by E. S. Maria
Patty grabs hold of my hand and tries to pull me closer to her, “This is strictly a girls’ night out, mate. Go find someone else to annoy.”
“It’s alright,” he slurs back, “I only want one dance. So what do you say, babe?” The creep grips my waist, and I yelp when he pulls me back to him and drags me like a fucking cave woman. I raise my arms and try to reach out for my friends in panic, waving my arms towards them like a mad woman.
I hear Brook’s voice, but I can’t understand what she’s saying over the loud music.
Oh my God!
“Patty! Brook! Where are you?” I cry out. “Let me go, asshole!” I try to loosen his grip, but he’s too damn strong.
“I’m here, Han!” I hear Patty call out, but her voice sounds worryingly distant. “Let go of her, or you’ll regret it, you fucker!”
I feel them struggling to get me, but he’s too strong and Patty loses her grip on me.
“Oh, shit! Hang on, hang on, are you blind? Well, I’ve never danced with a blind chick before,” he laughs as I try to struggle from his clutches. “Actually, I never kissed a blind chick before either. Well there’s a first time for everything, isn’t it, baby?”
I can smell the awful stench of beer from his breath as his face seems to come closer.
Until it’s not anymore.
He is pulled away from me with so much force that I lose my balance.
“I got you, Hannah. I got you,” I hear Brook’s reassuring voice as she takes hold of me. I hear scuffling and a loud grunt, then people cheering.
Why are they cheering? What just happened?
“That asshole’s knocked out, Hannah. And he’s currently being dragged out by security. I told that fucker he’d regret it,” Patty’s livid tone matches the words that came out of her mouth, but the relief I feel, knowing I’ve avoided something that could’ve turned into something horrific is too much to keep in. I felt so helpless, so vulnerable. I sob, and I break down in her arms.
That’s when I feel another set of arms around me, “Shhh, Hannah. You’re safe now,” Brook tells me in a gentle tone.
I turn to Patty, suddenly realising that I didn’t even ask how they got rid of him.
“Did you do that? Who took care of him?”
They both laugh nervously.
“I didn’t do it. I asked for help.”
“Who helped me? I’d like to thank that person. Is that possible?” I ask, straightening up, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes.
Brook answers, “Uh … I don’t know if it’s a good idea to speak to him—”
Patty cuts her off, “Because he’s left already. He was there, but now he’s gone, right, Brook?”
“Yeah, sorry, Hannah. But how about we just call him your guardian angel?”
I scrunch my brows together.
Why do they sound weird like they’re not being completely upfront with me?
But I push out my suspicions. Maybe I shouldn’t read too much into this. It could be some random guy who was just plain nice enough to help.
It could also be the club’s security.
Still, it would’ve been the right thing to do to offer him my gratitude.
Times like these make me wish I wasn’t completely blind.
It would be nice to see this so-called guardian angel’s face and thank him personally.
Maybe it’s a good thing we don’t end up staying at Ruby Red’s. After the incident, we are all too shaken to stay. We decide to go home and have a relatively early night.
But before I go to sleep, my thoughts return back to the stranger who punched the lights out of that drunk shithead.
In the morning, we make it to the train with lots of time to spare. I use that time to listen to an audiobook of a best-selling novel. I used to love reading, used to love the smell of books both new and preloved. But now, it’s either reading a book in Braille, or listening to an audiobook. The audiobook wins out, only because there are more titles to choose from.
Halfway through the third chapter, my thoughts drift back to the events of last night. I press Pause on the player and take my headphones off.
“Patty? Brook? Any of you awake?”
“Hmm? Yeah. Why?” Patty answers.
“What did he look like?”
“Who?” Brook asks.
“You know, that guy who helped out last night? Was he one of the security guys? Or was he that rugby player look-alike?”
“Why are you curious all of a sudden?” Brook asks again, before she sighs, “Would it make a difference if you knew?”
“No, not really, I guess,” I shrug, “It’s just nice to have a picture in my head. And I mean I just found it a little weird that he just up and left without waiting for a thank you.”
“Maybe that’s what makes him your guardian angel. I’m sure that angels don’t perform good deeds for the glory. They do it out of a basic compulsion to help somebody in need. Sometimes they do it out of sheer selflessness …”
“Or,” Patty adds, “sometimes they do it out of love.”
“Love?” My head turns in her direction, “What do you mean by love?”
“Uh, I guess in your case, it’s option number one: sheer selflessness,” Patty quickly answers.
I pause for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, definitely option number one. Unless my guardian angel saw me and fell in love with me at first sight.”
An awkward silence fills the space, and I wonder if they’re thinking I am being serious. Thankfully, Patty blurts out, “Yup! That must be it!” then she starts laughing, and we all laugh with her.
“Okay, okay,” Brook sputters out, “if it helps, your guardian angel doesn’t work for the club as security. He was just a really hot, good-looking guy who just happened to be at the right place, at the right time. That’s all I’m gonna say.”
My heart skips a beat for some reason, as I try to mentally build a picture in my head.
Good-looking, huh?
