Three

BETH- PAST

The first time I set my eyes on ‘the hostel’, I immediately hated the place. The little house must have been lovely once, but age and depreciation has sapped all its beauty.

Mary Roberts, the woman in charge, is waiting for me at the front porch and welcomes me with a smile. She sends me to play with the other children while the adults talk. The lady that brought me was explaining to Ms. Roberts that my stay would be temporary since her home only had boys. Just before I find the other children, I hear her reply that she wouldn’t mind the presence of another woman.

I smiled brightly because she said I was a woman and peer at the children playing in the backyard. Two of them are engaged in a fierce battle of tug, and the other just watches them. I assume he must be the shy one that always watches, rather than joining in so i approach him first.

One look at him though, and I am lost. He is the most beautiful boy in the world, and I have seen many! His hair is so dark; it is almost blue. But his eyes arrest me the most, baby blue; eyes that watch and wait. Baby blue immediately becomes my favourite colour.

“Who are you, and what are you wearing?” He asks and I bristle.

“What is wrong with what I am wearing?” I snip at him. His eyes travel from the top of my orange head, down my purple shirt, to my neon coloured shorts, and down to my yellow sandals.

“Nothing,” he replies with a smile. “It is just that you look like a rainbow.” and just like that, I am blushing bright red.

“Beck what did you do to her? She looks like a tomato!” One of the boys laughs.

“What's with the orange hair?” The other one adds.

“It’s not orange!” I mumble.

“I think her hair is beautiful. It's the most beautiful colour I have ever seen, especially coupled with her eyes.”

My blush deepens and I fall in love with him. When he looks at me, he gives me a wide smile and dimples. I think I sigh giddily.

BETH- PRESENT

Just like the first time I came here, Mary is waiting for me at the front porch. The house looks better now, having received regular maintenance over the years. Mary looks old though, older than she looked the last time I saw her.

My heartbreak is immediately replaced with concern, especially when she hugs me and I feel her bones through her clothes; she has lost a lot of weight.

“Are you okay?” I ask in concern.

“Of course! Come in, I made spaghetti and meatballs.”

She holds my hand and together, we walk into the only place that has ever felt like home. Once inside, I drop my tote and sink to the floor and without question, Mary puts her hands around me and lets me cry.

I smile in nostalgia through my tears, and remember the last time that I had cried over a boy breaking my heart; junior year high school. My then boyfriend had joined the football team and decided that I was too weird to be his girlfriend. Mary had just allowed me to cry then too, and after my tears, offered me mint and chocolate flavoured ice cream. When my shudders and sniffing had subsided, she led me to the kitchen and brought out a bowl of ice cream and two spoons.

“Just like old times?” I sniff after shovelling in a mouthful.

“Just like old times.” she replies, but does not indulge in the treat.

Being in my childhood room brought me a measure of comfort and stability I didn't know that I had missed. A single bed pushed into a corner and a dresser, and a small desk and chair, are the only furniture in the room. I pull out the drawers and I'm greeted with an array of brightly coloured clothes.

Chase had not liked my look. Initially, he had not minded. In fact, he had confessed that he had been drawn to me because, in his words, ‘someone who dresses in such vivid colours must have a vivacious spirit, and be a delight.’

When did I stop being a delight? Was it when, prompted by him, I allowed his mother to take me shopping at Ophelia’s? Was it when he talked me into using a flat iron to tame my ‘lion’s mane?’ Was it when I learned to waltz so that I could dance without embarrassing him at a charity event? When?

My phone pings and I see a message from Chase. I immediately tap edit contact to remove the hearts I had added when I saved his number; how juvenile of me to add them in the first place. I use the opportunity to check my mails and voice messages. Surprisingly, several are from Chase, and they say that he wants to talk. One voice note is even an apology and plea for forgiveness. Does he really think that we can go back to the way things were?

I delete all his messages, briefly consider deleting his contact, but leave it in at the final minute. Then I check my other messages. I’m surprised that there are some from Rachel, and one from George. What could they possibly say that would excuse their son’s behaviour? I doubt that Rachel wanted to apologise anyway, no doubt that she has found a way to make it all my fault.

Finally, I arrive at the message from Alex. I knew what it would be even before I opened it. After she left, we lost contact for a year but reconnected on F******k. By then, I was so into Chase, I had unconsciously begun to distance myself from other people.

That attitude put a strain on our relationship, but Alex still makes an effort and we talk once in a while. She still sends me postcards from her travels, and the yearly invite to her birthday party. Up to that point, I have never honoured her invitation. However, on a whim, I click the link and confirm my attendance. Then I start to panic.

How will I act around her? We are both completely different from who we used to be. Her life is glamorous, if her social media handles are to be believed; but mine has only been filled with tea parties and meaningless wine tasting events.

“What is it?” Mary's voice interrupts my panicked pacing.

“Do you remember Alex from school?” I ask and she nods with a soft smile. “I just accepted her invitation to her party.”

“Is that why you are panicking?” Mary asks with a small smile; she knows me too well. “I am not happy that you are heartbroken,” she begins, “but I am overjoyed that you have decided to open up to a world that does not involve him. You became so wrapped up in him, you forgot how to live your own life.”

“That’s not true.” I defend.

“It is too!” She argues like a child. “You stopped dressing like you. You stopped sounding like you. You stopped acting like you. To be honest, I was scared that one day, you would abandon me too.”

“I would never!” I exclaim with affront. There is no way in hell that I would behave like them, her other children.

“I just feared…”

“Nonsense!” I cut in. “You need to stop thinking the worst, Mary. Especially at your age.”

“Nonsense, right back at you. Why do you sound like I am in my dotage? I am only seventy, and you know what they say, life begins at seventy.”

“I thought that was forty?” I giggle.

“You thought wrong!” She huffs a giggle too. “Now about that party, I still have that yellow dress you wore to my birthday last year.”

“Really! I’ll look smoking hot in that!”

“Damn right you will! It will be a delight to see you in your own clothes, rather than those things you have been wearing that even me who is seventy will not wear.”

I rolled my eyes and followed her to her room where she kept my yellow dress. In her room, while I examine the collection of China dolls displayed on her dresser. I used to find them creepy as a child, but I've come to accept that weird part of her.

“Here it is.” she calls and my heart skips a beat when i see the old iron trunk she pulled the dress out of. When she sees my expression, her lips lift at the corners. It is my ‘Trunk of Goodbyes!’ My knees weaken and I sag to the ground slowly while Mary pulls it towards me.