It was the middle of the night, and I was awake writing. My glasses sat perched carefully on the slope of my nose. I had music playing softly to help me relax. At night this home seemed to come to life. Creaks, groans, whines, echoed throughout the shell of this dwelling. It was as if the day's events were catching up to the old home's soul. It was as if the home was sympathizing with me.
"My poor home I'm sorry you have to suffer with me. The demons can be worse than hell itself. The memories alone are enough to make a man go mad," I quietly remarked as I looked out the window, gently stroking the sill. I could almost swear I felt the flat let out a sigh of contentment.
I glanced out of the corner of my eye and the flowers looked so lost. They looked like they weren't loved. They looked,sad. I started to wonder, could flowers embody what the sender felt? Flowers conveyed a message. It was secretive to those who were unaware of their amazing ability. There were two people who struck me with immediate sadness. Mrs. Kimmage seemed sad after her story, but not in general.
Ornella wasn't sad, she was just malicious. She held hatred in her hand, like it was her child. She couldn't bear to let it go. If it were to become lost she'd go absolutely mad. I thought more about her, and the idea of sadness. I thought back to a point, which crushed us both. The lump formed in my throat, and with that I felt like my air was being cut off. She sat beside me, and her face. Bloody hell her face. I remember just pulling her into my lap. My arms wrapped around her, enveloping her small thin frame. Her long hair fell over her face. The tears streamed.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry Arcanum. I just don't understand." She choked on her words.
"Please baby. I promise I'm not angry with you. Things happen, but we'll be ok." I kissed her temple, as she wept in my lap.
"I imagined us as a family. I'm sorry I'm not pregnant." Her sobs shook her frame. I just felt sad for her. She felt like she'd let me down, but she hadn't. One day, we'd have our family, but now wasn't the time. We were both coming into our careers. I gently stroked her back, trying console my girlfriend. I loved her with every ounce of my being. To make her feel safe and secure was my priority. She eventually cried herself to sleep in my lap. Once I was sure she'd fallen into a deep enough sleep, I moved her to the couch. I stood quietly and covered her up. I didn't know what to do.
I came back from the memory, and walked over to my computer. I opened a new tab and entered YouTube. Once I was on the site, I searched for Nightingale by Demi Lovato. I found the official video and shared it on Twitter. There was no description from me. It simply read Demi Lovato - Nightingale (Official Video) then the link was provided. I sent the tweet and listened to the lyrics. The lyrics were absolutely haunting. Anyone who'd ever been in this position could understand the song. I simply wondered if when people heard the song, they thought it might be a reference to Florence Nightingale. It wasn't that though. The bird is called Nightingale. The male sings at night; however it is usually an unpaired male which sings to the night sky. The song is sung to attract a mate. The nightingale and I had our own songs. Mine were bound together, and on book shelves. This was my subtle calling to Abigail to leave him. Be my mate.
The tweets started and replies flooded immediately. I'd chosen a rather young superstar, who had a powerful song. Her fan base was enormous, and she had a story to tell as well. When we're lost sometimes, we use song lyrics, or quotes to express a message. That is the beauty of other soul's words. They've walked where we might have been.
It was the early hours of the morning and the sun would be making its appearance soon. I wondered where everyone was in my life. Abby's Twitter had been quiet, and so had Ornellas. I hadn't heard from my siblings or Patty either. Maybe this was karma finally catching up with me. I pushed everyone away, and this is how they felt. I sighed, and left the cursor blinking.
"A gum wrapper?" Olivia questioned.
"A note was written inside. Why would that one pack of gum, have that one note. I of all people pick it up?" Micah questioned.
"Maybe you're just the lucky recipient. Now if you don't mind, I have a life." She stepped around him, and started making her way down the street.
I sat there reading the last few lines I'd typed. I turned, and looked at the flowers again. If they had a hand, I could see a finger motioning me to come closer. I wouldn't be seduced by a bouquet of flowers. I sighed pushing my glasses up, to rub my eyes. I was tired and needed to be up in a few hours. I quietly saved my work and closed my laptop. The chair scraped against the wooden floor as I backed away from the desk.
"Goodnight." I looked around the room, and proceeded to walk out.
I made it to the bedroom, and sat down on the edge of the bed. With ease I kicked my shoes off and let my body collapse on top of the covers. My back released the muscles that were tense from sitting at my desk. A long sigh escaped my lips, and I closed my eyes.
"You're working too hard you know." A voice came to me.
"No I'm not. If I were working hard, I'd be rid of this bloody writers block." I replied to the empty room.
"Take your own advice. Let the characters speak to you. We have voices you know. You just need to listen." Micah's voice was loud. I could see him standing with a foot up against a wall. He looked as though he were modeling. He had his cigarette and took in his surroundings. I knew nobody was physically in the room with me, but I heard my character loud and clear.
"It will come to me. Patience is the key to success." I said aloud.
With that I saw Micah smile, and turn and leave me to my slumber.
When I woke up, it was nearly noon. I was hungry and could hear music creeping upstairs to my room. The door was open a crack and I smiled knowing Mrs. Kimmage was here today. I stretched and sat up slowly. A yawn escaped as I rubbed my eyes. My glasses were on the nightstand beside the bed. As I reached over the glass of water caught my eye. I couldn't remember if I had brought it up, or had Mrs. Kimmage left it for me. Taking drinks to bed wasn't a common action for me. I simply shrugged it off as I picked up the glass bringing it to my dry lips. I tilted the glass back, taking it in. The cool liquid slid down my throat, and relieved some of the dryness. I stood, picking up my glasses and slid them on. Things came into focus, and that's when I noticed the flowers had been removed. I found it odd, but assumed Mrs. Kimmage must have brought them downstairs.
"Arcanum dear what can I make you. It's time for lunch. Care for a cup of tea?" She smiled, standing at the bottom of the stairs.
"Cup of tea sounds lovely ma'am. Thank you for the offer. I'm going to pass on a meal right now." I stepped off the last step, and walked past the soft spoken woman.
"I removed the flowers, and placed them in the kitchen. I hope you don't mind." She smiled, following behind me.
"It's quite alright Mrs. Kimmage." I smiled.
"I left you a glass of water. You fell asleep on top of your covers. I took a guess that you had been intoxicated. So I thought a glass of water would be needed." She smiled, and turned on the kettle to heat water.
"No I did not have any alcohol last night. I just worked late into the night on some writing." I smiled and looked at the flowers.
"You have an admirer?" She questioned raising an eyebrow towards the floral arrangement.
"I'm trying out the possibilities of who might have sent them. You were on that list truthfully." I smiled at her.
"Why would I be on a list as your admirer? No offense my sweet child, but I'm old enough to be your mother." She patted my cheek, before she stepped away to pull down a mug.
"I looked up the definition of the flowers. I'm truthfully stumped as to who has sent them. It could be Abby, or Ornella. I phoned Abby, and she adamantly denied it. Ornella is my only other thought." I lifted my phone, looking at the shops number which was printed on the card.
"Do you think they'll be able to tell you who sent them?" Mrs. Kimmage asked, as she placed the tea bag in the mug.
"One can only hope." I gave an optimistic smile. Truth was, privacy was so crucial now days, I was betting there would be no luck on my side.
"Why not try to appreciate them, instead of becoming Sherlock Holmes." She chuckled, pouring the water into the mug. I considered what she said. Typically I would be able to. This time though, there was a message behind them. Their meanings alone told me something was brewing. She pushed the mug over to me and sat down across from me at the table. She studied me carefully, and I smiled. "Arcanum we can't always have all the answers we want." She sighed, fiddling with her hands.