“Tell me what he looks like.”
“Nope. There’s no point in it,” Brook says firmly.
“Patty?”
“I’m with Brook on this one.”
“Why can’t you give me a freaking mental picture?” I ask, getting increasingly frustrated.
“Babe,” I feel Brook’s hand take my own, “we’re not trying to be cruel or anything. But to be perfectly honest, I don’t think we can perfectly describe that guy and still do him justice. But know this. If we do get a chance to see him again, we will let you know, so you can personally thank that person yourself, okay?”
My brows furrow, “You’ll really do that?”
“Of course, we will.”
I nod back, smiling gratefully, “You’ve no idea what that means to me. Thank you.”
Afterwards, I put my headphones back on, and I listen to the rest of the audiobook.
After over two hours inside the train, the train conductor announces that our stop is next. I put my backpack on, plus a carry-all over my shoulder. Patty places my hand on her shoulder and guides me towards the exit, just as the train slows to a stop.
As soon as we’re off the train, I unfold my walking stick, walking carefully while my hand is still on Patty’s shoulder. Not long after, we hear Mum calling for us in her not-so-inside voice.
After being away for so many months, one of the main things I missed the most was my bedroom. I stayed inside this bedroom for so long after the accident. This became my refuge, my sanctuary. I used this room to lock everyone out and push people away. I felt that I was all alone in this turmoil, that no one could possibly understand the struggle I’m going through.
But I was wrong.
And I’m so glad that I was.
I feel like I’ve come a long way from that broken girl who closed herself off in this very bedroom a year ago. But I’m also realistic. I do know that who I am at this very moment is still a work in progress. But I’m getting there. I’m building myself from the ground up, and I’m getting
there.
Mum told me earlier that she’d be cooking up a feast for dinner tomorrow night to celebrate my return. I thought it was a little too much. It’s like I’ve been gone for years instead of three months. But I have a feeling she’s not just celebrating my return, but also the change she’s seeing in me. Brodie’s still in Sydney, working on a song with his band. But he promised he’d be home by tomorrow afternoon. Patty and Brook were invited, along with their respective families. But I also asked if I could invite Nicki and her family. She has become a good friend since I joined the support group, and we’ve been in touch ever since.
I’m lying in bed, just listening to some new music from one of the playlists I’ve been following. My heart jolts when I suddenly hear the unmistakable voice of Atticus Foster. But my heart starts beating like a jackhammer when I realise that he’s singing “Once Again.”
I didn’t even know that he released that song.
I know that it’s probably best if I press the remote button Forward, but for some reason, I keep listening. The words weren’t changed, with only an acoustic guitar as its instrument, just like how Atticus played it in public for the first time at Peak … the night before I ended things with him and told him that I never wanted to see him again.
Dammit. Why did Atticus create such a beautiful song? It’s giving me the feels, with stupid goose bumps to match.
I listen to the whole song, and press Stop as soon as it’s finished.
I don’t know why I feel a tinge of guilt for loving that song.
I think I might have to see Paul. I need to talk to him to hopefully clear my head.
After getting out of bed, I head towards the door, yelling out, “Mum? Is it okay if I visit Paul?”
“Hey, Paul. Guess what? I’m back! Duh … you obviously already know that.”
I’m kneeling next to Paul’s headstone, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the indented script of his full name. The first thing I notice is how calm I feel on the inside, being here next to Paul. I’ve had a roller coaster of emotions every time I came and visited before, and this is actually the first time I feel calm … at peace with myself.
I clutch my chest and notice that it feels lighter than usual.
“Are you doing this?” I ask Paul in a whisper. “I never felt like this whenever I came and visited you. But today, I feel lighter, happier. It’s kind of weird, but not in a bad way. Does this mean you’re in a happier place, and you’re letting me feel it?”
I shift my position, crossing my legs in front of Paul’s headstone, and I raise my head upwards, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face and delighting at the hint of light coming through the darkness of which I’ve grown used to.
With a smile, I tell him about all my adventures in the big city, from the mishaps, to the new friends I’ve met. I divulge about how random people had helped me when I was lost, or when I stumbled when my walking stick missed a crack on the ground. I also tell him about what happened last night at the club and how one brave, anonymous stranger helped me out. But I skip the part about Joshua. It just feels odd talking to Paul about a guy I started dating who reminds me of him.
“One thing’s for sure though, Paul. You would’ve loved it over there. And even though I didn’t end up studying law, I know in my heart that I’ve chosen the right degree, and if you were still around, I know you’d understand why. That’s just who you are. So I may not earn anything from this after I graduate, and I’ll probably end up penniless and living in Mum and Dad’s house, but who knows, right?”
I place my hand on top of the smooth headstone. “Sometimes I get this feeling, like someone’s looking out for me, guiding me so I’m always safe. I don’t know if I’m just imagining it, and I don’t know if you have anything to do with it. But … I’m grateful … to you and to the powers that be. Heaven knows I probably don’t deserve it, but I feel it. I feel like everything’s going to be okay from now on. If this is your way of telling me that you’ve forgiven me, then thank you, Paul … thank you so much.”
