PARADISE

“Oh, thank god you’re an officer,” she said in the most relieved tone. “I mean, better than a thief, right?” Isabella let out an awkward chuckle at this, and with it, realized she should not have said that. Either way, she shook her head. “And yes. Tow is coming. In a few minutes, they said. Thirty at most. I’m so sorry to be such a bother. I just--- I’m really glad I’m not stuck out here alone.”

“Oh, thank god you’re an officer,” she said in the most relieved tone. “I mean, better than a thief, right?” Isabella let out an awkward chuckle at this, and with it, realized she should not have said that. Either way, she shook her head. “And yes. Tow is coming. In a few minutes, they said. Thirty at most. I’m so sorry to be such a bother. I just--- I’m really glad I’m not stuck out here alone.”

“One of the coffee machines was having issues, the thing blew up on me, fell on my arm.” Vivian explained, subconsciously patting the bandages and then resting her hands on her lap. Listening to Izzy’s story, Vivian burst into laughter, imagining the little blonde lost in the middle of nowhere. “I’m sorry to laugh, you’re such a tiny little thing, must have been the funniest thing.” Viv tried to apologize but didn’t do well with that. When Isabella spoke of the Christmas parties, Vivian almost jumped. ‘Oh yes, a Christmas parties, I’ve been thinking about throwing one here, I was going to talk to Liv and Lucy about it… Should I reserve a date already? In case you guys get too busy and I miss my chance.”

“It was horrible, Viv!” Isabella exclaimed. “I was trapped there for god knows how long, without phone reception, and without anybody! Thankfully, somebody nice came along and helped me get back. Took the car to Kincaid’s, after that. It wasn’t pretty, but… I think it’ll be all right. Fingers crossed!” Isabella shook her head as a small laugh escaped her lips then, and afterwards, drank some of her drink as Vivian spoke.

While Vivian jumped at the thought of Christmas parties, Isabella could only feel herself revolting inside. Once upon a time, the thought of Christmas was a good one --- happy memories all bundled up in sweaters and white, white snow. After her mother died, nothing stayed the same. The white turned bland. The sweaters were far too itchy. And the memories? They were far from happy or gleeful. Still, Isabella had learned to mask her sadness. It would be three years since her mother’s death now, and since, she’d adopted to the smiling face she put on. The one she had to put on.

And there it was: the smile. With it was a nod. “Mhm, I suggest booking a date already!” The enthusiasm in her voice was unparalleled; anyone would think it was real. “It gets busier closer to December, so if you book sometime around the… end of September? I think you should still be good!” She smiled at Vivian. “A Christmas party here would be so lovely, you know. I can already see the lights and hear the music.”

And yet, here she was: not sober, not slightly offended. Instead, she was drunk with alcohol and fun, and giddy with something in the pit of her stomach. Her lips had turned up into a semi-permanent sloppy smile, as though she would not regret this in the morning. The thought of morning did not even occur to her, at that! Right now, it was this party and herself and Remy in shorts too tight and Liv. But, mostly, it was Liv. Mostly, it was the sound of Liv’s voice and the look on Liv’s face and the way everything seemed to brighten up when she was around.

Nothing was funny, but Isabella laughed anyway. A small giggle escaped her when Liv moved away from her, though it turned into good-hearted laughter when her friend continued to speak. “Reality check is for loooosers,” Isabella slurred in a twelve year old fashion even though she was a twenty eight year old woman, “and I’m not a loser.” She laughed. “Maybe only sometimes, but not all the time. You just called me your BFF, so I can’t be a loser. Losers don’t sit with us.” Isabella said these as if they were all matter of fact, and not something that a drunk version of herself would only say.

“Did you drink, by the way?” she asked in that slur of hers as soon as they reached the bar counter in their walk. “You should! You are too sober right now! It’s time to party, Liv!” With that, Isabella untangled herself from her best friend in an attempt to grab her a drink from the bar. But Isabella was Isabella --- a lightweight and unable to carry herself in such a situation ---, and so it only took two seconds before she waved her hands around and tried to grab for Liv.

Karina had just arrived home from a trip to the gym, even donned her shorts, a work-out shirt and her hair in a high pony tail. She was in the middle of preparing tomorrow’s lunch for work when her phone rang a familiar melody. The brunette took a double take as she tried to figure out where in the world she’d placed her phone. Once she located it, on the charger where she’d left it twenty minutes prior, Karina answered the phone.

