by Nicola Marsh
"So how many pubs constitute a crawl? Three?"
She laughed. "Try eight, my friend. And you have to drink in all of them."
"I’m a lightweight these days. Four of these?" I tapped my beer bottle. "And I’ll be blind."
"I’ll look after you." She winked and took a long swig of beer, while I could do was stare helplessly at the elegant column of her neck and quell the urge to nip her there.
"What have you been up to?" Wouldn’t bode well to mention I already knew she’d been partying up a storm. Screamed stalker.
"The usual. Studying. Going out. You know how it is."
Actually, I didn’t. Because all I’d ever done as an undergrad was study, paint and look after Mum.
She touched my hand and I swear my skin sizzled. "How about you?"
I shrugged. "Same old, same old."
We lapsed into an awkward silence and I silently cursed for leaving things so long between us.
"Do you want to check out the usual student haunts or try a few new bars?"
She stilled for a moment and looked away, as if I’d said the wrong thing. "I’d prefer seeing new bars."
"Okay. Ready to hit the next?" I downed the rest of my beer, eager to be on the move and hopefully work off this stiltedness between us.
"Sure." She slid off the stool and I noticed she’d barely touched her beer. "Let’s go."
I took her hand and thankfully she didn’t pull free. We dodged our way through the rowdy crowd and all I could think was how much I’d love to ditch the pub-crawl and take Dani back to my place.
On the rare times I did go out, I didn’t miss the sticky carpet from years of beer spills, the alcohol haze that hung over the patrons like a pall, the smell of stale cigarette smoke and the general sleaziness.
I didn’t want to spend the next few hours in dives like this. I wanted Dani, naked and warm in my arms.
But as she tugged me forward and we finally made it out onto the street, I knew I’d do whatever it took, including endure a night of trawling pubs, to be with this woman on a more permanent basis for whatever time we had left.
Chapter 19
DANI
I knew I was in trouble the moment I entered the fourth bar.
Usually, I’d thrive on discovering new places to drown my sorrows. It gave me a buzz: scoping out the crowd, trying new drinks, losing myself in the music.
Tonight was different. And not just because I had an amazing guy by my side, being supportive and fun.
Simply, the gloss had worn off.
Somewhere between Mia’s Skype call and nursing my third drink of the night at the third pub—usually I would’ve downed four at each place—I’d realized that this wasn’t working anymore.
I wasn’t feeling the usual buzz. Wasn’t having fun. Wasn’t forgetting.
Yet when I was with Ash, it didn’t matter.
Having him hold my hand, talking to me, listening to me, meant I didn’t have to drown out the pain that constantly plagued me. That insistent little voice inside my head that chanted ‘you’re a loser. You killed your baby. You’re the reason no-one loves you.’
When Mia had suggested I see a shrink, I hadn’t told her I already had. I’d been going a little nuts after I miscarried and had seen a psychologist a few times. Not one of the Beverly Hills shrinks frequented by my folks and their fake friends, but a woman in Venice Beach. She’d looked like a hippy, smelled like incense, sounded like a chain-smoker, but she’d been a lifesaver.
She’d let me talk. And talk. And talk. I’d spilled so many secrets with her I’d been a goddamned sieve. The best part, she hadn’t lectured or judged. She’d let me problem solve. Too bad once I stopped seeing her I chose other methods to numb the pain.
"You okay?"
I faked a yawn. "A bit tired."
Ash’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Don’t tell me your party animal reputation is crap."
"Been a long week." Been a long few months and I was finally realizing I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing.
Something had to give. As long as it wasn’t my sanity.
"Do you mind if we call it a night?"
He nodded, his smile fading. "I’ll take you home."
He said it hesitantly, like he half expected I’d refuse.
"Thanks, that’d be great." I slid my hand into his. "I’d like to talk."
"Uh-oh. That sounds bad."
"Actually, it’s good." At least, I hoped it would be. "Thanks for tonight. I know it’s not your scene." I kissed him on the cheek, surprisingly chaste when all I’d wanted to do all night was pash him silly.
"What gave it away? My walking stick or earplugs?"
I laughed. "You’re not that old."
He cupped his hand behind his ear. "Pardon? This music has made me deaf."
I nudged him with my elbow. "Come on, let’s get out of here."
The moment we stepped out into the crisp Melbourne air, I took a deep breath. Even though we were in the CBD, this city’s air was cleaner than LA on a good day.
"I’ll miss this when I leave." I released a breath, took another.
"This?" He swung our linked hands high. "You and me?"
"I meant the fresh air, but this too." I squeezed his hand when he lowered it. "Actually, that’s what I want to talk about."
"Me too." He turned to face me, his expression somber. "I know we said it’s not worth starting something serious because we’re too busy and you’re leaving. But I’ve changed my mind."
He released my hand, to step in closer and slide his arms around my waist. "I want us to be in a relationship, for whatever time we have together. I know we’ve got commitments elsewhere, but I reckon we can make this work. What do you think?"
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to shout it to the world how a guy as incredible as Ash could want to be with me.
But every, old insecurity I’d ever had reared up, plaguing me with familiar doubts. The main one being, was I good enough?
