100 Lives of Zero Love

Before I died for the hundredth time, I ducked into a flower shop to escape the rain. The girl behind the counter offered me a chair and asked if I was hungry. As the raindrops dripped from the awning, I suddenly broke down. I spent a hundred lifetimes, desperate to get that sort of care from my family. When I was reborn for the 101st time, the fake heir, Damian, was rehearsing his speech to celebrate his third year with the family. I didn’t bother to correct Damian when he referred to us as a family of five. Instead, I picked up my phone and called a flower shop. “Deliver a bouquet of white lilies to the Killington estate on the evening of the 16th.” “What should we write on the card?” I glanced at my mother, who was busy straightening Damian’s tie. “Congratulations. You’re finally down to just one son.” Chapter 1 Silence settled over the living room. My mother, Peyton Killington, looked up and asked me who I was talking to. I hung up and put the phone away. “Just ordering flowers.” “For Eve? Sure, she’s your fiancée, but she already has plans with Damian today. Don’t show up out of nowhere and put her on the spot.” “They’re not for her.” “Who are they for then?” As soon as the words left Peyton’s lips, Damian Killington piped up that his collar was digging into his throat. She went straight back to fixing his tie, not even waiting for my response. Staring at the top of her head, I heaved a sigh. It was better this way. I wouldn’t have to repeat myself, and she was spared the trouble of listening. With Damian all sorted, Peyton finally turned her attention back to me. “Oh, perfect. Oakleigh booked the photographer for tomorrow. Make sure to try on your suit.” Peyton pointed at the gray suit draped over the arm of the couch. Damian was set to wear white. In the promo video, he would take the position front and center. The photographer had already marked the ground with tape where I was supposed to stand. Off to the side, I was half-tucked behind my sister, Oakleigh Killington. A hundred times before, I had always figured out a way to scoot even an inch to the center. In the first lifetime, I protested that family shouldn’t be cast aside, and my father, Harlan, made me stand in a corner facing a wall. On the 19th try, I secretly peeled off the tape. The whole family refused to speak to me for three whole days. Eventually, I played it smart. I stayed up all night making gifts, keeping every family member’s birthday in mind. They took the presents, but my spot in the family portrait didn’t change. The 63rd time around, I took the hit for Oakleigh when the lighting fixture came crashing down. Scooping a startled Damian into her arms, Oakleigh rushed out while calling her assistant to drop me off at the ER. For the rest of that lifetime, I couldn’t hold a pen without shaking. On the 88th time, Harlan Killington said he was proud of me for once. Half an hour later, Damian locked himself in the bathroom crying, so Harlan made me apologize to him. I’d lived through a hundred lives, some long, some short. Each time my life ended, I’d be back to the morning of April 11th. Peyton’s fingers settled against the same tie while Harlan turned the exact same page in the paper. Only I carried the memory of what would happen next. “Earth to Wesley. Hello?” Oakleigh passed the over, tapping her finger on my page. I was supposed to talk about the struggles my adoptive grandfather, Rufus Cooke, went through to raise me. Then, I would express my gratitude to the Killingtons for giving me a normal life. “Cut this section.” I folded the . Oakleigh figured I wasn’t happy with the little screen time I got. “Damian gave up a whole minute for you. What more do you want?” “Gramps worked as a repairman his whole life to put me through school. The life I had before was normal.” Peyton took off the pearl accent on Damian’s lapel and frowned. “You’re reading lines for the promo video. Who’s going to take it seriously?” I would. On the day the video aired in my first lifetime, I took my phone to Rufus’ grave to tell him that I finally belonged somewhere. Yet hearing the person in the video say he’d finally escaped their misery filled me with an ache I couldn’t explain. “I’m not doing it.” At last, Harlan put down the paper. “If you can’t play along, you can sit out of the family dinner this weekend.” He knew how much the family dinner meant to me. The family tree was kept rolled up in the mountain lodge’s storage room, only brought out twice a year. Three years after my return, my name still hadn't been formally added. In every lifetime, all I'd wanted was to watch him write my name onto the tree himself. Today, my eyes were glued to the date on the . It was April 16th. My 100th life ended on that exact day. “In that case, I want Gramps’ toolbox back.” Harlan scowled. “It’s locked away in the storage at the lodge. You handed it over yourself.” “I only asked you to keep it for me.” When they brought me home, Peyton couldn’t stand the musty smell of the old leather case, so she had it stashed away in the storage room up the mountain. From then on, all the Killingtons had to do was bring the toolbox up to keep me in line. Damian huddled closer behind Peyton. “Is Wesley upset with me? I can drop out of the shoot. I just don’t want to put Mom and Dad in a tough spot.” I brushed past him and grabbed my driver’s license from behind the photo frame. Damian reached out to grab my sleeve, but I shied away from his grasp. “Wesley.” Harlan called out to