by A. K. Steel
The sweat is pouring off my face. I can't do this today. What was Blake thinking?
She pulls out a notepad and paper and starts to jot down something. “How did that make you feel?”
My hands are clenched into fists again at the thought, and I crack my knuckles to relieve the tension. It's not working. Just hearing those words again makes me fuming mad. “What do you think? Fucking angry! How would you feel? You go your whole life thinking someone is your dad and it turns out your life has been a lie.”
“I’d say anger is fair. How have the last few weeks been since you found out?”
Is she for real? A fucking walk in the park. What is she expecting me to say? “Awful, but you already know that, or they wouldn’t have called you.”
“I want to hear in your own words how the last few weeks have been for you.”
“A total blur. I let Elly go because I knew I couldn’t give her the life she deserves. I knew I was slipping into a dark place again. I didn’t want her to see this, to have to deal with me like this. I can barely remember what day of the week it is. I have no idea what I’m doing. I just want to drink, it numbs the pain.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’m too fucked up, my mum made sure of that. She waits till my life is back on track, then she comes back to fuck it all up again.”
“You have a lot of anger directed towards your mum.”
“She deserves it. She left me and dad when I was 14, to go off with some boyfriend of hers. She's selfish. Everything needs to revolve around her, and I hate that she's the only living relative I have.”
“Are you worried you will be like her?” Her questioning eyes burn right through me, making me feel ten years old in the principal's office.
“I am like her!" I shout, louder than I intended to. "How could I turn out any other way? She’s a lying, alcoholic slut, and look at me. As soon as things get hard, I’m straight back to the alcohol again, just like last time Elly left. That's why I knew I had to let Elly go, before I hurt her like how my mum hurt us, me and Dad.”
“Is this the girlfriend you talked about earlier?”
“Yes, she was my friend when we were kids, but she left me, just like my mum.”
“So you're worried she might leave you again, so this time you got in first so she couldn’t?”
“No, I just knew... I knew I was losing control again. I didn’t want her to be around to see what I’m really like.”
I bury my head in my hands. My head is throbbing. This is too much. I can feel beads of sweat dripping down my forehead. This room is so hot. She keeps looking at me with that same understanding smile. How is she reading me so well?
“And yes, why wouldn’t she leave me again if she knew how fucked up I am? I know I couldn’t be what she needs. How could I? I feel like I’m only half a man. I have no idea where I come from. How can I love her and give her all of me when I’m so fucked up? She deserves so much better than me.”
“It sounds like you didn’t allow her to decide for herself. Did you tell her about your dad?”
“No, she's got enough going on with her own family. Her dad’s been sick, and she’s worried about him. She doesn’t need to have me to worry about as well.”
“Sounds like she probably needs you more than ever then.” Her judging gaze pierces me, and I know she's right. That's why I feel so guilty, but I'm a mess. I can't be who she needs me to be.
“I can't help her, I can't even help myself. I told you, I’m too fucked up.”
“Fraser, that sounds like the story you're telling yourself. Just because you’ve had some major revelations about your upbringing, and who your father is, doesn't mean you're going to turn out like your mother. It also doesn’t mean that you're too fucked up for someone who loves you to help you through a hard time, even if her dad is sick. She needs you as much as you need her.”
“It's not a story. It's the truth.”
“Why don’t we try a different story? One of a wonderful father who raised you your whole life, knowing for half of it that you weren't his biological child, but not caring because he loved you so much. One where your girlfriend,” she checks her notepad again, “Elly, loves you so much, she wants to help you with all the challenges in life, as well as be there for all the good times. One where your best friend cares so much about you, he’s paying for me to be here on a Sunday, because he can’t watch you self-destruct for another day. Sometimes family is not the blood you share, but the one you make with the people who choose to share their life with you,” she smiles sympathetically.
I feel so sick, my head is spinning. Not only with this horrendous hangover but the words she is saying. ‘Family is not the blood you share but the people you choose.’ I want to believe her, but... oh fuck, I think I’m going to be sick. I jump up and make a run for the toilet.
Fuck, I don’t ever remember feeling this sick. I just want to curl up in a ball and die.
I know she's here to help me, and she’s right about it. All this isn’t the life I want. I don't want to be anything like my mother. I wash my face with renewed purpose and slowly make my way back down the hallway to where she's sitting. I slump back down where I was on the lounge.
“Fraser, none of the issues we have talked about today are quick fixes. You have a long way to go, with years of anger and resentment, and it's going to take time to work through it all. But, if you're willing to give it a go, I have lots of tools in my tool kit that can help. I’m sure we can work through this all together.”
I nod my head. I have no more words.
“I have the information for the local Alcoholics Anonymous group, or the one the next town over if you would prefer. I think that’s going to be a good place to start. You can meet some others going through a similar situation and get a support team around you.
“You can also talk to your GP about some medications that can help with withdrawals. The good thing is, you have done this process before and been on top of it, so you know you can. This was a relapse, but I’m sure, with the support of your friends and family, you will be on top of it in no time.
