by Max Henry
But this? I have no idea what comes next as I slowly turn and face him. Zeus shows almost no emotion as he stares down at me, the point of his jaw softly working as he presses his teeth together. He lets his hand slide from my shoulder, down my arm, until he takes my hand in his.
“I shouldn’t have walked out like that, but…. Don’t take this on yourself, okay?”
I can’t do it—I can’t look at him with a straight face. He frowns when I crack up laughing and pull my hand from his.
“Are you for real?” Tears track over my cheeks as I fall apart. “I tell myself that this is nothing but a stupid teenage crush, that I’m fucking delirious, and absolutely torture myself over how I feel for years.” He opens his mouth to speak, yet I hold up a hand. “And then you tell me you feel the same,” I whisper, eyes narrowed on him as he swallows hard. “So I risk it. I put myself out there, knowing this whole thing is wrong because I’m eighteen and you’re… you’re….”
“Thirty-five,” he murmurs.
“Thirty-five,” I repeat, nodding. “I’m not stupid, Zeus. Despite what you saw on Saturday. I know how the birds and the bees work,” I scathe. “I’m not naïve. Just desperate to be wanted.” My voice fails me on the last word as I back up, tears hot and fresh as the rejection lances through me all over again. “Wanted by the one person I want the most.”
“It wouldn’t work.” He scrubs a hand over his face, and for some fucked up reason his torment makes me need him more. “We shouldn’t even talk about it.”
“Why? Because society tells us it’s wrong?” I slam my arms over my chest. “Tell me one thing, Zeus. One thing that’ll help me work past this crush, this whatever it is. Tell me why—apart from our ages—it’s wrong.”
He turns away and paces to the sink, resting his hands on the edge as he gives me his back. “Because it would absolutely crush your father if he knew.”
Neither of us move despite the fact we both appear to be out of things to say. With one line, one reason, he’s got me. Dad would be devastated.
Zeus stays at the window, staring out over our backyard as I remain rooted to the spot in the kitchen. Perhaps it’s because we both know that if either of us walk away now, it finalises what happened here, officially pushes it into the “we shall never speak of this again” category.
At least, I know that’s what stops me from walking away.
Which is why he does first.
SIXTEEN
Zeus
The real estate agent, Veronica, shifts her weight between her feet, making her arse roll as she leans both elbows on the kitchen counter to go over the details of some clause with Jodie. I left the paperwork up to her; I’ve never been good with legal jargon. Ask my public defender.
“Is a week long enough, you think, Z?” Jodie calls without lifting her gaze from the papers spread out before her.
“A week for what?” I turn away from the living room windows that overlook the front yard.
“To vacate.”
I gesture to the empty house. “Pretty sure we can manage that.” The Salvation Army arrived and took the last of what we didn’t need but was too good to throw away a few days ago.
Veronica chuckles, her heavy-lidded eyes catching mine as she taps her pen against her lips. Not interested, love. Not when the warm kiss of a girl who could never be mine haunts me every hour of every day.
Four days have passed since Belle confronted me in the kitchen. Four days since I shut her down and felt the pain of rejection echoed in my own heart. The week has gone by with the kind of tension I expected. John is either oblivious, or chooses not to say anything as Belle and I exchange barely a few words in the morning over breakfast. Thankfully he’s not there to see how tense it gets in the evenings. I can’t deny that there’s something about Belle that draws me in, something familiar and comfortable that I want.
That I need.
I could stay away, find something else to do, someone else to do, but as torn as I am about what happened between us, the part of me that wants to make sure she’s safe on her own won’t sit back and let go.
Neither will the part of me that wishes she were ten years older, somebody else’s daughter.
“If you’re satisfied with everything then,” Jodie says, “it’s time for us to sign this and make it official.”
“Are you happy with it?” I lean over the breakfast bar, my arms folded before me, and hold Jodie’s gaze.
I ignore the hungry eyes Veronica gives me. She’s here to finalise the deal, nothing more.
“It’s reasonable. We walk away with sixty thousand each.”
Benefits of purchasing in a slump and selling fifteen years later in a peak. “Good.”
Jodie spins the papers my way and holds a pen out. “Initial every page, and then sign wherever there is a Post-it flag.”
“Too easy.” I take the pen and do as she instructs, a strange sentiment taking over the closer I get to the end of this enormous contract.
End of an era. John’s words echo through my mind as I sign the final page and push it all back toward Jodie. She takes over, doing the same as I just have, while I wander away and head for the bedrooms.
The carpet still holds lines from where the cleaner came through, the walls whiter than I’ve ever seen thanks to a professional who came recommended by one of Jodie’s workmates.
I almost don’t recognise the place.
“You okay?” Jodie asks quietly behind me as I stand in the middle of what used to be our room with my hands in pockets.
“Yeah.” I turn to find her standing with a shoulder propped against the doorframe, what I assume to be our copies of the contract in hand.
“She’s gone.” A smile tugs at Jodie’s lips as she steps forward. “I think she liked you a bit too much.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, so do I.”
“It’s a common theme, Z.”
