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The scent of antiseptic couldn't quite mask the papery thinness that seemed to hold her together these days. Then again, she never thought she would make it this far in her life, so she supposed it was only fair that she had something at least to do just that much.
Ariel let her head loll against the propped-up pillows. Eighty-nine years. The number felt as heavy and distant as the moon, or more acutely, her heart. Same distance, really.
“I hear there is a Happy Birthday in order, Mrs Hauri.” Nurse Marie said, her Jamaican cadence pulling Ariel from her spiral for a moment, even if it was a slow descent.
She turned her head, watching through her thick glasses as her hands adjusted the blinds, slicing the afternoon sun into golden bars that fell across the knitted blanket covering most of her body, before her hand was taken gently. “Is there anything special you’d like today? Someone for us to call? We have vanilla cake later if you’d like some.”
She wished she could still say there was someone who would come. Someone to be here with her. Only problem was…they were both gone.
“No.” She said, her voice raspy, like dry leaves. She didn’t talk much these days, despite exchanging pleasantries. “Special is…long gone for me. Last special thing I had was…a summer, once. A long time ago. 2024.”
It was almost like a key turning in a lock.
“It was so hot, even back then.” She began, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. “The kind of heat that makes the pavement shimmer. I was still living on and off out of Washington, but I was never there back then. I was always with them.”
She remembered Matt first. Six-foot-eight of absurd, lanky Minnesotan charm, striding into a room like a friendly giraffe, all blonde hair and blue eyes that crinkled when he laughed. She remembered that at that time in his life, he laughed a lot. Then there was Alex. Solid, grounding, shorter than Matt, but larger than life, his brunette hair often messy, his brown eyes thoughtful behind his glasses, always fiddling with a beat on his laptop, a melody humming just under his breath.
Her boys. Her special ones.
“We were just… in love, you know?” Ari whispered, her eyes far away as the words left her lips. “Famous in our own little worlds, but just so in love. All that time we had was ours. We’d all go to Matt’s stupidly huge house in Malibu for weeks at a time and just…exist. No obligations, no work, just…us.”
Those days ached like a bottomless pit that she could never fill, despite trying for several decades. Even a certain colour would bring back hazy memories of days spent tangled in the cool, white sheets of a California King-sized bed, big enough for all three of them to sprawl over comfortably or on a couch in the middle of a golden living room.
They’d lie there for hours, the ocean breeze floating through the open balcony doors. Matt would spin outlandish, hilarious rhymes that made her snort with laughter, while Alex would tap a counter-rhythm on her knee, building a track around Matt’s nonsense, turning it into something brilliant - just like they were.
“We were… ridiculous.” She murmured, chin tipped up like she could picture it on the ceiling, almost like a projector movie. “We’d drive down the PCH with the top down, music blaring, singing until our throats were raw. They’d bicker over the aux cord like little boys. Alex wanted his indie beats, Matt wanted samples from the ‘70s. I was always the tie-breaker.”
It wasn’t just driving they did, of course. There was late-night tacos eaten on the hood of one of Matt’s many changing cars, secret swims in the moonlit ocean of Redondo when the tourist crowds melted away. There was alsos the way Alex would look at her over his glasses, needing no words to convey what he was saying, the way Matt would sweep her into a bear hug for no reason at all, lifting her clean off her feet until she shrieked with joy.
Their lives were so vivid, so…warm.
Then, Alex was gone. Taken, in fact. Never saw it coming. Neither did they.
“After that happened…” Ariel’s voice became tight, reflecting the grip of her hand on Marie’s “...the light went out of everything. Especially Matt. It was like someone had reached inside him and snuffed out his candle. He stopped making music, for a while. He only went back to it because it’s what Alex would have wanted. Never sounded the same, though.”
They had it all, her and Matt. A solid marriage, a beautiful house, successful careers, decades together, but no Alex and really, no Matt either. Despite him being there physically, Ariel knew he never fully came back. A part of him had stayed in that Malibu house, in that giant bed, with Alex - his best friend, his muse, his other half.
“He was a good man, a wonderful husband.” She had to smile then, but it was sad. “He was still always looking for something just over the horizon, despite that. I think he was always looking for him. I know I was.”
She shifted minutely, her body shaking a little as she sat straighter. “Matt passed five years ago. I would have stayed, but the house was too empty, too full of echoes. I’m sure he’s with Alex now, watching over me. Waiting. Most likely annoying each other.”
“Sounds like they were a handful together.” Marie squeezed her hand.
She laughed, the sound dry as she felt a profound tiredness, deeper than sleep, settle into her bones. “Oh, they were. They always were.”
Of course, Marie couldn’t stay forever. With one more check of everything and a promise to inform the night nurse to bring a slice of cake later, she’s gone.
She had drifted off then, lulled by the setting sun. She would have stayed awake, but something told her to just…let go, for once.
She didn’t feel her breathing slow. She didn’t feel it stop. She didn’t feel herself leave.
Instead, she felt a warmth. A golden, perfect warmth on her skin. The distant, rhythmic crash of waves. The smell of weed, salt and washing powder filling her lungs til she felt like she was drowning in it, head heavy, but body fluid like it hadn’t been in almost 60 years.
Eventually, she opened her eyes.
To her surprise, the sterile ceiling she had stared at for the last half a decade was gone, replaced by a high, vaulted one covered in warm oak that she remembered - a pendulum light swinging gently from the ceiling.
She pushed herself up on her elbows.
She was in the middle of the vast, comfortable expanse of a California King-sized bed, the white and blue sheets cool against her skin. Her skin. It was smooth, young, strong - no longer fragile and staying together by sheer willpower. Alive.
From beside her, a sleepy voice mumbled, “Ari, babe, pass the water?”
She turned. Matt, all lanky limbs and messy blonde hair, blinked his brilliant blue eyes at her, a lazy, contented smile on his face.
From her other side, a contented sigh. “Don’t give it to him, he’ll just spill it.”
Another voice, warm and familiar, teased.
She turned again.
Alex, his glasses on the nightstand, his brown eyes soft and full of light, reached out and tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “Hey, you.”
A sob caught in her throat, but it was a sob of pure, unadulterated joy.
Her chest felt light. The pit in her stomach finally felt whole.
Before she could do anything about it, Matt threw a long arm over both of them, pulling them into a clumsy, wonderful group hug as the ocean breeze fluttered the curtains.
She didn't care, however.
Nestled between her boys, she knew she was finally, finally home.