by J Wells
“How do you think? I put it on you.”
“With your hands?” I gasp.
“No, Natasha, I used my teeth.”
My eyes are wide and I can feel my cheeks flush red. Gabriel’s face remains deadly serious, and then a strange kind of smirk makes its way across his lips.
“Take a chill pill, I’m joking. I had to cover you up with something, and your dress … believe me I tried, but there was no chance, it was far too tight.”
He lifts himself up on his elbows and drags his teeth across his bottom lip.
“You know I haven’t had a woman in bed with me for years. It’s strange in a way, but at the same time kind of nice … the kind of nice I could easily get used to.”
I sit up perfectly straight, hugging my knees to my chest.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your company, being close to you… Why, what are you getting at?”
Not knowing what to say, I don’t answer but fall silent. I see an immediate change of expression take hold of Gabriel’s face; it seems my silence speaks louder than words.
“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” he blurts out abruptly, “then you’re way off the mark. Nothing happened between us last night. I’m not saying if you hadn’t been drunk that I wouldn’t have liked it to, but the way things are at the moment, with Josh and the break-up, it wouldn’t be right and you don’t need me adding more complications to your already complicated life.”
I snuggle back down into bed, resting my head against the pillow. Reaching towards him, I clasp my hands around his neck and pull him closer to me.
My lips brush against his.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
My arms pull taut around his neck as he backs off.
His eyebrows draw together. “For what?”
“For being there for me, for letting me stay, for listening when I droned on.”
His eyes widen. “Think you’ll find it was me who did most of the droning.”
I hesitate and then pass him a smile. “Maybe, but I want to thank you for respecting me.”
He brushes my hair away from my face.
“What do you take me for? There’s no need to thank me.”
He pushes his legs over the side of the bed and sits up.
“Don’t go.” I rest my hand over his. “It’s early. Stay, so we can talk.”
He winks as he swivels round to face me. “No, I can’t have you here this close without wanting to touch you, so I’d best get up before something happens between us that we might both regret, eh?”
He pushes the covers away and gets to his feet. As he throws on a T-shirt, Mr Pooch springs off the bottom of the bed meowing and rubbing against Gabriel’s legs. He leans over to stroke the back of her neck.
“I’m just going to pop downstairs, put the kettle on and sort Mr Pooch’s breakfast.”
I bury my head in the covers.
“Hope you’ve got something down there for a hangover.”
“Sure I can muster up a couple of paracetamol. Why don’t you go and freshen up? The bathroom’s through there.”
He lifts his glasses from the bedside cabinet, then points to a door as he walks from the bedroom.
I lie there not moving and stare out between a small opening in the curtains, mesmerised by the bright shards of light making their way into the bedroom; it’s as though minute crystals hang and dance on an invisible chain. A beautiful red admiral butterfly catches my eye, sitting perfectly still near the pelmet, her wings closed. They have such short lives, it’d be an awful shame for her to spend hers locked away in this room. I crawl out of bed, carefully open the curtain and the window, and shake the curtain softly to release her so she can fly away. But without movement, she floats down to the floor where she lies motionless. I could cry; I’m too late. I bend down and pick her up, rubbing her softly between my fingers before placing her on the window ledge.
I turn to leave the room, then gaze back, but the breeze has already taken her. I glance down at my hands as I open the bedroom door and rub my fingers together; they’re covered in a light dust, which I wipe away on Gabriel’s T-shirt. I rest my arm against the wall. How symbolic that one small butterfly is to my life. My inner butterfly finally had the chance to fly, to America and far beyond, yet in an instant my life came crashing down and the beautiful wings I had to lift me, to set me free, suddenly turned to dust.
