by Donna Alam
But still, I’m torn. Sometimes I can see myself coming back, but I’m not convinced the change would be that great. There’d need to be some solid reason for doing so. A reason like Joshua Davies? I want to bitch slap my unhelpful brain suddenly. Now is not the time to be thinking of him. In fact, never is the time to be thinking about that man. We grew up together, Josh, Scott and I. It’s like a tragic stereotype. I was the little sister who got in the way, day in and day out, my parents encouraging Addy to include me in their plans. At least, until I got older, when the goal posts were changed. I’d stare out of my bedroom window, doodling our intertwined names in my diary. I had a crush on him for years, even if there was a time when I truly believed we would be something more.
But no. Seems Josh wasn’t destined to be for me.
He left town not long after I did, and if I thought there could ever be anything left between us, those thoughts dissolved years ago. Even if I did feel the fluttering wings of hope as I’d made my way home, trying desperately not to think of him. Shame on me for imagining he might be here for my father’s passing. He used to be so close to us that he was practically part of the family.
That says everything I need to know about where he fits into my life today. He doesn’t. Of course, I can’t say anything about it, because when I say the three of us grew up together, what I forgot to say was that he was Addy’s best friend.
Yep, that’s me. The brown girl cliché.
Not only did I lust after my brother’s bestie, but the I wanted the white boy next door bad.
Taking a deep breath, I blow it out slowly as Addy turns away when I don’t reply, making his way to mom. We all have mixed feelings about my dad’s death—I imagine my mother most of all. There has to be a big hole in her heart and life now that he’s gone. Part of me wishes I could be here for her.
I look around the house, remembering the years I grew up here. The good parts, at least. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to come back here for good. Even if I really wanted to.
Chapter 2
Josh
I can’t believe I’m back here. Not really. Ten years gone in the blink of an eye. Sometimes it seems like only yesterday I was hanging around these streets. And other times it seems like a lifetime away.
But it feels good to be home again. I’m back to see my sister who just had a baby. No man, just a baby. But that’s okay. We’ve all got to live our own lives, or else, what’s the point? My baby nephew is adorable with his shock of blond hair and rosebud mouth. It almost makes me want one of the little tikes myself. Not that it’ll happen. I’ll probably end up with a dog instead.
‘Don’t fuss, Josh,’ Rachel, my sister says, when I try to make sure the baby is tucked up and comfortable in his bassinet. I’d also made her a cuppa and suggested she put the TV on and curl up while she can. She must be knackered. She’s only been out of hospital a few days and she’s already talking about going shopping. Women are amazing, generally. It’s just a shame the ones I’m around are mostly light in brain capacity and body weight. And conversational skills. Glamour is the curse of the hospitality industry, which is where I’ve made my living.
‘I was just making sure he was okay.’ I tell her, tucking his swaddling around him. ‘You know, comfortable.’
Rach rolls her eyes, but she smiles. ‘Believe me, when he’s not happy, you’ll know. He’s got some lungs on him. He can’t half bellow.’
Secretly, I’m sure she’s happy someone is taking care of her for a change. Our grandmother raised us both when our parents passed away. I was so young I can barely remember them. Rachel was like my second mum, even though she’s only a few years older than me. I’m not afraid to say that these two women are responsible for the person I am today. The good bits, at least.
‘So,’ I say, sitting down in the chair opposite hers. ‘What’s been going on while I’ve been gone.’
‘Do I look like The Gazette?’ she responds. ‘If you wanted to know, you should’ve stayed home.’ But she’s only teasing. I think.
‘So you didn’t miss me?’
‘I missed you like a hole in my shoe.’
Holes in our shoes weren’t a joke when we grew up. Gran did her best, but we weren’t the wealthiest of people. Not like some of the neighbours.
‘Back packing around the world like a vagrant,’ she grumbles. ‘Coming home with a tan.’
‘Come on, Rach. Don’t be jel. I’ll take you on holiday if you like.’
‘I do like. But maybe not until the little prince is about twenty-two. What are you laughing at? Have you seen parents when they come back from holiday? They look like they need a holiday!’
