what is this feeling I can't explain?
and why am I never gonna sleep again?
It was a particularly damp and dull afternoon in the capital.
Autumn had blown in on a particularly strong breeze and soaked London. Summer seemed a far cry away. The rain soaked streets glistened in the glow from the streetlights that were dotted along the tree lined street, the clouds heavy and deeply purple. Perhaps a storm was on the horizon.
Over the past few months, Erika had been feeling better. Left reeling and crushed from the ending of her relationship with Murphy, she'd finally realised that it was over. Oh, she'd tried. She'd tried so hard to reason with him. She'd sent letters and she'd spoken to his family, she'd even turned up a couple of times at his home. The confidence that they'd work it out had waned and she suddenly realised that she was coming the girl she didn't want to be: needy and possessive and clingy.
That was over now. He seemed fine, maybe he was moving on and she didn't begrudge his decision. Erika was trying something new. At twenty three, she needed a change. It was time to start looking after herself now. It had been six months and she'd spent most of them moping around, eating pizza and drinking red wine. She'd turned down invites from friends, so much so that they didn't bother inviting her out for drinks any more. She'd become sullen and angry and withdrawn, a shadow of her former bubbly self. Though thankfully, the past few weeks had been good.
She'd been going out a little more. Men had asked and she'd accepted. Erika had gone for a few coffee dates, casual and simple, staying away from dinner dates that were laden with suggestion. In all honesty, she felt sorry for Lulu. Her best friend had been so great. The tall witch hadn't rushed or forced her into getting back into the dating game. She'd made her dinner and forced her to wash her hair. Erika had the sneaking suspicion that Lulu was turning down dates so she could stay home and that was not what the treasure hunter wanted for her bestie. Enough was enough.
But then things had gotten a bit wobbly.
Erika had cleaned the house from top to bottom, the place smelling like fresh lavender and floor polish, when she'd knocked a couple of books off the shelf and a slip of paper had fallen out of it. A wedding invitation and a card. The invite was classic and beautiful. Cream coloured card with swirled golden writing, stretching in elegant, fluid seamless directions. It felt expensive. It must have been. It dictated a time and a place, a small church in the south of France, presumably belonging to his fiancée and nestled in mountains and green grass and bluebells. Erika hadn't attended the service.
Èdouard had been a pen pal when she was a teenager but she'd always been so much more than that. She honestly thought of him as a sort of mystical being. He had the best advice, always knew what to say when she was going through her rough teenage years and he was always helpful. They'd met briefly when she was at Hogwarts and then again last year. It was a whirlwind and it dug up a mix of unusual, inappropriate and confusing feelings. The heartache over losing Murphy had distracted her from the Frenchman but now that she was acutely alone, everything seemed to come back into focus.
He must have been married for what, six weeks now? Maybe a little longer? Had he noticed that she wasn't there? Erika couldn't attend, she physically couldn't go. She'd been in bits, beating herself up, anxiety and the urge to stop the wedding was making her ill. For all she knew, his fiancée (
wife) could be lovely. She could work with animals or children, she could be making a difference in the world but the blonde just felt horribly jealous. She knew where they'd be honeymooning, if Èd was allowed to choose. He'd always loved the beach. Where would they go? Somewhere exotic like Bali? Or closer to home, maybe the Italian Rivera or the Spanish coast?
With a sigh, she sat back on the sofa, her long legs folded beneath her as her mind went off at a tangent. Her long blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail and she wore a pair of dark leggings and an oversized, comfortable cream coloured jumper. Her big blue eyes fell on the slip of paper. It had been delivered on Valentine's Day. It wasn't a romantic message. In lopsided writing, the note simply read
You're lovely and you deserve the best on this day. I hope you're well, Èd.There wasn't any hint of romance or anything. Just a simple, straight to the point note. He even wrote like he acted in life, directly and clearly. Only it wasn't clear. Why did he send her one when he was married? Was he trying to mess with her head? Ruin her life? Or was he just being friendly and she was over thinking it? Ah, shit. She couldn't be in love with a married man.
Lulu knew about Èd. She'd briefly met him when he came to Hogsmeade but Erika had shoved her into a bush and dragged him away before they could speak. There wasn't anything going on between she and her former pen pal. No hand holding, no romantic dinners, not even a kiss, nada. They'd never crossed that line so why was she so distraught? It made no sense. He was her friend. He was happily married to a pretty girl but instead of being over the moon, Erika wanted to be buried under a rock and stay there. The re-emergence of his note had made everything come to the surface again. Now that she was single, she realised she didn't want to be.
Hearing the front door open, she offered her room mate and soft smile and held out the note towards her. "The Frenchman," she said gently, knowing that Lulu would realise why she was acting so strangely.