Feeling quite nostalgic, I drag my feet as I wander into the bathroom. I turn on the taps and run myself a hot bath, then sit with my eyes closed and a warm flannel resting over them. My head’s not only spinning from last night’s drinking, but from all the things I know I’ve got to do when I get home. I have to cancel the honeymoon, my dress, the bridesmaids’ dresses, the caterers, the champagne on order, the flowers, the limos; the list is endless. Then there’s Mum and Dad; God knows how I’m going to break the news to them. Thanks a lot for the house, Josh, a house with bills I can’t begin to afford on the small amount of money I scrape together each month. I haven’t had any work in the last couple of weeks so it looks like I’m left with two choices: sell up and move back in with Mum and Dad, or get another job.
My phone’s vibrating on the side of the bath, and the flannel falls into the water as I pull myself up. I predict it’s Josh and I’m right. Drying my hands, I cut off the call and delete four of his texts. My eyes scan down my missed call list and I see there are a couple from Adrianna about an hour ago. I presume Danielle’s filled her in, but suppose it won’t hurt to ring her back.
“Tash, you okay?”
I take a breath to speak, but on hearing her voice my emotions take over and tears get there first. I manage to sob “No,” down the mouthpiece, but am unable to say any more.
“Don’t worry, Tash, we’ll speak later. I’ll grab a couple of bottles of wine for you and Danielle, and we’ll order a Chinese. We can sit and watch a film if you like and pig out. Be round about five, okay?”
She hangs up. I’d almost forgotten Josh’s clothes, so I text her back, telling her I need to sort them tonight as he’s coming round to collect them.
Don’t you worry about Josh’s clothes, I’ll sort those x
I dry myself off and pull Gabriel’s T-shirt over my head. Then, grabbing a hand towel from the rail on the wall, I wrap it round my freshly washed hair. Looking anything but my best and wearing not a scrap of make-up, I make my way downstairs. Gabriel isn’t in the dining room or kitchen, but a mug of tea is waiting for me on the breakfast bar. I take a sip. Yuck, it’s cold, like the plate of toast and marmalade at its side. Sweet of him, but I couldn’t possibly stomach that this morning.
After searching his wall cupboards for a glass and drinking several glasses of water, I check the conservatory. Dad’s already out in the garden pruning roses. I see him and wave, but he doesn’t appear to see me. I make my way back through the house, pushing open the door to the lounge; with it half open I stand leaning against its frame. Gabriel’s taking large strides on his running machine, his broad chest lit up by the morning sun as it streams in through the window.
I clear my throat to catch his attention. He slows, turns his head towards me and steps down.
“You had a shower then?”
“A bath.”
“And breakfast?”
“Lovely, thanks.” My mind flashes back to the cold tea I tipped down the sink only moments ago, and the uneaten toast now lying at the bottom of his kitchen bin.
“Your dad’s already here.”
“Yes, I saw him through the window.”
“When I came down I took Mr Pooch into the garden for a sniff round on her lead. I thought you might like to know that Josh has already been over to your mum and dad’s.”
My stomach churns. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly. They know everything. Oh, and your dad knows you were upset and stayed here last night. I said your car was at home and you’d need a lift. He said to give him a shout wh
en you’re ready.”
I pull the towel off my head, ruffling my hair between my fingers.
“Gabriel, I really don’t think after everything that’s happened I can go home.” My stomach’s in knots. “Home is Josh and the future I thought we’d have. I don’t know how I’m going to walk through the front door and keep living there.”
“Change, that’s how.”
I screw up my face. “Change?”
“Change everything; redecorate, room by room, and paint Josh away.”
“I’ll get new covers for the bed, throws for the settee.” I start adding the cost up in my head.
“And I’ll order you a skip; between us we’ll get rid of everything that reminds you of him.”
“Yeah, sounds great, but it’s easy to say if you’ve got money. Unfortunately, I haven’t. I’m beyond broke, I’m brassic.”
“I haven’t got much spare cash either, but I’m sure I can rustle up a few quid for a skip and a couple of pots of paint.”
“Okay, thanks, but when?”
He strums his fingers across his cheek.
