by Angela Peach
A HEART IN TWO CITIES
by
ANGELA PEACH
and
S J CAMPBELL
Copyright ©2018 Angela Peach and S J Campbell.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British library.
Cover Art — Marcus Marritt Illustrator
Published by RingeAlba Books.
ISBN 978-0-9932535-6-0
CHAPTER ONE
Sometimes, looking up at the clouds passing by overhead would make me so dizzy I'd have to close my eyes and hold my breath until the feeling receded to a manageable level. Today was one of those days, but the unsteadiness refused to ease off and I knew I was going to struggle to pull myself out of this particular funk.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself up from the ground I was laying on and rested my head on my knees. I felt so confused, unsure of how to feel or handle my emotions or even the situation. I mean, for one thing I wasn't sure whether to walk across the graveyard and join the funeral or not. Would I even be welcomed? If I blamed myself for her death, surely the rest of her family would too? I wouldn't forget the look her mother had given me in the hospital in a hurry, that was for sure.
I rubbed my face hard, wondering if I should be crying. So fucking confused. Don't get me wrong, I of all people, was used to feeling confused. It was so normal for me now that, well, it was normal! But this was something I'd never thought would happen and there weren't even any support groups available because I'd checked. I suppose not many people got killed on a first date.
And I'd really liked her, too. Her name had been Poppy and she'd had the darkest eyes I'd ever seen. She'd had kind of an old style gypsy look about her, as if she should be peering knowingly into a crystal ball to tell you your future. Although if that had been the case I'm pretty sure she would have run as far away from me as possible. As quickly as possible.
I'd been really looking forward to getting to know her better. And yes, that translated into 'I'd been looking forward to shagging her brains out' just as much and I didn't care if that made me shallow.
I played with the unopened pack of cigarettes in my hand, contemplating having one although I’d never smoked before (well, in a way I suppose I sort of had...no, I didn’t want to think about her today because Poppy deserved all of my attention) I knew though, that if I tried to smoke one of these, I'd probably end up hacking and hawking my guts up, but I just felt like it was the right time to finally have one. As a trickle of sweat rolled down the side of my face, I sighed again. Poor Poppy, the cowgirl from Ohio with the dark eyes and the sexy come to bed smile.
I lay back down and closed my eyes to block out the sun and the world.
*** *** ***
It was nearly an hour later before I ‘woke’ sitting up and staring at my surroundings in puzzlement, making sure I was still this ‘me’ before relaxing. You see, I don't sleep or dream, so getting lost in my thoughts with my eyes closed was the closest I got to being asleep. But I always had to check where I was carefully when I did 'wake up' to make sure I knew who I was.
The Arkansas sky was a deep azure blue and I gazed up at it smiling before I remembered where I was and why I was there. The funeral was bound to have come to an end by now, so I got to my feet and brushed the dust and dirt from my new black pants (bought specially for today) before shakily and hesitantly walking down the hill, keeping my eyes alert for any of Poppy's friends and family. To be honest, even if they didn't blame me, I couldn't bear to see their pain and tears and anguish that I had ultimately been the root cause of.
My cell ringing in my pocket shook me from my thoughts and I debated letting it go to answer phone, but I'm just too damn nosey to not at least see who it was calling, so I fished it out, instantly glad I had.
“Hey mom, you ok?”
“Of course I am, Nikki honey, I was just calling to see how you were holding up. Did you go in the end?”
Mom had known the turmoil I'd been experiencing about whether or not to attend Poppy's funeral and told me to just follow my heart. I ran a hand through my short red hair, looking up at the sky again.
“Kinda. I came, but I just stayed out of the way.”
“I thought you would. So will you be back for dinner?”
“I'll be home soon, but I'm not hungry so don't keep me anything.” I knew she would anyway. Just in case.
“Ok, sweetie. Well, I'll see you soon then. Ride carefully?”
“Always do. Love you mom.”
“Love you too.”
We hung up and I realised I'd managed to get to Poppy's final resting place, currently a nasty brown gash in the ground waiting to be filled in properly. Everything seemed very surreal all of a sudden — the baking hot sun refused to penetrate the chill surrounding me and the air became heavy and hard to draw into my lungs.
“Oh, Poppy. I'm so sorry.” I whispered, feeling tears well in my eyes. But they were selfish tears born of guilt and regret and I refused to let them fall. Because despite barely knowing the girl, currently residing six feet below me, I'd definitely wanted to get to know her. We'd started out so well with so much promise.
“Oh. It's you.”
I think I may have cringed, even as I jumped. I recognised the voice before I saw the owner and I don't really know why I was so surprised that she was still here when everyone else had gone on to the wake. Poppy had been really close to her sister, Malena, who, apart from looking at me with what seemed like barely concealed hatred, had been the only family member that had spoken to me at the hospital.
“Hi.”