“Here’s my number. If you want to book in to see me again, we can work out a plan moving forward.”
I take the card from her. “Thanks,” I say, defeated.
“I’ll see myself out. Hope to see you again soon, Fraser. Good luck in the next few days.”
As soon as she's gone, I drag myself back to bed. I’ve gone cold turkey before, so I know I can do it again. And if I want to get my life back on track and stop blaming my mum, I need to get my shit together. The next few days are going to be hell.
Elena
I’m nearly finished displaying the flowers in the new vases Indie found at some art auction last week. The vases are stunning, handmade and glazed in the most beautiful teal colour. Her taste is impeccable, and they work perfectly with the fresh modern vibe we are going for with these townhouses.
Whenever I finish a styling job on a home that's for sale, I do a final walkthrough at the end just to look for anything I’ve missed. As I do, I always make up a little story in my head about the kind of people who will live in the place. What jobs might they have, will they have screaming kids who will be running through the halls out to the backyard, if they're happy or not?
These townhouses look to me like they're going to be happy spaces. I get the feeling that they're going to symbolise fresh beginnings for the people who will live here. These people are all running from something, and these homes will be their sanctuary. They’re a safe place to start a new life. With that happy feeling, I better get out of here before the others start to arrive. I would like to avoid running into Fraser. I make my way back to the kitchen to grab the wrapping from the flowers.
“Didn’t think you would show up for this,” a shrill voice calls.
I jump and turn round to see Shea and her resting bitch face. What does she want?
“Why? I’m the stylist. The Green Door boys wanted eve
rything perfect for the auction today, and I wanted the flowers to be fresh so the rooms smelt nice. Of course I’m going to be here.”
“I just thought, since Fraser and I are kind of a thing now, you wouldn’t want anything to do with him, that's all. It's kind of embarrassing for you, since he dumped you and all.”
Wow! Low blow, even for a bitch like Shea. Luckily I had lots of experience dealing with girls like her in high school.
“I doubt very much that you and Fraser are a thing. You’re delusional, Shea. And besides, even if that were true, I’m still a professional, unlike some. I’m not going to let anyone down.”
“Oh really? Just ask anyone who was at the pub Saturday night if we’re a thing. He spent the night with his tongue down my throat.”
With that imagery, I have a sudden urge to be sick. She can’t be fucking serious. There's no way. Even though things have turned to shit with us, he wouldn’t have hooked up with her, would he? He might have, I feel like I don't know him at all anymore.
“You’ve gone quiet. Guess it must hurt to know ‘Little Miss Perfect’ doesn't always get the guy and the happily ever after.”
“I'm just shocked that you could make up such blatant lies, just to hurt someone else. What kind of a cold-hearted bitch are you?” I'm sure she must feel the chill from my death stare, but it has no impact on her, her face is unchanged.
“The kind that's got your guy. No need for me to tell lies, baby, it happened. Just ask Fraser when he gets here.” With that, she walks away with a smug look on her face, her heels clicking on the floor as she leaves.
I want to hit her in her perfect fake face, split that fucking silicone-injected lip right open. See how she would go doing the auction today with a bleeding lip, that would be funny. I’d stay around to watch that. But I won't. I take a deep breath. Be the bigger person, Elly. She's not worth it. I'm sure she's lying to get at me, but there's this nagging feeling that maybe it’s true. I haven’t seen Fraser since that night he broke it off, so who knows what sluts he’s been sleeping with.
I take one last look at the room and put good vibes into the home for its new owners. I think everything is where it's supposed to be. I’m so proud of this set-up. It looks amazing, and Indie’s art on the walls makes the place something special. I hope she sells some of them. I’ve found, in the past, that the new owners often like the art so much, they buy it for their new house. Looks like I’m finished, so I’m out of here before anyone else turns up.
I pack the extra flowers I brought in my boot, along with my tool kit, and turn to see Blake across the street with the developer Ash. I wave and offer a smile. I miss Blake. It's all so weird between us at the moment, so I haven’t seen him since Fraser broke it off, just the occasional message.
He makes his way across the street. “Hey, Elly, how’re you getting on? How’s your dad this week?”
“Yeah, all right, I guess. Dad’s doing well, back on his feet.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“The townhouses are looking perfect for today. I’ll get out of your hair,” I mutter, my voice barely a whisper. I open my door to jump in my car. As much as I miss him, I don't want to stand here making small talk after what Shea just said. I’m so close to tears, I just want to get in the car and go home.
“You making sure you don't cross paths with Fraser? You don’t have to worry, he’s sick so he’s not coming today.”
“That's not good he’s sick, but it’s probably for the best that we don’t see each other, don’t you think? I’m sure he’s not keen to see me either, especially after what Shea just said.”
“What did she say?” He looks pissed now.
“Fraser and her are a thing. Apparently the whole pub saw it?”
“You need to talk to Fraser, Elly, don’t let her poison your mind. She's just a jealous bitch. There's so much more to what Fraser’s going through. He loves you, Elly, he has since you were kids. Don't give up on him, just give him time to work through it.”