“I’ve got Adrianna’s picture to finish, which will probably take me the rest of the day and possibly all of Sunday. So how about you pick me up Monday morning? I’m up early, so any time after nine and we’ll pop down the road to the DIY store.”
He steps forward, tugging at the sleeve of the T-shirt I’m wearing.
“Before you leave, I wouldn’t mind it back.”
“It’s a lot comfier than that damn dress; it seems tighter round my waist every time I put it on. Definitely one to leave at the back of my wardrobe and forget about.”
“You’d best you take the T-shirt off before we give your dad a reason to start asking questions. Anyway, I’ve left your dress and bra on the chair in the dining room.”
I feel myself heating up inside and smile. I circle my fingers around his wrist.
“It seems that thanking you is becoming quite a habit.”
He jerks his arm away. “You’ll have me blushing.”
I glance up into his face and playfully punch his arm; he reaches up with his hand and feigns an injury, smiling down at me. I seem to have mislaid my art of summing people up. Josh, the love of my life, has turned out to be a complete tosser, and Danielle who I thought was a tosser is anything but. Gabriel I thought was a bit of a dick, a ladies’ man, and his humour sucked, but getting to know him over the last three weeks I’m actually starting to understand him and feel myself warming to his ways.
Adrianna and Danielle were already in the house when I arrived home. Adrianna must have remembered where I kept my spare key, under the feet of Rodney, my little gnome that stands at the side of the garage. I always said he looked out at people as they passed by and watched me leave and return safely.
On opening the door, the hall smelt so strongly of Josh’s aftershave I could hardly breathe. I heard loud giggling coming from upstairs and could have died when I walked into my bedroom. Adrianna had been true to her word when she said she would ‘sort’ Josh’s clothes. My first aid box lay open on the bed, and Adrianna gazed up with a crooked smile etched across her face, a pair of scissors in her hand. These were no ordinary scissors; these bad boys could cut through the toughest of materials. When Adrianna and I had taken a first aid course a few years back the lecturer told us their main purpose was to cut through clothing in the case of an emergency, and in the event of a road accident through seatbelts. Adrianna had listened intently, but with her own agenda for the steel blades. Break-up spelt cut-up, and this is exactly what she had done to every one of her exes’ clothes. Now I’m standing here witnessing her doing exactly the same to Josh’s. There are bin bags strewn all over the floor filled with strips of designer material that have been sliced and shredded. I’m grinning too; she may as well have been cutting up Josh’s credit cards or a wad of fifty-pound notes.
Lying on the floor and wearing one of Josh’s best suits, Danielle was rolling around kicking her legs back and forth whilst playing a game of tug of war with one of Josh’s crisp white shirts, and Larry, bright-eyed and wagging his tail, was firmly attached to its sleeve, which he ragged between his teeth.
All that musky aftershave his mother had bought him and I loathed had been poured down the sink, and they’d left all the empty bottles lined up on the dressing table as a memento for me to see. Despite Danielle having opened all the windows upstairs and down, still his scent managed to linger in the air, as if Josh was unknowingly haunting me.
I hid behind one of the curtains in my bedroom, staring down at the front garden and the black bin bags on the lawn. I’d never really seen Josh angry before, but, excusing the pun, he really was cut up when he untied the top of the bin bags and started punching them with his fists. He emptied them out onto the grass and kicked the strips of material round like a child. Danielle yelled out of the window for him to stop or she’d call the police. Red-faced, he looked up and then walked down the path to leave. Pausing for a second or two, he lifted Rodney off his little feet and threw him towards the front door. We heard him shatter, and cheered as Josh drove away.
It was the second time this week I’d got totally wasted, and we stuffed ourselves with pizza and sat on the floor in front of the telly watching My Best Friend’s Wedding and Ghost until all three of us fell asleep. They stayed with me for the rest of the weekend, only driving away on Monday morning around half an hour before I left myself to go and pick up Gabriel.
