Something Real

by Ariadne Wayne

  His lips twitched, and his eyes flashed with annoyance. “You won’t get any better.”

  “How about double?”

  He stifled a sigh, and I smirked as I knew I had him.

  “I could add another couple of hundred maybe, but I really don’t think I can …”

  “Oh well, thanks for your help. I think I’ll take up the other offer I have.”

  “Other offer?”

  I pulled out the piece of paper Mr Johnson had given me with the much higher figure written on it.

  Now I had him. His eyes nearly burst when he saw what I had, and he took a deep breath. Gotcha.

  “I didn’t realise I was doing a comparison quote.”

  I cocked my head, trying to look as innocent as I could. “Does it really matter?”

  His lips pursed as he continued to look a the number on the paper.

  “I mean, how much do you really want it? If you don’t, then I’ll just call my other contact and let him have it.”

  And that was how I got an extra thousand dollars for a piece of furniture I’d thought was worthless. It was such a relief to have the money. Now, to spend a little and make a new life.

  We drove halfway across town to a computer store. I'd learned what I could in my last job. In the absence of IT staff, I was literate enough to understand some specifications when we’d had to buy new equipment or hardware.

  The salesman looked bored, fiddling with his tie and looking at his watch as if he didn’t want to be there.

  “I need a laptop,” I said.

  “What are you looking for? There are quite a lot to choose from.”

  No shit, Sherlock.

  “I don’t want anything too extravagant. I don’t have a huge amount of money. Just something I can use the Internet on and write with.”

  He nodded, still looking at me as if I were an idiot.

  “Look. Something that isn’t going to be so slow I’ll want to punch it, but not top of the line.”

  “Can we play games on it?” Jack asked.

  “Maybe basic things. It’s not really for that, honey.”

  The salesman steered me to one in the corner, and I started clicking on things, while he stood, tapping his foot impatiently.

  “Are you supposed to be doing that?” Jack asked.

  “They’re for demonstration, so why not?” I asked.

  I loaded up the web browser and waited. And waited. The programme was showing no signs to coming up, and that was before we even got to look at the internet.

  “Yeah, no. I want something better than this.”

  Our of the corner of my eye, I caught the salesperson rolling his eyes. I let out a loud sigh. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

  I turned to go, and as I was leaving spotted a woman on the other side of the room, talking a million miles a minute at the salesperson she’d ended up with. His eyes were darting around as she threw acronyms and technical words at him. It would appear that she was schooling him. All with a baby on her shoulder.

  By her side was a dark-haired little girl, and Thomas’s eyes widened at the sight of her. He tugged at my sleeve. “Mummy, that’s Mia.”

  “Who’s Mia?”

  “She’s at day-care sometimes.”

  I smiled at him. “Do you want to say hello to her?”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Is that your girlfriend?” Jack asked.

  Thomas frowned, probably not really understanding what Jack was asking. “Yes.” He pouted.

  I chuckled. “Come on then. From the looks of it, her mother can help us find what we’re looking for.”

  We walked away, leaving the salesperson standing there beside the slow computer he’d tried to sell me.

  “Mia!” Thomas called out.

  The little girl looked at him and grinned.

  “Who’s that, sweetie?” her mother asked.

  “Thomas. From day-care.”

  I drew closer, and smiled at the woman. “Thomas recognised Mia from across the room. I’m Olivia,” I said.

  “Rowan. And this is Charlie.” She turned so I could see the baby.

  “Nice to meet you. Say, you seem to know what you’re talking about. Could you help me find a laptop? If you’ve got the time, that is.”

  She eyed the salesperson smugly. “I’m sure I can do that. I’m after a new one, too. Maybe they’ll give us a discount if we buy two.”

  The man fidgeted, looking up at the ceiling. I couldn't see a discount coming, but I could see how uncomfortable we were making him.

  I think I loved her. It was clear her knowledge was superior to these young guys they’d employed, and she went on to ask a whole bunch of questions that I had no idea about.

  When she’d made her selection, she smiled at me. “So, what are you after?”

  “Nothing expensive. Something that will let me write documents and use the Internet. Something fast enough that I won’t want to punch myself in the face using it.”

  Rowan laughed. “Oh, you need something like this.” In an instant she pointed me in the right direction and I reached for the laptop in question, clicking on the web browser that sprung open as soon as I clicked it.

  “That is so much better than the one he was trying to sell me.”

  “I come here for the pricing, not because they know what they’re doing,” she murmured.

  I laughed out loud, managing to get sideways looks from the salesmen.

  She looked down at Jack and Thomas. “How exciting, Mum getting a new computer.”

  Charlie made a squeaking noise and she patted him on the back. “We’ll be on our way home very soon, sweetheart.”

  “I’m sorry to have held you up,” I said.

  Her hazel eyes widened. “No, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to have helped.”

  She made her purchase and Thomas and Mia waved at one another as they left. I turned back to the salesperson.

  “That one, please.” I pointed at the one Rowan had recommended.

  Job done.

