Hi friends.
I’m stubborn. I admit this. It makes my life much more difficult than it needs to be.
I wish I was the kind of person who could just go with the flow, a happy-go-lucky, leaf on the breeze.
Nope.
I don’t bend easily. If you try to force me, I’ll show you just how deep my roots go, and the harder you try the harder I’ll resist.
I’m the kind of tree that gets uprooted before it breaks. And definitely not one of those with a shallow bush that just flops over, roots to the sun. Mine is a taproot, maybe a Tamarind or a Cedar. One of those that go deep with thousands of tiny branches that pull up huge clumps of earth, leaving a gaping hole.
Some of you know this.
Sometimes it is a curse because it makes me difficult to live with and hard to talk to, but it also makes me tenacious. I don’t give up. I push through, and I try and try again.
As for how this ties into the story, I‘ll let you decide, but feel free to let me know when you see it.
INDEX | Chapter 3 | Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 | Scene 6 | Scene 7 | Scene 8 | Scene 9 | Scene 10 | Scene 11 | Next Scene → coming soon…
Previously… Luke and Logan revisit the Ruby Observer’s interrogation in order to make sense of the fact that Logan shows signs of being an empath despite his Manorian heritage. Tom reacts badly when coming home to it, and now Logan must decide if he is going to develop his newfound talent or let it consume him.
"No," I say to Luke the next morning when I find him in his study. He puts down his stylus and closes the file on the tab before him, turning his eyes on me expectantly.
"I don't want to develop this empathy thing," I state matter-of-factly.
Luke looks downwards, and I can see he disapproves, but when he stands up and looks at me again, his eyes are filled with compassion and understanding.
"This is about, Thomas." He says with conviction, and I nod sadly.
"He will never forgive me," I say, inwardly lamenting the telltale catch in my throat.
"This is going to haunt you if you don't learn to control it," Luke warns.
I shake my head. "Manorians don't have psychic powers. No Manorian has, except-" I trail off, knowing my denial is stupid, but I don't care.
"Except the Deity," Luke finishes. "Listen, Son," He coaxes gently as I breathe in, too loudly, a futile attempt to control my raging emotions. "I respect your decision but know that even if you deny the empathy that has awakened inside you, the fact of its existence will remain. And unless you learn to control it, it will continue to impact your life. Chances are, Thomas will never understand. He has always been more of a traditionalist. He has always held more tightly to the beliefs your father held, because Thomas is convinced that, even if it is only by a few minutes, as firstborn, your father's title is his birthright. But for you to be happy, for you to find your own peace and thrive, you will have to come to terms with this power."
"How can we be twins when we’re so different?" I ask, trying not to sound whiny.
"I was there, I was the first to hold the both of you. I held your mother's hand as the life flowed out of her. And you and Thomas, are not as different as you think." Luke says in his fatherly tone, but I am not comforted or reassured. I feel more confused than ever.
"I still don't want to, not now." I assert, sounding disappointingly petulant and childish.
"Alright, but if you ever change your mind, I'm here," he says with a loving smile.
* * *
Tom seems to be avoiding me over the next few days. I sense his energy in the house, but he stays out of reach. When I do find him, he won't listen to me. I try to explain what happened and why I let Luke into my head, how badly I needed to know. I tried to tell him that he was right all along about Cathy and that I broke it off, but he met me with stony silence.
I don't know what to do. That moment with Elle was fleeting, but there was a connection. I reached out and found her, and she opened her eyes and recognized me, before slipping away again. I am sure of it. If I could figure out all that empathy can offer, maybe I could use it to do more than just be a better fighter. I could help people, maybe even save them.
But letting Luke help me develop it would mean allowing him full access to my mind, and that would drive the wedge between Tom and I even deeper. I am not willing to risk losing my brother forever.
* * *
I sit at the bar, surrounded by the raucous laughter of carefree strangers. I watch them, hesitating to engage. I am not technically old enough to be here so I don't really want to draw attention to myself. Lost in my sullen thoughts, I swirl my glass of clouded absinthe. My head spins in sympathy, and I take another sip with a wry smile. I don't belong here. I hoped the alcohol would help me feel less hollow and isolated, or at least make me forget the dilemma that has been driving me mad. It feels like I have no one to turn to for solace.
