I know when Jake won’t budge. Shedding his sweater, I get naked quickly and pull on my bikini.
“I’m done,” I say, tying the strings behind my back.
“Come here.” He grips my shoulders and turns me around.
His fingers brush over my nape as he ties the strings, making goosebumps run over my arms. For a moment, he stills. With a shudder he sets me free.
For the rest of the afternoon, we swim and lie in the sun. Jake insists on covering every inch of my body with sun cream. He tells me about coming here in his youth and shows me the broken snail shells on the top of the highest dune he used for making necklaces. We slide down the dune on our backsides like kids, rinse off in the sea, and dry again in the sun before heading back.
I’m tired and emotionally wrought out, but relaxed. The warmth of the sun still glows on my skin, and my muscles ache in a good way from swimming. On the dry side of the mountain, we stop by a river that cuts through the valley for sundowners. Jake has a virgin cocktail since he’s driving.
Energy buzzes in my veins when we arrive at the house, a strange awareness of being alive. Later, after we’ve rinsed the salt from our bodies and called my mom to speak to her and Noah, we sit down by the fire.
I turn to Jake with something I’ve been meaning to tell him ever since we arrived. “Thank you.”
“I don’t deserve any gratitude, especially not from you.”
“You’re wrong. Thank you for showing me the ocean. For making it special.” Despite everything.
“You’re welcome.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
I don’t have to spell it out. We both know I’m referring to the letters. Yes, it’s hard to deal with the truth, but it brought me a measure of peace.
“You deserved an answer,” he says, staring into my eyes as if the flames burn there and not in the fire, “and so much more.”
Maybe it’s the glass of wine I had in the bath, or I’m simply too tired to keep up my defenses. When I needed comfort as a young girl, I often dreamt about my daddy pulling me into his lap and folding big, strong arms that can fix anything around me. I don’t know why, only that my impulse is too big to control when I get up and walk to Jake’s chair. He stares up at my face, his dark eyes hopeful and hopeless at the same time.
My control unravels just a bit, enough to let me sit down in his lap and weave my arms around his neck. His skin is warm where my cheek rests on his chest, his heart beating with a steady rhythm. His arms come around my waist. They’re strong arms that can chop wood and maneuver a car over a mountain pass. Just for a moment, I pretend they are arms that can fix anything as he holds me in a non-demanding way, giving me something that can’t be captured in a bottle or expressed with words until long after the fire has burned out.
Jake
It takes everything I possess and a shitload more to ignore Kristi’s body as I lay her down on her bed. She’s sleepy, exhausted after a day of sun and sea, but my guess is also from too many revelations crammed into too short a space. She lets me pull off her sandals and pull the blanket up to her waist, but when I turn to leave, she catches my arm.
“Jake.”
My name on her lips makes me hard, even if it’s not where I want to go. I imagine her saying it under the weight of my naked body and shiver with pure lust. It makes me wish I’d taken her when she offered in the kitchen, but I’ll stand fast this time. If I’m lucky enough to have another go at a relationship with her, I’m not fucking it up. This time round, I’ll do it right.
“Stay with me,” she whispers in a husky voice, reminding me she’d fallen asleep like a kitten in my lap, and how much I liked it.
“Not a good idea, ginger.”
“Not for sex. I don’t want to be alone.”
Kristi has never been alone. Gina has always slept an arm-length away from her. Finding herself stranded in strange surroundings must be more than a little unsettling. Kicking off my shoes, I climb onto the bed next to her.
“Thank you,” she says on a content little sigh, cuddling closer.
It reminds me of the night I spent in their trailer, the night my father scarred her face. All she’s suffered because of me, I’m going to make better. I can’t take the past away any more than I can make her scar disappear, but I can do my damnedest best to make up for it.
I drape my arm around her and pull her tighter. She makes me hyper-aware of my body. As always, I’m the fuse on a stick of dynamite, coming alive at her touch, even at the innocent press of her stomach against my side. It goes deeper though. I feel so much more. I feel pride and affection, worry and care. Concern. It’s the inborn male instinct to protect and take care of what’s mine, but it’s also just Kristi, what she does to me. What she’s always done to me. I’ve always wanted to hit guys with my fists since the day I laid eyes on her in school. It only became worse when she grew breasts, and worse still when she turned into a woman. Catching the other boys staring at her sent me into a murderous rage.
Those rages, furious spells of dangerous jealousy, were the first hints that warned me to stay away from her. When Denis said he popped her cherry, I kicked my model plane collection to pieces, broke three fingers punching the wall, and lost my virginity with Britney. I told myself it was for the best, knowing I was leaving, knowing Kristi deserved better than my fucked-up self, but then she showed up at the bar and locked eyes with me. I saw the way Kallie and Denis were ogling her, knew they were going to hit on her, and my only intention was showing her a good time her first time in a bar, and seeing her home safely. Fucking her against the wall was never part of the plan. Neither was repeating it at the lake. I just couldn’t hold back. Not with her.
