"weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.”

“I think charming imperfections are usually reserved for dilapidated buildings and the like, but I’ll give you that one.”

Ev’s eyes widen, then she laughs with some relief when she realizes he’s joking. “Well, mine’s a level three friendship type of epiphany.”  She tilts her head, shrugs, and gives him a rueful expression. “But if I were telling you what it was, I’d say it was a debilitating fear that I may have peaked as an artist and might actually be incapable of once again reaching true emotional depths. It’s caused many a sleepless nights, really. Don’t think mine has anything on yours though … if I was sharing it.”

__

Freddie grins at her. “Ah, well, that’s an epiphany I would definitely understand, if I had ever experienced it, or if you had, but I guess since neither of us has it’s a bit of a moot point, right? Though if we find someone with a third epiphany, I think it means we get to be pope or something.” He offers her a hand. “Let’s start at level one then, huh? I’m Freddie, and I was born here.”

“It’s nice to know Georgiana’s green thumb rubbed off on you too,” Ada smiled. “I gather you lived quite a life away from here–what did you get up to while you were away?” Ada picked a glass vase from the wall behind her and gathered some peonies, anemones, and several sunflowers from behind the desk and began organizing them in a pattern she thought worthy of being given to Lettie. It was easier to look at the flowers than to see Freddie again. 

Ada once knew every inch of Freddie’s body like the back of her hand. She could trace patterns the freckles on his back from their long summer days in the sunshine with her fingers. In nearly every portrait she’s ever painted she unintentionally painted his eyes; his stupid bright blue eyes that would shimmer from within when he looked at her. She imagined that now when he looked at her that light was gone. Why would he still look at her the same way? He’s the one who left–not her. He left–he’s the one who abandoned her to seek his great perhaps while she watched as the life she imagined for herself walked out that door too. 

“It can’t be that bad,” Ada paused the arranging of flowers and grabbed her backpack from beside the register. From within she pulled her father’s copy of his book out from the bag. “If it makes you feel better–this isn’t my copy, it’s Dad’s. Also, I’ve not yet even opened the thing,” she laughed softly. “I think you’re once again not giving yourself enough credit.” She put the book down on the counter and returned to fussing with the flowers. “Yes, still painting–would have been a waste for me to go to school in London for it if I just gave up now, no? I was studying at the RCA when Mum got sick. She would kill me if I stopped painting because of her,” she swallowed hard. Talking about her mother in the past tense was something Ada refused to do. Surely Georgiana had not actually died–she’d only gone away for a while, that’s all. One day this will all be over and things would be back to the way they should be. “Yes, Cal works here too. I let him take the afternoon to head to the shore. He did an awful lot of work today that it was only fair of me to let him go have some fun,” she laughed. “You’ll be staying for a while?” Ada had hoped that wouldn’t be the case–she hoped he’d be visiting Lettie and then be off again on some grand adventure instead of haunting her like a ghost. “Right. I remember, you never were one for staying in one place.”

“Traveling mostly--contributing to my mother’s certainty that I am physically incapable of sitting still, and also I’m going to get stabbed to death in an alley no one knows about in a country she didn’t know I’d gone to, leaving her all alone and grandchild-less forever. You know--Mum things.” He smiled and shrugged at her, bringing the jade plant to the counter and finally looking her in the eyes again. “I started writing when I moved back to Glasgow, but mostly I just kept to myself. Spent a while diving for the Port Authority, fetching up things that fell overboard, cleaning up and making sure the jetties weren’t crumbling, that sort of thing.”

He laughed. “I just don’t think it’s worth the fuss. I’m proud of the work I’ve done, but it’s not that special, and it’s only a piece of what I’ve done with my life. I want to do so much more.” Looking in her eyes, he shivered suddenly, like someone had drawn a finger down his spine. “RCA? Ada, I’m so proud of you, that’s beyond amazing. I’m so glad you got to do that. She’d be so happy that you’ve done that, and it wouldn’t ever be a waste but she would love that you’re still doing what you love. It’s really remarkable.” He couldn’t read her face, which was strange and in and of itself, because god, what had the world come to that he didn’t know what Ada was thinking? “I’ve got to go pretty soon, but I am sticking around. I’m trying to let my roots grow again, I’m trying. I’ve never been very good at sitting still, but I want to do better, and I want to do some more writing and have some privacy again.”