“You think?” I glance down at Jodie where she stands beside me, staring at the walls much the same as I just was.
“I don’t think; I know.” Her eyes take on a distant feel as she slowly shifts her gaze left to the window. “You have no idea how many girls’ dreams I ruined when we started dating.” A small laugh falls from her lips. “Do you remember that time at the Provincial Hotel? When we saw that cover band? It was Cerise’s birthday.”
“Yeah, I do.” It was shortly before John proposed to her.
“I got that graze on the side of my face, and I told it you it was because I tripped on my way to the ladies’.”
“Yeah.” I narrow my gaze on her as she smiles.
“I didn’t trip. Some bitch shoved my head into the wall when I told her to keep her filthy whore hands off my man.”
“That brunette with the stinky old guy who followed her everywhere.” God, I remember that. I figured the girl was cuckoo, but thought nothing of it since I only had eyes for one woman back then.
I loop an arm around Jodie’s shoulders and pull her in as we stand in silence in the middle of our old room. So many memories made in this house—some of them good, but most of them bad.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a kid.”
She crosses an arm over her chest and places her free hand to my wrist, holding me tight. “Us a kid, Z. We both wanted it.”
“Yeah.” Those years when we first started trying were some of the happiest we had. We’d achieved our goals in buying a house, I’d got a full-time job after my first stint inside, and we were full of nothing but hope. “They were good years, Jodie.”
“They were, Zeus.” Her hand falls from my wrist and she steps away from my side. “I’m thankful we shared them, even if they were hard toward the end. I think we both grew as people, don’t you?”
“I guess.” I’ve never really thought of it that way. I’ve always chosen to see the end of our relationship as a failure on my part. But the truth remains: we each had our roles to play.
Sometimes what we want out of life changes, and that’s okay.
<
br /> “I better get going.” Jodie holds my copy of the sale document out between us. “I’ve got some errands to run before Eric gets off from work.”
“Bit late to still be there isn’t it?” I take the contract from her, rolling it into a tube in one hand.
“He’s working on acquiring another major project. Something to do with a development in the city.”
“He’ll be knee-deep in red tape then.” It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to save from saying something a lot worse about the cunt.
“Yeah.” Jodie frowns, her eyes narrowed as she holds my gaze. “Are you okay?”
“You’re talking about a guy I’d like to be re-sentenced for, so not entirely.”
“There’s something else,” she says, always the perceptive one. “You got the permanent contract at your new job, eh?”
“Yeah. It officially started this week.”
“Problems at John’s then?”
“You could say that.” I lift the rolled contract between us. “Thanks for this.”
She replies with a soft grunt, dissatisfied with my evasion of the topic.
Not as though I’d tell my ex-wife my love-life problems anyway, even if the woman in question wasn’t seventeen years younger than me. I give her a nod and leave the room, neck on fire as I head for the door.
If Jodie can pick up that there’s something amiss with me, can John? Not as if he’d care anyway. He’s got the whole issue of Cerise to sort out yet. I half expect to get back to his place after work each day and find a new car up the driveway. Given our current standing, I don’t think John will give me any notice when the bitch is due to move in. He knows how I feel about her, and that’s never going to change.
Not after what she did to her family, most of all, her daughter.
I step outside to have misty rain wet my face on the short walk to the car. Great. Spring is well and truly in force, summer near, and that means random rain showers for the next few weeks.
But given the heat we’ve had during the day of late, it also means storms. And storms mean Belle’s favourite time of year.
My gut tells me as I start the GTO and then run a hand over my face to wipe the dew away, that my dove is going to need every little thing she can get to cheer her up soon. Because when Cerise re-enters her life, that’s going to be one storm she’ll wish she could escape.
***
Belle takes me by surprise after dinner, emerging from her bedroom to join me in the living room. She doesn’t utter a word as she tucks herself on the sofa. The girl has to be hungry; she hasn’t joined me for a meal all week.
“Can I please have the remote?”
“She speaks,” I tease as Belle glares at me from her position. They’re the first words she’s uttered to me after 4:00 p.m. since Monday.
“She does, and she’d like to change the channel.”
“I’m watching this.”
“Yeah, well I don’t want to, and if I’m not mistaken you’re the guest here.” Her jaw is hard, her lips pressed in a thin line as she curls on her side into the arm of the sofa.
“The program has only got ten minutes to go.”
“It’s about cars.”
“So?” I snap, frustrated by her continual attitude.
“I hate car shows.” She looks away, thumb flying over the screen of her fucking phone.
“Seems you’re preoccupied anyway.” I jerk my chin toward the device in her hand when she glances up.
Belle kills the screen and makes a point of tossing it behind her legs. “Remote?”
“Eight minutes.” I stretch out in the recliner and tuck my hands behind my head.
“You’ve missed most of what’s left anyway,” Belle complains. “Come on, Zeus. Don’t be an arsehole.”
Game on, little girl. “You think making you wait ten minutes is me being an arsehole?” I chuckle, despite the fact I’m dying inside thinking about how long I would wait for her.
She glares at me and holds her hand out.
