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It occurred to me, while I was away, that her presence around me had developed an invincible impact on my life. From being Allison’s best friend to my personal assistant, Fiona was indispensable.
As we approached the house, I saw a woman who looked like Cherie in the front yard of the house, on the left of Fiona’s duplex.
I asked Liam to stop driving so that I could confirm what I had seen; lo and behold, it was her.
Though her eyes still sparkled, her beauty waned, and it looked like she was not too well.
She was undoubtedly happy to see me after a very long time, and we chatted for a while, totally excusing the existence of Mason, her ex-husband.
When I asked about the girls, she told me Kimberly was briefly staying with her father, and Kaitlin was at Cherie’s older sister’s.
That was fair, I thought to myself.
I hadn’t really spoken with Mason after I was picked up from the airport but he had looked better than I had left him. I jokingly told him, and he made a small laugh about it.
When I left Cherie, I couldn’t help but think she was hiding something important from everyone.
Yes, she and Mason still had frequent disagreements, but she couldn’t look so worn out as a result. It was beyond that.
I could remember wanting to discuss them with Mason over a drink.
*****
Allison’s call came through as soon as I stepped out of the shower. She spoke of an attempt at convincing our parents against reconciling Aurora with me.
Though I didn’t give much thought to it, I doubted it would be successful.
Personally, I was wrestling with the idea of rebellion, yet I had the desire to consider it. I began seeing it as a spontaneous action, not a carefully thought-out one.
The stillness of the night managed to lull me to sleep, and as soon as I shut my eyes, I saw a strange montage of Fiona.
The gentle curve formed on her lips, the shimmer in her beautiful eyes, the tenderness in her voice, and the warmth she always exuded.
A smile gradually appeared on my face by merely thinking of her. But she had not looked too pleased during the day.
The doorbell rang.
“Hey,” she breathed when I opened the door.
“Hey.”
She walked in with several brown bags.
“What’s the occasion?” I closed the door, and she headed directly to the kitchen.
“Dinner.” She answered.
“I thought we would just order in something light.” I followed her, rather happy to see her.
“No, I think this,” she was referring to the takeouts she had offloaded on the kitchen counter. “is better.” She finished, taking off her shoes.
I instantly saw the scratches behind her ankles. They looked painful, and I was moved to help her dress the wound.
“Come,” I grabbed her wrist and exited the kitchen.
“Why?”
“Those,” I pointed at the scratches after I had made her sit still.
