The First Step

A tropical tune jaunts through the room pushing away the silence. Lavender cracks her eyes open and squints at her alarm. She’s been picking strange sounds to play as her alarm it forces her to wake up, just to switch the eerie calls of exotic birds off. She slides her lock screen and scrolls through her emails. She looks at her notifications:

1 new message on Hangouts

Hangouts? She used that back in college. Who’s messaging her on that now? The only reason she still has it on her phone is to preserve several memorable conversations she’s had with some of her long time friends. A quick click opens up the message on the dusty old app.

Spence: Hey Lav

Her confusion finally gives way to anger. He cannot pretend as if nothing has happened. He has not tried to stay in touch since he left. She goes to block him she doesn’t need to deal with this. Whatever this is. A quiver in the back of her mind makes her pause for a minute. What if something is wrong? What if he’s sick or about to die? Nothing could make her care about him. Horrified she takes the ugly thought back. She reminds herself that these feelings didn’t help her before they are only going to hurt her.

She gets out of bed, what a terrible start to her day. None of her usual meditation helps clear her mind. She tries to sort through her thoughts, making three piles keep, examine later and get rid of. The unexpected message has rattled her and all of the uncertainty, the feelings of inadequacy, loss and hurt return. Going about her day, cooking breakfast and going to work will make her feel better. Everything feels a step off. The stretching exercise doesn’t relax her muscles; the sunlight forming a speckled pattern on her rug goes unnoticed. Her mind is somewhere else.

Later at work she is typing up information from the folders on her desk. She keeps slipping up and making errors, an untouched cup of tea sits on the desk.

Lavender looks at her phone with the unopened message looking down at her from the notifications bar. She picks up her phone turning it around in her hand. Finally she places it face down. Maybe she should answer. Not answering hasn’t worked in fact it has made her feel more uneasy and on edge. She types out a response and deletes it. She changes it countless times, before finally changing her mind.

He doesn't deserve a reply. Not after icing her out for so long. She puts the phone in her trouser pocket, before she has a chance to change her mind. What could her brother possibly want from her? The phone buzzes in her pocket. She dreads taking it out, worried about what the message might say. She plays with the buttons on her jacket, checks for creases on her shirt and finally sips her tea. It was his decision to cut her out not hers. But she pulls the phone out of her pocket anyways and glances at the screen.

She almost laughs: it is a promotional email from a local spa. 

Sitting back in her chair she takes a deep breath. Her relationship with him was never strained until he left. And she still tried. She kept trying to reach out, to throw her words across the void and have them land at his doorstep, to tie a knot in the string he had severed. But the harder she tried the further away he went. Then he finally told her to leave him alone that he had things he needed to figure out. The phone buzzes once again and this time she picks it up instantly.

Spence: Lav, how are you?

She takes in a deep breath; he doesn’t really care about how she is. Or he would have messaged sooner. He wouldn’t have run off to a different country. There are many things Spence would not have done, all of which he did after Mom died. The phone buzzes again.

Spence: I couldn’t reach you anywhere else.

Of course he couldn’t. She had blocked him on her phone but only because he had blocked her in real life. Should she convey these thoughts to him? It might push him away again, but he deserved to hear how he made her feel. How alone she was when he left. Still is.

She doesn’t respond to the message. The truth is she’s too scared of what she might say to him. How she thinks about him when she reads Great Expectations. How she hid all of his pictures in the laundry room. There’s too much to unpack. It took her years to come to terms with Mom’s death and Spence leaving. She couldn’t invite him back into her life he would only hurt her again. And what if he decided contacting her was a mistake and drew away from her again.

What then.

She finished at the office and headed home. None of the usual sights made her stop and look. She couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning in her bed. When she did fall asleep she had unusually vivid dreams.

The only one she remembered was her standing at the edge of a bridge. On the opposite end stood a blurry figure. The sight should have frightened her but strangely enough she felt comfortable, safe. Like she was home. She tried to squint and discern the features but the figure remained blurred. All she could make out was that the person wore a bright green shirt. The person lifted a hand towards her. Reaching out.  

She woke incredibly early the next morning. The sun had just begun its ascent ready to oversee another day. She lay in bed and reached for her phone. She didn’t go to her email instead she opened Hangouts and clicked on Spence’s last message.

She looked at his picture. It was one that Mom had taken; she insisted he stand in the garden while she took the picture. The shot was oddly lit and the camera had shaken while the picture was being taken. You could make out very few details. He was captured mid laugh his eyes looking past the camera. His dimly lit green shirt blowing in the wind. Somewhere in the background Lavender was shaking her head, waiting for them to come inside.

She begins typing.

Why did you leave?

I forgive you.

I lost both the people I loved most when Mom died.

I can’t forgive you.

Lavender: Hello Spence

She slowly steps towards the bridge. Waiting for a minute, she closes her eyes and plants her foot on the bridge.