14. Zeth
Zeth
When I left Amby in the barn, I felt nothing.
Nothing, because I wrote every desire and doubt regarding my love for Amby onto imaginary paper and crumpled it up before swallowing it down.
I trapped those emotions in my belly with everything else I should’ve felt for the past nine years.
That’s where unruly feelings belonged. It was better to stash them away safely.
I needed room in my mind for more important responsibilities.
So, I rode back to the Winters estate on my rental horse, and once there, pulled up my collar to hide the abrasions on my neck. Anna blinked like a wise owl as she politely invited me in for tea. I declined. I wasn’t thirsty. I didn’t want to linger, or kiss her, or do anything with her at all.
Millie depended on me to provide. We had a plan, yet I wasn’t following it.
I failed to give Anna a courting kiss. I couldn’t find the words.
I could barely smile in her direction without seeing Amby lying in the hay, or feeling his arms wrapped around my neck as he tugged me close with some sort of desperation which echoed from my own soul.
I remembered how enticingly Amby bit his lip to hide his excitement, how sweet his whimper sounded while I held him down.
So we left, and Millie filled my silence with pleasant chatter as we rode into town.
She had a fun time viewing Anna’s car, and cooed over the leather bracelet Anna gave her as a get well gift.
I ensured she entered the laundry safely before I rode on with both of our horses to the stable.
Once there, the kind handler who discounted our fee this morning also kindly helped me dismount.
But I imagined Amby’s support instead of this stranger’s, just as he’d helped me this morning from the stirrup.
Amby…
The handler led the horses to their stalls while my chest struggled to move.
I stood outside watching the sun set over the stable, casting a deep shadow over me while people rushed past on the sidewalk and street.
I only noticed the blur of their motions until it became dark.
Eventually, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and strolled back to the laundry as slowly as my feet would carry me.
My stomach weighed me down. There was a whole trash can inside me filled to the brim with wadded up papers.
Memories and feelings, names and experiences, all spilling over.
It made me choke, and my eyes stung from holding it in.
I don’t know how I reached the little alleyway covered in ivy before my trash can toppled over.
I stumbled as the crumpled wads of my past spread open, and I barely reached the door without being sick.
My prior experiences with Amby were nothing like today, and holy shit, I never knew… I didn’t know what I asked of him—of myself—when I requested one more time together. One perfect time. My Rosie…
Tears welled now as fear leaped off the stupid page in my stomach.
I never felt so terrified as I did while Amby held me close to kiss the bruises he gave me, and gently asked if I was okay, because I wasn’t.
I wasn’t okay. I was scared to lose him.
And I was scared to chase him. No matter what I did, my heart was going to break all over again.
And that only shuffled my pages to anger.
Feeling weak, my knees gave out, and I hit the ground, collapsing against the laundry’s side door, crumpled inside and out.
My head hit the warped wood, but I welcomed the sting.
It was easier to deal with than the hostility that halted me for the last nine years.
I carried such hate over my breakup with Amby that I closed myself off from others and blamed him for being an uncaring rich kid.
I thought he got over me so easily, but he mourned our separation.
He still called me his best friend before letting me use his mouth…
and that only made me angrier at myself.
I was so damn selfish for misunderstanding Amby, so blinded by my bitterness that I didn’t realize how angry I’d become at him, at this town—even at Anna and her embroidered pillows and tea sets.
I’d acted like one of the wealthy pricks I despised.
Amby deserved much more than that last time, and I hated myself for hurting him.
I tasted salty tears on my lips, but I didn’t recall crying.
I heard the sobs as they started, unable to hold them back.
They tumbled around inside of me now, escaping, until they rattled my chest. Deep, horrid sounds that demanded a voice since I ignored them for so damn long.
I welcomed them now. Purposefully letting the anguish out felt better than having no control at all.
I wrote those memories of helplessness down many times.
I worked so fucking long to learn my trade, only to watch my dreams destroyed right in front of me.
I was helpless to stop it. Dad leaving, Amby breaking up with me, Mum moving us, losing my job…
Fuck , I couldn’t control anything, I never could.
I still felt like a little kid peering in from the outside who didn’t belong with the elite kids at school.
Frustration filled my pages for all the times I couldn’t steer my path, couldn’t stop the rain, or avoid the sorrow that fate was determined to throw in my way.
Then there was the regret I felt over my mum.
She wasn’t clever or talented but she managed to put food in my mouth, clothes on my bones, and a roof over my head.
She loved me with every scrap of her heart.
She held me close on bad days. She made even the hardest thing seem possible.
Then she got sick, and I watched in agony while she weakened, day by day, until eventually…
she slipped away. There’s some sort of hell in watching your loved ones suffer.
Even worse, when you can’t help them be comfortable or well, because you don’t have the damn money required to heal them.
Life shouldn’t be about money. Yet, it was, and guilt ate at me from the inside.
I didn’t earn enough, I wasn’t enough to make life possible for Mum when she needed me.
It was all… unfair. Devastating. Wrong. I was so useless in the fight that was always against me.
Having to sell everything we owned because I was worthless, having no prospects except those of some socialite I was trying to trick into marriage, and having to listen, helpless, while Amby choked out his last goodbye.
That goodbye hurt. It tore something inside me, trying to rip another page free.
But I refused to let that particular paper go.
I had buried it at the bottom of my emotional pile because it was the hardest to read.
It carried wonderful memories of mine and Amby’s family while we lived in Everdeen.
Now, only a half-a-page of happiness remained.
I clung to that while the rest escaped with my cries into the dark.
***
Two days later, I waited outside the laundry in my old shirt, vest, and pants while Millie took her sweet time dressing.
The late spring weather was shifting into a cool breeze, and I enjoyed the chill on my face.
It was nice. Simple. I rooted myself to the sidewalk, closed my eyes, and listened to the hubbub of passing carriages, horses, and pedestrians.
The longer I stayed in this small town, the more I liked it.
Two days since I left Amby. How did two days feel like a lifetime already?
I hated how torn I felt since leaving him.
But sometimes you have to tear things apart to create even better things, right?
Like that crafter I met once who tore up old letters.
She soaked those shreds in water and sifted them to make fresh paper for journals.
After the barn, I was torn to pieces, and tears soaked my pages.
Perhaps I was ready for a new existence too.
One that could be written on new, prettier pages.
Pages that involved tea sets and Chince vases.
Pages with Annabelle Winters. That was the plan.
Millie and I charmed our way into Anna’s life far quicker than I expected.
She welcomed us with open arms. Now it was time to commit.
Perhaps we could take a walk together through the park this week.
I just needed to set aside my impossible fantasies for a future where I strolled publicly with Amby, and he chose to be with me.
That was never going to happen. I needed to open my eyes to reality.
Anna… and her huge estate, comfortable life, and social status could all be mine. I was a fool to hope for anything else.
Opening my eyes to the bright day, I blinked down at my pinky ring.
The square stone glimmered a brighter amber color than before.
It reminded me of the ascot Amby chose and tied around me.
I also kept his embroidered handkerchief.
Tokens to remember him. Items to sell, if needed, although the thought made me ache.
Unfortunately, sentimental items meant little when Millie and I were running out of soap and other basics.
I also needed to make a payment to Arthur for our new clothes.
Then, there was that overdue property tax bill.
I tried to forget about it, but the impossible price weighed heavily on my shoulders.
The only way to pay that off was to sell the laundry quickly. Or marry.