Page 66 of Laced in Longing

The panic rises, a tide threatening to drown me. My lungs constrict as they force each breath to be shorter than the last. As the jar slips in my sweat-slicked palms, I tighten my grip, grinding my teeth against dropping it and shattering the only real piece of him I have left.

No, I refuse to believe he’s given up. Not after centuries of waiting, searching for me in each life. He wouldn’t give up.

Plus, I do not belong here. I’ve known that since I was old enough to know anything. No person or place has ever welcomed or wanted me—they all sensed something rotten in my wiring.

But it wasn’t that; or, it wasn’t only that. I’ve been truly disappearing these last weeks. My colleagues forgetting me, unable to utter my name even when I present it. Whole days where nobody’s eyes landed on me once. The more of him I let in, the more of me leaked out, and I should be terrified about that.

I’m not. I’m relieved. Who fucking cares how crazy that sounds…I’m relieved that the world’s finally admitting what I always suspected: I was never meant to be here.

Shaking my head, I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes. A knot forms in my throat as I speak his name. “Ash.” That sounded weak and pathetic.

Two-hundred heartbeats pass before I accept that it didn’t work. Nothing happens aside from someone’s dog losing its mind outside.

I clear my throat and try again, louder, as I attempt to muster confidence. “Ash. I need to talk to you.”

Still nothing. The silence mocks me, yapping in my face about what a failure I am and how I’ll never see my god again. Threads in my chest constrict, and suddenly it’s painful to breathe as my stomach curls in on itself in an ugly little cramp.

Okay. Fine. That’s fine. He’s busy. He doesn’t lounge next to the doorway to this world, waiting at my beck and call. I cannot just snap my fingers and force him to materialize because I’ve finally sorted my dumbass head out after commanding he leave.

“I’m not going to yell at you,” I say to the ceiling. “That’s not—I don’t do that. I mean, I did do that. Obviously I did; that’s the problem, but I’m not going to do it again, so if that’s what you’re waiting for, you can stop.” Words catch on my tongue. I don’t know what else to say, so I just mutter, “Please.”

Please is new. I’ve never begged for anything in my life, except to be free of it. But I’m begging now, the word torn from deep inside my soul, and fucking hell, he still doesn’t appear!

Do not jump to conclusions, Maven. I scoff, knowing myself too well.

Well, maybe he can’t hear me. Or he can and he’s waiting for something⁠—

My shoulders straighten. Of course he’s waiting for something! I hurt him, and he deserves an apology.

It’s moments like these I realize just how pitiful I am. How many times did I practice how I would apologize? And I cannot remember a single one.

That’s a lost thought as the urge to say anything overwhelms me. “I was wrong.” Wow, how revolutionary. “I was wrong, and I knew it the moment you left. I’ve been glued to this floor for days like a coward instead of just admitting how sorry I am.” Deep breath. “I made a decision for the both of us in my panic because I thought I knew best. That was stupid, I know…not once in my life have I ever known what was best about anything. And yet I took that choice away from you to keep it for myself, because I decided you were better off without me.” A lone tear slips from my left eye. Regardless if he is listening or not, saying this out loud feels good. Freeing. “You get to decide what’s best for you. I never asked. Instead, I screamed at you until you left. I’m so sorry.”

Not even the slightest disturbance of the air greets me. I lay my palm flat over my breast before pressing down hard, as if the flurry of static inside will be held back by my weak compression.

No, it’s fine. Just breathe. I can wait.

And wait, I do. Minutes pass, stretching into hours until the sun dips below the horizon. Eventually, I’m swallowed by darkness, and only the faint glow of street lamps provides any reprieve. Still, I wait. Not moving or turning on the light. Occasionally, I’ll speak his name with the hope that he’ll finally answer, but he never does.

My back aches from sitting in one position for so long. Both legs went numb hours ago, fluttering pinches shooting through them each time I shift. A burn starts in my eyes as I struggle to keep them open.

“You said you loved me,” I whisper, the words barely making it to my ears. Another lump forms in my throat, which is just great.

Sleep beckons, so tempting with its sweet promise to take me from here. I’ll give in for just a moment. Close my eyes for a few minutes; that’s all I need⁠—

Pain radiates through my skull as my head jerks back, something in my neck snapping as I work through this disorientation.

I’m still on the floor, and morning light filters through my meager curtains. Damn, I slept the entire night like this? No wonder I feel like shit.

And he still isn’t here. The stillness in the air tells me he never showed up, which only breaks me all over again. I snatch the jar that slid from my grip and clutch it tight as a sob tears from my throat. Then another. And another. Until I’m on my side again, curled around the flowers like they’re the only things keeping me from imploding.

After another self-pity fest, my eyes wander to the flowers while I ignore the severe hunger cramps. Their muted colors trigger a memory⁠—

The garden stretches before me, flowers of every kind growing far above my head. It’s a maze of them, paths winding this way and that. I wish we could visit this greenhouse every day; it’s so beautiful.

“These are my favorites,” I say, stopping before a cluster of black dahlias. My fingers brush the petals, a tingling sensation traveling down my spine from their velvety softness.

Ash stands beside me, close enough that our shoulders would touch if he were actually here.