All of my friends are from the MMA club and Tom is always there, and since I can't find a way to bridge the gulf that separates us, he is the last person I want to see. At home, there's always someone around the corner, the butler or one of the nurses or maids, even the gardener seems judgmental. Constantly putting up a facade of politeness is exhausting, and I am sick of looking at the four walls of my room.
And to make matters worse, Luke looks at me differently now. He is all solicitous and concerned and thinks I am torturing myself. He's not wrong.
The only other place I could turn to for peace is Elle's room, but after what happened last time, I am too scared to go back there in case it happens again. I still haven't told Luke about it, which adds another layer of guilt as well as dread. He'll be beside himself with excitement. Then he'll get single-minded. He will probably forget all about the fact that I don't want to be an empath and pressure me into doing it anyway.
The smell of aniseed and wormwood is making my stomach churn. Suddenly the bar feels suffocating, the loud music and flashing lights, everything seems blurred and distorted. I need fresh air.
The late night's relative calm is a blessing. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath of the cool city air, wishing it smelled like the mountains instead. As I step into the street the earth seems to tilt weirdly beneath me, I have to concentrate to keep my feet.
I catch sight of something across the road. Something at the nightclub, and my heart races. Paranoia sets in. I panic and dart around the corner so they won't see me. Cathy's laughter carries on the night air, becoming to me like a siren's song. I watch Tom lead her to his shuttle, all dressed up in his finest suit, while she glitters in a holographic dress. He is broad-shouldered and a good head taller than her, making her look delicate in a way I never could. They look so well matched, it's revolting. Jealous anger wells up inside me uncontrollably. I lean against the building and clench my teeth stifling a scream and it is all I can do to hold myself back from confronting them there and then.
Thanks for reading! I hope you’re enjoying following along with my Bottled Embers!
Some questions for next time… What will Logan do now that he has caught Tom with Cathy? How can Tom justify a relationship with someone who was just using his brother? Was all the negativity just jealousy all along? And how is this going to affect Logan’s choices regarding his empathic abilities?
Ooh, ooooh! I wanted to tell you guys about this cool thing I read this week.
wrote a thing about the human before me.Here’s a little piece of it:
but maybe the message is a good one, maybe this
is how it has to be… for to weave rainbows
out of nothing, to raise worlds out of thin air,
to shine and embellish reality in the slickest
and most gut-wrenching ways is to be a bridge
to someone, to someone else out there struggling,
And another one:
What starts to happen is you get a sort of backlash from the people around you for continuing on, fruitlessly, as if you’re the kind of rarified idiot who is content to stubbornly and foolishly keep trying at something most of the world deems a pointless endeavor—or at the very least an extremely uncertain or unstable one.
This made me think about what we writers do and why we do it. It made me consider why I can’t let this story go, even though I’ve been hammering at it for more than a decade and a half, fruitlessly. I may indeed be a ‘rarified idiot’ or, considering BE’s content, more the unstable kind.
But now that I’ve actually put some of it out here, it’s become about connecting to other people, across space and time. A thought bridge immortalized in print.
I have found so many nuggets of wisdom embedded in storybooks in all my years of being a reader. The non-fiction self-help stuff is awesome in its own way, and I get that there’s a lot that is valuable to many many people, but for me, it’s really the stuff of stories that stick. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really think I’ve embedded any wisdom…
It’s just…
I don’t know what you will take away from my story, but I hope there’s at least some part of it that is relatable to you. If any of you, dear readers, find something valuable or even memorable hidden here, that sticks with you as you go on your merry way, I will count that as my greatest success. 🧡
As always, the easiest way to ensure you don’t miss the next installment is to,
for FREE! Also, I promise I would genuinely LOVE to know what you think so far, please feel free to
or better yet, if you want to show a girl some extra love, and support this project,
Until next time. 👋🏻🍾🧨
I did not see that coming! I love the idea of being a bridge that connects, that’s so beautiful, and I’m grateful to you for putting your story here as is to read ❤️
I'll be honest, I'm impatiently waiting for Logan to allow Luke to train his ability, so I can take notes. Another good scene, thanks Jenny!