's the first time she's ever not felt weird about being in front of a camera.
I did my job, helped her forget for a small while that it's not as big and scary as she thinks it is.
"We're going for lunch, come on."
We make our way through the rain, walking only a little bit before finding the restaurant we have a reservation at.
It's small, but adorned with vintage decor, almost like it's somewhere in the middle of Italy.
Cool paintings line the walls, a few framed mirrors, hazy mismatched lights and wooden furniture.
With the rain outside the windows are almost steamed up, making everything seem softer somehow.
We order after way too long of staring at menus with fancy sounding Italian foods that I only really get the gist of. We both get different types of pastas eventually, mine being glorified spaghetti bolognese. But Jesus it's good, probably the best pasta I've eaten in my fucking life.
"Can we eat here every day?" Ava murmurs.
"What? Cathy's not as good?"
She throws me a look, but then her face softens, like she's remembering that Cathy's and the rest of Ivefield exists. Us, this, what's happening right now, will be over by the end of the day. No more protected bubble. No more avoiding Mina.
"Hey," I offer, softly, "We'll be fine."
She shrugs, but says nothing, shovelling another forkful of pasta into her mouth to avoid responding. I reach my hand out over the table, meeting her fingers. She lets me slide through them easily, no resistance to my touch.
"I mean it. If this blows up in our face she can blame me, it's my fault-"
Ava interrupts with a shake of her head, "Don't talk about it...not now." When I draw back slightly she flicks her eyes up to mine in the low lighting, "Everything's just so perfect. I don't wanna ruin it."
"I get it," I murmur, "I won't mention it."
We continue on with our meal for a while longer, until everything's settled again.
We bleed back into our safe sense of security, gentle conversation, pretending all of this is normal.
I watch Ava in front of me like a renaissance painting, studying every fraction of her face. She never gets any less beautiful.
When her dessert arrives my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I reach for it lazily, assuming it'll just be something I can ignore. Unfortunately, it's my sister's name in big, unmistakable letters.
Ava must get that by the look on my face because she immediately goes, "Take it. You don't want her to be suspicious of anything.
I nod, but it still feels weird, like we're being caught in the act somehow.
I almost don't want to leave, happy to keep sitting here like we have all the time in the world.
Ava is right though, so I excuse myself and slip outside, cold air gracing my skin.
I watch a puddle on the floor as I accept the call.
"Hello?"
"Do you think Mr Snuggles is worth keeping?"
I blink. Huh?
"What?" My voice comes out splintered.
"I don't think I can get him into any of these boxes, but I used to love him. You used to sleep with him when you were a baby, thought you would have some input."
It takes a second for my mind to catch up to everything, to what gibberish she's saying to me right now. She's moving out...and that's why she called? I run a hand over my face, so lost my tone is riddled with confusion.
"You're calling me for packing advice?"
She groans down the line like there's something I'm missing, "You're not working, right?"
"No."
"Well then, you think I should keep him or not?"
I open my mouth, then close it, unsure what to say.
I can barely remember what Mr Snuggles looks like, let alone care about what happens to him.
But before saying something snarky back, I pause.
Yes, it's dumb, but if Riley cares enough to call then it's important to her.
Plus, this is what siblings do, right? Call each other about dumb shit?
"Uhhhh....keep him."
"Yeah," She hums, "You're right."
There's a shuffle on the line, her fiddling with boxes. I wait, unsure what to say, mind still partially left at that table with Ava. I try and imagine Riley right now, sat on her floor, surrounded by all her belongings.
"How was the wedding?" She questions, genuinely curious.
I shrug, "Fine, normal." It's hard to stop all the invasive images of Ava in that dress, watching me all day, the electric tension that ran slick between us.
"Anything interesting happen?"
"Not really."
I have a girlfriend now, that's pretty interesting.
"Mom and dad are back..." Riley starts, then pauses, choosing her words carefully, "I think we should do something together, like an outing or something."
Suddenly her hesitant tone and desire to fill the silent space makes more sense.
She's not just bored, she's nervous. Nervous things with our parents will go to shit like they always do, scared I'll backtrack on promises I made in the moment.
I clear my throat, making an attempt to sound more interested. I do care.
"Yeah, yeah, of course."
I can hear the smile in her voice, "Good...thanks."
"I said I'd make things right, so I will," I push out with probably all the sincerity I have left. But the words are real and that's what matters.
"Sorry to bother you with this stuff, packing's just a lot harder than I thought. There are a lot of memories here...a lot of things I haven't thought about in a long time."
I wonder if she thinks I don't understand.
I do get it, really get it.I still haven't been in my childhood room.
Space holds memories so tightly, then thrusts them upon you the second you get a hint of the past. It's a lot, too much, and our house is so filled with good and bad it makes it hard to think.
"I'll let you go, I'm sure you're editing or something important..."
I nod, "Thanks for calling...it was nice."
"Yeah, it was."
We say goodbyes and then the line goes dead, my ears filled with the pattering of rain just starting up again, hitting the puddle my vision has been centred on half the time.
I don't feel stress, or worry or annoyance.
There's something heavier, the weight of us being close to rebuilding everything versus the truth, something that could break it all apart.
And that truth is waiting for me inside.
She's sat there, waiting, picking at her cheesecake with a fork like eating it might break the suspense. Her eyes spark to life as I press a kiss to the top of her head then sit back down opposite her. It steadies me, shesteadies me.
"Everything okay?"
I nod, "Nothing important, usual Riley chaos, you know."
I see Ava visibly let out a breath, her fork actually makes it through the cheesecake this time.
I don't like the secrets, the hiding. I think it's stupid mainly .
..but it doesn't tear me apart like it does her.
The way her face gets shrouded in anxiety, the way she bites the inside of her cheek, it makes my chest ache.
She shouldn't have to feel like that.
My hand makes its way across the table, holding her fingers in mine again. A quiet offering of peace. The smile she returns makes my vision all hazy in a way I can't explain.
By the time we leave the rain has stopped fully, patches slowly drying on the sidewalks.
My jacket rests over Ava's shoulders after she tried to insist she wasn't cold when she definitely was.
Gentle conversation passes us by, the sound of cars, our own spoken words. Once again, our equilibrium is back.
I still can't believe she's my girlfriend, that we're together.
Stupid decisions and stolen moments have all led up to this, us.
I can't stare too long at the way her hair falls or lips curl into a smitten giggle - it'll make me fall too fast. Fuck, I might have already fallen as far as I possibly can.
"Hey, look, ice cream," Her voice cuts through my thoughts, "You didn't have dessert, you should get some." She gestures to a stall up ahead, painted teal and decorated with hand written signs.
"I'm not like you, I don't crave ice cream in January."
I wait for her to snort a sarcastic laugh, turn and stare at me with mock offence or just squeeze the arm linked in mine harder. But instead, there's silence.
I don't even register it until her grip slips, our joint footsteps slowing to a stop. Something's shifted.I don't know what I expect it to be when my gaze follows hers.
A vaguely familiar man, stood in front of us, looking at Ava like the world has come crashing down.
Her breath hitches, then a word leaves her voice so shaky it barely makes it out.
"Dad?"