But back packing was great. I’d travelled through Europe finding all the best spots. For a kid who’d rarely eat veg, the experience was a bit mad. I tried all kinds of food from all kind of places, eating and enjoying the local produce wherever I stayed. I worked in olive groves, wine fields, even on fishing trawler or two. In the end, I’d made my living from importing a line of fine foods and wines, eventually buying a restaurant or two. I’m lucky enough now to travel across the globe in a very different style to my backpacking days. First class all the way these days.
I’ve lived in lots of countries, visited lots of places, and sampled women, life, and fine wine along the way. And now I’m back home, partly by necessity, partly by choice. Seeing the old places has rekindled a kind of fond nostalgia in me. I have enough money to take time off from my business indefinitely, and that’s what I plan to do. I want to settle down for a while. Put down some roots. Spend time with my family. Kick back for a while.
‘So you’re not gonna fill me in on all the town news?’
‘I’ve been in hospital squeezing something the size of a watermelon out of something the size of-’
I put my hands over my ears. ‘Shuddup. There are somethings a brother should never hear.’
‘Well, I don’t know what’s going on around here. Up until the baby a month ago, I worked sixty hours a week.’
Rachel’s in corporate law. It’s a job she loves, but I’m not sure how it’ll lend itself to motherhood. We never sold the house after gran died, and Rachel’s been living in it since then. I’m sure the neighbours were over the moon to see it get a lick of paint. To see the yard tidied. Nice cars on the driveway. Gran should’ve sold the place years ago. It would of set her up financially for years. But she wouldn’t, insisting the house was ours. Our heritage and right.
‘When are you going to give him a name?’ I say, referring to the baby now snuffling.
‘I was thinking of calling him after dad.’
‘Ralph?’ I ask, incredulous. ‘Do you want him to get beaten up at school?’
‘I thought I could put a bit of a spin on it. Spell it differently. You know, like Rafe.’
‘Rach, Rafe is spelled like Ralph. R,’ I begin. ‘A, L-’
‘I know how to spell. I’m a lawyer. I spend all day looking at words.’
‘How about you spend all day tomorrow looking at the Internet. At baby names. Ralph. Bloody hell. What’ll be next? Tarquin? Albert? Horace.’
‘All the old fashioned names are coming back into fashion,’ she say, mulishly. ‘So maybe I will. Anyway,’ she says, signalling a change of topic. ‘Mr Doshi next door died.’
I blink at her. ‘Addy’s dad?’
‘Kallie’s, too.’
Shit. ‘I wished I’d know. I definitely would’ve gone and paid my condolences.’
“It’s not too late,’ Rachel suggests.
I nod absently. I will. At least, I think I will.
I haven’t seen Addy, Kallie, or their parents in over ten years. It’s been so long I’m kind of hesitant at what I might find. Kallie must be married by now, with kids, I expect. Not that it matters. We were hardly star-crossed lovers. She just had a childhood crush, that’s all.
And the sweetest smile.
I’d love to see her again. She was the kind of girl you don’t forget. Dark and
exotic looking, she had hair that fell down her back in a dark sheet. It looked like silk and shone almost blue in the sun. And the biggest darkest eyes. Eyes that would follow me, looking away quickly when I caught her out. As a kid, I’d have given anything to taste her inherent sweetness. Feel it coating my fingers, taste it honeyed on my tongue. But it was never going to happen.
Her dad made sure of that.
When Rachel decides a nap is a good idea, I make my way next door. It’s one of the older homes in the street, and twice the size of ours. Mr Doshi was a bit of a textile king and had his fingers in all kinds of businesses. He was a nice bloke, but a strict dad. In fact, Addy used to hang out at my house to avoid his rules. Of course, Kallie wasn’t allowed. Not once she got to a certain age. It was “unseemly” her dad said.
The driveway is just as long as I recall, old oaks lining the sides, their boughs bowed like old men. I pause at the top of the driveway, wondering if I should knock at the imposing front door, or head around to the kitchen. As kids, that’s the door we would’ve used.
