by Amanda Dick
Callum and I exchanged a wordless glance, and I could tell he was moved by her affection. My heart sighed. He cleared his throat as Aria handed him a blue cup, saucer and matching plate.
“This yours.”
He held onto them awkwardly, his huge hands dwarfing them.
“Blue, for boys,” she said, as if that explained everything.
“Ah. Right. Thanks.”
He smiled, obviously highly entertained by her reasoning, and much more relaxed, too. He leaned in closer to me.
“What do I do with them?”
His eyes were pretty impressive up close, a blue that was almost azure, like the Mediterranean. The ever-present five o’clock shadow leant him a roguish charm that made his eyes stand out even more. I found myself struggling to keep my mind on his question.
“This really is your first tea party, isn’t it?”
“Cut me some slack, okay? And keep me in the loop, so I don’t embarrass myself?”
My lips twitched, and he stared at me blankly, mischief sparkling in his eyes. It was exhausting, trying to keep up with his many guises.
“Don’t you dare hang me out to dry here,” he warned. “I’m a tea party virgin – have a heart. Karma, remember?”
Despite the residual anxiety, I stifled a chuckle, indicating my own tea set sitting on the blanket in front of me.
“Right,” he said, following my lead and layering his set the same way.
Tea cup, saucer, plate.
“I get the tea now,” Aria said, standing up with her pink plastic teapot in her hand.
She looked sternly from me to Callum and back again, as if she was afraid we would make a run for it in her absence.
“You stay here.”
We both nodded.
“Is she seriously getting real tea?” he murmured, turning from the retreating Aria back to me.
I couldn’t resist pulling his leg, he was so serious.
“Totally. She brews it herself. It’s special stuff, Gemma orders it online. It comes in little pink teabags, and it looks a hell of a lot like glitter. Tastes a bit like marzipan.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“No,” I smiled. “She’s probably getting juice, or water.”
“Ah. Okay. Good. I suppose a beer’s out of the question? No, it’s okay. Don’t answer that, I was kidding.”
He shifted around on the blanket, getting more comfortable, and his arm brushed against mine. I willed my heart to be still this time, but it blindly ignored me, racing in my chest like a herd of stampeding elephants.
Obviously, he had no intention of going anywhere, so I asked the one question that had been on my mind since he arrived.
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I heard about the tea party and I wanted in.”
There it was again, that hint of mischief. The way he flitted from mood to mood made my head spin.
“Kidding – again. Obviously. I wanted to see you.”
The twinkle was gone, and his expression was one of concern, and that same endearing uncertainty that kept reeling me in, time after time. As if he was overstepping the mark but he hoped I wouldn’t notice.
“I mean,” he corrected himself. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
It wasn’t so much that he was overstepping the mark. It was more that he was tap-dancing along it before running straight over it at full speed.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “As long as I stay here.”
He searched my eyes as if he were trying to gauge my sincerity. I wasn’t sure what he saw there, but it made me nervous. I cleared my throat and busily began to rearrange my tea set on the blanket in front of me.
“Yellow,” I said, trying to inject a bit of levity into the conversation. “For cowards. Apt, don’t you think?”
He didn’t reply and after a few moments, I looked up at him. He was staring at me intently.
“You’re not a coward. Far from it.”
“Feels like I am,” I murmured, turning my attention back to the tea set on the blanket in front of me because it was safer.
When he looked at me like that, it was like he was trying to burrow down beneath my defensive wall, and it scared me. Leo and Gemma rarely managed to get that far. He was a virtual stranger, and yet he was there already and he’d made it clear he wasn’t done digging yet.
We heard Aria talking to Gemma as she came out the back door, pink teapot in hand.
“Here comes the tea,” I said, anxious to change the subject.
I picked up my teacup and saucer and held it in my lap, waiting. When I risked a glance over at him, he was just staring back at me like he wanted to say something. Before he could, Aria sat down on the blanket in front of us, proudly holding the teapot.
“Tea?” she asked.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Don’t hide your scars. They make you who you are.”
– Frank Sinatra
Callum
I’d never spent much time with kids, I didn’t really know any. Mostly, they mystified me. I remembered what Sass had said, about kids and drunks being similar. Strangely, it helped. She was right, and the more time I spent with Aria, the more similarities I could find.
When it came to instructions, keep things simple. Check.
Put your foot down when things get out of hand. Check.
Use your powers of negotiation. Check.
I guess the fact that I’d spent a good proportion of my adulthood drunk, or bordering on it, made a difference. I understood how it was from the other side of the fence.
One thing about drunks though, they didn’t tend to be obsessed with the colour pink.
After the tea party, Aria had insisted I see her bedroom. It was weird, because that had always been the guest room. To see it now, filled with all things girly in a thousand different shades of pink, made it look completely different, and definitely lived in. Sass followed us around as Aria took it upon herself to show me almost every book on her bookshelf, her bedside lamp (in the shape of a fairy and – no surprises there – pink), her pink fluffy blanket and a selection of her favourite dolls (of which there were many). I was glad I hadn’t over-indulged at the bar last night. I think that tour landing on top of a hangover would’ve sent me over the edge.