me. “If you walk out that door, lunch goes on without you.” As I changed my shoes by the front door, I noticed the large mirror beside the shoe cabinet for the first time. The young man reflected in it was only twenty-four, yet he already had the habit of hunching his shoulders. I slowly straightened my back. When the call had ended ten minutes ago, the woman on the other end hadn’t even had a chance to tell me the name of her shop. I called again. The call was picked up almost immediately. “Are you the gentleman who ordered the white lilies?” With traffic humming past, I pressed the phone tight against my ear. “Are you hiring at the moment?” The lady shuffled a flyer posted on the door. “Are you looking for temp work? We’re hiring help for the move, but it’s hard labor.” “I’m up for it.” “Why don’t you swing by and take a look? My name’s Willow Cox.” Facing the morning sun, I let out a soft “okay.” The call reached the right place. She was just right across town. This time around, I would make it to her alive. Chapter 2 The flower shop was located by the old bus depot, with a sign reading, “Willow & Branch.” I arrived to find Willow bent over, shifting a heavy water container onto a cart. Without looking up, Willow nudged the tip of her shoe against the wheel to keep it steady. “Excuse me. You might want to stand back a bit, so you don’t get wet.” I took hold of the container from the other side and hoisted it off the ground, and only then did Willow get a good look at my face. “Here for the job?” I nodded. “Just so you know, you get paid for today even if it’s just a trial run.” She pointed at the cardboard box in the corner. “Keep the glass bottles away from the clippers so they don’t break. We are having sandwiches for lunch. Do you have any dietary restrictions?” Because I took too long to answer, Willow repeated her question. “No.” In my 100th lifetime, Willow asked the same question. That day, I was there with Peyton to pick out her gown, but she left me stranded outside the mall. Peyton had to take Damian to a new art exhibition. Since his easel took up space in the car, there was no room for me. I walked for miles. As it started to pour, I happened to pass by this very flower shop. Willow pulled up a chair for me, not even asking how I got my clothes so dirty. I opened my wallet to buy something from her shop. She pressed my hand over hers. “You don’t need to buy anything just to sit here for a bit.” I didn’t even get a chance to take a bite of the sandwich. Oakleigh called, saying that Damian had an allergic reaction. I was summoned back to the estate to explain every purchase I’d made. Fearing the accusation if I was late, I ran out into the rain. Three days later, I died beneath the bridge. In my final moments, the memory that surfaced was the sandwich still wrapped in paper. “Do you know how to fix this?” Willow set down a wooden stand in front of me, pulling me out of my thoughts. Crouching to examine where it was broken, I asked her where the toolbox was. “Check the top drawer. Don’t worry if you can’t fix it. Just don’t get hurt.” Rufus used to repair old clocks, wobbly chairs, and busted door locks. When I got home from school, I would sit right beside him, handing him the screws. Some crafts simply stayed with me, even after living a hundred lives. In the time Willow took to wrap two flower bunches, the broken stand was rock solid again. She gave the stand a couple of shakes, her eyes sparkling. “That saves me the repair bill. I’ll pay you extra for fixing it.” I told her not to worry about it, but Willow whipped out a notepad and added a line to it. “You get paid for the work you do. If I didn’t, I’d feel bad asking you to come fix things next time.” I watched her log the numbers, not knowing what to do with my hands. No one ever stopped to ask what my time was worth when I did work for the Killingtons. All they ever asked was why others could do more. At lunchtime, Willow carried her plate over to the front of the store to soak up the sunshine. I sat in the other chair, slowly savoring each bite of the sandwich. “Now that the bus depot relocated, they're tearing down these shops. I scoped out a new spot at the regional wholesale floral center.” She counted on her fingers, running through the rent math out loud. “It’s a small place, but the location will save me a lot on transporting inventory. “The downside is that I won’t get any regulars. I’ll need to build my customer base from scratch.” “Are you making the move solo?” “Yeah. I’m terrified of going under, but I owe myself a shot.” Willow slid a drink toward my side. “What about you? Is this just a temporary gig for you, or are you looking for something permanent?” “If you’re open to hiring me, I want to stay on and move with the business.” She stopped chomping her food and studied my face. “The pay won’t be great. After I get the place set up, I might only be able to afford you part-time.” “I can take side gigs fixing things.” “Where are you going to stay?” “I’ll find something on my own.” After much thought, Willow extended her arm. “Let’s give it a month and see where this takes us. I can’t promise to keep you on long-term, and you’re free to walk if something better comes along.” I shook her hand, feeling the tiny scratches across her palm. She had warm hands. Willow didn’t offer me a home or promise to treat me right forever. She respected me as someone capable of making my own decisions. That afternoon, I paid the deposit for the white lilies. Willow read the