Love Garden

HER 1

“I’ve always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. Since I was a little girl, I’ve been obsessed with great tales of love and its many journeys around the universe. I used to believe that love would sweep me off my feet and carry me somewhere far away from everything. Now I know that love is like a snowflake, falling down slowly enough to see just how beautiful it is, then landing right on the tip of your nose to melt away within a blink.

It is what inspired me to write Love/Hurt. Love is unable to be kept, the same way it is unable to be free. It needs something, someone to latch onto in order to do what it needs to do and leave. It is precious, and therefore must be carefully monitored and maintained as so. I’ve sacrificed myself to love’s fatal stroke maybe too many times, but I’ve learned many things from it. For one, I learned that I enjoy being a channel for love to release its energy into. It has become me, and it is in everything I do and every breath I take. I also learned that love can be maintained, but only if both parties are willing to change their state. Eventually I aspire for the world to desire this feeling of complete sacrifice to love, but I’m happy if I can touch one mind with my words. For us to keep love, we must truly understand it, that is the key. If love is maintained, if we can keep it, then there will be no pain from its absence. Love/Hurt was my way of saying that we can choose, and I choose to let love in.”

“How was that?” I take a deep breath.

“Uh… that was something. That was something for sure.”

“Chey.” My publicist Cheyenne wears a tantalizing smirk on her face on the other side of the sofa.

“Be honest.”

“Well, it’s not the worst introduction speech I’ve ever heard, but you need to cut it shorter, I’m bored, and I mean literally almost to death. Also, I know this is a story about love and all, but that’s exactly why you don’t need to get all up into that shit right now, you sound like a hippie screaming about how love’s gonna change the world mann. Be a little less Ghandi and a little more Oprah.” She won't stop jazz-handing until I look at her do it, so I do, then she continues.

“You’re starting to sound a little love cult-ish, girl. Tone it down a bit.”

I find the nearest pillow to throw my face into. She grabs both my hands.

“Hey, you did say be honest. It’s gonna be okay. The meeting’s not until tomorrow, you have all night to think about your speech, and it doesn’t even matter because I’m sure they’ll want to do this feature on you regardless.”

“I know. I’m gonna go home and rethink it. Thanks, goodnight.”

Walking to the train, I can’t help but to feel a bit anxious about tomorrow. It’s a very important day for me and my story, and this feature will change so many lives.

***

HIM 1

Most days I wake up a little after the sun begins to rise. Usually, it’s out of instinct or habit that can be just as disappointing as it is helpful, and sometimes it’s because of the unfortunate effectiveness of my alarm, but today it was neither. I am woken up by a soft touch on my top lip that lightly presses into my skin and waits until it senses my arousal before it starts to make its way down my chin, tracing my jawline, and then down my neck to finally rest gently on my chest like a leaf falling slowly to the ground.

And then a kiss.

“Good morning.”

I open my eyes one by one and am immediately taken out of my morning haze by a familiar grin. I slept so peacefully, I almost forgot that I fell asleep at Claire’s apartment last night. We’ve been a little bit more than friends for about 2 months now, although recently she’s been wanting me to sleep over a lot more than usual, so I believe these blurred lines are boldening.

“Good morning, baby.” I raise up on my elbows to meet her halfway into a second kiss.

“What time is it?” I ask, looking around for my phone.

“It’s...8:16.”

“Fuck. I’m late again. Will is gonna lose it when he sees me.” I jump out of the bed and begin frantically dressing myself, “I’m surprised he hasn’t already called to chew me out.”

“Even if he does, I say fuck him. He’s been singling you out for months now, like he doesn’t let everyone else show up whenever they please. He knows he needs you and that’s why he uses you like that, it’s not fair.”

“You are right, and I wish I could do something about it, but I just have to play my role right now. Not everyone can just quit when they don’t like what they’re told.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she hisses.

“Nothing. It’s just that, as a working actress, you have a little more freedom when it comes to doing your job, if you’re unsatisfied with the work, you can find another well-paying gig the next day and it’ll be as if nothing happened, it’s a bit more complicated for me.”

“Acting is just as complicated as writing...”

I can see her eyes finish rolling as I pull my shirt over my head.

“speaking of, did you decide if you can make it to the show tonight? The phantom will have left the opera by the time you make it.”

“I’ll be there,” I smile and kiss her forehead, a bit of guilt overcomes me as I realize that this is the fourth time she’s asked me to attend one of her shows, and I haven’t made one yet.

“but I have to go now.”

…

I walk into work unannounced and swiftly slide into my desk chair without a sound, yet somehow my boss Will still senses my arrival. This, along with the fact that he will eat anything left in the breakroom for more than a day, convinces me that he’s part canine.

“Hey, kid! Where have you been? I’ve been looking around for you all morning.”

“Sorry I’m late. I was out late last night and-”

“Kid, take a good look at my face and tell me if you think I care.” He stood in front of me with a look of intimidation on his face, which would’ve worked on me if it weren’t for my indifference towards most things that should matter in my life.