I’d never met a kid with as much confidence. She wasn’t cocky, but she was sure as hell assertive. Bossy, even. Despite that, she really was fun to be around. She treated me carefully, like I was bordering on mentally deficient. It was kind of funny, actually, like she had taken it on herself to educate me, a new puppy she had been tasked with training.
I could tell from the way she and Sass were together that they were close. They were like sisters, but Sass was quite comfortable pulling rank when necessary. Most of the time, though, the line was blurred. Aria didn’t seem at all concerned with Sass’s arm, although she was careful of it, and I could see the inhibitions fade away when they were together. It was the most relaxed I’d ever seen her.
Sass sat on the bed, as Aria and I sat on the floor.
“Hey, you guys,” Gemma said, appearing in the doorway with Leo right behind her. “We’re gonna get going. I’ve made dinner. It’s in the oven, turned on low. Should be ready in about half an hour.”
“Are you off already?” Sass asked.
“Yeah. I’ve got dinner for me and Leo, we’ll just warm it up in the microwave at the bar later.”
Aria stood up and ran to her father, who picked her up and squeezed her tight.
“Goodnight, Doodlebug. Love you. You be good for Sassy, okay?”
“Okay Daddy.”
He put her down and Aria repeated the process with Gemma.
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” she asked, putting Aria down again as she addressed me. “There’s more than enough for the three of you.”
“She’s right – plenty to go around,” Leo said, digging his car keys out of his pocket.
I glanced quickly at Sass, who was
doing a good job of trying to blend into the background. I grabbed the bull by the horns.
“Sure, I’d love to. If it’s okay with you?”
Sass smiled, nodding.
“Sure.”
“Yay!” Aria cried, throwing her arms in the air like she’d just won the lottery.
“I think you have a fan,” Leo grinned, tousling her blonde curls.
“It’s settled then,” Gemma smiled. “You guys enjoy your night, and we’ll see you later.”
“Bye.”
Aria didn’t seem to suffer from any sort of separation anxiety, and she continued talking me through her doll collection as her parents went off to work. Twenty minutes later, Sass suggested we adjourn to the living room and I was quietly relieved. Secretly, I was looking forward to Aria being tucked up in bed so I could spend some time with Sass in private. I had a funny feeling that she was dreading it for the same reason, but I didn’t let that deter me. Something told me she’d been using Aria as a kind of buffer. I wasn’t sure why she felt she needed one, but I was interested to see what she was like without her.
For so long, my Saturday nights had been spent in Barney’s. Tonight, they would be spent trying to get behind the walls that Sass Hathaway had built around herself. I’d seen a different side of her that day, and it had given me a little more of an insight, one that I intended to use as a foundation block.
“Okay, dinnertime,” Sass announced, poking her head out of the kitchen.
Aria and I were sitting on the couch, watching TV. Some hellishly annoying kids show that I’d never seen before. It seemed creepy as hell to me, but she seemed to like it, and it was approved viewing according to Sass.
“Aria, time to wash up,” she said.
Aria clambered down from the couch and headed for the bathroom without another word. Watching TV seemed to have calmed her down, and I could tell bedtime wouldn’t be far away.
“You need any help?” I called after her.
“No, I can do it,” Aria said, disappearing down the hall.
Sass poked her head out of the kitchen, then realised who I was talking to.
“I thought you were asking me,” she mumbled in explanation.
“Do you need any help?” I smiled, trying to put her at ease.
She rolled her eyes, thankfully seeing the funny side.
“No thanks, I can do it.”
I headed into the kitchen anyway, at a loose end. She was just reaching in to pull dinner out of the oven. I wondered how she was going to manage, but she’d clearly said she didn’t need any help. She was right, she didn’t. She laid a folded up teatowel over her forearm and used another to pick up the dish with, resting it on her forearm and then carefully sliding it onto the counter. Very smooth.
I’d spent a lot of time recently wondering how she managed. I’d watched her at the bar, and she seemed to have things under control, but watching her today made me appreciate just how much planning went into doing things that I’d always taken for granted. Like Ally’s situation, planning was everything. Trying to anticipate problems and counteract them was the key to success. That, and not giving in.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, dishing up onto three plates, one smaller than the others.
“Starving,” I said honestly, standing beside her in readiness to take the plates through to the dining table.
I took the smaller one and one of the larger ones, as soon as she’d finished serving them, and just as Aria came into the kitchen.
“Where do these go?” I asked her, feigning ignorance.
She was fun to be around. I could see me being the cool uncle, once Jack and Ally got over their current issues. Maybe Jack needed to spend some more time with Aria, to see how much fun he could have with his own kid.
“On the table, silly!” she grinned, showing me the way.
I kept it up all through dinner.
“What do you do with this?” I asked her, picking up a fork and staring at it as if I’d never seen it before.