"I think you’re amazing, but …"
He stiffened, tension bracketing his mouth. "But what?"
"But what if I let you down? I’m unreliable and fickle and self-absorbed. I haven’t had a relationship before, I wouldn’t know how." I puffed out my cheeks. "And I suck at emotionally connecting with anyone."
"Well, when you put it like that …" The corners of his mouth curved into a devastating smile that made all that fresh air catch in my lungs. "Don’t overanalyze this. Trust what you feel in here." He placed a hand above my left breast, over my heart. "I think we’d be good together."
In the end, it was as simple as that.
Because I didn’t think we’d be good together. I thought we’d be frigging great together.
"Guess I have my first boyfriend," I said, beaming at him like a lunatic.
"Guess you do." He kissed me, hard and fast, and I combusted.
It was like that between us. Maybe because of the time since we’d last seen each other, maybe it was good old-fashioned pheromones, but whenever we kissed it was like the first time. Passionate and frantic and oh-so-hot.
When we eased apart, he rested his forehead against mine. "Want to hear something funny?"
"What?"
"I think I’m drunk." He straightened and held up both hands, fingers extended, thumb down on one hand. "I’ve had three drinks at each bar, so that’s nine in total."
I laughed. "So you wouldn’t have made that grand declaration if you’d been sober?"
He swooped in for another kiss. "It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks so yeah, I would’ve gone all soppy sober too."
I tapped my bottom lip, pretending to think. "If you’re drunk, does that mean I get to take advantage of you?"
"Hell yeah." He held his arms wide. "Have your wicked way with me. Do your worst, babe."
I stepped into his arms and when he wrapped them around me, I’d never felt so cherished. "Lucky for you, it’ll only be the best."
We couldn’t board a
tram fast enough.
Chapter 20
ASHTON
I hadn’t had a hangover this bad since I was fourteen and had drunk an entire bottle of ouzo to keep up with my mates.
Not that I was a teetotaler these days, but I didn’t have time to go out drinking and I didn’t have a hell of a lot of spare cash to spend on alcohol.
So those nine drinks last night? Had given me one mother of a headache. Combined with the dry mouth and the queasiness? Thank God I wouldn’t have to do it again anytime soon to impress Dani.
I rolled over in bed to watch her sleep and a rush of something so strong, so powerful, made me gasp like I’d been sucker-punched.
I cared for this woman.
More than I’d ever cared about anyone, discounting Mum.
And it terrified me.
Because now that I’d opened myself up to the possibility of more than friendship, I knew I’d get in too deep. Which meant inevitable pain when she left.
But I could handle it, because if there was one thing I’d learned watching Mum deteriorate, it was to make the most of every moment. I’d seen that old cliché life was too short proved before my very eyes and no way did I want to regret not having a relationship with Dani because it had an expiry date.
Dani slept, oblivious to my goofy grin as I watched her lips purse, emitting tiny puffs of air, while her eyelids fluttered occasionally. She had a fragility that she never displayed when awake.
In fact, she went out of her way to deflect any sign of emotion. Until last night.
After another bout of sensational sex, we’d talked long into the night. Corny stuff, like our favorite flicks and TV shows and childhood idols. I’d even done the unthinkable and turned off my mobile, something I never did, just so I could devote all my attention to Dani.
Because that’s another thing I noticed. Dani seemed to thrive with attention. It’s like she was starved of it as a kid and was making up for lost time now. Fine by me. I’d be happy to pay her all the attention she deserved for the time we had left.
That’s when it hit me. I’d been so distracted, so captivated, by my new relationship with Dani I hadn’t turned my mobile back on last night. It shouldn’t be a problem but it was my only connection to Mum and I worried if the special accommodation couldn’t contact me in an emergency.
Feeling a tad guilty, I slipped out of bed, pulled on jeans, and padded into the lounge room where I’d left it last night. I found it under a cushion, one of many that we’d pulled off the sofa when we’d gone at it the first time and hadn’t made it to the bedroom.
I pressed the on switch and waited, knowing I’d have the usual messages from recalcitrant students wanting to reschedule their tutoring sessions and not much else.
But when the screen flickered to life, I had three messages from the special accom, thirty minutes apart, starting at six thirty this morning.
Shit.
Dread curdled in my gut as I spoke to the charge nurse, who outlined what had happened in succinct detail. Mum had wandered in the early hours this morning and had fallen, spraining her ankle, breaking several ribs and slicing open her hand so badly it needed stitches.
She’d been transferred to the nearest hospital and was asking for me. Fuck.
After disconnecting, I scrambled around for my clothes. I hadn’t imagined the nurse’s judgmental tone when they hadn’t been able to contact me and I didn’t blame her.
I blamed myself.
"You’re not staying for breakfast?" Dani propped in the lounge room doorway, sleep-tousled and bleary-eyed, stifling a yawn. "I thought we could stroll down to Lygon Street for coffee and—"
"I have to go," I almost shouted, shoving papers on the coffee table aside in search of my wallet. "Mum’s in the hospital."
"Is she okay—"
"I don’t fucking know."
She flinched and rather than feel guilty, I felt annoyed. And incredibly angry that I’d been distracted to the point of stupidity last night.