We stood awkwardly for a minute, not knowing what to say. I mean, what could we say? I noted that her dark eyes, not so dissimilar from her sister's, were dry and wondered how she'd managed to hold herself together. Then the thought occurred to me that maybe she'd been saving them for a private moment. Like now.
“Uh...I'd better make a move. I'm sorry.” I started turning to walk away but she grabbed my arm.
“Wait! Nikki, please stay a while longer? I thought I wanted to be alone...” she trailed off but the evident desperation was something I couldn't ignore. For some bizarre reason I felt if I said that my mom was waiting for me to come home it would grind salt into her wound.
“Ok.”
Her shoulders sagged in relief, but then we seemed stuck on looking awkwardly at each other not knowing what to say. I frantically rummaged my muddled mind.
“The doctors said...they said she didn't suffer, y'know cos...I mean, you were there with her...did...did she?” Malena stuttered, her voice choking off to a whisper at the end. I shook my head vehemently.
“No! It was all so quick, but I'm pretty sure she didn't...you know.”
“She didn't deserve to die. She had so many plans. She was supposed to...oh God, I think I need to sit down.”
She kind of fell down in a strange crumpled manner and I rushed to her side.
“Can I get you anything?” It was a stupid question because obviously there was only one thing she needed.
“A cigarette?
I'd really like a smoke if you've got one?”
I berated myself for feeling stupidly pleased that I had exactly what she had asked for, fumbling with the wrapper to open it and pass her one. Maybe I should always carry a pack around, like an alternative first aid kit. I noticed both our hands were shaking as I struck a match and she had to hold mine with her own in order for the flame to make contact. Then she looked so content after taking a really deep drag that I pulled one out for myself, hoping I wasn't going to look stupid. Malena hurried to help hold my hands steady when I lit the match and I made eye contact with her.
Thank you.
She gave the briefest of smiles.
You're welcome.
Then I had a spectacular coughing fit as the alien smoke hit my lungs and was rejected immediately.
“Shit, are you ok?”
I nodded, waving one of my hands to dismiss her worry.
“Fine...just...” A fresh wave of coughs hit and I could feel my face getting redder and redder, not just with the exertion but with embarrassment too.
“Not had one for a while, huh?”
I managed to get some modicum of control back and shook my head.
“No. Don't even know why I started in the first place. Or why I bought these.” I held the pack out to her. “You can have them if you want?”
“Thanks. Although if I'm perfectly honest, I gave up a few years ago. I just felt like one ever since...” Her jaw moved, so she put the cigarette in and took another deep drag. I regarded mine and decided to butt it out on the ground rather than risk further choking, but because it felt wrong to be leaving it on the ground, I kept hold of it in my clammy hand. A plane flew overhead and we both looked up to watch it, glad of the diversion.
“When I was younger, I thought the clouds were the souls of dead people floating around in the sky. I thought that the rain was the dead souls way of crying on us, sobbing and wishing they could come back, but because it was always so sunny and cloudless here, that this was a good place to live and die. I thought here was better than there, in the UK, cos it always rains there.”
My outburst surprised even me, and I wished I could take it all back. I wished I could find solace in the drag of a cigarette. I wished I could just get away with running back to the car park, gunning up my bike and getting the fuck out of this town as if I had the devil on my tail. I was opening my mouth to apologise when she spoke.
“Would...would you like to go for a drink?”
I stared at her in shock — that was definitely not the reaction I'd expected.
“I don't think I'd be very welcome,” I mumbled, trying to stuff my hands into pockets that just weren't in these pants.
“I didn't mean the wake. I meant would you like to come to a dirty bar and get blind steamin' drunk with me? I don't think I can handle the whole family thing, y'know? Please?”
“Uh...sure. But I've got my bike with me...”
“That's ok, I can ride with you. I'll pay for a cab to get you home,” she added, almost desperately.
“Ok, I’ll come...but you don’t need to pay for my cab.” With that we both fell silent again.
It was another hour before we both walked with heavy legs back to my Ducati Monster, stood proud and alone in the cool shadow of a tree waiting for me. I unlocked my helmet and handed it to her while I got Monster fired up. I'd had her for nearly two years now, but the sound of her purring still pleased me. Malena seemed suitably impressed although she looked like she was struggling with the chin strap. I beckoned her to me so I could tighten it, ignoring her breasts pushing against my elbow.
“Make sure you hold on tight, ok? I mean real tight.” She nodded, and I hoped she understood the importance of this instruction. My bike was fast, and even though I wasn't planning on opening her up, she was still pretty lethal. “And lean with me when we go round corners — it'll make it easier for me.”
“I know. My ex had a bike, but it wasn't as nice as this one.”
She swung her leg up and over, sitting snug against me and wrapping her arms around me tight before I twisted the throttle and headed for the bar we'd agreed on during the walk back. It was in the next town, which suited us both just fine — I don't think either of us was in the mood to bump into anyone we knew.