“You eat with it!”
“Oh! Okay.”
I turned it upside down and tried to shovel food onto it, but it kept falling off.
“Not like that!” she giggled, reaching over to show me. “Like this!”
She loaded it with food.
“Open up,” she said, opening her own mouth and coming at me with a forkload.
I did as I was told, and she nearly crammed the whole fork down my throat. I choked on it dramatically, taking the fork from her as she giggled at me.
“How come you’re using a spoon, and I’m using a fork?” I asked, still chewing.
She zipped her mouth shut with her fingers, shaking her head.
“Not eat with your mouth full,” she admonished.
Sass chuckled and I glanced over at her. She was sitting with her left arm in her lap, happily eating while Aria and I provided the entertainment.
“Right,” I said, smiling at Sass. “Sorry about that.”
“He needs a little help with his table manners, huh?” she said, winking at Aria.
Aria nodded, grinning.
It went on like that all through dinner, me playing dumb, Aria correcting me, and Sass laughing at us both. Finally, it was Aria’s bedtime, and Sass disappeared into her room to read her a story. While she was gone, I tidied the plates from the table and loaded the dishwasher, then washed and dried the oven dish and left it on the counter.
When she came back into the kitchen after putting Aria to bed, I was just wiping down the counter.
“Wow,” she said, visibly surprised. “You’re well trained. Thanks.”
I hung up the tea towel over the oven handle and turned to her, leaning back on the freshly-dried counter.
“It’s the least I can do.”
I looked around the kitchen, the memories flooding in. Me and Jack and our friendship, his parents, and the reason I spent so much time at his house in the first place – my own parents, and the disaster that was their marriage. Suddenly, it all felt very recent.
“I spent a good part of my life in this house,” I said. “Whenever I came over for dinner, it was always mine and Jack’s job to do the dishes.”
She leant back against the doorframe.
“I didn’t realise that. I mean, I knew this was Jack’s Dad’s place, I just didn’t know you guys were that close. So, you’ve known each other for a long time, then?”
I folded my arms across my chest.
“Since we were about ten. His family was the family I wished I had, that’s why I spent so much time here, I guess.”
I clammed up quickly. I hadn’t meant for things to get that personal, but it was too late. I was hoping to keep things light-hearted.
“Do you want a drink?” she asked, right on cue.
It was as if she’d read my mind.
“I’d love a beer.”
I could tell immediately that wasn’t what she had in mind.
“I was thinking coffee, but if you want a beer that’s cool.”
I did want a beer. Pretty desperately actually, but I knew she didn’t drink. For once, it was more important that she was comfortable, not that I had a beer on board, no matter how much I wanted one.
“No, coffee’d be great, thanks.”
She smiled hesitantly, then set about making coffee. She pulled out a couple of mugs from the overhead cabinet.
“Why don’t you go through to the living room? I’ll be through in a minute.”
“Sure, okay.”
Was she trying to get rid of me? Or maybe it was just that I was staring and it made her uncomfortable. The vibe had definitely changed now that it was just the two of us.
I went through to the living room, standing on the other side of the kitchen, wondering what the hell I could do to get back the easy-going, conversational vibe we’d lost. The piano drew my attention, and I went over to it, examining the sheet music that was laid out on the stand.
“Do you read music?”
<
br /> I turned around to find Sass holding two steaming mugs in one hand, carefully placing them on the coffee table.
“Me? God no. I was just, y’know, reading the words and stuff.”
I got up and went over to the couch, sitting down beside her. She sat back with her coffee, tucking one knee underneath her, then resting her mug on her thigh. She looked pretty relaxed again, so I took a chance. A big one.
“Did you play?” I asked, addressing the elephant in the room. “I know you played guitar. I’m not sure about piano.”
“I… yeah, I did.”
“I’m sorry – is that a really shitty thing to ask? It probably is. I have this knack of opening my mouth and putting my foot in it.”
She smiled, but I saw the hint of sadness there, just beneath the surface.
“No, it’s okay. I’m not used to… this, that’s all.”
“Not used to what?”
She shrugged, glancing briefly at the mug then back at me. I saw the fear in her eyes. I didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for.
“Talking about it.”
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” I assured her gently.
I expected her to politely tell me that she’d prefer it if we talked about something else, but she didn’t. I sensed the battle within her though, as if she was trying to decide if she was ready. From what I’d seen, she tended to teeter on the edge a lot of the time.
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured, her eyes finding mine again. “It’s just that I never really know what to say.”
I could understand that. On some level, I could definitely relate.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew who I was?” she asked. “And when did you figure it out?”
It was a fair question, but the truth was blunt and I wanted to spare her that. I tossed around words in my head, taking a sip of my coffee to buy some time.
“Was it the night that guy grabbed me?” she asked, watching me closely.
“Yeah.”
It was the truth. I wondered briefly if I should’ve lied. She smiled, but it was a humourless smile. I could see her putting the pieces together in her head.
