Thankfully the world didn’t end the next day, and it was still alive and kicking a week later too. April was staying late at work on a Sunday, busy making plans for her store’s birthday celebrations for the next month. The discussions she’d had with the girls last weekend were losing their impact the more she immersed herself into every day life. But the fact that she was aware of this made her realise how often she’d done that throughout her life—distracted herself with busy-ness, to avoid dealing with the emotional issues, like was she ever going to not feel anything for Zac? Would she ever be able to move on? Or should she, like her friends had suggested, just get the whole thing out of her system? She also realised she must have learnt that distraction coping strategy from her mother; counteract each challenge with other, more ‘normal’ things.
Maybe Zac was doing the same. She’d been courteous and friendly, but still kept her distance somewhat over the past week. And he hadn’t shown any signs of trying to get inside her head again, or win her over, or charm her with his cooking or wit. Maybe he was indeed moving on. Moving forward. Having realised that April was reluctant. And now that the twelve-month mark had passed, that enticing sense of the forbidden was gone. Perhaps that was all it had been between them up till now, something that thrived on temptation and the inability to give in to it.
Before she closed the store, she checked her email. A new post had arrived from Zac’s blog, and she clicked the link, expecting another self-reflective insight into his mind or the universe or general life philosophy. But her breath caught in her throat as she read the first line …
Her smile is a melody I hear with my heart,
Her eyes a symphony in which I wish to take part.
The sights, the sounds, all senses consumed,
By being around her my soul is exhumed.
Temptation offers its hand in a wave,
Connection, emotion, intensity I crave.
A synergistic dance of two souls in the night,
Swaying, merging, ready to take flight.
A single moment ripples the ribbon of time
Like a drop of my poison, its sweetness sublime.
But that moment so fleeting, so pure, so raw,
Leaves a beautiful stain I can no longer ignore.
The chill of July cools my burning heart,
September’s smile promises a fresh new start.
Like ocean waves my needs ebb and flow,
But I’ll always long for April’s Glow.
Her hands shook, her heart raced, her skin became warm and sweaty. Conflicted by the beauty of the prose and the inappropriateness of using her name and her store name, she stood quickly, her balance unsteady. She gripped the counter and tried to calm her breathing.
She had to go see him.
Not to surrender to the power of his words, or get the passion out of her system, but because this had to stop. He had to stop.
* * *
Zac had reread a lot of his blog over the past couple of hours, and deduced that there was a decent amount of content to make a start on a book. A book about his journey to recovery, and how self-discovery and poetry had been his saviour. The only thing he needed to work on next was his fear of not being anonymous anymore. He would have to make it known who he was, and be prepared to stand up and announce his experiences, his flaws, his triumphs, to the world. Or at least, anyone who was interested enough to listen. And, he realised, he hadn’t even shared his poetry with April yet. And he wondered why she hadn’t pestered him about it over the last several months. Maybe if she read some she would see. She might understand more, and see him for who he really was.
He looked up from his deck chair, over his laptop, at her house, the sky darkening behind it. He’d thought he’d heard her front door opening, which meant she’d be coming out back soon to get Romeo inside before he jumped the fence for his evening rendezvous with Juliet. He got up and put his laptop inside, filling a bowl with food for Juliet, then returned to the deck to water his potted plants.
Just as he thought, the back door opened. But she didn’t call out for Romeo.
‘Zac,’ she said, looking his way. That was a first.
‘That is me,’ he replied.
‘I have to confess something.’ She walked down the deck steps and over to the fence where he met her. She propped her hands on top of the fence, her pink fingernails curving over onto his side of the fence, shiny and bright.
‘Confess? You’re not the type to keep secrets, what is it?’ Unless, was she about to tell him how she really felt?
‘I’ve read your blog.’
‘Oh.’ He stepped back a little. ‘How did you find it?’
‘I didn’t. My employee, Belinda did. Sorry. I mentioned ages ago that my new neighbour was a poet and had a blog, and somehow it came out that you were in the army, and somehow she used her internet powers to find it and she did. Winning the War Within, right?’
He nodded. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. If he’d known, he may not have posted the poem earlier today. ‘So you’ve seen today’s …’
‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Look, you’re really good. I mean, really good. They’re beautiful. But you shouldn’t have used my name, or my store’s name.’
He slipped his hands into his pockets. ‘It was used in a symbolic way. April’s Glow, you know, the month, and the glow of autumn colours, that sort of thing.’ And her name. And her glow.
‘I get that, but anyway, it’s not just that. It’s the others too. I’ve read them all. I’m flattered, I think they’re lovely, but … please stop, Zac. Please.’
‘Why, April?’ He removed his hands from his pockets and propped them up on the fence aside hers. ‘Why should I stop doing something that brings me joy? Something that helps me express things I’m clearly not allowed to express with you?’
She diverted her gaze, but kept her hands on the fence as though she might fall over. ‘Because … because it’s uncomfortable for me, knowing you’re thinking, feeling, those things, when you live next door.’
‘So don’t read it then.’
‘That doesn’t change the fact that—’
‘That what, April? That I have feelings for you? Yes, there you have it. Out in the open, laid out in simple terms instead of my fancy rhyming words.’
She caught his eye for a split second then diverted her gaze again.
‘It’s too hard to be around you,’ she said softly.
‘We’re neighbours. We’re going to be around each other occasionally. And I thought we were also friends.’
‘I don’t want to be friends.’ She lowered her face.
It was like he’d been slapped in the face. This was it, she was making a stand, and maybe one of them would have to move house in order to deal with the situation. ‘You can’t keep going hot and cold like this, April,’ he said. ‘You need to make a decision so we can both move on with our lives, you need to—’
‘I want to be more than friends.’
What?
‘But I can’t,’ she added. ‘So we’re in a bit of a pickle.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
She managed a brief look into his eyes. ‘You know the answer, Zac. And you know why.’
‘So you’re judging me based on your past experience again. Assuming I’m like your father, assuming I’m not strong enough to stay sober.’
‘It’s not just that, it’s … I can’t … If I ever lost someone again, I don’t know if …’ She returned her gaze to meet his.
He moved his hands on top of hers on the fence, holding them in place with assurance. ‘Who says you’d lose me?’
He thought something glimmered in her eye, a subtle flicker of possibility, a sign that he was getting through to her. Until she said, ‘I can’t risk it. I’m sorry.’ She removed her hands from beneath his.
‘So if we can’t be friends, and we can’t be more than friends …’ he mused.
She shrugged.
‘April, you’re thinking too much about the past and about the future. And you don’t know what the future holds. What about the present? What about living in the now? The moment? You can’t live in regret and fear. You can only live right here, right now, take your next best step.’ His voice became urgent, impatient.
‘Oh yes, live in the moment,’ she said, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘That’s what everyone says. But what about the consequences?’
‘And what about the good consequences?’ he replied. ‘So what if things get messy, or uncertain, or we make mistakes. That’s life. That’s how we learn. But not embracing something you feel out of fear of what may or may not happen? That’s not living.’
She rubbed at her arm.
‘You have a life, April. Live it. Do what you want.’
She looked at him, returned to the fence and gripped it. ‘And what do you want?’
‘I want you,’ he said. ‘Plain and simple.’ There was no going back now. ‘Whether it’s for a night, a week, a month, or years … I want you.’
He was done being patient, if she didn’t reciprocate now he’d leave it alone. Move on.
A loud exhalation escaped her mouth. She was silent, her face tense, her hands white at the knuckles. ‘I can’t,’ she said, then released her grip and walked up to the deck, Romeo following her inside, and the door to her house, and heart, closing with a snap.