Constantine groaned as she started to wake, massaging her aching neck caused by her awkward position after falling asleep while reading. She carefully put the book back on the closest solid surface she could reach and blindly reached for her phone, only to realize that the battery was dead after tapping on the screen for a few seconds.
She sighed, still sleepy, plugged her phone into her backup power bank, and went about her daily morning routines. As she stood in the middle of her temporary bedroom, freshly showered (thank God the water’s still working in this house) and feeling more awake and human again.
“I should stop doing overnight reading. I’m not in college anymore,” she grumbled to herself. She was so caught up from reading the book that she ended up falling asleep while sitting on the floor. She groaned as she massaged her nape. “I really need a vacation.”
Her phone pinged with a reminder. Property papers for the realtor .
Constantine picked up her keys and began to walk out the room, pausing for a short moment to grab her great aunt’s book with her. When she arrived at the town center, she was surprised at how large the town actually was. It was mix of modern houses and old buildings that looked sturdy despite their age, and the locals greeted each other—and tourists—warmly. After asking around, Constantine found the town hall and was greeted by a middle-aged receptionist with a sunny smile.
“Good morning,” Constantine greeted. “I’d like to ask if you have any copies of documents under the name Marta O’nner? Specifically about her residential property.”
The receptionist looked confused. “Could I ask if you’re . . ?”
“I’m her great niece. A letter regarding the property was sent to our family from the town hall.”
“Oh! Wait, one second.” The receptionist moved to the back, where the other offices seemed to be situated, and returned with a few dusty folders minutes later, pumps clanking on the tiles. “This is all I could find regarding Mrs. O’nner’s properties, do you want me to print you some copies?”
“That would be great. Thank you,” Constantine said, watching as the receptionist moved to the copying machine. It made a groaning sound as it was turned on, followed by a weird hissing sound.
Thinking that it’ll take a bit of time, Constantine moved to sit on one of the available chairs and took out her great aunt’s book.
[The weather was so lovely today so I went on a stroll. I found a yellow wildflower by the road. For some reason, it reminded me of you. - M.M.]
There was a small, dried flower between the pages, along with a small sketch of a flower. Constantine carefully touched it, afraid that it’ll break at the slightest touch.
[I was writing the second act of a play, but I found myself stuck in one of the scenes. I couldn’t seem to know what I wanted to write and it’s driving me mad. Is this what people call an artist’s block? - B.D.C]
There was a doodle of a sad face next to the note, probably from Marta. She huffed as she traced the doodle, feeling prickles of pain in her chest at every line she traced. They sounded so young; so certain in their words and feelings that she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.
“Here you go!” The receptionist handed her the copies of the documents. Constantine gave her thanks and laid the documents on the table. She scanned the documents, noting the name Antoine O’nner as the previous owner of the house, with the ownership transferring to his wife, Marta Montmer-Onner, upon his death.
It seemed that Amelia was right. Her Great Aunt Marta’s married surname really was O’nner.
She looked at the book, her eyebrows furrowing. Then, who is Benedict Clarke from the notes?
Constantine slowly gathered the documents. From the notes in the book, she could see that both her Great Aunt Marta and Benedict were in love with each other, the words they shared almost tooth-rottingly sweet but so heartfelt. What could have happened that her great aunt ended up marrying another man?
Constantine couldn’t help but mentally scoff. A perfect start of a love story, only to fall down to pieces by time. Much like hers.
Though Anthony preferred using flowers, knowing how much Constantine loves surprise romantic gestures.
Alright, no need to jump too deep into those memories, she mentally chided. Though, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
As she walked out of the building, the heel of her shoe was caught in one of the cracks of the concrete staircase, and suddenly, her world started to tilt downwards.
“Look out!”
Instead of the hard ground surface, Constantine felt something warm breaking the momentum of her fall for a second, only to end up on the ground at the end.
“Ow,” the voice under her groaned. Constantine, mortified, quickly moved away to give the stranger space, only to see a familiar face.
“Amelia! Oh my God, are you alright?”
The young girl laughed. “Nah, I’m fine. Happens to me often enough that I’m already used to it.” She grabbed the offered hand to help her up. Bags of groceries littered around them due to the little incident
“I am so sorry,” Constantine murmured repeatedly, voice getting frantic as she picked up the fallen items, but it was as if everything around her was starting to blur together, and a familiar gentle voice echoed the same casual mocking words she’d heard countless times.
