~Memories & Hearts~

I'm in too deep
Can't touch the bottom with my feet
Don't know what you did to me, I can't
breathe but I'm living
    •
    Why Don't We

    •<>•

Carving the pumpkin, I dart my eyes to Key who is busy decorating our little apartment. With Halloween just a few days away, the girls and I have been running up and about trying to make sure that everything is done correctly. It's been two years now since I celebrated it with my family and the thought of it saddens me. Even though I have the girls with me, I can't help but wonder what my parents are up to, and how crazy they'll go with the decorations and the costumes this year.

Ever since I was a little girl, my parents and I have been celebrating Halloween. I remember my dad lifting me and I'd sit on his shoulder as I helped Mom decorate the windows with artificial cobwebs and spiders. I was a little bit scared of them but each time Dad kept reassuring me that they were fake, that fear that rushed through my veins slowly dissipated.

One of my greatest memories about Halloween was when Dad and I would make Jack-o'-lantern scarecrows and I'd run to Mom for advice whenever I was in a dilemma about picking the right hat for him.

Creating ghosts from bedsheets to frighten Mom became a tradition. Her predictable reaction, a scream followed by a hand on her chest, was always part of the routine. After warning us not to repeat our prank, she'd resume her activities — leaving Dad and I disappointed with dropped shoulders as we searched for other ways to pass the time. I later came to realize that Mom was playfully participating to make me happy, given how her acting skills seemed to get worse with each passing year.

Going big with the costumes was something Mom was, and still is passionate about. I wouldn't compare her to Heidi Klum's wild Halloween costumes but at least she's managed to bedazzle a lot of people.

Speaking of costumes, I haven't bought one yet and neither do I have any in mind but, I'm sure the girls will help me pick something beautiful. My last year's Halloween costume wasn't the best and the thought of it makes me cringe. What was I thinking?! With mom miles and miles away, I've been a withering mess when it comes to picking the perfect Halloween costume.

        •<<<>>>•

The night sky is already illuminated by the vibrant city lights. I was so engrossed in decorating this place that I scarcely noticed the evening settling in; I missed out on watching the sun descending behind the buildings and casting its long shadows on the ground.

With orange Halloween lights illuminating this small space and bats as well as spider shadow decorations spread all over the walls, it's starting to feel like Halloween. Despite being so far behind with the decorations, I'm pleased with how we managed to put everything together beautifully within a short amount of time.

After gulping down my water, I put the glass down and join the girls in the living room to watch a scary movie. It's taking them ages to pick a movie we can all watch given our contrasting preferences. While Keyara is into thriller, dark comedy type of horror movies, well, I'm into light, supernatural horror movies and Autumn is into, well—nothing. Despite the jump scares and occasional sleepless nights they induce, she continues to watch them and finds them interesting but, not interesting enough to watch them alone.

There's a debate that has been going on between Key and me for God knows how long about what type of scary movies are the best. Quite frankly, I find thriller, slasher horror movies like Scream or Friday The Thirteenth to be very scary and traumatizing.

The thought of what a human being can do to another human being is beyond frightening, and on the other hand, Key finds supernatural things more terrifying even though she doesn't believe in the supernatural world. Out of all the supernatural horror movies I've made her watch, she finds Insidious the first movie to be the most interesting and less scary.

Once we settle on a movie everyone agrees on, we plunge our hands into a bowl of popcorn, then bring it to our mouths, munching away while our wide eyes remain fixed on the large screen before us.

                                  •<<<>>>•
Notice! Some chapters are going to have events that happened in the past, so to make this easy/less confusing, I'll be underlying the signs. In short, the past will have underlined signs like this (•<>•/•<<<>>>•) while the present won't. I hope it's clear. Back to the story.

"Mummy!" I called out excitedly while running around our house, eager to find her and show her the tiny ladybug I had captured in a glass jar.