Karina had barely been able to greet her as she spoke quickly, Karina laughed. “Hi!” was all she’d been able to get out as the blonde continued on in excitement. “If you are calling me to tell me you got hitched just know that I’m upset – I would’ve made the perfect maid of honor.” She clutched the phone between her shoulder and ear as she continued on with what she was doing before.

“Did you find a cute dog? Did you find me a cute dog?” She had no idea what this surprise would be, but she figured it wasn’t that. Still, a girl could dream. “Let’s see. Did you get your hair done or win some concert tickets? If you’re going to meet Oscar Isaac, you know you have to take me.”

With Karina, she was herself. Karina knew the faults that lay within, the secrets that Isabella kept. And, more than these, Karina knew how to be strong when Isabella was weak, and how to celebrate when Isabella was strong. Her best friends were her best friends for reasons, after all --- and, with them, Karina being one, Isabella was able to laugh and cry and guffaw all she wanted without fear they would turn away. She might not have a brother like Hannah did, or a sister like Liv and Karina did, but she had best friends. They, too, were family.

And so, a loud laugh escaped Isabella at the sound of Karina’s voice on the other end of the line. How she’d missed these conversations! How she’d missed being able to open up to her best friend! Liv was great company, but she was company with the company --- and thus, she and Isabella almost always ended up fighting. It was nice to just laugh at something without fear of being told she was laughing wrongly.

“How’d you guess so easily? How’d you guess I got hitched? Am I that transparent? Wait, wait --- you saw it on Facebook, right? Facebook totally told you.” Even as she spoke, Isabella laughed. “But, I did see a cute dog. Not for you or me, but… I saw one either way. And okay, this thing that happened isn’t that huge! Okay! Someone asked me out. Name’s Mason. Real cute.”

For a moment, Isabella paused. She wondered if this was okay to talk about. She wondered if Karina would be offended. Instead of just wondering, though, she voiced her concerns. “You okay to talk about this? I mean, you know, after you and ---”

She didn’t need to mention any names, but Karina knew who she was talking about.

“My specialty then.” She laughed, going to the back counter and coming back after a couple minutes with a big mug filled with her special drink, Nutella spread over the edge of the mug. “There you go, love. You got it, Lucy and I are having dinner later, I’ll let her know. She loves it with people mix us up.” Vivian grinned, taking a seat across from Izzy. “I’ve been alright, a few bumps here and there.” She gestured to her bandaged arm, the burns almost fully healed. “What about you? I haven’t seen you in ages! Liv says the business is doing great, right?”

It took a few minutes, but Isabella was patient when it came to food and beverage. She knew the process and the thought that went into making the perfect dish or drink, and how difficult it was to put in all these things whilst being rushed. As a member of the service industry herself, she knew the things one could do to food should they be wronged, and thus she knew not to wrong those who prepared hers. When Vivian came back, there was a smile on her lips at the simple thought of indulging in the drink on a day off. It was exactly what she needed. A little sip could go a long way.

As soon as the drink was handed to her, Isabella found a table close enough to the cashier that she didn’t have to walk too much, and watched as Vivian sat down across her.

Her friend’s gesture towards her own arm made Isabella look with shock down at the bandage. “What happened? Are you okay?” Though Vivian smiled now, Isabella couldn’t help but worry. “But ah, I know about bumps here and there. Not literal ones as of late--- wait, no. Actually, a literal one. On my last day off, I tried to take a mini road trip and ended up getting stranded in the middle of nowhere!” The thought now made her laugh.

At the mention of Liv, though, Isabella nodded. Of course, there was no need to tell Vivian that Isabella and Liv fought and bickered about everything and anything under the sun when it came to the business, and there was also no need to tell her that Liv was a great pain in the ass. And so, Isabella nodded her head once more and said, “Yeah! It is! We’re --- getting lots of reservations. I assume there’ll be more during December. Christmas parties and all that!”

            “Alright,” His tone was submissive as if he would bend and break and turn to any direction she wanted at the moment. Luckily for him, it was only just an emoji she wanted. His jaw clenched, a small smile upon his lips, divots falling into place up either cheek through the mannerism, “–sounds easy enough.” The male played along, raising his shoulders, before he allowed a hand to pull out of his pocket, taking the phone back. His fingers, long and rough rested under her own for a passing moment through the casual transaction, his eyes instantly inspecting the device. He shut the screen off and looked back at her, the pair at her car now, “I’ll text you,” He told her, “– Isabella with a smiley face.” The blonde then teased, taking a step back, trying to suppress a grin.