“Well, there's my answer then. I didn't believe it, but I guess it's true if you can't tell me for sure it’s not.”
“There’s so much more to all of this than you know. Talk to him. He won't admit it, but he needs you.”
“See you later, Blake.” I close the door and start my engine. I can feel the tears starting and I don’t want to cry in front of him. I have no idea what's going on. Nothing makes sense anymore. Who do I even believe? I just want to go home and have a shower, wash away this shitty way I feel. Then I’m messaging Tristan from the café. If Fraser gets to move on, so do I!
I’m done with fucking Fraser Davis.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elena
“Come on, Elly, hurry up, we're going to be late,” Indie calls out from her room.
I stand in my bedroom looking in the mirror. I look awful. So tired and drained. Even the makeup isn't covering it tonight. Maybe I should just cancel. I don’t want to go anyway. I’ve lost the courage I had at the beginning of the week when I was pissed with Fraser for sleeping with Shea. I don’t even know for sure if he did, but she sure made out that that's what happened, and trying to move on and go on a date seemed like a good idea then.
“All right, hold on.” I make my way out into the hall. “Do I look okay?” I ask, as I straighten out the layers of my dress. This dress is super cute and normally puts me in the best mood. It's a creamy colour with little tiny polka-dots all over it. It's short with a low V neck, but with a layered frill skirt, so it’s not over-the-top sexy, and the long sleeves are perfect for this time of year when the evenings are still cold. Tonight, though, nothing's working. I just feel like jumping into my PJ's and heading back to bed.
“You look stunning, chick. Now come on, let's go,” Indie says, as she grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway. We're meeting the guys in the bar just around the corner then heading for dinner.
“Okay, Indie, you can stop dragging me now. I’m not going to run."
She gives me a sideways look. “That's what someone who’s about to run says to convince their captor to let her go, so she can run.”
“How crazy do you think I’ve become?”
“I don’t know, chick, you haven’t left the house much lately, and I’ve been hearing you talk to yourself a lot. Don't know if you’re ready for the straitjacket yet, but you're heading there,” she laughs at her own joke.
“Ha ha, you're so funny, I’m not turning into a crazy person.”
“I know, but I got you to stop worrying and smile, so we can walk in looking like we want to be here. I need this, chickee, I really do,” she begs, plastering on her best smile and linking arms with me.
The guys are already at the bar, sitting at a table down the back, and they both look up and smile when they see us. I plaster my best fake smile on my face and pretend like I’m happy to be here. You can do this, Elena, it's not that hard; just make polite conversation, eat some yummy food, then go home to your cosy PJ's and bed.
We make our way over and take a seat. I can't help but admire how seriously good-looking these boys are, and if I've got to be out, at least I've got something good to look at. Tristan is your traditional tall, dark, and handsome, with green eyes. He would normally be just my type, and Luca is slightly shorter with longish blond hair, which he has in a man bun. He's unshaven and a little edgy-looking with tattoos up his arms, just like Indie. They make the perfect pair.
We take our seats and make polite small talk. Both guys seem nice. Since that night when we played pool, they’ve been making an effort to come into the café at a time when we're not busy, so they can chat, but I still feel like I know nothing about them.
“What are you girls drinking?” asks Tristan.
“I’ll just have a white wine, please,” I reply.
“Me too,” smiles Indie.
I don’t even feel like drinking, which is not like me, but I feel like I need to keep my head straight tonight. We don't really know these gu
ys, and I’m so uncomfortable being on a date. I’m glad Indie’s here.
The boys return from the bar and we make small talk about their jobs.
“So, what do you guys do for work that you can drop in so regularly for coffees? Or are we just so irresistible you come across town just so you can talk to us,” asks Indie.
“Well, there is that. But we work for the council in environmental services. Our office is just around the corner from the café, so it’s pretty easy too.”
I think Indie is crushing hard on Luca. She’s leaning her elbows on the table, with her head resting on her hands, and she hasn’t taken her eyes off him since we sat down.
“Are you into bushwalking and camping, Indie?” asks Luca.
“Oh, I love the great outdoors,” Indie almost yells, all excited. She's hanging onto his every word.
“What about you?” Tristan asks me.
“Sorry, not really. I love the beach. Spend most of my spare time there. Are you big on camping?”
“Not really, but when Luca started asking Indie questions, I realised I know practically nothing about you except that you work at the café. Just thought I’d ask. What do you do with your time besides working at the café and going to the beach?” He smiles, flashing his perfect teeth.
“I’m an interior stylist. Indie and I have just started our own business. She is an artist, and we’re working together to style houses when people want to sell.”
“That's really cool that you have your own business.”
“Yeah, it is. It's only early days at the moment, but it’s doing well. We're quite busy already, so I don’t know how much longer you’ll be seeing us around the café.”
“Oh, that will be a shame for us, but amazing for you guys.”
Oh, I hate small talk! It's so awkward, the whole getting-to-know-you stage. It's when you realise how boring your life is.