But then I remember the years that have passed and the man I’ve become, so I make my way to the front and knock. The sun heats my back as I hear high heels clipping against the floor inside, drawing nearer with each step. with them, comes the hopes that they might belong to Kallie. But then, Mrs Doshi stands before me and I forget to be disappointed at the welcoming smile on her face.
‘Joshy,’ she says, reaching for me and pulling me inside. Her smile is sincere and her hug warm before she pulls back, her hands on my forearms as she smiles and shakes her head.
Joshy. It’s been years since anyone called me that. Joshy and Doshi, that’s how Addy and me were known around here.
‘Hello, Mrs Doshi,’ I reply, returning the warmth in her words. ‘How are you?’ I ask, then add, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you,’ she answers quietly. ‘It’s been a difficult time. But let me look at you,’ she says. ‘You turned out to be quite the handsome man.’
‘I’m not too shabby,’ I say, laughing lightly.
‘And Addy will be so pleased to see you. Please, come in,’ she adds, leading me down the hall.
With each step, memories wash over me. I spent so much time here. Addy appears in the door that leads to the kitchen, grinning when he sees me.
‘I thought I heard your voice, you bastard,’ he says. He snaps his mouth shut when his mother purses her lips, sending a glare in his direction. ‘Sorry,’ he says, echoing a million times he’d said it before, usually after some antics he and I got into together.
‘Not dead five minutes and already I’m in trouble,’ his mum mutters as she walks away.
I laugh as we pull each other into a back slapping hug.
‘Where the fuck have you been, man?’
‘I just flew in from Nice,’ I reply, brushing invisible lint from both shoulders.’
We walk toward the living room, talking, and generally being a couple of arses, but when we step into the room, I feel the air whipped out of it. I didn’t see it coming—I’d forgotten the effect she had on me. Kallie. My God, what a sight. She’s grown up—and out—in all the right places. Her slender legs curled on the couch, she sits in profile, sifting through a pile of cards.
‘Look what the cat just dragged in, Kal,’ Addy says, oblivious to the effect his little sister has on me. Soulful brown eyes snap to my face, her full, pink lips curling inward to what might’ve been a wide grin. She still looks like the girl-next-door still . . . if the girl-next-door was a fucking model. Her long, black hair trails her bare shoulder, a dusting of dark freckles peeking out from underneath. A heart-shaped face, high cheekbones and tiny snub nose. She’s just how I remembered her, only all grown up. She really the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot of women. Fucked an awful lot of them, too.
“Josh,” she says graciously. Even her voice is a turn on. Stop this. She’s only saying hello, for fuck sakes.
‘Hey, Kallie,’ I say, returning her greeting.
As stunning as she is, she isn’t haughty or cold. Exactly the opposite as she gets up to give me a hug.
‘Steady on,’ complains Addy.
‘Piss off, Ads,’ she says. ‘You’re not dad.’
‘Wow, that’s a bit of a change. Confidence is so sexy. I’m also going to guess she’s pleased to see me, judging by the way her eyes don’t move from mine, even as her brother continues to talk. Tearing my eyes from the angel in front of me, I force my attention to him, while Kallie keeps sifting through the cards—while we both pretend like seeing each other is no big deal. As much as I’ve missed her brother, as much as I want to catch up with him, I wished Kallie had been the one to open the front door. How would our first meeting have been? Not so tentative, I feel.
It’s hard to stay calm in the same room as Kallie, but I manage. Even as her mum brings in tea I manage to appear unaffected. Like the sight of this woman hasn’t tipped my whole world on its axis.
Chapter 3
Kallie
He came.
When Josh didn’t show up to the funeral I wrote him off. He was nothing more than a childhood crush anyway, right? I told myself that I probably wouldn’t feel the same way if I ever set eyes on those broad shoulder again.
I was wrong. So bloody wrong.
When he walked into the living room, I was surprised I didn’t squeal his name—yell that I missed him, or that I still think about him. And that’s so not me. I’m a sophisticated college professor to be. Not the girl in the geeky glasses and Marvel tee’s. Except I am. Still. That girl. Oh, but he still looks like the boy of my teenage fantasies, only more. Taller, broader, more . . . everything. Mooar! From the way his body fills out his dark grey suit to that presence of his that just fills a room.