message on the card, her hands pausing over the payment. “Who are the flowers for?” “For someone who’s finally ready to leave home.” “Are you sure leaving is what you really want?” “Absolutely.” She ripped off the festive, lace-patterned card and replaced it with a simple blank note. “In that case, drop the congratulations. You’re the one hurting. You don’t have to put on a happy face for them.” I took the pen and wrote out a new line. “Don’t bother saving a seat for Wesley ever again.” That evening, Oakleigh texted me a video clip. The recording showed Rufus calling out to me, telling me to get down so I didn’t block the light. The roll of tape slipped from my hand and hit the floor. Oakleigh’s text arrived soon after. “Come back for the family dinner this weekend, and the tape player along with the toolbox will be yours.” Chapter 3 Over the next couple of days, I worked at the shop during the day and organized my paperwork at night. On the afternoon of the 13th, I met with Eve Salvidge to break off the engagement. She was at the equestrian club, holding the stirrup steady for Damian. Spotting me, Damian rushed to get down from the horse. “Wesley, don’t get the wrong idea. I was just a little scared.” Eve gripped the reins to keep him steady before turning to me. “This can wait.” Standing under the shade structure, I texted Willow to let her know I’d be in on schedule tomorrow. Eve approached, her gaze falling on my lit screen. “You used to be all over me. Are you trying to play hard to get now?” “I want to end our engagement.” She paused in the middle of removing her gloves. “I was only helping Damian out since he’s new to horse-riding, and you already jumped to call off the engagement?” In my 12th lifetime, Eve took me to this very club. I threw my shoulder, falling off the horse, so I reached out to her for a hand. “The Killington men shouldn’t be so fragile. Pick yourself back up.” Only when a press reporter strolled by with a camera did she bother to hold me by the shoulder. “It has nothing to do with what happened on the horse today.” “Who or what is this really about?” She reached for my phone, but I slipped it into my pocket. “It’s on me. I don’t want to go through with this marriage.” “I promised your mother that we’d be engaged by this fall.” “I never agreed to that.” The smile vanished from her face. “Once the engagement is off, I won’t play the loving fiancée anymore.” “Okay.” On my way back, Oakleigh blew up my phone three times. When her third call was connected, I asked whether I could get the tape player ahead of time. “Eve said that you’re backing out of the wedding?” “Yeah.” “What are you trying to accomplish here?” “I just want my things back.” The sound of paper crumpling came through the line. “Make sure to show up for the family dinner at the lodge this weekend. If you mess up again, I can’t promise you get to keep that box of junk.” I saved the call recording. The rainstorm of every April 16 remained vivid in my mind. When I was brought back to life the 73rd time, the evacuation vehicle didn’t wait for me. I ran after my ride, only to be swept off the bridge by a mudslide. Everyone believed I was dead. Meanwhile, the floodwaters carried me into an abandoned mine downstream, where I managed to survive for three days. Eventually, I found my way out along an old mining road. The first thing I did was return to the Killington estate. Peyton held me in her arms and wept for five minutes. Once again, I put my faith in her. Six months later, Damian accused me of milking a tragedy for sympathy to take Peyton away. Peyton told me to quit bringing up those dark topics. Either way, things didn’t end well for me in that life. By lifetime 100, I urged everyone to get out of the mountain lodge, knowing what was to come. In the end, I stayed by the car door because we were all waiting for Damian. When the rush of water pulled me off the bridge, my fingers clung desperately to Peyton’s skirt. In doing so, I missed the very trail that once saved me. This time around, I was done waiting. I gave Ben Littlejohn a call, telling him to head down the mountain early. He was the groundkeeper of the mountain estate, the very person who once had gone back looking for me in my 73rd life. “Ben, it’s going to pour this Saturday. Do what you can to persuade everyone to leave early.” “I have warned the Killingtons, but your father didn’t want dinner to be disrupted. He said he’d have the dinner indoors.” Not stopping there, I forwarded the severe weather warning to Oakleigh and alerted ranger dispatch down the mountain that folks were at the lodge. I did my part. “It’s your grandkid’s birthday on Saturday. Don’t miss it for this dinner.” Ben chuckled at my sharp memory. I went ahead and bought him a shuttle to get down the mountain. After the call, Eve texted me a therapy session appointment. According to her, my behavior had been erratic lately, so she sent a driver to pick me up. I replied that I wasn’t going and to cancel the appointment. Later that evening, I laid out an old road map in my motel room. The route I had trekked in my 73rd life was still intact, cutting straight through to the town highway. I knew full well how easily a disaster could wipe away any trace of where a man went. Bridges washed away, lost phone signals, clothing caked in thick sludge. When I made it home back then, the Killingtons went as far as to ask if I should’ve stayed dead. Now, they could have that ending. I packed up my driver’s license and bank cards, planning to send my bags ahead to Elmwood. Willow dropped me a pin for the shop’s new address and reminded me to call before coming so I wouldn’t get lost. After shooting back a quick “sure,” I stared at the address on my phone for a long time. I jotted down two timestamps on a piece of paper. 