[Oh, babe, so clumsy. You should really keep your eyes ahead when you’re walking . I’m not helping you clean that mess. You need to hurry up, our guests will be coming in half an hour.]
“. . . Hey. Hey!” Constantine blinked back at the present with Amelia looking at her, confused. “I was telling you that it’s alright, but you kept apologizing and didn’t seem to hear me.” A flicker of concern was visible on her face. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head on the concrete earlier? Do we need an ambulance?”
Constantine shook her head, “No, no, I’m fine.” She needs to get her emotions under control. “Did I damage anything? I could pay you–”
“No, no, please!” Amelia waved her arms frantically. “All my groceries are fine! See?” She lifted her bags to show that all the items inside were undamaged. “They’re all good. However, your book. . .”
On Amelia's other hand was Constantine’s book. “The ground was still wet from the constant rains in the evenings, and the book flew out of your bag.” The book’s fading maroon hardcover was damp, and some pages were hanging awkwardly from the spine. “It didn’t fall into a puddle, thankfully! But it looks like it's falling apart now.”
Constantine carefully took the book, slowly opening the cover to inspect the damage. Amelia stood in front looking like she was about to squirm and suddenly blurted, “I could help you fix it!”
Constantine looked at her, shocked. The other girl looked sheepish at her sudden declaration. “Just. . . you look like you’re about to cry earlier. And now, with your book. . .”
She shouldn’t ask for help so often in every little thing.
[Babe, this shouldn’t be too difficult for you , right?]
“No, don’t worry, I can fix this myself–”
“Please,” Amelia cut, now offering a smile, their gazes locked. “I insist.”
Constantine stood frozen, unsure. Seeing the hesitance, Amelia shrugged and added, “You can give me a ride back as payment, then? I'm pretty sure you got a car, I mean, I think I saw one parked at late Mrs. Onner’s place when I made a couple of deliveries late afternoon yesterday— ” She was starting to ramble, Constantine noticed, “but then I wasn’t really sure if you had any friends you brought for help, and so it could, technically, be theirs and–”
“Amelia,” Constantine interjected at the barrage of words. “Okay, okay, I could drive you back. And yes, it is my car.”
“Oh, great! That solves things!” Amelia cheered, moved as if she was about to skip, and aborted her actions midway with a look of embarrassment after remembering where they were. Constantine’s lips curved into a small, amused smile.
The drive was relatively short. After helping the other woman with her groceries, Constantine was pulled by the arm by Amelia up to the second floor. “This is where my 'lair' is,” she said to her jokingly.
The door opened to a neat and brightly lit living room. She was then pushed onto an old but surprisingly comfortable sofa with ridiculously mismatched throw pillows. A half-finished knitted article was pushed to the side, balls of yarn stacked at the coffee table.
“The grannies that regularly come to the cafe told me to try my hand at knitting,” Amelia said, looking at the poor-looking project. “I followed some tutorials on YouTube for blankets, but I seemed to either miss a step or have too many loops. Oh, right, we need glue!” She hissed as she bumped her knee at the edge of the table, but was back to running further into her living room, muttering the word ‘glue.’
Constantine carefully put the book on the table and looked around the room. Little porcelain figurines, ones that you could buy in stores at cheap prices, decorated most of the furniture. Upon closer inspection, she realized that they were all glued safely to the furniture’s surface with double-sided tape. Constantine couldn’t help but be amazed at the ingenuity.
There were also multiple picture frames displayed around, most probably family members, due to the similarities. The smiling faces in the pictures made Constantine smile, her memories shifting to her father. She missed him terribly, especially after everything that’s happening, but this time, the memories that surfaced offered a sense of nostalgia rather than pain. She should visit him when she gets back to the city.
She noticed one of the frames was face down. Curious, she picked it up and saw that it was a picture of a younger Amelia clinging to the back of a young boy, both of them beaming. The back of the frame was dusty, as if it had been lying there for some time.
“Aha! Found it!”
Constantine put the frame back as it was and returned to her seat. She heard something crash in the background, but Amelia seemed to be fine when she returned, brandishing the glue like a prize.
“Fair warning, I actually don’t know what I’m doing with this, but I also grabbed some tape and scissors, just in case.”
She opened the book carefully, pausing when she noticed the multiple notes covering the pages. “Huh, these are. . . love letters?”
“I found the book when I was clearing my great aunt’s place,” Constantine answered. “Little notes written by her and a man named Benedict Clarke. He seemed to be a member of the army.”
