Shelby
Chapter Five
High Tea she was far too young and it was one hundred percent unfair.
In the end she was frail. Unrecognisable to the point where even Blake found it difficult to visit and so, with just Aunty Ash by my side and Mum’s wishes to remain at home, we made her as comfortable as possible.
“I wasn’t in a great way, and it would have been a long way to travel for…that.” I said, with sincerity in my tone.
I thought about the long nights towards the end sitting by her bed.
The gaps in her breathing, wondering if each was her last. The endless tears until they too dried up and I became a zombie.
Aunty Ash having to prompt me to shower and eat each day.
I wasn’t the sort of person who braved through and had things sorted.
Those powerhouses who upon hearing awful news were able to push their own emotions aside and rally for everyone around them.
I was quite literally the opposite. Unless I knew Blake was going to be there and I needed to shelter him from pain, I was scattered, lost and angry.
And it had taken me a long time and many hours in counselling to work through that and accept the grief was now something I had to live with.
It didn’t have to be my dominant emotion though.
“Still, I wished I could have been there for you. I -” He cut himself off and I kept my gaze out the window, knowing if I looked his way, I would lose the battle with the tears threatening to escape.
The last thing I wanted right now. I wanted to tell him he had been there for me.
The flowers he’d sent every day for a month.
The crayons and colouring packs he had delivered so frequently that the postman started recognising my name, and all those late-night calls, sometimes just a simple ‘ hello, ’ knowing it was the middle of his workday, but never hanging up until he was sure I’d fallen asleep.
And often I wouldn’t sleep without him on the other end of the phone, especially in the first few weeks after she passed.
The loneliness had been consuming and no one else realised.
“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone?” He finally asked with a hint of apprehension which had me turning away from the barren landscape and the depths of my memories.
“Of course.” I let out a deep breath, my hand reaching forward to stroke his forearm. The move was platonic, therapeutic even, but it sent a flurry of goosebumps across my own skin which were entirely out of place given the heat.
I felt his eyes move down to watch the gesture briefly and I waited for him to pull away or ask me to stop but instead he turned his arm over, giving me access to the underside of his forearm. The soft, smooth canvas was receptive to my touch, his palm opening as he relaxed .
“My biggest fear is flying,” he admitted softly. “Terrifies me. Have never been on or even near a plane.”
My eyes widened, but I did my best not to stiffen.
This was something I didn’t know. Something he had never shared and something which explained so many things.
We’d never really discussed visiting, with the cost of flights and then as we grew, work commitments and Mum’s illness taking over, but I never considered there was something deeper.
“Aren’t you moving overseas soon?”
“Apparently,” he deadpanned, and I crossed my legs in the seat, invested in unpacking this further, the tears from earlier gone.
“So, what are you going to do, get a boat?” I was only half-joking. How was he supposed to travel internationally if he couldn’t get on a plane?
“I was choosing to ignore that part of the venture until necessary. But it will require some assistance in the form of muscle relaxants at a minimum. Or maybe this-” he gestured to where I continued to lazily stroke his arm, “could be an additional extra with the ticket.”
“I hate to say I told you so, but how good is a ten for ten ,” I laughed, causing him to flash me that electric smirk.
Gosh, he was handsome.
“What’s your colour today?” I asked, needing a distraction before my greedy little fingers moved up to his bicep.
He hummed along to the music as he considered the question. We were on our way to a cafe and the photos online did look gorgeous to say the least, so I was in good spirits, feeling the warmer end of the spectrum.
“ Alien Armpit , you?” He grinned.
“Who named these crayons, honestly?” I chuckled, leaning forward as the song transitioned into another track, which I predictably skipped.
“So, you don’t like Celine or Avril now. I’m beginning to doubt your Canadian heritage at this point. ”
“Oh, please,” I murmured, continuing to move through the songs. “Ha!” I grinned, satisfied when Justin Bieber began. “I never skip Justin,” I sighed almost dreamily.
“You’re a Belieber ?” He sounded horrified, which could not be accurate. I would never be friends with someone who asked that with such shock.
“Did you just say Belieber ?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he scowled in the most adorable way.
“Well, I am. And if we are being totally honest, I am also a Twihard . Is that a deal breaker?” I retorted with raised brows.
“Depends,” he paused, “team Edward or team Jacob?”