I’ve always thought she was the prettiest girl in school with hair the color of ginger and eyes like a summer sky. She was wholesome and glowing. Pure. I fell in love with every freckle on her body. I traced them with my eyes during the lengthy hours of math, literature, and biology. The ones that dusted the hollow of her neck and dipped beneath the collar of her school uniform shirt fascinated me with an unhealthy fixation. I had my first hard-on imagining those freckles on her breasts, in geography class no less. Took me a whole ten minutes before I could get up after the bell had gone. I loved every inch of her creamy skin, but I also admired her. I admired her for how clever she was, but when she kicked our class bully, Werner in the shin, she instantly became my idol. The way she held her head high when the kids teased her about living in a trailer made me wish I were more like her. I admired her for sharing her break-time snacks with the kids who’d forgotten their lunch at home. I admired her for climbing into the highest tree in the schoolyard to rescue a kitten, and for picking up the dove in the road and carrying it in a shoebox to the vet. I admired her for her resilience in getting the math formulas right, her head bowed over her book with a cute little frown while she wrinkled her nose. I admired her for always doing her homework, and for stabbing me with a pencil when I stuck gum in her hair. To me, she was an angel, and I didn’t want to ruin her, but I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having her either. When I boarded that plane four years ago, I had every intention of coming back to her. I had no idea my future was going to get out of hand so fast, so irrevocably. I didn’t want my father to be right, but he was, and I have one last shot at proving him wrong.
Rubbing her arm, I listen to her steady breathing. Knowing she’s oblivious to my actions, I kiss the top of her head. What I admire her for most is for being the kind of woman who inspires me to be a better man.
Kristi
I wake up with my leg thrown over Jake’s thigh and my hand on his stomach, our fingers intertwined. It feels right, but it’s wrong. I shouldn’t have asked him to stay just to fulfill my need of feeling safe, protected. It’s not right to give him the wrong idea, or worse, to make him think I’m toying with him.
Yesterday’s conversation drifts back to me. Strangely, I feel purged. Lighter. For four years, I tortured myself by imagining
reasons why Jake didn’t reply to my letters. I no longer have to guess. It’s not because he couldn’t love me. It’s because he couldn’t love himself. I could’ve sent emails or text messages, but letters seemed so much more intimate. Writing them started off as a love declaration and ended as therapy. After no news from Jake, I could’ve stopped writing a long time before. A part of me instinctively knew he wasn’t reading my letters, yet I carried on writing. Not expecting him to read them, I emptied my soul and expressed the feelings I couldn’t show anyone else. For the rest of the world, I acted strong. I held my head high. Knowing Jake has read what I so boldly admitted in my weakest moments of longing, hurt, and sadness, makes me cringe, even more so when I think Ahmed read that.
Withdrawing my hand slowly so I don’t wake Jake, I try to escape, but his hold tightens on my hip.
“Going somewhere?” he rumbles.
The question reminds me of the night in the bar, when he cornered me in front of the toilets, and it brings back a mixture of bittersweet memories.
I try to push away. “To have a bath.”
He kisses the crown of my head. “Stay. I’ll run you a bath and make coffee while it fills up.”
“Wow. Breakfast in bed, doing dishes and laundry, and running my bath. Is this honeymoon behavior or the norm with you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been with anyone like this. All I know is you make me want to take care of you.”
The admittance is charged, opening new questions and jabbing at unhealed wounds. “You never spent the night, not even once out of the fifty times?”
“The only time I spent the night was with you, and we didn’t even shag.” Brushing a finger over the scar on my cheek, he adds teasingly, “Was still worth every painfully hard hour of it.”
I push down the relief that threatens to break through the betrayal and hurt I keep like a wall around my heart. I built that wall to remind myself of what Jake is capable. “Careful, Jake Basson. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’m domesticating you.”
“You say it like I’m a wild animal.”
I swat his chest. “You are. Now get off me, wildling. I need the bathroom.”
After breakfast, Jake takes me to visit the curio center of a nearby ostrich farm. We stand on the eggs that don’t break under our weight, watch an artist paint them, and eat them scrambled with roast vegetables on the side for lunch. The day is an unexpected surprise, just like yesterday at the beach. When we first arrived, I expected to develop cabin fever, but instead, I’m having fun. I’m beginning to understand why Jake loves it here so much, and I’m beginning to appreciate his efforts. Only two days into this, and it’s starting to feel more like a holiday than a kidnapping.
When we’ve dialed my mom and spoken to Noah, I ask Jake for my phone. I have to check my messages and make sure there’s nothing urgent that needs a reply.
“You’re still not getting it back,” he says, handing it to me where we’re sitting on the couch.
“Why not? There’s no one left to call who can come rescue me.”
“Do you need rescuing?”
I contemplate the question. It doesn’t take me long to answer. “Fine, Jake. I’ll give you two weeks. Three is too long to be away from Noah. We’ll get to know each other, but only for Noah’s sake, nothing more.”
His smile stretches slowly. “Thank you.”
“I keep my phone.”
“Deal.”
When I switch it on, I have ten missed calls and five messages from Nancy. Nothing from Luan. Jake considerately makes himself scarce while I dial Nancy.