"I’ll call you later—"
"I’ll be busy with Mum," I said, snatching up my wallet and trying to ignore the heavy metal band jamming inside my head. "See you."
I ran out the door and sprinted for the nearest tram.
If only I could out-sprint my guilt as easily.
I’d really screwed up last night. I should never have turned off my phone and allowed myself to get distracted. And rather than accepting the blame, I’d pushed Dani away.
What a fucking mess.
For now, I’d see if Mum was okay and I’d deal with groveling to Dani later.
Chapter 21
DANI
After Ash left, I went through the motions. Showered. Dressed. Ate cereal. But once I’d rinsed my bowl, stacked the dishwasher, headed into the lounge to watch some mindless TV and caught sight of the cushions scattered across the floor, the reality of what had happened came crashing down.
Ash and I had been so hot for each other last night we’d tumbled from the sofa to the floor along with those cushions. We’d been oblivious to everything, caught up in our newly created fantasy world where mismatched couples like us actually had a chance at happily ever after.
What a frikking joke.
It had been inevitable, Ash pushing me away. It was only a matter of time. It was what people did to me.
So it happened earlier than expected? Like twelve hours after I’d finally opened my heart to the possibility of a relationship. Shouldn’t surprise me. It hadn’t in the past and it wouldn’t in the future.
But unlike those times in the past—when Mom didn’t show for my grade school ballet concert, when Dad played a round of golf rather than attend my baseball tryouts, when Mia blew me off to spend the evening with Kye—this time the pain was so deep it gutted. I felt like my insides had been stabbed, diced and extricated one bit at a time, until all that was left was hollow.
I didn’t want to feel like this. But I was done trying to obliterate my messes by using short-term memory swiping techniques.
Not once, in the last three years, had I forgotten. No matter what I tried, the memory was there. Taunting me. Haunting me.
A loud sob exploded from deep within and I collapsed onto the sofa, curled up in a ball, and rocked until I could breathe again.
I would survive this. I’d survived worse.
Then why did I feel like I was shattering from the inside out, one tiny piece at a time?
Chapter 22
ASHTON
Thankfully, Mum was lucid when I arrived at the hospital. And despite three cracked ribs, a sprained ankle and a bandaged hand that had required nine stitches, she was in good spirits.
"Sorry I wasn’t here for you last night, Mum."
She waved away my apology with her good hand. "Don’t be silly. You can’t be at the beck and call of a clumsy old woman day and night."
"But I had my phone turned off—"
"You have a life, Ashton." She smiled, the clarity of her eyes bringing a lump to my throat. "You need to live it."
"I do …" Didn’t I? Because apart from the wonderful times with Dani since she’d run me over, I hadn’t been alive. Not really. I’d been functioning. Doing what had to be done. Playing the devoted son, working my arse off, at the expense of the things I loved. Movies. Footy. Painting.
I missed that most, the freedom to enter my studio and indulge in a creative free-for-all. Paint without deadlines, without constrictions. Paint for me.
"The nurses say you visit me twice a week," she said, patting the side of the bed for me to sit. "Is that true?"
I nodded and sat. "I’d come daily if I could but work keeps me busy—"
"I want you to stop." She held up her hand and it shook. "I’m sorry, Son. I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I can count the number of times I remember you coming to visit me in the last few months on one hand."
Her voice, which had once been so clear and vibrant, trembled with uncertainty. "I hate this bloody disease for that alon
e, that the one person in this world I adore visits and I can’t remember. But that’s exactly why I’m going to say this—"
"Mum, it’s okay. I don’t mind that you don’t know me. It’s part of the dementia and—"
"Stop. Listen." She stared at the bed sheets for an interminable time and I could see her lips moving slightly, as if she were rehearsing what she had to say. "Whether you come every day or once a year, I won’t know. Am I happy I’m having a good day today? Bloody oath. But we both know it won’t last and that as I deteriorate, there’ll be more bad days than good."
Wow, during all the chats we’d had while Mum was okay and coming to terms with her dementia, not once had she been so accepting.
She held out her hand to me. "I want you to make me a promise."
I took her hand and squeezed. "Anything."
"Promise me you’ll live your life on your terms. Take advantage of every opportunity that comes your way. Go away for a while. Take a holiday. Do whatever it takes to make you happy and don’t feel guilty about me, okay?"
She was asking the impossible. As if I could go away anywhere let alone on a holiday when she was in this state. Look what happened last night when I’d been off the grid for a few hours.
"Promise me, Ashton." Her tone had risen and rather than get her worked up, I nodded.
"Promise."
She raised my hand to her cheek and pressed against it. "You always were a good boy. My pride and joy."
"You’re pretty amazing too, Mum."
Tears filled her eyes as she opened her arms to me. "Come and give your old mum a hug."
I didn’t need to be asked twice as Mum gave me something more precious than her pep talk; a real, honest to goodness hug, the kind she used to give me as a kid. Tight, warm, squishy, with just the right amount of pressure.
Lord, how I missed her. I missed the woman she’d been every single day. Bright and bubbly and vivacious. Grabbing life by the throat and giving it a good shake up.