And as I blink, a stray tear escapes my eye, down my cheek, and onto the ground, mere inches from Paul’s headstone.
It may just be a solitary tear, but it represents something far greater than that. For amongst all the tears of grief, guilt, and even self-hatred that I’ve previously shed on this ground, I have finally shed a solitary tear of joy.
And for the first time since I first visited Paul, I’m finally leaving the cemetery with a smile of gratitude on my face and a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Mum definitely outdid herself tonight.
I’m making my way out the back door, needing somewhere quiet from all the loud music and the chattering. As happy as the atmosphere can be, and as much as I wish that I could be in the middle of it all, sometimes it gets too much, and my head starts to hurt. It’s just one of the things I have to live with now.
Plus I need to sit down and digest all the food I just ate. I don’t even know how I managed to fit so much food in my stomach.
The dinner party is in full swing, and it’s much credit to my mum. She was cooking and cleaning like a mad woman the whole day today. I knew it from the moment I hear her playing a Buena Vista Social Club album that she’s going to be in her element.
I’m pretty pleased about the turnout. Brodie and the boys came home after lunch, earlier than we expected. Now they’re all here, including their parents, since my parents have been friends with them since they were kids. Same goes with Patty and Brook. Their parents and siblings are here as well. It’s a small community, so everyone knows each other, and most friendships are long-term.
I guess this party is a good excuse to gather everyone together in one place, since all of us actually being in one place hasn’t happened in a long while.
But now I have a headache, so I need to get away from it, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
I plant myself on the swing bench, which overlooks our backyard where a small swimming pool sits to my left, and the converted shed is just a few steps to my right.
At least, that’s what I’m hoping it still looks like, since I’m only recalling it from memory.
The gentle breeze feels cool on my skin, and it helps me relax and reflect on how so many things have changed in my life these past months, but some constants remain as well.
I still feel melancholic about Paul’s death, but I’m also beginning to feel at peace about it. I’ve come to accept now that the accident was just that: an accident. I know now that I can’t live my second chance in life, dwelling over something I have no control of.
The earth will still rotate on its own axis, day will still turn into night, and life still goes on.
It just does. And I’ve made a conscious choice to finally live it.
And then there’s Atticus Foster. I can’t lie to myself anymore. I still miss him. He invades my thoughts every single time. Saying goodbye to him felt like the best thing I’ve ever done. But now, in retrospect, saying goodbye to Atticus is something I wish I didn’t have to do. I feel it the most, whenever I achieve a personal goal, and I find myself wishing he’s a phone call away, or just around the corner, so I can tell him everything. And most times, no matter how much I want to deny it, I find myself wondering if he’s doing okay in his part of the world. And then I just end up torturing myself when I start to imagine him in the arms of another woman … maybe even the new love of his life.
I don’t know what it is about him … about us, because we are two completely different people. But somehow, we found ourselves deeply in love with each other. And no matter how much he hurt me, no matter how much I wanted to hate him for breaking my heart, I just can’t do it.
I’m still madly in love with him.
Atticus Foster has been and will always be my constant.
Not that it matters now, anyway. He’s gone from my life because I drove him away. And I’ve come to accept that maybe he will never come back. I mea
n, he can have any woman he sets his eyes on. Why would he come back to a blind and badly scarred small town girl like me?
I sigh out aloud, just as I hear the back door creak open.
“Well, that’s a mighty big sigh you just expelled there, sis,” I hear the wooden floors of the deck creak from Brodie’s weight as he walks towards me, pushing the swing to move as he sits next to me.
“So you think you’re ready to surf tomorrow?” He asks.
“I’ll certainly give it a shot.” I shrug back.
Then Brodie lets out a massive burp.
“Ugh! Gross!” I cry out, making a gagging sound.
“Better in than out, that’s what Abuelo used to say,” then he lets out another burp.
I can’t help but laugh now. Abuelo, Mum’s father, was a straight shooter and uncompromising in his work. But to us, his grandchildren, he was a teddy bear with a gigantic heart. He used to give us lollies when my parents weren’t looking, telling us to keep it our little secret. Sometimes he’d pick us up from school so he could take us to the playground, then milkshakes straight after at the local café. He kept reminding our friends to call him Big Swanky because the nickname, plus his signature suspenders and newsboy cap, made him sound cool and hip. Our friends loved him. You would’ve been an idiot not to be drawn to him. He was an amazing human being, and loved by so many people. When a complication from pneumonia became too much for him to bear and he left this world, all of us were shattered with grief. It felt like the world we’re living now has lost a little bit of its colour.
It makes me wonder now if he’s also my guardian angel, watching over me and keeping me safe.
“I miss Abuelo,” I tell Brodie, sliding closer to him and placing my head on his shoulder.
“Yeah, me too,” he replies somberly, as he sways the swing bench gingerly.
After a few moments of contemplative silence, I speak up once again, “I visited Paul yesterday.”
“Yeah, Mum told me. How’d it go?”