“Where in fuck’s name are you?” she shrieks.
“I’m okay. We’re on an ostrich farm in the Karoo somewhere.”
“I was going out of my mind with worry. I almost called the cops, until your mom explained what was going on.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“What’s happening between you and Jake?”
“Nothing. We’re taking time to get to know each other. We have a lot to work through. How’s Luan?”
“Upset. Naturally.”
“How’s Steve taking it?”
“You know Steve. He never takes sides. You should know though, there are rumors already.”
I groan. “What kind of rumors?”
“That you and Jake are back together. Everyone knows you skipped town with him and got fired for AWOL. Jan says the two of you acted very married on Sunday at the river.”
“Oh, God.” I place a hand on my forehead. “Just what I need.”
“Seriously, though. What’s going on between the two of you?”
“Nothing. Jake has a lot to explain.”
“He kidnapped you to do it?”
“He kidnapped me hoping I’d give him another chance.”
“Are you?”
“Not going there. Never again. We’re settling for friendship, for Noah’s sake.”
“Right.”
“Don’t say it like you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend.”
“Friends are supposed to be honest.”
“You’re also supposed to have my back.”
“I do. I told Luan if he says another bad word about you, I’d break his jaw.”
“I don’t want to come between you and your future family-in-law.”
“He’s just being a bitter, old, disgruntled man at the moment.”
“He’s the one who leaked the rumor, isn’t he?”
“He told Mozie he fired you for being absent from work without leave. The rest of the town noticed both you and Jake are gone and put two and two together. Do you need me to fetch you? I swear I will. Just say the word.”
“I promised Jake two weeks.”
“There will be lots of shit to deal with when you get back.”
“I’ll deal with it.”
“All right, then. Are you going to answer my calls from now on or keep on ignoring them?”
“Jake only gave me back my phone today.”
“He’s such a jerk, Kristi.”
“Not always.”
“This is the same guy who left and never wrote back or called once, right?”
“He’s making me breakfast and running my bath. He took me to the beach yesterday and an ostrich farm today.”
“You’re falling for him.”
“Of course not. I’m just saying there’s a different side to him.”
“You’ve never been able to think straight around him. Don’t get infatuated.”
“I need to know if I can trust him with Noah.”
“Keep on telling yourself that.”
“Nancy, please. You’re not making this any easier.”
She sighs. “Fine. Do whatever you have to do out there in the bundus. Just don’t let him break your heart again.”
“I’m not going to hit my toe against the same rock twice.”
“Maybe you should repeat that phrase several times a day. I’ve got to go. Steve is coming over. Call me. Any time. I mean it.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. Through the window, I watch Jake hose the dust from the car. Dressed only in shorts, he reminds me of the times I watched him strip his sweat-drenched T-shirt after rugby. He’s broader now, and more defined. The rings under his eyes are fading and the ashen undertone of his skin is disappearing. The breakaway is doing him good. We’ve both been dealing with stress in our own ways.
My gaze falls on the coffee table where his phone is lying. With another glance at the window, I pick it up. The day in the kitchen, when he made spaghetti, I memorized the code to unlock the screen, hoping I’d get a chance to use it to get away. Guilt nips at me, but my curiosity wins. With a pounding heart, I punch in the code and swipe over the screen, going straight to his messages. Nothing. I flip to his emails. There’s one from an estate agent, confirming his offer on the house we visited has been accepted, and unopened junk mail
, but nothing that seems personal, not even from his mother. He didn’t lie about not seeing anyone back in Dubai. I switch to his photos. There are several of building sites and logos, and some of the city, but nothing of him. I’m about to switch the screen to dark when I notice an image that looks shockingly familiar. It’s the one of me in my pink underwear on the night of the matric dance. He kept it. Something warm and hopeful unfurls in my chest, something too frightening to examine.
“Told you I was going to keep it,” a voice says from the door.
Chapter 18
Kristi
I jerk my head up. Jake leans in the frame, ankles crossed and one arm above his head. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”
I can’t believe he’s so blasé. “You don’t mind that I’m checking your phone?”
“I have nothing to hide.”
“Why did you keep it?”
“Because it’s you.”
“It’s a stupid photo.”
“It’s hot.”
“You should delete it.”
“It’s the only one I have, except for your yearbook photos.”
“If it’s such a big deal, I’ll give you another one.”
“I want that one.”
“Why?”
“It has special meaning to me.”
“Like what?”
“That I got to be your first.”
“Is it really such a big deal to guys?”
“To the territorial ones, and believe me, after being in love with you from the first time you walked into grade one with pigtails and a schoolbag twice your size, territorial is a mild word for what I felt.” He adds softly, “Still feel.”
“You acted like I didn’t exist.”
“I knew I was going to be bad for you.”
“Then why did you corner me that night in the bar?”
“I wanted to make sure I got you out of there safely before one of the pricks ogling you took advantage, but it was your first night out, so I reckoned I’d buy you a drink and let you dance a little first. Fucking you wasn’t my intention.”
Catch Me Twice Page 26
