Brightly Burning Bridges by Ivy Wild
I climbedthe stairs to my loft and let the door slam hard behind me. If it were even possible, Silas was more frustrating now than he had been my senior year of high school. I don’t know why I still let him get under my skin the way I did. I’d learned my lesson the hard way when we were younger not to let him in too close.
Silas Jenkins was like a tiger. Beautiful and ferocious, but if Joe Exotic had taught me anything, tigers were much better off in the wild. I hadn’t wanted to cage him when I was younger—at least that’s what I told myself. And I certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with him now.
Plus, given my own past, I wasn’t sure associating with him was entirely safe for either of us. But, his offer was extremely tempting.
I sighed as I threw the Styrofoam container on the counter and grabbed a beer from my fridge. Closing the door, I looked at a picture of Sophie Strong I’d taped to the white metal. I missed my friend, but between trying to start her own music label and growing a human being, we hadn’t had much time to connect.
I looked around the loft. It was the same as it had ever been, but for some reason, it felt especially empty tonight. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t because I’d expected Silas to insist on coming upstairs. I also told myself I didn’t want him in my place, but part of me knew that was a lie.
I took a long swig of my Corona and popped the lid on my pathetic dinner. As I shoved a bite of the fluffy cakes into my mouth, I swiped my phone open and pressed my contacts. My thumb hovered over Sophie’s name. I so badly wanted to call her, but I also knew what she was going to say. She was going to try and convince me to let her hire me at her new label. And I didn’t want that.
It’s not that I didn’t like Sophie. I loved her like a sister. I just didn’t want a pity job. I had never been that girl and I wasn’t going to start becoming one.
A small part of my brain reminded me that Silas’ offer was likely a pity job but I shushed it, reasoning that Silas didn’t know about my circumstances as much as he claimed he did. And he wouldn’t just show up out of the blue to offer me a job just because he thought I’d fallen on hard times. That was absolutely not his style.
I pressed Sophie’s name, promising myself not to bring up my situation, but just frame it as being in need of guy advice.
“Sky! Is that you?” Her voice was clear and bright on the other side of the line.
“Hey,” I replied, trying to sound chipper and failing.
“What’s wrong,” she immediately asked. I smiled at how good of a friend she was and felt a pang of guilt for not reaching out to her more.
“Got some time for a guy conversation?”
“Um, only always. One sec,” she said. I heard a muffled voice on the other end of the line before Sophie said, “Stop it! Go buy a building or something,” with a laugh before returning to the line. “You there?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Tell Connor I’m sorry for stealing you away,” I said, referring to her husband.
“Psh, he gets me 24/7. He can deal for an evening. Now, tell me what’s going on.”
I shoved another bite of pancakes into my mouth before putting the phone on speaker, setting it down on the counter. “I’ve had a ghost show up from my past and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
“How do you want to feel about it?” she asked, putting emphasis on the word.
“Whatcha mean?” I said after taking another swig from my bottle.
“I mean, when Connor appeared back in my life, deep down I felt happy. But, my brain tried to tell me I didn’t deserve him and a host of other nonsense. So, how do you feel about this person?”
I pursed my lips. Soph always asked the hard questions. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t called her in a little while. I knew she would make me face things I wasn’t quite ready for.
“I don’t know,” I replied with a sigh.
“Yes, you do,” Sophie responded. “You’re just afraid to admit it.”
“I shouldn’t like him, Soph. We’ve got a history and it’s not a good one.” I twisted my lips. “I’m pretty sure he’s bad news.”
“Pretty sure sounds like not at all sure,” she said with a laugh.
It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t understand me and Silas’ relationship. I’d never shared it with her. I’d never shared what had happened with anyone. It was just too painful and it was easier to put that pain in a jar with a tight seal and bury it as deep as you could. Otherwise that sort of stuff would define you and the last person I wanted to define me was Silas Jenkins.
Apparently, I was quiet for too long and Sophie noticed. “I’m not sure you’re telling me everything, Sky. Which is fine, but just know that I’m here if you ever need someone to help carry the burden.”
“Thanks love,” I said to her honestly. “I know and I appreciate it.” I looked out my windows at the sunset with a sigh. It had started raining slightly, obscuring what would have been a beautiful view. My camera was within reach and I pulled it towards me and snapped a picture.
I wanted to tell Sophie everything, but I’d buried the hurt so far down, I wasn’t sure what it would do to me if I dug it up after all these years. But even still, her words rang true. Because that was my brain speaking. What I was feeling about this matter was totally different.
“I’m gonna think about what you said,” I told her.
“Okay, babe. Call me if you need me, okay? I can come over.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I’ve got to work tomorrow, so I’m headed to bed as soon as I finish eating. But thanks, love.”
“Sky,” she said, before I hung up the phone.
“Yeah?”
“Sometimes things really do happen for a reason.”
Sophie knew I didn’t believe that. I smiled sadly as I looked up at a framed piece of paper I had hung on my wall. It read, “You are the victim of a series of accidents.”
“Goodnight, babe. Love you,” I said and we both hung up the phone.
I tossed the empty container into the trash and finished my beer before grabbing my iPad and a blanket and curling up on the couch. It’d been a week since I’d last posted anything to my feed. I hadn’t had the urge to make anything new after I saw Silas the first time, but I was suddenly feeling the itch to create.
I cycled through my photo reel. A picture of a cardinal, a few leaves on the sidewalk, and a few horrendous selfies. I kept scrolling until I stopped on a photo of a cup of black coffee with a business card stuck out of it like some messed up spoon. It was perfect.
I didn’t have a rhyme or reason to my art, if you could even call it that. But I found the process of giving physical form to events I’d lived through somewhat therapeutic. And I loved color. Probably because I’d been born without it.