Amelia’s head tilted to the side, reading the notes. “They all sound really sweet. But,” she looked at Constantine and tilted her head, confused. “Your great aunt’s last name was O’nner?”
Constantine nodded. “Yeah. I was confused, too, when you mentioned it the other day.”
“Hmm,” Amelia hummed as she carefully put some glue on the part of the spine that got loose. “Kinda reminds me of this town’s history, too.” She pressed the spine firmly, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. “My grandmother said it happened when she was barely twenty. It’s why the buildings in town look like they were ripped from different eras.”
“Yeah, I noticed earlier, too,” Constantine replied with a nod. “I thought it was charming, actually.” She watched Amelia hunched her shoulders, looking determined, as worked on the book. “Thank you,” she blurted. “For helping me with this. I feel as if I’m taking up your time.”
“Really, I don’t mind,” Amelia said in reply. “I’m always accidentally bumping into things, so I’d like to believe that I’m quite good at repairs. Aaaand done with the spine!” Amelia pressed the glued part as tightly as she could. “I think this should be good.” She handed the book back to Constantine. The cover was still a little damp, but it was fully intact.
For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, the silence hanging like a curtain. Constantine carefully put the book back to her bag, thinking for words so she could leave–
“Are you a coffee person or a tea person?” Amelia suddenly asked. Constantine blinked, confused at the sudden question.
Amelia chuckled, looking a bit embarrassed. “Well… it’s kinda getting awkward, so I thought maybe you’d like to drink something? Actually, I think I should have asked you earlier after we arrived, but I kind of forgot.”
Constantine blinked. “I don’t usually drink caffeine. But, I prefer coffee over tea.”
“Great! Let me get you some.” Amelia moved to the other side of the room, most probably where the kitchen was. Constantine heard the soft hum of a machine, followed by the scent of pressed coffee. After a few minutes, Amelia walked in careful steps while carrying two mugs of coffee and a platter of cookies.
“I baked this last night,” she said as she put down the plate. “For a delivery request. I ended up making too much, though.”
Constantine took a piece as Amelia offered the plate. It was chewy, and had the right amount of sweetness. “It’s really tasty.”
Amelia grinned wide. “I was initially worried, but they thankfully came out perfectly.”
Constantine took another piece. “These will sell well in the city. Have you ever thought of starting your business somewhere else?”
Amelia paused. Her chuckled sounded a little off as she replied, looking to the side. “I… never really thought of it. Plus, it’s not like I’m doing bad here. Got enough customers ordering to keep the cafe running.”
Constantine’s brows furrowed, but she swallowed her question down. It’s not like she has any rights to ask personal questions.
“How about you, though?” Amelia looked at her curiously. “Traveling back home soon?”
Constantine nodded. “This Sunday. I’ll have to be back to work by Monday.”
“What does it feel like? Living in such big places?” Amelia leaned her head in one hand.
Constantine felt her face twitch as she chuckled without humor. “Too much stress and too little happiness. Trust me, life in the suburbs is way more peaceful and probably healthier.”
“Hahaha, your face! Damn, is it really that bad?” Amelia snorted while pointing at the other’s face. “There should be at least something worthy there for you. Something that holds you there?”
Anthony’s face flashed on her mind for a second. “I don’t think I have that anymore.”
The soft, almost involuntary confession snuffed out the comfortable atmosphere. Both girls fell silent, with Amelia’s eyes darting around again and Constantine’s glued to her hands in her lap.
“W-well! If you get tired of city life, you could always stay. . . here? I mean, I got an extra room I could rent.” Amelia was getting more embarrassed by the second, giving the other woman a sheepish look. She looked as if she didn’t know what to say.
Constantine couldn’t help but snort softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The relieved look on the other woman’s face made her even more amused.
With the ice between them melted, the hours seemed to move faster than usual between talks about work (“I work in an office,” Constantine answered. “Mostly secretarial stuff.”)(“Large orders are a pain for me,” Amelia shared. “Some customers order desserts for parties, but I sometimes procrastinate and end up having to run to the grocery store to hunt for missing ingredients”).
That night, as Constantine was finishing dinner, her eyes wandered to where the book was placed. The afternoon passed by pleasantly, and it’s been so long since she enjoyed such enjoyable company.
Before she talked herself out, she picked up her phone and opened her messaging app. Her fingers hovered on Amelia’s contact when an incoming message from her mother flashed her screen.
Wondering what her mother wanted to talk about, she opened the message, only to feel something cold filling through her veins.
| Mother: Lizzie’s here in the house. Why are you not answering her calls?