FAR FROM ERIS • FreenBecky •

FOUR

-Freen!- Heng shouted from across the room. -It's been wonderful!- His eyes gleamed with excitement.
-Thank you, Heng,- Freen replied, trying to blend back into the background after reading the first chapters of her book. The pop of a cork made her jump and clutch her chest.
-Nam! You'll kill me!-
But Nam was too busy refilling glasses for Irin, Heng, Freen, and anyone else nearby with a drink.
-Here's to you, Freen- Nam said, raising her glass, prompting everyone else to follow suit. -May you also return, like water. We love you.-
They all toasted and cheered, and Freen felt that familiar pang of excitement in her stomach, something she hadn't felt in a long time. So long, she often confused it with anxiety. But what if this time it wasn't? What if it was something akin to happiness?
Irin locked the door when the last person left. Heng and Nam seemed engrossed in conversation, while Freen, a bit more withdrawn, yawned in an armchair with a copy of her book in her lap.
-Many people came, you must be proud,- Irin said. -And many books were sold. Now you're in almost every home in the city- She smiled.
-I didn't expect it, really- Freen said thoughtfully. -It was beautiful. I had forgotten what it was like to feel this way-
-I'm so glad- Irin said sincerely. -This is just the beginning, you know. The beginning of something new. And this?- She pointed to the book Freen held. -Are you taking it home? You must have like twenty in your living room.-
-It's for Patty. I promised her I'd bring her one- Freen said wistfully. -For a moment, I thought she'd come, but she's so old... The last time we spoke, she was quite ill. I guess she couldn't make it tonight.-
-She'll be delighted that you brought it for her, I'm sure.-
-But I'm the worst. You know, I don't even know where she lives- Freen rolled her eyes.
-Well, you could always stop by the flower shop - Irin suggested.
-It'll be closed. But I thought about asking in the neighboring shops. Surely, someone can tell me how to get in touch with her.- Irin nodded. -Well,- she said, looking at her two friends, -I don't know what plans these two have, but I think I'm going home.-
Nam was laughing at something Heng was telling her, while the guy gestured and tossed his head, making his black hair tousle over his forehead. Heng was very friendly and funny. Just like she used to be.
Sometimes Freen wondered if she had done something wrong in her recovery process. Like when you disassemble something and when you put it back together, you have a piece left over that you don't know where it goes. And you think everything is fine, in fact, that Ikea desk is perfectly functional, but still, you have that iron piece left over that you have no idea where it goes or when you should have screwed it in. And the desk holds your books, computer, and all the clothes you don't put in the closet out of laziness, so it works; and because it works, you take the iron piece and pretend you don't need it. But you know deep down that the desk is missing a piece. And Freen was missing a piece she didn't know where, how, or when she could put it back where it belonged.

The next morning, she got up early. Nam was still asleep, something Freen expected after hearing her come in at four in the morning, guided by the flashlight of her phone down the hallway after she had told her five hundred times that it was okay to stay with Heng as long as she wanted. Her friend came into the room and kissed her forehead, hoping Freen was asleep. But she was awake, and for the first time in a long time, her stomach didn't clench when she felt someone else nearby. Maybe Irin was right, and it was the beginning of something new.

She left her apartment quietly, with a copy of her book in her tote bag - along with a handful of crumpled supermarket receipts wrapped around her emergency phone charger cable, a magazine she was forced to take from the street and never found the moment to throw away, and a dozen useless things.
It was a rather cool morning at the end of winter. Freen wore slightly baggy jeans and an oversized gray sweater that she always forgot got caught on the pendant of a tulip she always wore around her neck. Her black cap with white letters and her wireless earphones, which never played music - she used them to avoid unnecessary conversations with strangers.
The sun hit her face while the cold air brushed her ears; it was a wonderful sensation she never gets tired of. The winter sun, her favorite thing in the world along with tulips. And that day was a combination of both. Even though the flower shop was closed, just the thought of being there again made her heart flutter. She walked for a while without haste, enjoying the stroll through the streets of the city that had welcomed her after she fled and gradually made her feel less like a fugitive.
Almost without realizing it, she reached the street where Patty's flower shop was, and she felt a pang of something that could have been sadness but wrapped in all the affection with which she remembered that woman. She approached, looking at the windows of the neighboring shops, wondering who could help her locate the elderly lady when suddenly she realized that the flower shop was, in fact, open.
Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected that. Had Patty returned to work? -I don't think so- she thought. The woman was very old and somewhat delicate in health; she had no one to leave the business to. In fact, Freen had thought that Patty would ask her to take over once she could no longer manage it, but Patty wouldn't do that because Patty knew that Freen was destined to write, and taking over the shop would have clipped her wings.
So it must be someone else. But who? She hesitated for a few minutes at the door. She didn't know whether to enter or not. After all, whoever had reopened it wouldn't necessarily know the old woman, would they? One minute. Two. Three. -Freen, you're an idiot, just go in already. Worst-case scenario, you buy some flowers and go home.- Four. Five. Six. -You have legs. You can move them. Brain, tell your legs to move.- Seven. Eight minutes. -That's it, I'm going in.-

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