What’d I say? “Dickhead”? That barely qualifies! And you’re only five years older than I am, ancient man. Get over yourself. 

Mm. You should spice up the details; no one will be the wiser. Say you stabbed that bastard in the eye with a pencil—'cause you’re a writer, geddit—like in a John Wick film. And now somewhere in Glasgow walks a poor traumatized lad with a glass eye.

It’s still weird, okay? We watched CBeebies together, I’m allowed to find it strange. How can I be ancient if I’m only five years older than you? Does that make you ancient, too, or am I being held to a double standard?

“So, I guess we’ll place the blame on your grandparents then. My blame remains with Ma and Ma alone,” she took a long drink from her glass of water. “Feels nice to know I fit in here–I only moved in a month or two ago and it’s been quite the change from what I’m used to back home,” she shrugged. Lottie hadn’t lived alone and away from her brothers since getting her MPhil and now that she was in full recovery, it felt great to be able to live on her own–but heartbreaking to not be around her brothers all the time. Facetime wasn’t really the same–how could she know for certain that they stink when she told them they did? “It’s good to love the place you’re from. Some of us don’t have the luxury,” she chuckled. “The Doctorate bit is pretty impressive–if you asked me what I wanted to be when I start uni at Oxford at 18 I would have told you somethin’ you can’t get a degree in–” She stopped, after all she’d just met the bloke. Revealing that her 18 year old self imagined her to be dead in the ground by 19 wasn’t the kind of thing you just lay on a stranger. Even if he’s cute. “Oh well, well, well Mr. Popular,” Charlotte laughed heartily, “I think there’s someone more than just your Ma livin’ here that’s brought you back,” she stood up and grabbed a stack pint of glasses beside her and began to polish them with a towel. “I may not have a great relationship with my Ma, but I’m thinkin’ it’s not a common thing to blush about your parents,” she smirked. 

__

“Seems like it might be the easy way out, blaming everything on your parents, eh? Shows a lack of creativity, or maybe just laziness? I’m disappointed, Miss Charlotte.” He shook his head with a smile, sitting down and drawing absently on the bar. “It’s not easy to find it, but there’s a place out there for everybody--you just might have found yours earlier than most people. I know what you mean... I think I might have tried to declare my degree in beer pong at one point.” He could mention that he spent the better part of his first two years in college trying to fool around and drink his way out of a broken heart, but even though Lottie felt familiar, she was still a stranger. He thought about calling his mum when he was so hungover he couldn’t see straight--and how, more than disappointed or angry, she just sounded worried--and how she kept calling for two years, until he realized what he was doing to himself. “I’ll admit that there’s a magnetism about this place. It seems to draw people back to it, so yeah, I’d probably be back whether my mum was here or not, but I might also be unbelievably embarrassed by a bevy of attention I don’t want and really don’t think I’ve earned. It’s not like I was being followed by a crowd of paparazzi, but I did get tired of being called ‘daddy’ on twitter and I really just value my privacy.”

“You’re awfully sweet, and I’ll take you up on that offer.” She adjusts her purse to her right shoulder. She reaches out with her left hand, and she’s surprised to find his elbow already extended. 

Arabella clears her throat dramatically, as if she’s about to launch into her entire life’s story. “Well, my sister actually moved to the Cove a few years ago, and I still lived in London because of work and well, my life was there… I’ve just been fortunate enough to rely on some talented instructors and other business partners to manage my dance studio recently, and it gave me the chance to move in with Claudia – that’s my sister –” 

She abruptly stops talking and a blush creeps into her cheeks. “Oh no… I haven’t even told you my name, have I?” She visibly cringes before adding, “I’m Arabella, but everybody calls me Ari.”

__

“Well, I hope to always be able to say my mother raised me right, and I can’t stand to see anyone who asks for help not get it. I think if you’re there and you’ve got two good hands, there’s no reason not to help.” He shrugged slightly, hoping he didn’t jar her too badly with the movement.