He was only about two inches taller than me, but stood as if he towered over me, his overly worked out arms, which he brags daily about, were crossed over his puffed chest. He could be more intimidating if he didn’t try so hard. Both of us stood still, as I had no idea if he actually wanted me to answer that question.

“No, sir. It doesn’t look like you care.” I say plainly.

“Good then. So you’re not as stupid as I thought. Whatever happened, just don’t let it happen again. We needed you here for the morning meeting, Stacy was here and she’s not happy with the content. We have to find better stories.”

By “we” he means me.

“And by “we” I mean you.”

“Yes sir. I’ll start working on that today.”

“No, you’re gonna work on your interview today.”

“Interview?”

“Yes, interview” he attempts to mock me but ends up just sounding like a higher-pitched version of himself.

“For your feature on the author of Love Hurts.”

“You mean Love/Hurt? I love that book!” My indifference is immediately distinguished after hearing her name echo through the office, and that I’m going to be doing her interview.

“That’s the one, kid. What is with you today? You’re late, you forget to do your job, and you haven’t showered.” I resist smelling my armpits. Is it really that noticeable?

“I’ve been telling you about this for the past week. Listen, if you’re not prepared for this today, I can get someone else to do the feature, I don’t need you embarrassing me or the company.” The past week? Now I’m sure that can’t be possible, if I’d known I was going to be interviewing her, it wouldn’t slip my mind.

“No. I’m ready for this, I promise. I’ve been waiting years for an opportunity like this. Thanks, Will.”

“Don’t thank me, just do your job well. And don’t show up with that stupid look on your face!”

***

HER 2

Finally, he’s here.

I swiftly open the door right as he lifts his hand to knock, a trick that I learned from my 76 year old neighbor Lizzie called watching quietly through a peephole. It has helped us with many arbitrary engagements, believe it or not.

He smiles and enters the room, and it reminds me of a stray dog being let into a home that smells of fresh meat.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you, I’ve read Love/Hurt at least five times and I must say, I am extremely humbled and impressed by your work.”

I turn around and his hand is reaching out, I assume to be shook. I examine his hand for a moment, then slowly slide it into mine and look him in the eye as I do. I release it when he begins to speak again.

“My name is Fyler—I mean Tyler…uh my name is Tyler Ferris, and I’m honored to be doing your interview today.”

I smile.

“The pleasure is mine. I’m very excited to be working with a company like Great Minds Magazine. Sit?” He takes a seat on one of the chairs at the table in my dining area.

“So, where should we start? Oh, I almost forgot. Would you like some tea?”

He nods and reaches the teacup I placed on the table out to the kettle I grabbed from the stove.

“Okay, let’s begin.”

“Well, I hate to be a typical modern man, but let’s start with numbers. It seems like your book has been having a great year, and more and more people are being drawn to your unique style of writing. How does it make you feel to have gained such dedicated support for your work?”

I stick to the script and answer his questions as perfectly and to his liking as I can, so that he can feel satisfied enough with what he has, and I can start to take some of the focus off of me.

“What about you? How do you feel about love?”

He hesitates to look up at me.

“Well, I feel a lot of the same ways you feel about it. Love comes and goes and that’s what it’s meant to do. That’s why it’s such an addictive feeling because we can’t really ever have it. I guess that’s where we might disagree, though. I don’t think love is meant to be held onto, and I do believe pain is a necessary feeling to have.” His eyes meet mine and I take my time to really see him.

You just need help with your change.

“Pain can be helpful, but don’t you think about what life would be like if there wasn’t any pain? If people didn’t hurt each other?”

“That might be nice, but I don’t know. Also, there’s no way to know if someone else’s pain could ever really be ended by our own personal actions, it’s not always an intentional thing.”

“Have you ever caused someone pain Tyler?”

“Sure. I won't say that I haven’t because that would be unrealistic, but I don’t ever try to hurt people.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I—I’m not like that”

He starts tapping his pen on his temple.

“Have you ever done bad things for love?”

“I…I think I have.”

“Have you ever hurt someone physically? What did you do for love?”

Sweat begins to bead up on his forehead.

“I…I—”

There is a knock at the door. He straightens up and wipes his face.

Fuck.

“I should be going now anyway, it’s getting late. Thanks for a great evening of interesting stories and conversation.”

“Thanks to you, this was fun.” I open the door and Lizzie almost falls into my living room.

“I saw that boy walk in, and it’s been suspiciously quiet for over an hour!”

“I know Lizzie. I forgot to tell you I was having a visitor, but everything is fine.” I walk her back into her apartment, shut the door, and say goodnight to him.

