2017

New York City

A stray moth floats into my bathroom through the open window. I follow its wide wings with my gaze as they flutter around without aim, a warmth following its trail, almost as if it knows the way around. I follow it wall to wall, until it settles on the mirror, staring into my refection. I can feel it crawling across the ridges of my warm face even though it only walks over the smooth surface of the cold mirror.

I reach up to touch my face, in hopes to catch it, because I never do. I'm always this close but I never can. The door flies open and it flutters away into the chronic noise of the streets of New York City. I'm pretty sure it won't survive the night.

Safiya makes a weird noise as she appears in the doorway; I can't tell if it's a groan or a sigh, it's something in the middle. Or maybe it's both, because I was supposed to be ready to go by now.

"I swear to god, if I have to drag you out looking like this, I will," She declares as I reluctantly continue putting on the mascara that I left on the sink to follow the moth.

"Or, you could just leave me here..." I suggest, pinching my cheeks to get some color into my ashy face.

"You need to get out of the house more often, Hana!" she whines, shoving me aside to check herself out in the mirror. In a corner, I throw on a dress and pull my hair out of the back as I roll my eyes. I've been taking it slow all evening, hoping she'd just let me stay back, hoping she'd leave me alone.

"I do go out," I tell her and track my way back into my bedroom to put on my shoes.

"To the office? Are you kidding me?" she shadows me, still in the middle of applying her lipstick. "God, stop it, Hana, you're missing out on all of the good things." Dramatically exiting my room, Safiya heads out to the living area.

I sit wondering on the dressing bench when I finish lacing my boots up. Honestly, I can't even remember the last time I went out like this. Oh wait, I went to Aspen three weeks ago, but I'd rather erase that trip from my memory completely. As my hands rest on the cushion next to me, I feel the roots of the room start to entwine with my fingers, almost like a hand, clasping onto mine. I brush them off, stand up and follow her outside.

"But can we not go to a club? I'm pretty sure there are better 'good things' that you could help me not miss out on."

"I already asked Aaron to come," Saf whips around to face me and downs a shot of vodka. Her face scrunches as she swallows, "and...he's bringing his hot friends along, that's already more than you bargained for." Saf peers as me with her huge brown eyes. Jutting her bright pink bottom lip out, she puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. "I know this is the last thing you want, but it's alright to have a little fun, you know."

She turns around to grab another shot glass and hands it to me. "Drink up," she chirps and I down the shot just because I know that I would need this extra courage later.

"Thanks, but no thanks; you can keep all of Aaron's hot friends." I tell her as I wipe mouth on the back of my arm. I roll my eyes away from her, I'm pretty sure those are my mother's words in her mouth. She giggles, knowing how just how mad she makes me.

"Your mother trusts me with your well-being, taking you out and making sure you don't lose your shit is my job," she tells me.

Of course, my mother keeps in touch with my best friend since she can barely get to me. Of course, my mother still wants the reigns to my life in her hands. Of course, she still pretends to care about me. But these are things I've known for a long time, so instead of thinking about my mother and her ways and getting myself exasperated, I take upon myself the excruciating task of hailing us a cab.

* * *

We pick Aaron up from his Apartment before we head to the club. Safiya is disappointed to find no hot friends attached to her brother's hip on either side but it cheers her up that they'll be meeting us directly at the club.

When we moved to New York four months ago, Aaron decided to claim his parents' love and they gifted him a four-bedroom Apartment on the Upper West Side. Safiya could've done the same but since I wanted to take things the raw way and she wouldn't leave my side, we rented ourselves a small two-bedroom apartment with the money we earned through several internships. Her parents were sad, my mother was furious, seething even, but I couldn't care less.

"Hana, I just need to know you're doing okay," says Saf, out of nowhere. But is it? I give her a weird look.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask her, folding my arms over my chest, clueless but not quite.

"You know, after everything that happened with Jamie? I just want to make sure you're alright," she says, turning to face me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Why can't she let it go?

"I'm very much breathing and alive. Jamie's in the past. I'm okay Saf, stop over-thinking," I tell her, and she gets her cue to not piss me off any further. She probably wants to tell me that we haven't talked about it, but she knows we aren't going to. I don't want to and she can't make me. I continue looking out through the window at the buildings and cars racing us by.

* * *

While Aaron pays the cabbie off, Safiya leans on a pole, trying to fix her shoe. I don't if it's the vodka kicking in or just me but my throat starts to tighten as I look across the street at the long queue, the subdued music filtering out, and the dim lights, and the constant chatter. Surely, we wouldn't have to stand in the queue, I'm sure Aaron can get us in like he does all other times, but my chest starts to constrict as I think about the raging crowd. I think about how it's probably going to be jam packed and dark in there. It's in that moment that I know that I'm going to be suffocated down to the ground. So I grab onto a pole of my own for support, trying to fix my breathing.

That's when I read the poster stuck to it; an exhibition, around the corner. An escape, I think. I sneak away while the Saf and Aaron head to cross the road. I can go take a look at the exhibition, calm my nerves, maybe grab some kind of drink and then go back to suffocating myself.

It doesn't take me long before I'm rounding the corner, sweat coursing down the back of my neck and spine. Climate change is real, September isn't supposed to make me sweat this hard, not at this hour. When I enter the exhibition, the first thing I register is that I expected lesser people than I see. There are a lot of people here for just a downtown exhibition. But they're all just casually swaying around the lobby, murmuring softly to each other, admiring the art on showcase. But I can handle this, I tell myself. At least these people won't be all up in my face.

As I start looking through the images, I'm aware of the phone vibrating inside my purse but I ignore it. Safiya is one thing I can't deal with, not right now, not while I'm trying so hard calm my nerves and it's actually working. I switch my phone off and dump it back into the dark depths on my purse, where it just might stay that way for the rest of the night. Now that I'm here, I don't even want to think about going back to the club.

Some ten minutes later, Saf is standing next to me, gawking at a painting that I was drawn to quickly and now I can't stop staring at. I almost hear the familiar fluttering of the wild butterfly but I'm pretty sure I'm just thinking too hard. So the painting, it's primarily just a huge vase holding more hydrangeas that it can hold, it's an extravagant amount, a few petals scattered are over the baby blue satin tablecloth, the background blurred to soup. Simple but alive.

"How did you find me?" I ask her. She hasn't spoken for a solid minute and, honestly, silence doesn't really suit her.

"You think I don't know you, Hana, but I do," she says, giving me a clever grin as she sips from the champagne she just picked up. I shoot a smile back at her before going back to staring at the picture. It's almost as if I touched it, I'd feel the soft, white petals against my fingertips.

"It would be great to hang above your headboard..." Saf murmurs her suggestion rather wickedly, as if she knows she's just read my mind.

"You're right, I might just buy it," I tell her, frowning to myself. She turns to look around for Aaron then, while I keep staring at the picture, absorbing it in, trying to piece together the reason why I'm so drawn to it. But then Safiya grabs my arm almost painfully, her nails digging in my flesh, making me look at her immediately.

"Hana," she murmurs; eyes wide, mouth agape. I follow her gaze to spot Aaron next to a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge on a sunny day, but he isn't who caused her reaction, "Is Aaron talking to...?"

"Landon," his name flies through my lips in an incoherent whisper. I stand frozen, still in time, like the flowers in the image and everything suddenly fits.