mess.”
I get up and begin wandering around, my eyes grazing over the colourful creations. “What do you call these?” I point to a cluster of bright purple flowers.
“ Purple Asters.”
“ They’re really pretty,” I say, bending down to get a better look at them - bright purple petals centred with yellow nectar. I press my nose to one, inhaling its sweet scent.
“ They’re pretty hard to get. Usually the colour comes out violet but this season I got some true purple ones.” He smiles proudly. “They’re a symbol of love and patience, you know” he adds knowingly. “In olden times, it was believed that if you burnt their leaves, the perfume would ward off evil spirits. They’re one of my favourites.” He laughs again. “I know, not very manly to have a favourite flower but, hey, I am gardener after all.”
“ They look like stars,” I say, fingering the soft petals.
“ Yeah, I suppose they do,” he replies, voice suddenly sounding uninterested. I can hear his fingers tapping on the wooden arm rest of the chair and after a moment he says, “Lucyna, can I ask you something?”
I stand up. “Of course.”
“ Well I’ve been wondering . . . how did you come to be homeless?”
I look down at my feet. Stupidly I hadn’t thought this far, overlooking the glaringly obvious fact he would naturally be curious about my past.
“ You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want,” he adds, voice soft. “It makes no odds to me.”
I look up at the very reason why I left my home, my one and only reason for existing as I now do - James, with his infinite pools for eyes; his curious brow creased, tilting his scar; his full lips pressed together, as he waits for my response. And it just kind of hits me smack bang in the centre of my chest, straight into my theoretical heart.
I love him.
And then it all just seems so very simple.
“ I fell in love,” I hear myself saying, “and for me to be able to be with him meant that I had to leave my home.” I know just how close to the truth I’m skirting but at this moment I have neither the wish nor the care to stop.
James’s gaze drifts out over the garden. “And . . . it didn’t it work out with this guy?”
“ Not in the way I had hoped.”
“ Do you still love him?” he asks, eyes fixed on mine.
I hold his gaze, willing him to hear me, to really hear me when I say, “I will always love him, whether we’re together or not.”
He breaks from our gaze, looking down at the shoe he’s begun scuffing against a paving stone. “So why didn’t you go back home after you’d broken up.”
“ I couldn’t. I’d broken the rules.”
He looks back up at me with what can only be described as incredulity. “Rules? Jesus Christ, Lucyna, what rules?”
I turn away from him.
And for a moment neither of us speaks.
After what seems an infinite amount of time, I hear his warm voice come from behind me. “I’m sure your family would want you back. How could they not?”
“ Maybe they would,” I wrap his coat tightly around me, pressing my nose into the collar, inhaling his scent, “but I’m not so sure I want to go back. Ever.”
I hear him sigh deeply. “Lucyna, look, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want, but I’m gonna ask anyway.” He takes a deep breath, then says, “Did you use to live in a cult?”
I turn round to face him. “A cult?”
“ Yeah you know, a cult, where there’s loads of you all living together, like rurally, and you believe in a certain religion – and other stuff.”
I stare at him troubled. “I know what a cult is James. I’m just wondering why you think I’m from one?”
He rubs his hand over his face. “Because you’re just so different, Lucyna – so completely different to anyone I’ve ever met. You talk different, act different and everything’s like –” He leans forward in his seat, arms resting on his legs, “– I don’t know how to describe it. It just seems like
I get up and begin wandering around, my eyes grazing over the colourful creations. “What do you call these?” I point to a cluster of bright purple flowers.
“ Purple Asters.”
“ They’re really pretty,” I say, bending down to get a better look at them - bright purple petals centred with yellow nectar. I press my nose to one, inhaling its sweet scent.
“ They’re pretty hard to get. Usually the colour comes out violet but this season I got some true purple ones.” He smiles proudly. “They’re a symbol of love and patience, you know” he adds knowingly. “In olden times, it was believed that if you burnt their leaves, the perfume would ward off evil spirits. They’re one of my favourites.” He laughs again. “I know, not very manly to have a favourite flower but, hey, I am gardener after all.”
“ They look like stars,” I say, fingering the soft petals.
“ Yeah, I suppose they do,” he replies, voice suddenly sounding uninterested. I can hear his fingers tapping on the wooden arm rest of the chair and after a moment he says, “Lucyna, can I ask you something?”
I stand up. “Of course.”
“ Well I’ve been wondering . . . how did you come to be homeless?”
I look down at my feet. Stupidly I hadn’t thought this far, overlooking the glaringly obvious fact he would naturally be curious about my past.
“ You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want,” he adds, voice soft. “It makes no odds to me.”
I look up at the very reason why I left my home, my one and only reason for existing as I now do - James, with his infinite pools for eyes; his curious brow creased, tilting his scar; his full lips pressed together, as he waits for my response. And it just kind of hits me smack bang in the centre of my chest, straight into my theoretical heart.
I love him.
And then it all just seems so very simple.
“ I fell in love,” I hear myself saying, “and for me to be able to be with him meant that I had to leave my home.” I know just how close to the truth I’m skirting but at this moment I have neither the wish nor the care to stop.
James’s gaze drifts out over the garden. “And . . . it didn’t it work out with this guy?”
“ Not in the way I had hoped.”
“ Do you still love him?” he asks, eyes fixed on mine.
I hold his gaze, willing him to hear me, to really hear me when I say, “I will always love him, whether we’re together or not.”
He breaks from our gaze, looking down at the shoe he’s begun scuffing against a paving stone. “So why didn’t you go back home after you’d broken up.”
“ I couldn’t. I’d broken the rules.”
He looks back up at me with what can only be described as incredulity. “Rules? Jesus Christ, Lucyna, what rules?”
I turn away from him.
And for a moment neither of us speaks.
After what seems an infinite amount of time, I hear his warm voice come from behind me. “I’m sure your family would want you back. How could they not?”
“ Maybe they would,” I wrap his coat tightly around me, pressing my nose into the collar, inhaling his scent, “but I’m not so sure I want to go back. Ever.”
I hear him sigh deeply. “Lucyna, look, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want, but I’m gonna ask anyway.” He takes a deep breath, then says, “Did you use to live in a cult?”
I turn round to face him. “A cult?”
“ Yeah you know, a cult, where there’s loads of you all living together, like rurally, and you believe in a certain religion – and other stuff.”
I stare at him troubled. “I know what a cult is James. I’m just wondering why you think I’m from one?”
He rubs his hand over his face. “Because you’re just so different, Lucyna – so completely different to anyone I’ve ever met. You talk different, act different and everything’s like –” He leans forward in his seat, arms resting on his legs, “– I don’t know how to describe it. It just seems like
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