She was in her art room, her back was turned to me and she was sitting in front of a canvas painting the sky.

I thought Dad told her not to paint until her hand was completely healed. I thought to myself as I approached her.

When she turned to me, a smile graced her face as her beautiful blue eyes twinkled at me, "What have you got there Ethan?" She smiled — her voice was soft and gentle just like her heart, "Is that? Is that a ladybug?" Concern seeped into her voice, and creases marked her porcelain forehead.

"It is. Isn't it pretty?" I smiled as my eyes lingered on the beautiful black-dotted insect that was desperately seeking freedom.

"It is, but honey you have to free it. It can't breathe in there," she said as she leaned in to get a better look at it.

"But if I let it go, it won't come back," I pouted as sadness engulfed me. The thought of losing something incredibly dear brought a wave of sadness to my heart, and as much as I hated putting it through so much pain, I couldn't bear to lose it. I loved it.

"What good is it to keep it if it's not happy? If it's deprived of oxygen?" She pouted back, her eyes softening as she looked at me.

"But it's beautiful, and I want it," I pleaded.

"Okay, how about I make a beautiful painting of a beautiful ladybug for you, and you let that cute little friend over there go back to its family. Besides, you know your father wouldn't like it if he saw an insect in this house."

"I know," I sighed heavily as my shoulders drooped. Knowing my father, I didn't want to do anything that went against his wishes. Though warm and friendly with a laugh so contagious and sparkling brown eyes so inviting, he was, and still is a man you don't want to upset. Growing up, my father established strict rules that we had to adhere to, and being the youngest at the age of 9, I was well aware of the severity of his punishments in case any of us violated those rules.

"That's my boy." She smiled and enveloped me in her warm embrace.

"Can I help you paint after I free this ladybug? I don't want you to hurt your hand more," I asked and looked up at her only to land in her calm ocean eyes.

"I would love that." She smiled and tightened her embrace before freeing me so I could free the ladybug.

                                   •<<<>>>•

As I open my eyes, I direct my gaze toward the incomplete painting a few feet away from me. With her Memorial Day drawing near, I've been trying to complete this portrait of her before the occasion arrives. It has been 16 years since her passing and her memories live on. Each year around this time, I paint her to honor her legacy and express gratitude for shaping the person I am today. She's the reason I've developed a passion for art.

Completing her painting on time is a recurring challenge for me each year, as I find myself consistently overwhelmed by sadness. The thought of her tragic loss shatters my heart into pieces and finishing the paintings without shedding tears is a rare occurrence for me. Like every other year, I find myself emotionally overwhelmed, gathering the shattered pieces of my heart to complete her painting before the approaching day.

Upon hearing the doorbell, I swiftly set aside the brushes and hurry to the bathroom to cleanse my face. Aware of James' keen observation, I can't allow him to see me in this state.

Standing at the door, I take a deep breath before opening it.

"What took you so long?" He questions as he walks past me to make himself comfortable.

Known for his good looks, trimmed and neat dark brown hair with low fades on the side, and beautiful blue eyes that sparkle whenever he smiles, six feet tall and not forgetting his outgoing personality, he has it all. Being in his 40s, he never ceases to amaze me every time he opens his mouth to speak. Though bubbly and outgoing, he can be serious and upfront when the occasion calls for it, and as much as his brutal honesty bruises my ego, I love that he's not afraid to speak his mind.

"You alright?" he questions as he makes a beeline for the refrigerator to grab a beer, "What a long day today has been, I'm knackered," he grumbles as he loosens his tie.

"I can imagine," I respond with a light breath escaping my lips.

As we eventually settle on the couch, I lean back in my seat and watch him drink his beer.

"It must be very exhausting dealing with that many clients, innit?" I try to make small talk in an attempt to slow him down from drinking.

"I don't want to talk about work right now." Upon putting his beer down, he shifts his focus to me, "Have you heard from your father?"