“So we can be peas in a pod, then--I’ve only been back a month, myself, so I’m still getting my sea-legs back, so to speak. It can take some getting used to, the relative quiet and closeness of a town like this after somewhere so crowded and loud and overwhelming. Claudia... The name sounds familiar. She owns the...bakery?” His voice lilted up at the end, unsure.

“Will you have a dance studio here, then? I can’t say I know a great deal about it, but I don’t think there’s a lot of dancing to be had, here.” Freddie grinned widely at her. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Arabella. Ari. I’m happy to be here with you today.”

Walking into Wide Awake, completely incapable of human interaction at such an hour without his first cup of coffee, Freddie bumped shoulders with a young woman on her way in. He mumbled an apology, then shook his head and mentally slapping himself; straightening, he turned to hold the door and pushed his sunglasses up. “I’m so sorry! I’m usually much better at mornings, I do apologize.” When she turned slightly to see him, a spark of familiarity flashed between them, and Freddie stood still, trying to bring her face into focus.

Then, finally: “Jude! Jude? Rude Jude, my girl, it is you! Where have you been?” He couldn’t help but reach out, wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her up, hugging her close so he could spin her around. “What are you doing now, are you busy? Where are you headed--doesn’t matter, I’ll walk with you. Tell me everything!”

“Oh no, I only meant that saying the coffee’s improved implies it was ever less than the best. Doesn’t make for a great tag line.”

Evelyn tilts her head, pretending to deliberate over his question. “Long enough to have imaginary younger selves running around, definitely. And at least three clichéd epiphanies, at the minimum. I’ve only had the one.” She says mournfully.

__

“That’s fair. Although I think a small fault like that makes a place even more endearing. If you look at something too perfect, it can be a little unsettling, don’t you think?”

Freddie stares off into the middle distance, trying to look thoughtful and keep a straight face. “Oh, well, once I stood on the edge of the cliffs and stared at the sun sinking below the glittering waves on the horizon and realized, unshed tears welling in my eyes, that I had lost the great love of my own through the weakness of my own fatal flaw.” He stared for a few moments more before he couldn’t hold it any more, and he burst into laughter. “That’s my only one. Why, what’s yours?”

God just wants us to suffer, man. Like a little dickhead kid killing ants with a magnifying glass.

But please, do continue on about this bar fight. I’m guessin’ it was a bar fight. I am never setting foot in Glasgow if that sort of thing happens in broad daylight in a Topshop.

You know, no matter how old you are, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to hearing you swear, Cal. It’s jarring and disturbing and I feel like I’ve done something terribly wrong to bring it about.

Hyperbole, mister published author, sir. I’m using hyperbole. You’re not the only one with some creative writing experience under their belt.

A bit! I’ll say. Mind clearing up what you mean by overenthusiastic, or would that pick at a scab best left alone? In other words… tell me to piss off if I’m sticking my nose in too much.

__

You know, just calling me an author doesn’t finish conversations, neighbor-lady; it doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like I did something ground-breaking or anything. I just stuck some words together--I was more useful working for the Port Authority.

Open Starter || The First Page

Niko stepped into The First Page in search of a book for one of the classes he was going to teach from this year. It wasn’t something he needed all of his students to have, but it was something for him to reference during the year. And if he needed them to know a certain passage, he would just scan a few of the pages to offer on the online landing page for his students. The problem wasn’t finding the book. He could make his own way around a book store with very few problems. What was the problem is that he could never just walk out with what he needed. The scent of old books just kept him stuck in the store much longer than he anticipated. 

Eventually, he was holding the book he needed in one hand. And the other hand was scanning the spines along yet another book shelf. He looked over at the person near him. “Do you have any suggestions? Because I’m stumped. And if I stay here much longer, I’m going to buy at least a dozen books because I can’t make up my mind. Any genre. Hit me with a favourite of yours.”

Freddie inhaled the comforting smell of the bookstore shelves and ran his free hand over the spines in front of him. He hadn’t made time for reading in years, so he’d been coming to The First Page once a week to buy more books than he could read at a time; he’d been diving back into fantasy especially, and in the crook of one arm he was building a careful tower of door-stopper novels that made his shoulder act and his spirit feel light.