She didn’t give anyone enough of a chance these days --- herself most of all. But, as she looked up at the man and took in the smile on his face, Isabella decided that she would today. She didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what this man had, didn’t know what she was going to lose, but she had to try. As the man smiled down back at her, a feeling in her stomach said it might be worth it.

For a moment Viv thought Isabella had recognized her; the two of them truly had gone over a year without seeing each other. But when the woman mentioned her ‘specialty’, she realized it was the other Wolff girl. “My spe..” She started, then chuckling and tilting her head to the side. “Wrong Wolff sister, Izzy. I’m Vivian” The blonde brought a hand to her heart, laughing lightly. The cafe didn’t have a specialty, not and edible one that ones. Their true famous drink was Vivian’s specialty, the hazelnut mocha, and she doubted Isabella wanted one of those plus a cup of coffee. “I can get you my specialty though, but it would be wise if you ditched the coffee with that.” She laughed.

As soon as these words reached her ears, Isabella felt heat and color rush up to her face. The way Vivian laughed and smiled told Isabella that it was okay, that she hadn’t made a grave mistake, but all the same, Isabella couldn’t help but put her hands to her face in embarrassment. In her defense, they did look alike! In her defense, they were like two peas in a pod when it came to facial structure! Still though, one would think a friend --- like Isabella liked to call herself in relation to both Vivian and Lucy --- would know! One would think a friend would be able to tell the difference! The fact that Isabella wasn’t able to made her give a little whine from behind her hands.

Like there almost always was when it came to embarrassing situations, an embarrassed smile appeared on Isabella’s face. As she spoke, it became evident in her voice. “Oh, no!” She shook her head and peeked through her fingers. “I’m so, so, sorry. I totally did not mean that. You do look so alike, and I just thought  that --- I just --- I don’t know! I’m so, so sorry!” The embarrassed smile on Isabella’s lips grew, as did the embarrassment, but somehow, that was okay. It was okay to be this way in front of Vivian --- someone she considered a friend and someone who could laugh about it with her. Had this person been a stranger, Isabella would not have known what to do.

Though the red didn’t ease, and the embarrassment didn’t go away, Isabella took a deep breath and put her hands back down to her sides before she nodded her head in agreement. “That--- That would be lovely, Viv. Just pretend nothing happened, and I ordered your specialty the first time.” Isabella managed to laugh at herself. “Tell Lucy I did say hi, though! She’d laugh at this situation!” With a shake of her head and another deep breath, Isabella looked to Vivian and said, “How have you been, then? Talking to Vivian now. Not Lucy, nope!”

This night was different, however. Usually he could tell what the woman wanted by a simple look, but as he moved through the crowd to find the birthday girl, he instantly came to a halt. It wasn’t what he had been expecting, what he had prepared for. It was no ordinary night. He was ready for another evening of anonymity, instead he was confronted by a familiar face. Isabella, the woman who’s house he had been working on, his friend. She was now before him, the rowdy women in the bar pointing to her and hollering, waiting for the show to begin.

Remy was clueless as to how to proceed, so he did what he did best. He stood up that bit taller and continued with the show. It was a split second decision really. Instead of running for the door, he began to walk over to Isabella once more, his eyes constantly searching her own for a sign to stop and walk away. The show was always about consent, no matter who’s idea the thing was. There was a different between embarrassment over the situation and discomfort, an unwillingness to participate. 

Now that he knew who his client was for the evening - on a personal level verses purely physical - there were some things he was questioning whether to change, or if to change at all. He could claim that this was his birthday present to Isabella, having not originally known it was her birthday. How much she’d appreciate it, he had no idea, but as he finally stood up close and personal to his friend, he took a deep breath before beginning his show — it was all he knew to do.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to place you under arrest.” Remy started, his eyes staring into hers, looking for a sign he should stop. Then for a moment, he paused, just long enough to give her an out if she wanted it. He wouldn’t force his dance upon her. He wouldn’t force his dance upon anyone. “Anything you say - for instance, my body - can and will be held against you.”

However, the truth remained unknown to Isabella. Whether or not Remy recognized her was a mystery, and he certainly didn’t let it show in his work. Perhaps there was a flicker on his features. Perhaps there was a small hint of it in his eyes. However, with the music turned up to the loudest degree, and with the screams of her friends surrounding her, and along with the fact that her friend was a stripper, Isabella found it hard to focus on anything. She tried to tell herself that the former two reasons were the only reasons she couldn’t focus, but it was difficult to ignore the third reason when said third reason was right in front of her. Dancing. Speaking. Pulling lines that might as well have come from a cheesy movie.