He’s all man.
As Addy yabbers on about old shit, I pretend to be politely interested and mostly unaffected. I’m not sure it’s an act I pull off with much success as my fingers shake as they shuffle a pack of playing cards that had been left on the table, while I pretend not to listen to their conversation when I’m really drinking in every ounce of his voice. It’s gotten deeper, if that’s even possible. Deeper and huskier, like he’s spent a whole lot of time doing things that he oughtn’t. Bourbon and cigars. Rich women and fine wine. Meanwhile, I’m just me. The same geeky girl, curled on a couch wearing shorts and a t-shirt that could’ve been plucked from her wardrobe ten years ago. Well, when dad wasn’t looking.
I bet he feels like he’s gone back in time. Or worse, thinks I haven’t moved on.
‘Kallie, you moron, you’re bending the cards.’ At the sound of Addy’s voice, my head snaps up as I realize what I’ve done. The cards in my hand are a mess; some broken, some bent.
‘You marking the cards, Kal?’ Josh’s voice is heavy with teasing. ‘She always was a bit of a shark,’ he says, turning to Addy. ‘This is probably how she always won.’ His eyes slide back to mine for the briefest of seconds as he almost whispers, ‘Except that one time, eh?’
That one time . . . my brother was off with his then girlfriend, the promise of an evening “babysitting” filling his head. Not that I knew the of the implications. I’m the youngest in our family with no siblings to babysit, and I certainly wouldn’t be looking after the neighbour’s snotty miscreants, according to my father. And I never had a boyfriend until I left home, so I didn’t really understand why Addy would blow off an evening with Josh to join Jenny Fritz in babysitting.
Eurgh!
I mean, I get it now. Kids who live at home have very little privacy. That must be why they fuck like bunnies wherever they find a little space. The sights I’ve seen while walking around a college campus, let me tell you. But that time that Josh turned up at the kitchen door, expecting to find Addy home. Well, that was some day. His brow had furrowed, and he’d cursed under his breath so I’d offered myself up as a consolation prize. I’d meant I’d keep him company—maybe play cards, or watch a m
ovie with him. Even as I’d said the words, between my legs recognized that wasn’t what Josh had in mind. My breath halted as I’d welcomed the dark look in his older eyes.
Good job my parents weren’t home that day.
But Josh was a gentleman, mostly. Raised by a his granny, he knew how to behave. So he didn’t take advantage of me that night. Though he might’ve played with me a little as he taught me how to play poker. Then upped the ante by playing me for my clothes. I remember I could barely breathe for the excitement and anticipation as I’d dropped my blue cotton shirt on the table between us, his eyes branding my skin. But that’s as far as we’d gotten, his running shoes, socks, and t-shirt on the floor and me sitting in my underwear, every inch of me trembling.
And now my thoughts are dancing around like iron filings under the attention of his magnetism again. Damn him. And all the while, he regales Addy with tales of his travels, his company, the life he’s living, I’d barely noticed what I was doing with my hands.
I note the one thing he doesn’t mention is a woman. No mention of a fiancée or wife. No preface of we. This gives me a certain satisfaction until I realize it could be because he has so many women drifting in and out of his life. Those kinds of relationships wouldn’t be discussed in polite company. But I’m glad he doesn’t talk about his love life because that means he hasn’t settled down. Glad and surprised and probably delusional. If I had a crush when I was a kid, I’m infatuated, now.
‘What about you?’ Josh asks me. ‘Do you still live in town?’
Realising Josh’s words are directed at me, I shake my head. ‘I escaped to California for university.’
‘I keep telling her she should move back,’ Addy interjects, ‘but she doesn’t want to hear anything about it.’
‘I imagine it’s hard to relocate a family,’ Josh says.
Addy snorts. ‘What family? It’s just Kallie. She doesn’t even have a goldfish. And don’t ever buy her a plant; it’ll be dead within the week.’
I find myself blushing as Addy manages to make me look like a child again. Can’t visit her family. She’s not even responsible enough to own a pet . . . but as my eyes meet Josh’s, his apparent amusement makes my blush deepen.