I pick the remote up off the arm of the chair as I lean forward, tucking the recliner away. The barest hint of a smirk shows at the corner of her lips as I stand and strut over to where she’s now stretched out to watch what I do. Her smirk fades as I pop the back off the remote and remove the batteries, pocket them, and then slip the cover back on before handing the control over.
“Oh, very funny.” Belle sets it aside as I back away laughing. “You think you’re clever, huh?”
Got her talking, at least.
She climbs off the sofa and heads for where I back my way into the dining room. Using the table as a block, I circle around the back of it, still chuckling at her false anger. She fakes left, then right, before chasing me back into the living room. Belle’s smaller size gives her a speed advantage over a heavy arsehole like me, and by the time I reach the sofa she’s on me.
Maybe not in the way I’d prefer, but to hear her laugh is reward enough.
“Give them back.” Belle attempts to reach around to my pocket for the batteries.
I twist back and forth, arms raised as I evade her desperate lunges. “Give it up, Belle. Admit you lost.”
“Never.” She takes me by surprise as she steps onto the sofa with her left foot, and uses the furniture as an aide to jump high enough to sling her arms around my shoulders.
With the girl on my back like a damn monkey, I spin to face away from the sofa and then tumble backward to pin her beneath me. “Let go before you hurt yourself, dove.”
She falls limp beneath me at the use of her childhood nickname. We used to do this all the time when she was a kid, horse around just to make her laugh. But there’s no denying things aren’t the same now.
Not in the slightest.
“Okay,” she mumbles. “You win.” Her feeble hands shove against the back of my shoulders to get me off.
I slowly rise to my feet and stay with my back to her as I take the batteries from my pocket. She silently hands the useless remote over and watches as I pop them back in.
“Things don’t have to be this way forever,” I tell myself as much as her. “I’m sure we’ll get past it.”
“Will we?” she asks. “Because I don’t feel as though I ever will. Right or wrong, Zeus, you’ve got to admit we changed things forever by doing that.”
She can’t say it: kiss. Fuck. I can’t say it. I can hardly think it without feeling that knot return to my gut, without feeling my heart quicken at the memory.
Sick. You’re a sick fuck, Z.
“I started looking for a place to buy yesterday,” I tell her, as though that’ll solve things. “Jodie and I accepted an offer on our old house today.”
“Oh.” The disappointment is so fucking clear in the single syllable. “Many options?”
“A couple.” I set the remote down on the coffee table and suck in a deep breath before turning to face her.
“Dad know?”
“Yeah.”
Her tongue peeks out as she wets her lips, eyelashes fanning her cheeks with her downward stare. “I might just….” Belle thumbs toward her room as she reaches for her phone with the other hand.
“Don’t.”
Her warm brown eyes lift to find mine. “Don’t what?”
My arse hits the chair cushion hard. “Fuck, everything.” I toss my hands in the air before me. “Shut me out, avoid me, beat yourself up over it all.”
“Doing those things is the only way I know how to cope,” she snaps, rising anyway with her fucking phone in hand. The damn thing chimes, drawing her focus away from me.
I could crush that little plastic attention-seeker.
Belle lifts her hand and checks the screen, her gaze flicking to me before back to whatever shows.
“Who is it?” I’ve got no right to know, let alone ask, but fuck, the thought some teenage boy might have her number…. She’s not yours to have, Z.
“Kate.” She turns the phone so the screen faces me. “I asked her what she’s doi
ng this weekend.”
“Yeah? And what have you decided? No more parties, I hope.”
“No.” She shakes her head, sadness in her gaze that I can’t place. “Kate has a boyfriend now, but we’re trying to patch up our friendship.”
Fuck. That shit never works out. “You don’t see her as much then?”
Belle sits again, hands slung between her knees. “Not really. We had a… I guess you’d call it a falling out at the party you picked me up from.” She lifts her gaze to gauge my reaction. “Um, and since then things have been awkward.”
“And I didn’t help.”
“You did,” she says with conviction before changing her tone. “Well, you did that night. Maybe not so much after.” She smiles.
It’s a start.
“I’m sure it’ll blow over.”
She nods, eyes averted. Belle chooses to stay silent, seemingly out of things to say. So am I. Everything I have left for her revolves around the use of my hands. I need to step away.
“I might head out to the gym. You’ll be okay on your own?”
The look in her eyes as she glances my way tells me she knows; she understands the need for physical space. The girl’s smarter than I give her credit for, hiding away in her room all week.
“Sure,” she snaps, shitty attitude reinstated. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
I nod and head to grab my gear, knowing that despite what she says, Belle is anything but fine.
She hasn’t been fine for a long time, and unfortunately the catalyst for that change is due back any day now.
SEVENTEEN
Belle
Nothing tells you that you’re bored beyond tears more than lying on the armchair with your feet over the back, and your head hanging off the front of the seat cushion. I hold my phone above me, scrolling through my newsfeed and pulling faces at the happy snaps from people I once considered friends. It’s funny how when you remove a person’s reason to interact with you—which in my case was school—they drop off the radar like a ghost.