***

HIM 2

My enthrallment with this almost concerns me. I can’t stop myself from thinking about her and everything we talked about today. All of the information I’d gathered about her from my research beforehand was only a reassuring appetizer for the full course that she’d given me, details and anecdotes about her life perfectly plated and placed proudly in front of me like it was the best she’s cooked up yet. It made it a whole lot easier for me to form a good piece on something people may actually care about, which is greatly appreciated because the sooner I get this feature done, the sooner Will gets off my ass about the whole thing, and then maybe I’ll have time to focus on matters of my life that don’t involve writing columns that only my parents read.

It was the easiest conversation I’ve had in a while. I usually don’t talk much while interviewing, but something about her engaged me. At certain moments, I completely forgot my reason for being there, and a lot of our discussion felt like catching up with an old friend. Hearing it playback on the recorder, I’m just now realizing how much I shared, and I’m hoping I didn’t come across too unprofessional, as I skip over an embarrassingly unnecessary amount of me nervously babbling. She could’ve been pretending to care about what I was saying, but I wouldn’t have noticed from the way she let me hold her attention, especially through her eyes. They responded to me with specific movements as I spoke, and at certain points, we would maintain eye contact for so long that the rest of her body seemed to fade into the wall behind her, and it was as if I was talking to a floating set of shiny amber marbles…

My third page is nearly full, and I’ve only just begun writing about her inspiration for the book. I know that it’ll have to be cut down and that I’m going to have a hard time with doing that, I just hope my words can do her and her story justice. I look at the clock through dry and blurry contact lenses and can barely see that it’s now 2:37 a.m. I stop the recorder and close my laptop to get ready for bed, but my mind seems to want more. Our encounter is all I think about as I drift into a dream.

***

HIM 3

Have you ever woken up still in a dream?

I contemplate if I am fully awake as I try to sit up, but cannot move my body. My eyes run around the room then focus on the door, and everything starts slowly twisting and turning out of shape like I’m on a bad trip. I try to calm myself and take a deep breath, but suddenly the light in the room starts to dim, and eventually all I see is black. I sit and wonder is it over. Maybe it’s still nighttime and that was all a dream, but I still can’t move. I wait in darkness and dead silence for what feels like five minutes, and then in a blink, the morning light shines through my window the same as it did before. I jolt out of bed.

The fuck?

I can’t even process what just happened because my phone blares through the silence. I throw my covers off the bed to find the source of my onsetting headache.

Finally, I find it in between the headboard and mattress just as it stops ringing, as if it wanted me to miss the call.

My screen lights up and I have 23 missed called from Claire.

Oh no. I think to myself. I forgot about her show last night!

I dial her number and it rings twice before she picks up.

“Well hello, Mr. I have a phone but never use it.” Her sarcasm is refreshing.

“Hey, Claire. I’m sorry, I meant to call you after the show last night, but I got wrapped up in this story. I wish I could’ve made it to see you, I know I missed out. And I’m so sorry, I’ve been an asshole, I—“

“Whoa whoa okay. You’re sorry, I get it. What’s going on? Did someone die?”

“No. Sorry, I’ve just been having a weird morning.”

“You’re telling me. I woke up in a hospital bed.”

“What?! What happened?”

“There was an accident at the show. A prop was left on the stage and I tripped over it and broke my ankle.”

“Wow, that’s crazy Claire. I’m glad you’re okay. Do you need anything?”

“No thanks. My mom’s here being hysterical as always. She brought the flowers you got me last night. She loves the message by the way, she thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world that—”

Huh?

“Wait, what flowers?” I make my way to the sofa to take a seat. What is happening? Did I send her flowers?

“Come on, you don’t have to act like it wasn’t you that got them. I’m not upset about the message, coincidences happen—”

“What message?”

“It said ‘you’re gonna kill it tonight, break a leg’ or something like that” I hear what sounds like a nurse entering the room over the phone.

“Claire, I need you to listen to me carefully. I didn’t send you any flowers, you need to—”

“I have to go they wanna run some tests, talk to you later?”

“Claire!”

*beeeep*

I don’t understand who would send these flowers to Claire or why they would say that they were from me, and I’m scared to think I might’ve actually gotten them and just don’t remember. This morning’s little episode has me shaken up, and my mind is half in and half out. I’m also scared to think about what this means about the message. What is really a coincidence?

I get up to start getting ready for work, and just as I reach the shower my phone begins to ring again.

“Hey, kid. Just letting you know I got your email this morning, and may I say I’m very impressed with how fast you got that story wrapped up. We’re reading it over with her and Stacy today in morning conference. Don’t be late.”

He immediately hangs up the phone like he was leaving a voicemail, which I’m grateful for because I couldn’t conjure one sound from my mouth.

As soon as he mentioned her name my heart rate shot up. It didn’t help that I had no idea what story he was talking about, considering the last time I checked mine it was half done.

I run to get my laptop and check my emails.

No emails sent to Will in the last twenty-four hours.

I look at my story.

Still half done.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I need to get down there and make sure no one reads that story.

***

To be continued...