"Yes, we had a conversation yesterday, and he inquired about my preparations for Mum's Memorial Day."

As soon as these words slip out of my mouth, the atmosphere in this room changes. Though Mum and James weren't as close as he is with me and Dad, he's deeply affected by her passing. She was the kind of person who made everybody around her smile and feel loved, she had a heart of gold and would go to great lengths just to help somebody in need.

"Can't believe it's been 16 years," James says softly, his words coated with sadness.

"And her memory still lives on," I add. Sadness is already welling up within me; tears sting my eyes, and the memories of that tragic day begin to seep into my mind.

As if he can see straight through me, James clears his throat and inquires about my work at the university.

"It's going great," I reply.

"I bet you're fully settled in now, huh? How long have you been teaching there, almost a year?"

"I try," I nod, "At least it's way more interesting than, well, you know.."

"I'm proud of you for following your dreams," he smiles, "I bet your Mum is proud of you."

"You think so?" I ask him as I lift my gaze to meet his.

"Of course, I mean look at what you've accomplished. You should be proud of yourself Ethan, you're doing a great job."

"Thanks," I reply with a smile. Hearing James say that he's proud of me warms my heart and makes me feel like I'm doing something right with my life. All my life I've been trying to be the best I can be, and even though I can never be as good as everyone in my family, my goal is to make my Mum's work known to the whole world; to have her paintings see the daylight and help as many as I can through Art.

"Now, what is this thing you said about your work being interesting, is there somebody who has piqued your interest?" James inquires as he leans forward to get a better look at me — his inquisitive eyes piercing into mine.

"No," I dissent right away, "There's no one," I assert defensively as I rise from my seat.

"Ethan," he pauses, "I've known you all your life and I'm able to tell if something has changed about you."

"There's nobody," I reply, "What's wrong with me saying that my work is interesting?"

"Because you're glowing, and I know that glow can't come from teaching people art. Who is she?" His lips curl into a playful smile while his gaze on me lingers.

"No one." An airy laugh slips out of my mouth, "I'm just happy that I'm finally doing something I love."

He continues to study me with his prolonged gaze. This place is suddenly awkwardly silent, but knowing James and his excellent detective skills, I know he'll figure out why I'm smiling. He'll find her, I'm sure of it. He'll find out about Mallory sooner or later.

"Okay." He lifts his hands in surrender, "You can keep her a secret for now but, you know I'll find out right?"

"Please don't do anything," I state as I walk back to my couch.

"So you're admitting that there's somebody." He grins.

"I didn't admit to anything. Look, James," I sigh, "I know you've got good detective skills, though I wonder why you're not a detective — but please, don't take any action, okay?"

"Why? You don't want me to meet the lady behind that smile on your face? I've got to thank her, don't you think? I thought I'd never see it again."

"Please don't do anything, okay? I don't know if I even want to have anything with her." I emit a deep sigh and slump onto the couch, "I know I fancy her, but, you know I don't do relationships. That thing's not for me."

James simply looks at me sympathetically with a can of beer still in his hand. Though he hasn't said a word, I can already tell what he's thinking and how sorry he feels for me.

My life's a mess as it is, I can't drag someone into it. I can't let that happen.

                                   •<<<>>>•

As I go over the details for today's class, I notice Mallory gazing at me. She appears noticeably different, and if I'm being honest, I find myself stealing glances at her every opportunity I get. Not that she isn't always beautiful, but today she has taken me by surprise with how boldly stunning she appears. Something about the way she looks today is driving me crazy I wish I could sweep her in my arms and kiss her.

Her face appears more defined with her ginger hair neatly pulled back into a bun, and her striking red lipstick really highlights the color of her stunning green eyes.

I know I told myself to stay away from her but after everything that's been happening lately, my mind has been a mess I can't stop thinking about her. Whether or not she's doing it on purpose, I can't help but get jealous whenever I see her with that boy who looks like a country singer. Out of all the people in this school why him? I bet had it not been for his dimples and emerald eyes, the chap would have nothing.