  Chapter Five

  Taking the laptop out of the box, I had a child on either side of me, jumping up and down with excitement. It felt so good to have something new that was all ours.

  As I started it up and worked through the setup, their enthusiasm waned and after a while I realised I was sitting there alone while they’d grabbed a book and were sitting on the couch.

  “Done,” I said as it finally loaded.

  All of a sudden I had my audience back as two very excited little boys were back with me. I’d bought a couple of games I’d been told would work on it, and I would use it after they went to bed. They could have a turn first; they deserved something new too.

  “One day we’ll have enough to have a computer each. Right now, we have to share,” I said.

  They nodded in unison. I’d always loved that they were so close.

  It set them in good stead. Now they quietly took turns at the Lego game we’d bought, one cheering on the other. I’d never been more proud.

  “Maybe next we get a console. Then you can have a controller each,” I said quietly.

  When they went to bed, I sat staring at the screen. Something in me wanted to write, but what should I write?

  And then it happened. A tsunami of words washed over me as I began to type. Overwhelmed by recent events, the story of Evan and my relationship hit the screen.

  The more I wrote, the more outraged I became. I’d been his doormat for so many years. He’d always treated me as if he were some kind of trophy, that I wasn’t quite worthy, but somehow I had kept him. But now I saw who he really was. A selfish, lazy man who hadn’t been worth it. I’d given him and our family everything I’d had. He’d taken it all and still hadn’t been happy.

  I looked at the time. The boys had been in bed since 7.30 pm and it was now 10.25pm. Three hours had flown by and my recount of my story had only just reached the point where I’d discovered I was pregnant with Thomas.

  My face was wet with tears,
as I read over the words. Seeing the cruelty I’d endured for all this time in words on the screen was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. How had I not seen our relationship for what it was?

  I loved my sons more than anything else in the world. Evan had used me, exploited me for everything he could get.

  And then he’d left.

  I tilted my head, looking at the screen as I pondered what I’d written. Could I turn it into a story for publication? Where, God knew, but I’d cried the whole time writing it. Surely someone else would feel that emotion, relate it to his or her own experience. Maybe I could help someone stuck in a similar situation recognise it for what it was.

  At the thought of writing the next part, I paused. My pregnancy with Thomas was the hardest part of our relationship. At least, I’d thought so at the time.

  I sat on the bed, waiting nervously for Evan to come home. When he did, he smelled like he’d emptied the fridges, and wanted sex. He was the father of my children, and I still loved him.. The first boyfriend I’d ever had, the first man I’d ever slept with, the one I’d thought would love me forever.

  We were always working on it, trying to make things better. It just took me a very long time to realise: there was nothing to work on.

  “Why, Olivia? Why did you do it again?” He sounded exasperated, as if he had lost patience with me over some tiny imagined misdemeanour. He was talking about our child growing inside me.

  “You were involved too. I didn’t just magic this child up.”

  “How do I even know it’s mine?”

  My blood ran cold as he said the words. Even if I had wanted to look elsewhere, where would I ever find the time or the energy? When I wasn’t at work, I was at home.

  Bursting into tears, I gritted my teeth and fisted my hands. “You know damn well you’re the only man I’ve ever slept with. Just stop it, Evan. Please.”

  “You know this makes it harder for me to find a job. I’ll have to stay home with the baby again so it doesn’t cost us a fortune in childcare.”

  And so we went around in a circle. Once again I’d be the one to provide for my family. I didn’t mind that; I didn’t even mind if he wanted to stay home with the children. But for the right reasons, not because he couldn’t be bothered doing anything to help.

  But that was he. That was always him.

  I sat back and stared at the words on the screen. After that night, Evan had never again voiced the opinion that Thomas might not be his. Of course he knew that was ludicrous. He knew I’d never stray, knew I was far too dedicated to him and our family to do anything to screw it up.

  Saving what I’d written, I closed down the laptop. Time for bed and sleep. Maybe I could write some more tomorrow. Even if no one else ever read it, it felt good to get all those feelings out.

  A peaceful feeling came over me, one I hadn’t felt in forever. None of this mattered. I was still angry with Evan for leaving me this way, but the rest of my little family was intact and we were warm and dry and fed.

  Not everyone was that lucky.

  * * *

  When the boys were in bed the following night, I read what I’d written the night before. I cried all over again, remembering all the bad times. All this time, and I never realised they outnumbered the good.

  Two of the brightest moments were the births of my boys. Those two days were the best of my life, overriding anything Evan did or said to me. I smiled through my tears.

  My heart swelled with love. This tiny little baby in my arms was mine. All mine. Evan was his father, but I would be the one to feed him, nurture him. At least for a little while. The thought of returning to work was like a punch in the gut. But for the moment I sat in the hospital bed, nursing my child in my arms, breathing in the scent of new baby. Nothing could make my life any more perfect right now.

  One day. One day I’ll share this story with my children. Maybe not the worst parts of my relationship with their father, but these bits. The lines to show them just how much their mother loved them from the second she laid eyes on them.

