The Deal

The Séance

The heart breaks slowly, of this, I am sure.

Grief makes it crack; tiny fissures fracturing the vessel into unrecognizable parts of itself. Pain causes leaks so violent, you fear flooding from the inside out. Solitude slows the beat to a slow and somber tempo, blood struggling to fill you with warmth.

Yet, the powerhouse still keeps you moving forward.

Even if you no longer want to.

My heart has taken so many beatings I fear a whisper of wind may knock me down. But, it is this new hurt that I fear may do the heart in for good.

It's not so much what I have lost, but mostly the potential for what could have been found if given time and nurturing. It's a loss I didn't expect and a hurt that knocks me off my feet. Since ending our deal, I have spent four days surrounded in solitude. Four days seeking solace in meditation and downing gallons of Hawthorne tea.

Tea made from the leaves, flowers, or berries of a Hawthorne tree is said to strengthen the heart muscle and help overcome heartsickness. A healthy and resilient heart can make it easier to overcome grief, betrayal, or breakups.

Though, I can't say either remedy has helped much.

My bed feels empty now that Harry has left it for good, my skin has grown numb from the lack of touch.

I hate this feeling and I hate that Harry has reduced me to this. No amount of sage or crystal cleansing can rid me of this hollow feeling that echoes through my ribs.

Roux women are fierce and independent, we don't cower in the presence of men and we certainly don't let them weaken our resolves. It's one of the many reasons we don't give up our last name in marriage.

My heart, like a snake, will shed another layer of skin and I will hold it in my palm and begin again.

So, this fifth day post-Harry, I slink out of bed and resolve myself to carry on as usual. To enter into a deep and tranquil state of meditation until the physical world is disappeared around me.

I am in a deep state of meditation –despite my mother's oppressing presence above me- when I hear a clatter downstairs and the stench of acrid smoke yanks me from my Zen state. Clambering down the stairs, it doesn't surprise me in the least to see a blonde tuft of hair bobbing up and down my kitchen, waving around a rag.

Why did I ever give him a key?

The smell of burning meat makes it clear he was attempting to make breakfast and I squeeze myself behind him to turn off the burner and remove the frying bacon.

"Niall," The annoyance is clear in my tone, but his smile is innocent, "Are you trying to burn the house down with me in it so you can run off with the life insurance?"

His laugh is much too loud for the morning and he continues to wave the rag in order to get the smoke out of the open kitchen window.

"You caught me," He shakes his head and gives up the task to shove a steaming coffee mug my way, "No, I just haven't seen your face in a few days and was making sure you were still alive, actually."

Guilt rears its ugly head in and I hang my head in shame. I've been so focused on my own pain, I hadn't considered how the others were faring without me. Nan must be so worried after I ran out of the shop last week.

Pain is blinding in many ways.

"Sorry, Ni. I've... Been sick."

I take a sip of the bitter beans, but rear back when it scalds my tongue. Niall's kind eyes narrow and he focuses on my midsection, barely covered by my silk robe, "Your back?"