Page 27 of Along Came Summer

It is often said that time is the ultimate healer. That it has the power to cure us of sadness and heartache. But I believe that sentiment is misguided. Time may dull our pain, but it doesn't heal us—not really. You can go days or months without being reminded of the hurt, but when something triggers it all again, you find the pain is still very much there. That’s why you feel that ache deep in your chest when you find yourself thinking about that person who broke you. If time truly healed, why would that pain re-emerge a year, three or even ten years later? Because it’s a misguided perception.

Time simply gives us a means of coping with what we feel. It doesn’t magically erase or heal a damn thing.

We just forget.

After Mira left, we kept in touch for a few months. The first two months were great, frustrating but great. We were FaceTiming every night and constantly texting throughout the day and night. By the third month, we’d call each other every other day, and by month five, her replies became less frequent, and we eventually started to run out of things to say to one another.

And that right there is the poison of a long-distance relationship. When you run out of things to talk about because that’s all you do… talk.

Not that Mira and I were in a relationship in the first place. But not knowing if or when you’ll ever see each other again tends to put an expiration date on things.

So, I did what I do best, threw myself into my work and poured all my frustration and sorrow into my paintings for the exhibition and sold every goddamn piece for two-hundred-and-fifty dollars apiece.

Who knew a broken heart would be the gateway to unveil creativity? Turns out dark and twisted pieces really resonate with people—which inadvertently became the theme of my work. After the Galleria exhibition, my time in Thailand was done, so I up and moved back to Australia, and before you know it, it’s been almost a year.

it’s a Friday afternoon when I get a call from Devin. He doesn’t call often, we text mostly.

“You need to come out to London, Levi.” I hear my brother say through the earpiece as I perch down to pet Storm. “It’s Dad. The cancer is back, and it’s bad. They found tumours in his lung, and he’s refusing to have surgery or start any treatments here. He wants to go home to London and be close to his family and start his treatments there in case he…” Devin trails off, his voice heavy with emotion. I stare at the ground, unblinking, while he talks on. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Just let me know when you can come out, alright? I’ve rented an apartment. You can stay with me if you want. Uncle Noah told Dad he needs a CEO at Evans and King, and he’s insisting I step in as an interim CEO until they find someone reliable. Megan’s flipping out because I might be out there for a while. Mum is an emotional wreck and keeps crying, and I’m freaking out because Mira is the CFO, and I’m obviously going to be working with her. The CEO and CFO work together… day in and day out. Everything’s a fucking mess, man. I can’t deal with everything on my own, I need you out there. Please, bro.”

Dad has lung cancer.

Mum is an emotional wreck.

Mira and Devin will be working together.

I’m still in love with Mira.

Well, fuck me.

Three days have gone by since Devin called and dropped the news that my dad’s cancer—which initially started on his knee—has metastasized to his lungs. So, here I am once again packing up my shit and jumping on the family’s private jet to fly back home to London.

My dad is going to beat this. I know he is, so I’m not worried… well, that's bullshit because I am worried, but I’m going to remain positive because the energy you put out into the universe is the energy you get back. And my dad will need all the positive energy he can get if he’s going to beat this fucking disease.

Since the moment I stepped on the jet, I can’t stop thinking about Mira. I know I shouldn’t, but I still have feelings for her. And now that I’m returning home, perhaps we can rekindle an old flame? Does it count as rekindling if, for me, the flame never really went out?

What if she’s already rekindled something with Devin? They are handcuffed to one another, after all.Devin… my little brother, who was her best friend and who has also been in love with Mira since he was a kid.Devin… who has a beautiful girlfriend and a life back in Singapore.

I don;t think Mira has told him about us, because i would have heard about it by now.

Do I tell him? Is it really any of this business? After all it’s been a decade.

Mum told me about them being handcuffed together just before I boarded the flight, and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m fucking green with envy right now.

And if I know Devin, which I do, he’s loving every single second of it. I glance at the time on my watch and sigh. One hour down, only twenty-one more to go.

* * *

I jolt awake as the wheels touch down on the runway at Heathrow Airport. I love to travel but fuck me, that was one long, tedious flight. I think I would have preferred to fly commercially. At least then I could have had someone to talk to, to help pass the time. I had the flight attendant, but she was about as interesting as a wet sponge.

Yawning, I roll my shoulders back and crack my neck as the jet approaches the FBO. Looking out of the window, I see a black Mercedes S class, with a sharply dressed chauffeur waiting on the tarmac to transport me from the airport to my Devin’s apartment in London.

When I left Australia, it was Thursday morning, and I’ve just landed in London, and it’s just gone past eight Wednesday evening. So, I suppose that would make today now yesterday.

So, I’ve—for all intents and purposes—travelled back in time.

That’s truly bizarre to me.

And… now I’m waffling.

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