4:40 PM – Ben leaves the estate. 6:07 PM – The mudslide takes out the bridge. This time, the flood would swallow me up right before the Killingtons’ eyes. Only, my destination was a flower shop called Willow & Branch. Chapter 4 On the 16th, I stopped by the flower shop. The moving truck was mostly loaded. Standing in the truck bed, Willow handed me the last crate of glassware. I stowed my luggage on board and let her know I had stuff at home to deal with. “It might take a few days, so don’t hold dinner for me.” She asked me for a timeline. “I’ll get in touch in three days.” “I’ll hold you to that.” Back in the mountain lodge, Damian was showing Peyton how to find the right angle on her phone camera. He wanted to get a lovely video of the family eating by the fireplace. I strongly requested to get my stuff back, or I wouldn’t be in the shot. Fed up, Harlan had the storage closet unlocked. Rufus’ tape player, bundled up in a blue apron, sat there untouched for three years. I brushed my hand over the lid before handing the toolbox to Ben. I asked him to mail it for me. “Are you not carrying it with you?” “The rain is getting heavy. I don’t want the items to get soaked.” At 4:40 PM, I walked him to his ride and returned to the lodge. Right around 6:00 PM, a heavy boom rumbled off the back slope, vibrating the window glass. I urged them to leave right away. For once, Harlan didn’t snap at me. The family headed for the door. I followed them to the car. The back door was still open, Peyton’s handbag resting on the seat. Damian clung to Peyton’s arm, refusing to scoot over. “I can’t breathe, Mom! Stop squeezing in here!” Oakleigh threw a worn raincoat my way and told me to wait for the next trip down since the car had no room left. Not putting up a fight, I put on the raincoat. Oakleigh barked at me to quit getting in the way and go fetch the driver. I stepped back a couple of feet, my eyes shifting to the trees on the slope falling like dominoes. The driver dove into the front seat, yelling for everyone to close the doors. Peyton finally glanced at me. “Stay right behind our trail. We’ll wait for you on the other side of the bridge.” The car door slammed shut. This exact scene played out in lifetimes 73 and 100. In both lifetimes, I ran after them. Today, I simply pulled the hood of the raincoat over my head and headed to the bridge on foot. Damian stared at me through the back window, his lips curling. He thought he had beaten me once more. At 6:07 PM, it was like an invisible force had ripped the mountain in half. A black-brown wave of mud and fallen trees thundered down the slope, drowning out every honking horn. Their car had already made it across. Peyton’s desperate cry pulled my attention to the fact that the car had stopped. Eve shoved the car door open and stretched her arm out to me. With the bridge breaking apart between us, she finally remembered that she was supposed to pull me to safety too. I didn’t run to her. The fork beneath the bridge was etched in my memory, along with the spot where the rocks would rip through my raincoat. I clutched the railing desperately, my palms clammy. As the tidal wave of sludge loomed over me, I still shook in fear. I didn’t want to die. In this life, I had someone I needed to get back to. “Wesley, hold onto the rail!” Oakleigh screamed. The shrill voice didn’t sound like hers. I took one last look at them before releasing my grip. The wall of muddy water violently struck my ribcage. The bridge snapped. The last thing I heard was Peyton’s voice cutting out when she called my name. Ben filled me in afterward on what went down after I went missing. That night, all four of them stood outside the barricade line, refusing to leave. Harlan kept repeating how afraid I was of the dark and that I was probably somewhere out there, waiting for them. Missing one shoe in the commotion, Peyton would hurry over every time she saw a flashlight approaching, asking if anyone had found me yet. Damian even remarked that I might just be hiding out somewhere. Eve was the first to push him away. “I saw it. I saw the whole thing.” The search-and-rescue team combed the downstream banks all night long. As dawn approached, a tattered raincoat was brought back to them. Peyton lunged forward, grabbing the raincoat by the cuffs and shaking it open. There was no one inside the coat. She gave it another shake. Harlan insisted that the old raincoat didn’t belong to me. There was no way a Killington would put on something so ragged. Oakleigh’s knees buckled. “I gave the raincoat to him. “I threw it at him before getting into the car.” First responders said they’d swept all the reachable parts of the riverbed and come up empty. “Did you find a body?” Stunned by what he just said, Harlan clamped his hand over his mouth. No one answered. Right at that moment, the family butler, Arthur Smith, called. The white lilies I ordered had been delivered last night. Unsure what to do with the delivery, Arthur took a picture and sent it through. Oakleigh clutched the phone as Peyton leaned in, her eyes still glued to the hollow raincoat. Raindrops dotted the phone screen, blurring the words on the card. “Congratulations. You’re finally down to just one son.”