She tried to think things through, but it was difficult to think in this situation. Instead, questions burst in her head like fireworks. Did Karina know about this? Did Karina know what Remy did? Was that why they broke up? If she did know, why didn’t she say anything to Isabella? If both of them knew, why didn’t anyone tell her? The screams around Isabella were enough to distract her. They were enough to keep her alive, to keep her energetic. They kept her from wanting to think things through.

With a swift movement, she reached for a shot across the table. And then another. And then another. She didn’t want to think tonight. She didn’t want to see her friend’s face, and she didn’t want to question what he was doing. And, most of all, she didn’t want to embarrass him.

If she said his name now, everyone would stop screaming and turn to the both of them. If she told him to stop, questions about how they knew each other would arise. If she did anything other than play along, Remy would be uncomfortable with the fact of who she was. So, Isabella did none of these things. She smiled. She looked to Liv. She looked to another friend who tugged on her hand and screamed about how hot Remy was. Isabella laughed.

She was twenty eight, and she was going to enjoy herself.

It had been eight years since he had been a part of anything that had meant something. It had been eight long years since he had laid eyes on the very woman he had believed he would likely spend the rest of his own years with. It was agonizing, to believe that a single person could mean the world to you, only to destroy that world in a matter of seconds. To pack up every bit of clothing that you owned, to take every memento that you had collected over the years, and to leave not a single trace of you behind. Not even a letter explaining why you had made the decision to leave out of the blue.

It had been eight long years since Braxton had left the one woman that he had loved with every fiber of his being.

The cost of living was to suffer through heartache, to sift through the broken and battered dreams for the new ones that lie beneath. The effort of providing that cost was the bright and shiny future that lay ahead of those that fought for it. Braxton was not the fighter that many believed him to be. In a fight or flight situation, he found out at the age of twenty that he was the latter. It was the news that he had dreaded hearing for the entirety of his life, that he was mentally not cut out to become the very thing he had always dreamed to be. It was this news, the news that tore apart the dream he had had since he was a young boy and sent him into that spiral he had imagined he would never break free of.

He had broken free, eventually. And at the cost of leaving behind a woman that he had established a future with, a life that he had once felt like living. A forgotten future that had led him back to the very place he had left all those years ago. An apartment that seemed but a distant memory, one filled with joyous laughter and sweet promises made.

A tense jaw clenched as he stood at the sidewalk, gazing up at the three story building before him. He remembered every moment of the life he once had, the life that he had left behind in pursuit of a new dream, one that had not quite compared to what he had lost.

Call it mild curiosity that had brought him back to these apartments. Call it morbid curiosity that had him wondering how she was, if she still lived there, if she was still the same woman that he had left behind eight years ago. It seemed like his feet carried him on auto pilot, like he knew not of what his own body was doing until he stood before the very door he had walked out of with the thought of never returning. It took more than enough willpower to lift his fist, to rap three times on the door while his mind fumbling over what exactly he was going to say to her if she happened to answer the door. What could he say to her?

Now, it was someone else’s. The old lady who lived in it was a quaint one, quick to befriend Isabella during the season of her loss. She had noticed something within the young woman ---- something fickle, something fearful ---, and she had made her feel that it was okay to be this way. Her kindness knew no bounds as she welcomed Isabella into her home two days every week for the last eight years, and Isabella, for this reason, had never once missed a Saturday or a Sunday. With this quaint lady, Isabella had built the home she’d broken down. With this quaint lady, Isabella felt like she was somebody again.

Yet, still, the strange never left. The strange held on.

The difference now was that Isabella did not hold back. Somewhere across time, sometime across time, she had learned that the man that she loved wasn’t coming back. Through all the tears she’d cried, and despite all the memories she’d held onto, Isabella had learned to move forward. It took one step at a time, one step each day. And, sometimes, on Saturdays and Sundays, upon visiting this home that was no longer her home, she would take steps backwards all the way to eight years ago --- as though Brax had merely left yesterday ---, but she would find that she felt nothing at all. She was not hurting, not anymore. Isabella had long accepted what she’d lost.

As she sat by the old woman’s creaky bed and held the woman’s hand in her own, Isabella listened to the stories that were told. Often times, they were the same stories --- some of which she’d heard before ---, but she did not mind much. For as long as there was a smile on the woman’s face, Isabella was happy.

The sudden three knocks on the door startled them both.

When asked, the old woman did not remember if she’d called her son home. Neither did she remember whether or not she’d called anyone home. Isabella, then, with her warm smile, shook her head and let the woman lie down. She said she would get the door.

And  she did. She did, and the face that she saw on the other side was a ghost.