Someone approached from the other end of the shelf, but Freddie didn’t look up until he said something.”I’m honestly not sure. I’m throwing myself in full force, but I haven’t read a lot that’s come out lately. I’m in the middle of the Prydain books right now, The Black Cauldron and all. I remember loving them as a kid, so I figured now is as good a time as any to give them another try. What about you?” He gestured with his chin to the book in the other man’s hand.

“Well, that’s very nice. I always tell myself that I’ll travel more, and then I never do,” he shrugged. He knew he should take more holidays out of the country, but he didn’t love traveling alone. He didn’t exactly have a travel companion who would want to go around with him. “Oh, I can absolutely see that. The Cove is beautiful. It does look like a postcard come to life,” he chuckled. “Yes, for real,” he grinned. “Thank you very much. And no offense is taken. If the world becomes a good enough place that I am no longer needed, I wouldn’t mind having to look for another job. I would feel incredibly accomplished if I was no longer needed.”

__

“It’s worth every second, if you get the chance. But it’s been a long time since I’ve stayed in one place, and I’m not saying it’s why I came back, but my mum’s definitely been throwing around a little bit of the ‘It would be nice to have you home again’ and ‘If you don’t put down some roots you’ll forget how,’ so here I am.” Freddie waited when Will looked like he might say something else about his travels, but he changed the subject instead. “What else would you be doing, in a perfect world where you weren’t needed the way you are?”

“I couldn’t let her go without flowers,” Ada smiled softly, shoving her hands into her apron pockets. “She’s always been so kind to me and my family, it’s really the least I could do. Besides, it’s not like we’re selling out of flowers,” she gestured around the shop full of potted plants and succulents, bouquets of any flowers from floor to ceiling, and a fridge full of more in the back room. “I’m glad you remember your types of roses. That must have made all the girls in London very happy.”

Ada rehearsed in the mirror of her childhood bedroom, the very bedroom she still slept in after all these years, what she’d say to him if she ever saw him again. She’d glance into the closet and see the box of the dress she’d picked out pushed into the back corner; it was covered in duct tape, a ploy to keep her from opening the box and destroying what was inside–after all, she’d never be able to wear it–but she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. She’d pretend he was standing in front of her and she’d calmly tell him how much it hurt to see him. How much it hurt to know he could walk away from her–walk away from her for the assumption she’d be giving up her future and her dreams to be with him–too blind to see that he was what she wanted. He was the portrait she’d painted of her future and he ripped it from her like a piece of unwanted mail. But she binned all of that–there was no point. It wouldn’t change the past; it wouldn’t make her feel any better to bring ghosts into this. 

“I haven’t had a chance to read the book yet, but I’m looking forward to it,” she smiled cordially. She looked forward to reading that book the same way she looked forward to ripping a bandage off of her arm. Like she’d told Stella earlier–reading his book was life homework. She realized she was making him uncomfortable at the mention of the book–even after all these years she could still read him enough to know when to change the subject. “Mostly just working here and painting,” Ada answered honestly, “I do a lot of commissioned paintings for weddings, too. Those alone this summer have made me almost enough money to move out of my Parents’, well, Dad’s house. Other than that I keep to myself, really. Cal works with me now–remember the boy I babysat? He just came back home and I hired him on the spot. It’s nice to be around someone familiar,” she shrugged. “I gather you came home to find some calm, hmm? I’m sure this town is boring enough that you’ll be up and off again in no time.” 

__

“She’s one of the best people in the world, and she deserves every possible bit of love we can show her.” He couldn’t help blushing when she mentioned other women, but he hoped maybe she wouldn’t notice if he focused intently on a particular jade plant. “Actually, the gents always seemed more charmed, but the fact that I can keep my houseplants alive seems to impress just about everyone.” He shrugged, picking up the plant to feel the weight of it in his hands and inspect the leaves, to give himself something to do besides study her face and catalogue every small change.

