CHAPTER FIVEA Killing Sort of LoveBryony ran.She ran for many years, bouncing in and out of school, and discovering that she did not care for (in this order): journalism, engineering, dancing, creative writing, psychology, or dirt biking. Dirt biking was more of a fluke, a class that she joined in an out-of-this-world moment of sheer whimsy, because she wanted to do something fun and free and different. The bike itself wasn’t a problem, but a bike plus dirt equaled a hot, cranky, sweaty Bryony, and that is never a good thing. So, no. Dirt biking was right out.But a degree is a degree, regardless of what it is in, and all of the world looks fondly upon said degree, so Bryony slogged through her psychology classes. She also briefly considered Criminology, but figured that most of the people there weren’t as interested in capturing criminals as they were about criminals learning to avoid being caught. She was a butterfly, fluttering around joyfully. She was not stupid.But she wa
CHAPTER SIXPiece You TogetherBryony walked out of school with a degree and several quirky friends who despised each other greatly. But she often found herself thinking about how the smell of fireworks would forever remind her of gunfire and blood and of her dear Jeremy who, even with his skull in pieces, remained tall and darling. His death decorated her spirit with sharp, crystalline stars of sorrow, and this moved the hearts of her dear friends, who loved Bryony and vowed to come to her funeral when the time came.“Poor girl, she is not long for this world,” they all thought. “I wonder how they will do her hair when she is dead. I hope that they fill her casket with roses/irises/daffodils. I will write her a tragically romantic love note and slip it inside. I will shake the hand of her father. I will cry bitter tears and mourn her.”Then they all scurried back to work on their dissertations and fell asleep at their desks, dreaming sweet dreams of an exquisite corpse.Bryony ha
CHAPTER SEVENEddie Meets BryonyEddie Warshouski didn’t have anything that he really loved besides his guitar. He called her Jasmine, and grudgingly shelled out the money so that he could buy the permit necessary to play her down at Seattle’s Pike Place Market. The crowd was good there; happy, wide-eyed tourists, wide-eyed locals who came for the flowers and to support each other. They stopped by the first Starbucks and ogled the mermaid. They stopped by the tables and sampled honey and candies and pointed at the jewelry and crocheted hats that were always beautiful, but seldom sold. They made a solid wall of noise behind Eddie’s brain, and he liked that. Anything to shut out the visions. Anything to shut out the voices.Eddie put his head down and played.His music got him through the days, and it was even more essential during the nights. He closed his eyes and picked out an intricate melody. He heard some change drop into his guitar case, and forced his lips into a congenial sm
CHAPTER EIGHTThe Significance of WordsThe reason for Eddie’s abrupt and discourteous departure is this: When he met Bryony’s eyes, he was nearly knocked down by the force of her soul. A sweet soul, to be sure, but a strong soul. A courageous and carefully optimistic soul, and a soul that would be forced to endure the most gruesome and unspeakable tragedy. She would be broken, and razored, and her pink lips and her soft fingers and the insides of her elbows, and oh, oh, oh! Her fate was carefully engraved onto the irises of her eyes with jewelers’ tools, and Eddie couldn’t deny what he saw. She seemed like such a nice girl, a delicate thing that had fallen down from the stars, and the horrors that would befall her were . . . they were too much. Eddie couldn’t do it again.Wait, what was that? Eddie couldn’t do it again, you wonder?Such a difference one little word makes. Such weight and significance that word carries. If Eddie couldn’t do it, well, then, certainly it could be und
CHAPTER NINEDisconsolationChad the Fish Guy almost regretted knocking the mysterious girl down and making her cry, except that he never really regretted anything. Chad did what he did and then it was done, and what a simple and unimposing world this was for him. This meant that he ate whatever he wanted to eat with no regard for his health, and yelled at whoever he wanted to yell at out on the street, which happened more times than even he would perhaps care to admit. When he found a particularly pretty girl (which happened more nights than not) he smiled his charming smile and took her out to dinner and then brought her home and then kicked her out. He never saw her again, and if her feelings were hurt and she cried into her teddy bears or whatnot, well, that didn’t really concern Chad now, did it?“Well, perhaps it concerned him, maybe a little bit,” you say, because you are a sweet and gentle reader, and are apparently hoping for the best. And that is very gallant of you to thi
CHAPTER TENOf Murder and FlowersThe very day that: 1) Chad threw a stuffed fish at her, and 2) Eddie ran away, Bryony landed a delightful little job assembling bouquets of flowers at the market.“Excuse me,” said a small round-faced girl with beautiful, dark almond eyes, “you seem very nice, and you also seem lost. May I help you somehow?”Bryony was quite taken with this child. “Why, yes. I am looking for a job. Do you know anybody who is hiring?”Suddenly every shop and station and table had a desperate need for more employees, sometimes kicking present employees out in order to make more space. Who didn’t want a tragically sorrowful girl who chose to wear a happy smile around? Human nature dictates that we want what we want, and we want what is scarce. We want to enjoy things before they are taken from us. And this girl was defying fate by standing there this very minute. She should be dead by now, she was already lost. They grasped onto her life like a string of pearls.The
CHAPTER ELEVENBroken Glass and Jonquils“I hate you, Bryony,” Eddie said.It absolutely wasn’t true, and Bryony wasn’t there to hear it, but it was good practice.Eddie stormed up the street away from Pike Place. He was looking for a bar, or a club, or somewhere he could duck out of sight and brood on exactly how much he desired to dislike Bryony. She with her wide eyes and sorrowful ambiance. He would find her one day in pieces, or not find her at all, and which would be worse? It was like the time—“Eddie Warshouski, I brought you some flowers. Now why don’t you like me?”Bryony offered the flowers to him as if they were a sword. He had never felt so threatened by jonquils before. He took a step back, nearly falling off the curb, and this made him angry.“Why are you following me?” he demanded.“I told you, I brought you some beautiful flowers.” Bryony shoved the flowers into his face. They smelled divine, or at least they would have if Eddie sniffed at them, but he didn’t.
CHAPTER TWELVEA Splendid Way to Go“Daddy? Are you there?”“My sweet girl! How is everything going?”“Daddy, I met him. I met him, and his name is Eddie.”“Congratulations! And he’s strong enough to handle you?”“I think he is, although he doesn’t know it yet. He’ll learn, though.”“Are you going to bring him by sometime?”“I will, Daddy. I want you to meet him.”“The desert has been howling for you at night, my dear. It’s pacing back and forth in front of the house, leaving footprints in the sand. You need to be very careful.”“I will. And Daddy? He’s going to love me. He’s going to love me until both of our hearts burst from it all. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Wouldn’t that be an absolutely splendid way to go?”