  I loaded up a web browser and went looking for the information I needed about submitting books to publishers. Maybe there was hope for that old manuscript yet.

  And then I stumbled on the biggest revelation ever.

  I could do it myself.

  Pages on pages of information. Editors, cover designers, everything I could ever want at my fingertips. I hadn’t had any time for any hobbies or room for anything for myself for years. Now was my chance.

  The more I read, the more excited I got. I trawled through forums, reading up about how to do it and who to buy from. It would take an investment to get started, but I could make it happen. I could really do it.

  I needed something to give my life meaning. The boys were everything to me, but I needed something just for me, something that would give me the personal satisfaction I craved.

  Downloading some free books, all different genres, I started reading. There were so many amazing novels out there, and I wanted to be a part of it. But I wanted to read what else there was, give myself an idea of what was popular, what people would read.

  It didn’t have to sell a million copies, but it would be nice to make my investment back.

  The story I’d dug out of the box was a romance. They were popular, and some of the short stories I read made my cheeks burn with embarrassment. But I could do this. If anything, they were inspiring. I found myself laughing and crying, and all of a sudden it was midnight.

  And I had to be up at 6am.

  Reluctantly, I closed the laptop, promising myself more tomorrow night. Maybe I could buy a tablet or something to read on, catch up on my lunch break.

  It had been a long, long time since anything had excited me so much.

  Chapter Six

  I read so many books, short stories, and anything else I could get through that my head was spinning. This was what people were buying? I’d always loved losing myself in bookstores, wandering in and picking up anything that took my fancy, sometime flicking through the pages. None of those books were like this.

  Loading up on free books, I spent hours curled up after the boys went to bed, reading, gaping, gasping, and crying.

  Could I really do this?

  Sex seemed to sell. I could write sex. I’d had sex. Quite a few times, in fact. Not always great sex, but in fiction, all sex was great sex.

  I had life experience. I was sure I could make up some amazing, romantic, maybe even funny stories.

  How about a broken heart? Yeah, I could write all about that. My mother broke my heart when she kicked me out, and then after the tenderest night of our marriage, even my husband, who had neglected me for so long, broke my heart. Just a little.

  I’d bought a tablet to read on. My quest for knowledge led me from book to book and I consumed everything I could.

  I made a list of ideas before settling on trying something new. All my reading had led to me realise that my seventeen year old writing wasn't really the best thing ever written. Now I wanted to write something different. It felt so weird at first; I’d been so self-contained for so long, but now I could pour my emotion onto the screen and let it all out.

  A mess of sexual frustration compounded by my loneliness all fell out into the document. And there had to be a hero, a hero that was unlike any other man the heroine had met. One who would sweep her off her feet and love her forever, always be faithful, never be mean.

  This felt better than anything had in a very long time. But would anyone other than me ever read it?

  Sitting on the couch at work, sandwich in one hand, tablet in the other, I started to read over what I’d written. It wasn’t that long, maybe 20,000 words, but it had a start, a middle and an end. What else did a story need?

  Distracted, I didn’t notice Rebecca until my tablet was snatched from my hand.

  “Whatcha reading?”

  She sat beside me, and read a few lines before her jaw dropped. “What the hell is this? Holy sh
it, that’s hot.”

  I shrugged, reaching for it.

  “Hell, no. I want to read some more. What is it?”

  “Just something I’m reading.”

  “Yeah, but what’s it called? I love romance books. I want to download it on my phone.”

  Shit.

  “I don’t know. A friend wrote it. I’m just reading it through for her.”

  She looked at me, raising an eyebrow and cocking her head. “What’s your friend’s name? Is there more? Can I buy it?”

  “Rebecca, can I please have it back?”

  Handing me back my tablet slowly, her eyes bore into me. “What’s the big deal? You go quite red when you’re flustered." I looked down, and away from her gaze. "Look, Olivia, sorry if I crossed a line, I was just curious about what had you so engrossed.”

  I didn’t know where to look. I raised my eyes to the ceiling. “I just … it’s personal.”

  “Did you write that?”

  I looked back at her, my cheeks burning with the embarrassment of being caught.

  “Oh my God, Olivia, you did. Don’t ever play poker; you’d get your arse handed to you.”

  Sighing, I rested my head on the back of the couch. “I just need something for me. After everything that happened, I needed a way to get out all my anxiety and frustration over the whole situation. I can’t let the boys see what a mess everything is. I mean, I’m keeping it together, but inside I’m still screaming.”

  Her hand landed on my shoulder. “I get it. And you should have something for yourself. What are you going to do with this? Please tell me you’re submitting it to somewhere to be published.”

  I shrugged. “I was thinking of doing it myself.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been reading all about it. I’ve found someone who sells book covers already made up, they just add the book title and your name.”

  She looked sideways at me, as if unsure whether to say something or not.

  “What?”

  “Do you want me to read through it? I have a degree in English Lit.”

  Uber businesswoman had a degree in English Literature? For some reason I picked her as having some business degree, or economics.