Between the Perennial Blooms || Paul Lahote

Preface

"How could she explain that coming from deep within herself it was already a victory to be half alive?"
—Clarice Lispector | 'The Book of Delights'

• • •

In the days that followed her slow recovery Bailey tried her hardest to come to terms with all that had happened. At times she'd catch herself drifting off, her mind traveling back to that blank place with the fire at its center and her heart yearning for a fate that would now no longer await her. Part of her ached from the loss of it — she suspected it always would — and the sight of the wolf she would've become fading into dust was one that haunted her constantly. She knew she'd made the right choice and she didn't regret it, but she hadn't expected to carry such a burdensome weight on her shoulders as a result. She'd thought the one consequence had been enough; apparently, her Gran hadn't known to warn her of the rest that would follow.

As if that wasn't enough already, Paul could tell something was wrong with her too. Something had been off about her ever since she'd woken up. There was an ever-present solemness to her now, a sort of melancholy wisdom that blanketed her in a way that reminded him so much of Old Quil. It was like she knew something the rest of the world didn't, like she had seen something everyone else could only ever dream of. In a way, it frightened him to think of it. In another, it made him curious beyond belief. Despite the strange tension that had settled permanently around Bailey's shoulders though, she and Paul had fallen back into their old routine quickly. They spent nearly every day together and almost every night, and when one was busy the other was left in longing.

Currently, Paul was grumpily driving Bella's rusted red pickup to the doctor's office so Bailey could go to her weekly therapy session like she'd been required. His face was set into a scowl and he grunted every time the truck groaned when he took a turn faster than it wanted to allow him. Bailey tried so hard not to laugh at him, and she suspected he knew that every time she lifted her hand to smother her smile it wasn't really to cover her mouth when she 'coughed'.

"I should just get my own fucking car already," Paul griped. "I've saved enough money over the years to afford it. But my dad's such a goddamn fuckup that I can't even get on his insurance plan so I'd have to get my own and I can't afford that."

"Maybe you could ask Papa?" Bailey suggested. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind. As long as you paid him every month, I don't think he'd have a problem at all."

"I can't ask your dad for that," Paul scoffed.

Bailey visibly deflated. "W-well why not? He likes you. I don't think he'd tell you no."

"Because it's- it's a guy thing, baby. You wouldn't understand. Not to mention he's your dad. And if I'm gonna be asking him for anything, it's gonna be permission to marry you first."

Bailey swore she blushed from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her toes. "P-Paul!" She spluttered with crimson cheeks.

He only laughed and grinned widely. "Don't act so surprised, baby. You're my Imprint. If you didn't think that meant lifelong commitment then you thought wrong."

"Well I- I-" Bailey gave up on trying to respond and let out a huff.

"I really do mean it." Paul said after a few minutes of comfortable silence had passed them by. His hand was resting lazily on her knee and he gave it a gentle squeeze. "Not today and not tomorrow, but sometime down the road I plan on marrying you. I want to buy a house, have babies... do things the right way."