As soon as I pulled up outside his house, the back gate flew open and he walked towards the car. I punched the postcode he gave me into my satnav, and an hour and a half later we left the DIY store with brushes, rollers, pots of paint, glue, new throws for my settee and chairs in the lounge, and a set of bed linen. Gabriel insisted on paying, and left the store with his pockets around two hundred pounds lighter. He was in and out of the house from the boot of my car to the hall, piling everything up.
I walk into the kitchen and put the kettle on to make a hot drink, as I think that’s the least he deserves. I drop tea bags into the boiling water and press them with the back of a spoon. He walks into the kitchen and I glance across at him.
“Milk? Sugar?”
He grins. “I’m abnormal, remember?”
I put my hand to my head. “Shit, I forgot you don’t drink hot drinks. Well, there are bottles of water in the fridge or juice on the side. Help yourself.”
Larry dashes into the kitchen as Gabriel opens the fridge, and he almost trips as he runs in circles between his legs.
“Woah!” he gasps, steadying himself on the worktop, then crouches down to stroke Larry’s head.
“Hmmm, didn’t think you liked dogs,” I say, tossing my tea bag into the kitchen bin.
He cocks his head to one side. “Can’t say I do, but I can’t help it if they like me.”
He drinks the glass of orange juice that I poured him and then feels his way along the work surface, putting his empty glass in the sink.
“Do you have anything old we could put on the floor?”
I hand him last week’s newspapers that I hadn’t got round to throwing out. Larry follows Gabriel and I follow Larry as he makes his way into the lounge. I open the sideboard drawers, searching for something to get the lid off the paint. Gabriel gets down on all fours, and pushes the newspaper as best he can around the edges of the carpet. I watch him for a moment or two, but seeing him struggle I kneel at his side and help. Larry sniffs round the floor, his dark eyes bouncing between me and Gabriel, though within moments he seems to get bored and lies flat out in the centre of the sports pages.
Getting to my feet, I look up at the walls. Magnolia, every damn one, because that’s what’s Josh wanted. Thinking about it, it seemed everything about our relationship was Josh’s way. I prise open the large malt-chocolate pot of paint; my choice and my own stamp on my little house.
“I’ll take the roller and do the main walls,” Gabriel tells me, pulling off his glasses and placing t
hem on the shelf above the fire. “You follow me round, cutting in the edges.”
I pour enough emulsion into the tray for him to get started and tell him I’ll be back in five, as there’s something I need to do. I pick the white plastic bag off the stairs, tip pieces of Rodney out onto the kitchen table, and as carefully and quickly as possible I glue my little gnome back together and leave him to dry on the window sill, staring out into the garden.
“Gabriel.”
He half turns as I walk closer, looking the walls up and down with a critical eye.
“Considering you’re an artist and paint for a living, you’re a pretty shit decorator.”
His mouth twists itself into a grin. “Cheeky cow, it’s only the first coat.” He stands back.
“I think it looks great.”
“You would, you can’t bloody see it.”
“I’m not blind,” he says, blinking several times. “Is that your best come-back line?”
Laughing, he reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulls out a paint brush and throws it towards me. It’s an automatic response that my hand flies up to catch it.
“Okay, Natasha, if you think you can do better … go for it.”
Dipping the end of the small brush into the thick gloopy paint, I screw up my face.
“Do you have to keep calling me Natasha?”
“Yeah, Tash doesn’t suit you, and it was something my granddad used as slang for his moustache.”
Biting back a smile, I run my teeth over my bottom lip. Gabriel wipes the back of his hand and arm across his forehead and blows up towards his hair.
“Are you hot?”
He nods. “You could say that.”
“I could always run upstairs and get the fan?”
“No, don’t worry.”
Parts of his white vest top are completely see-through from sweat. With the curtains pulled aside and the sun on his back, he looks kinda sexy.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
I don’t have time to answer before he drops his roller into the tray and whips his vest top over his head. My mouth falls open, and I hardly realise that I’m staring at him.
