The Smallest Parallel

Chapter 19

Marguerite sat against the cold tile of the shower, allowing the cold water to run over her. She didn't move; she was tired of constantly moving.

            Harper loomed outside of the bathroom door. Marguerite could hear her every movement, and that presence made her uncomfortable. They'd been finalizing wedding details for the past week, and it had been a wonderful distraction while it had lasted. Now, the wedding was in a week, and Marguerite wasn't sure what would happen if she were unable to make a decision before then.

            The water hit the skin on the top of her head, stinging and sending a chill up her spine. She tried to distract herself from her approaching wedding date.

            Marguerite saw colors in everything. Harper was purple; she was distant and somewhat regal. She always held her head high, and the words she spoke were written in stone. She was an incredible planner. Wedding planning had required very little of Marguerite's input, yet Harper still pretended to show interest in Marguerite's opinions. She asked her about each of the details, making sure that everything she chose catered to Marguerite's tastes. Marguerite usually nodded her head and smiled, agreeing to whatever Harper proposed.

            Wedding planning had been the easiest part of living on this timeline. She, Rhiannon, and Harper had been dress shopping and cake tasting, but Marguerite was never part of the decisions. She liked that, even found comfort in it. The last thing she wanted was to be presented with more choices.

            Adrien was green. He was the deep and exciting jungle, the mysterious and frightening rainforest. He was also new and inviting. He was inviting and beautiful, but he was a stranger. He was also quite materialistic. His sights were always set on some distant and exciting horizon, and he wanted her to join him. He wanted her to be his partner in crime, the accessory to every endeavor.

            Living with Adrien was interesting, to say the least. He was always popping up around every corner, asking questions and making bold statements. He wanted to know her, but she was hesitant to know him, unsure that it would matter if she didn't choose life.

            Geoffrey was beige, but not in the traditional and boring sense. He was everything that was safe and natural, a long-lost friend that one could always return to. He was home in every sense of the word, for she had never known a traditional home. She worried about Geoffrey though, worried that he would return to living his life passively if she were to pass on.

            The cold water pelted her skin, forcing her fold into herself. She just wanted a distraction, a reason not to think anymore. She turned the knob of the shower, making the water colder. Her skin felt like ice.

            She remembered her talk with Geoffrey on the other timeline, how she'd fixed his relationship with his mother. If she were to chose life, would it all be for nothing? She and the Geoffrey from this world weren't even on speaking terms. She wondered if he were pursuing his dreams as she knew the other Geoffrey was.

            Miriam was white. She was ice, in every sense of the word. She was cool, calm, and collected. She was never one to allow her feelings to get in the way. She was a closed door, sealed off from anyone who attempted to get in. That isn't to say that there was no handle, or perhaps it was a knocker.

            Gwyneth was red, like fire. She burned with such intensity that she destroyed everything in her path. She was the sun, but Marguerite refused to be Icarus. Gwyneth burned so many people, and she ultimately burned out, becoming a white dwarf star. Perhaps the worst of all, she managed to melt the ice, that night she killed Christopher.

            The water was no longer cold; Marguerite felt numb to it. All she wanted was to sleep, for she'd never felt so tired. The water was freezing, but she didn't care. After weeks of chemo and confusion, she was ready to feel numb.