The bar was indeed dirty and the sort of dive I'd normally feel uncomfortable just walking by in broad daylight. But we weren’t really in the mood to care and we walked on through the front entrance like we were regulars, ignoring the stares from all the actual regulars. At the bar, she ordered some shots of Wild Turkey, telling the barman to “Keep 'em comin'” which he did very successfully.
There are moments in your life which stand out as being huge, big mistakes and you are fully aware of this even as you willingly do whatever it is you are doing, but you do it anyway.
That was how I felt when Malena and I ended up in a cheap, dirty motel quite a few hours later, tearing at each other's clothes angrily while our mouths smashed together in a lustful embrace.
I'd deal with the consequences tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWO
I came to with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, my lips cracking dry and a shiver beginning to work its way up my body. I had kicked the sheets off in my slumber again, forever fighting invisible demons in my dreamless sleep. I reluctantly dragged my body from the mattress, flicking on the one-bar heater on my way to the kitchen area where my kettle lived.
I leant against the units as I waited for the boil, one arm wrapped across my stomach, the other rubbing my head. I’d drunk too much again the night before it would seem.
I looked around my apartment — bed in the far corner, door off to the bathroom, an old two-seater at one wall and in front of my large windows stood my canvas.
My empty canvas.
I made my tea and sat sipping cross-legged on the couch, staring at the blank canvas, as the sun shone in, illuminating the dust in the air, moving endlessly.
This is all I have to show for my life: a flat I can barely afford and only enough clean pants to get me through a week. My life could have been so different and, as always moments after waking, my thoughts turned to Helena. I thought of her smile and how it illuminated my life like a sun, bringing warmth and a heat inside me. I thought of the touch of her fingers, tracing designs on my skin and how I longed to feel her body on mine once more.
At sixteen, Helena had walked into my classroom and sat beside me, as she always did. We had been best friends since our very first day at Primary School. She leant over and whispered to me, “David has asked me to the school dance.”
I felt my face redden with fury. I had the temper to go with my fiery hair. “What did you say?”
She laughed, tossing her long, curly brown hair over her shoulders in a move that froze me with its eroticism. My belly button danced, as I gulped down my yearning. “I told him no, of course, Nick.” Then she leant in even closer, “You know I only have eyes for you.”
I shivered, not knowing how I would get through the rest of the day, until I could hold her in my arms, feeling the pressure of her breasts on mine and kiss her.
She moved back, smiling at the effect she knew she had on me, leaving her leg touching mine. I would die of anticipation. We had been lovers for years by then, even at that tender age. When Helena wanted something, there was no-one who could stand in her way and Helena wanted me. I let her have me, powerless to resist her mesmerising dark eyes and I loved her with all of my heart.
I would love her forever, too.
I never knew how good love could be until I could no longer hold it, like sand slipping through my fingers.
As my thoughts followed the familiar road to darkness, I got up to look for my cigarettes, finding a crumpled pack of ‘Marlboros’ under my discarded jumper. I pulled the jumper on over the top of my vest, wandering over to the gas cooker, the jumper covering my pants, leaving my legs bare. I clicked on a ring, carefully bending down to light my smoke without singeing my hair.
I inhaled, ready to face the painful memories with the assistance of nicotine.
Oh my darling, Helena, my reason for existing.
The old anger rushed up, taking me by surprise and I slid down my kitchen units, bringing my knees up to my face, curling into a ball. It didn’t stop the pain reaching in and clenching an ice cold fist around my heart, squeezing the happiness from my life.
“I could have loved you,” I said to no-one. But always to Helena.
It’s no good how this misery creeps up on me at every opportunity, a snake that winds its way up my legs and across my stomach, laying a weight on my chest. I have enough darkness in my life without the black of love throwing itself over me, like a blinding cape.
I took the last drag of my fag and threw it in the sink, running the tap a few seconds. I found the packet to light another but it was empty. I groaned because now I would have to go out.
Over at my bed, I slipped on the jeans and socks I’d thrown in a corner and stood into some scuffed boots, not bothering to lace them. I had a washed out coffee jar that I kept my change in and I turned it upside-down, the coins rattling on the work surface. I have been reduced to counting pennies to buy myself some cigarettes.
On my eighteenth birthday, Helena had given me a delicately wrapped box and I had been afraid to open it.
“What is it?” I had asked, with a tremble in my voice.
“Open it and see, silly,” she had smiled.
My fingers shook and I pulled off the paper. A box.
“A box,” I said.
“You are a box,” she said, kissing me.
I opened the box and saw two beautiful diamond stud earrings. Helena’s mum and dad had plenty of money and she was never afraid to spend it.
“They’re gorgeous,” I said, the breath whipped from me.
“Put them on.” A whisper here and there in memory.