What am I talking about? Am I being bitter over some chap I hardly know? This is not me. Focus. You're teaching, and everyone's waiting for you to say something. Say something!

As the students carry on with their tasks, I begin to explain the components of art, about the secret to maintaining a balance between the lightness and darkness of tones and colours and they listen attentively while stroking paint brushes on their canvases.

While everyone else has their eyes glued on their canvas, I can't help but steal a glance at her, and just as I'm about to look away, she meets my eyes.

Feck.

Unable to look away, I find myself swimming in her eyes, mesmerized and perhaps hypnotized by her beauty.

What am I doing?

The attraction between us is evident and undeniable, and as much as I want to pull myself from this fantasy, I find it challenging given how much of a stronghold she's starting to have on me.

What is she doing to me?

All this while, I thought I had created a strong emotional barrier that no one could breach regardless of the force, however, with her, she doesn't even need to lift a finger to get me crumbling and I find myself melting at the mere sight of her.

How can this be?

"Mr. Myers?" A student's voice slips into my scrambled mind — prompting me to shift my gaze from Mallory to the student who's waiting for my response.

Upon answering the student's question, I proceed to teach the class the rest of today's topic and somehow my eyes keep finding their way back to Mallory.

I'm trying to fight the temptation but my feelings for her keep growing stronger and faster, I don't know how else I can erase her from my mind, and possibly my heart.

Why did she express those thoughts about me when we first met? What is it that captivates her about me? What does she see in me? Looks aside, what is it about me that has her wanting to be a part of my life, my complicated life?

I have nothing to give her and it would be selfish of me to pursue a relationship with her; and even though we're close in age, I'm her professor. Crossing that line into unprofessionalism simply because of what we feel for each other would be unethical and ridiculous.

When class is done, I walk back to my table to arrange a couple of files and as I'm stacking up some files, I see my competition, I mean the boy who's been so hooked on Mallory for the past couple of days.

Seeing him standing outside of my classroom presumably waiting for Mallory induces this weird feeling inside of me that I know I shouldn't be feeling. She's not mine and yet, I don't like seeing her with him. I don't know what's going on between them but regardless of the status of their relationship, I don't like seeing them together; and after observing him for a while, I know he likes Mallory, but what remains uncertain is whether she reciprocates the same feelings.

As she begins to approach him, my gaze follows suit — waiting to see what she's going to do next.

Pull yourself together man. Forget about her. I remind myself as I shift my gaze.

When she reaches the door, panic starts to heighten within me, my stomach is churning and my heart has already started aching at the thought of the two being all friendly with each other.

What does he have that I don't?

My heart is racing with each passing second, and that familiar feeling keeps building up. I hate this feeling, it's different, and I hate what it's doing to me.

I can't be jealous, can I?

I've been jealous before but not to this extent, and certainly not toward someone who's trying to steal my girl.

Steal my girl? (Scoffs internally) What am I saying? She's not my girl. What is happening to me?

When she reaches the door and is just a second away from exchanging greetings with someone I'm not fond of, a voice rips out of my chest and slips past my lips. Accompanied by the muffled sound of my own voice, I'm left to wonder what it is that I just said to her; because right now, there are two sets of eyes looking at me, and Mallory is approaching me.

                                         AN

✨I'd like to get to know you briefly but you can skip this question if you want to.

- Do you celebrate Halloween? If so, what's your favorite part about it?

- Secondly, do you like/watch horror movies? If so, what type of horror movies do you like/watch?

I've tried to watch Friday The Thirteenth several times but each time I attempt to I always chicken out.😂 How I managed to watch Insidious idk.✨

                                         ***
Thank you so much for getting this far, much appreciated. Don't forget to vote, comment and share. It'd be nice to hear from you and your honest opinions/thoughts about the story.
     🧡🤎