He used to know her face better than he knew his own; no matter the changes, her eyes were the same, and Freddie couldn’t tell even himself he hadn’t been dreaming about them for a decade. Her, this place, the tree in her front yard where they’d spent so much time. Everything green was Ada. It went against every instinct he had not to reach out and run his thumb along her cheekbone, but he knew he couldn’t--and the only person to blame for it was himself. Instead, he gripped the little clay pot in his hands until his knuckles turned white, realizing he’d probably end up taking it home just to keep himself from doing something stupid.

“Oh god, please just throw it in the bin. My professional recommendation is that you borrow it from the library for the sake of civic responsibility and then return it unread, please.” His face was getting redder, he could tell, and he could barely contain his sigh of relief when she changed the subject. “You’re still painting? Ada, that’s wonderful! And commissions, that’s extraordinary--not that I’m surprised, you’ve always been so talented. But I’m so glad for you, really. Oh man, little Cal? I think the universe just wants me to feel like a kid again. Except for the restlessness, this time around. I think I’ll be around for a while. It’s been too long since I stayed in one place--I need to make sure I still remember how.”

Wait, hold on, hold on. Go back to the bottle for a sec? Someone tried to stab you?

What did you do? Insult their mum, or something?

__

Well, first of all, I would never insult a person’s mum. Second of all, I feel like sometimes that just happens in Scotland? But thirdly, my boyfriend at the time got a little overenthusiastic with someone who turned out to be someone else’s girlfriend--it was a misunderstanding, but a bit of an experience nevertheless.

“Oh, Freddie, don’t say that–I don’t know if you’d recover from me hurting your feelings,” she laughed and propped herself up on her elbows. “I mean, not really–Charlie’s always been Charlie and I’ve always been Lottie. Still don’t know why our parents named him Charlie. I think Da got bored with names by the last one and Ma didn’t give a shit so it didn’t matter,” she chuckled, “but you only get to hear that story at friendship level five.” She looked the man up and down before concurring–he’d never be a Fred. He looked too soft–though clearly a prideful man based on the strength of his handshake and his own admittance. “Aye, so you know I’m not a local? Shame, I really thought I was fittin’ in. I’m here for school–I’m studying for my doctorate in literature at the University of York. I needed a quiet place to live and so I’m here. I gather you’re a local–tell me, Freddie, why did you come back? Did you forget something? Maybe someone?”

__

“I don’t doubt it,” he said with a laugh, “though I stand by my point. You know, I can’t really speak to originality in naming--I have the exact same name as my grandad, for which I blame neither him nor my mother.” Lottie made him want to smile--he’d always had a soft spot for quick-witted women, and he respected anyone who got straight to the point without dancing around every other word. “You seem like you fit in here pretty perfectly, though not without giving some of the old-timers a heart attack or two; not that I can talk there, either, as I used to do my fair share of it, too. Mostly by accident, to be fair. Doctorate, eh? That’s impressive, Lottie. God, am I a local. It used to be a bit embarrassing, but I’m proud of it now. I love this place.” He raised an eyebrow at her, looking over from the corner of his eye appraisingly as he took a longer-than-necessary drink. “Nothing specific. My mum lives here, of course, and, umm...” Freddie looked at the ground bashfully. “I got a little tired of London after a Buzzfeed reporter followed me six blocks after I told him I didn’t want to do an interview. Wanted some privacy, peace and quiet, that kind of thing.”

“I have nightmares that I’m back in London. But you’re right. Not all small towns are like this. I’ve been to different small towns that aren’t nearly as idyllic as the Cove,” he said. “I try to use all my productive thoughts when I’m at work” he chuckled. “Nice to meet you, Freddie,” he said and shook the other’s hand. “I’ve been working at the fairly new Liberty branch here. The nonprofit. I’m a lawyer there,” he explained. “So I do all the boring stuff while people are out protesting and making noise.”

__

“I haven’t got quite as bad as nightmares, because I’ve spent a fair amount of time traveling and taking breaks from the city. I used to show people pictures of this place when they asked about where I came from, and they’d accuse me of showing them stock photos,” Freddie said with a laugh. “For real? Good on you, mate, that’s an amazing thing to be doing, front lines or not. The world can always use more people doing that kind of work, at least until we make the world a good enough place that we--no offense--don’t need you. I imagine you’re keeping busy these days, then?”