Page 17 of The Wonder of You

Phoenix continues to put his hand softly through my hair in a way I could easily become obsessed with. When I sit up, he gently helps me put my t-shirt back on and heads to the kitchen.

I watch him in silence as he makes another coffee and whips together a cheese sandwich for us both. The night is still young and Arabella, the lady he wants me to see, is still not ready for us. That’s okay though, I am happy to stay here and relax for longer. I work through my breathing, trying to calm myself from the occasional waves of anxiety. It’s a lot to take in; hearing about my previous life and memories from this life punching my mind at the wrong time. I want to move forward, but it’s not going to be that simple. Those bad memories won’t go away entirely. I’ve lived with them long enough to know that for sure.

But one thing I know is that I feel safe sitting here with Phoenix. I still feel as if I know him, really know him , and that gives me confidence for whatever is to come.

He walks over to me with a photo album.

“I thought you might like to see this.” His eyes are so soft. I wish I hadn’t scared myself with my own taunting memories when we were trying to be intimate.

He sips his coffee as I start looking through photos of myself. It nearly takes my breath away, seeing myself in a different time. It feels so familiar, but it feels so… I’m not sure. I rub my hand over a picture of me smiling at the camera. Phoenix is there too, looking at me with a grin on his face. We look so happy. I feel like I remember this, but it’s also blurry.

“This is weird, Phoenix. It’s like… like I know this is me, I can somewhat remember it, but I also can’t. It’s like I’m looking at a picture of a long-lost twin or something.”

He doesn’t respond.

I turn the page and see another picture of us sitting at a campfire. Phoenix has his arm around me and I’m sinking into him as if it’s a cold night and Phoenix is my warmth.

“I was happy, wasn’t I? In this life?” I ask without taking my eyes away from the pictures. Looking at the old photo album in Dad’s house, there was always a hint of sadness to the history between those pages. I was such an unhappy child. Those photos never felt like me either. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like me at all. Perhaps I’ve always been a ghost of the Renée in these photographs. A part of me finds that comforting in a way.

“Yeah, you were always happy.”

I can’t bear to make eye contact with him as he says it, otherwise I may cry. I rest my head on my hand and take a moment to look at the other pictures in the album.

There I am holding Maudie as a toddler. Painting rocks with her as she looks now. She’s smiling. Always smiling.

There’s another of Phoenix and I kissing.

A lone tear falls down my cheek, Phoenix leans forward and wipes it away. His hand rests on my face a while longer .

“We’ll get all this back, Renée.”

“What if it doesn’t work? What if I don’t remember? Will you still want me?”

“Yes, without a doubt. You’re still my Renée; you’re always my Renée.”

My Renée. My heart floods with warmth.

“In this life, I’ve always been really good at pushing people away.” It takes a lot for me to say this, but with Phoenix, it feels right. It’s as if I’ll say this now and I’ll never have to say it again. “For a while, it was making friends and losing friends. Then it was just never making any at all. Even as an adult, I would walk into new environments and it was like people had already made a decision to dislike me. Like there is something wrong with my face, it just pushes people away, makes them see me as something inhuman.”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, putting his hand over mine. I look down at our joined hands which sit on top of a photo of us kissing.

“Cursed, I think is a better word. I always felt cursed, and I guess I’m finding out that is true.” A bittersweet giggle comes out of my mouth. I use my other hand to wipe away another tear.

“Can I be honest?” I take a deep breath.

“Always, nothing you say will change how I feel about you, you know that.”

“Everyone keeps asking me how I feel about turning thirty soon, but… I don’t feel anything. I never thought I’d get there. I’m surprised I got as far as twenty-nine. Sometimes I think it’s why my dad checks on me as mu ch as he does, in case one day he walks in and finds me dead.”

I look up at him. His eyes are blurry with tears. He manages to keep his cool and grips my hand tighter.

“I never want you to feel that way.”

“I’ve always been like this. Suicide has always run through my mind. The minute things go wrong, the minute a bad memory appears in my mind and I don’t want to experience another one, I turn to bad thoughts. But I don’t think I ever really wanted to die. When I was a teenager, I cleaned out my whole room in hopes to make it easier for my dad. I didn’t want him dealing with all my stuff after losing me. Then my grandad called and asked if I wanted to book a meal for his birthday and I thought well, I can’t kill myself around Grandad’s birthday, that would be unfair. I realised it wasn’t ever death I wanted because otherwise my grandad’s birthday wouldn’t have been enough to keep me going. I just wanted things to stop. To change.” I sigh. It feels good to let all these thoughts escape me for the first time.

“I wish…” I smile as I look down at the pictures. “I wish I could say this was my comfort, that I always knew the circus, you , were waiting for me. Wouldn’t that have been a nice story? To have dreamt of you?” I rub my fingers over the photographs again, wishing I could jump into them. “But I wasn’t so lucky. I guess I knew something was missing, that there was something out there, but I never knew what it was. Perhaps it would have made things worse if I had known. Waiting for you would have been so hard. I assume I wasn’t twenty-nine the first time we met. ”

“Do you think this is enough for you now, Renée?” he asks me. I notice the way he gulps, as if he is nervous for my response.

“I think so. I’d like to find out.” I squeeze his hand as I look at him longer, wondering if we could try making love again. Maybe I could do it now that I’ve taken some pressure off my shoulders.

But a knock on the door interrupts my thoughts.

“It’s me, Lukas. Arabella is here!”

“Thank you!” Phoenix shouts back and then looks to me. “Do you want to see Arabella? We don’t have to if the night has already become too much.”

“No, I want to go to her.” I sit up and take a deep breath, wiping my eyes.

I’m not sure the night ahead is going to be any easier on my heart or mind, but with Phoenix at my side, I know I can handle it.