by Jenna Cox
I slipped round to stand in front of him. “It’s alright,” I murmured, with nothing better to say. “It’s alright.”
His face was still dark and contorted, but he nodded jerkily. He glanced back at Becca who was being put back into bed by nurses, weeping inconsolably, muttering, “But he loves me. And I love him,” through a sticky mess of tears and blood all over her disfigured face. My throat felt tight. This is what she thought love was? This was what love looked like to her?
We approached her bed again, but Becca turned her fierce glare on me, like somehow I was the source of all her problems.
“Don’t come near me,” she hissed, speaking to both of us. I recoiled a bit.
“I can go.”
“You don’t have to,” Brendan said. His lip had split a little again and fresh blood welled. He licked at it gingerly.
“She doesn’t want me here. I should leave you alone.”
He took my hand and opened his mouth to protest, but then didn’t. “Maybe. I’m sorry.” He drew me into a hug as I shook my head.
“No, it’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry.”
“We never have had a normal date. Even for me, this is a new low,” he murmured, laughing with little humour.
“It’s okay.”
“I’ll come see you tomorrow. I mean, I’ll see what happens with Bec, but I’ll try and come. Will you be around?”
“Uh, I…I’ve got the dinner at my parents’,” I said hesitantly.
“Oh, shit, yeah. I forgot. I don’t—”
“You don’t have to come,” I said, pulling out of his hug and trying to smile. “Don’t even worry about it.”
“I’ll try.”
“It’s okay, really.”
“I’ll try, Kat.” I nodded and he moved to kiss me, but remembered his lip. I kissed him on the cheek instead and then moved away. He watched me go for a moment, then turned back to his sister.
I felt cold and a little nauseous as I left the emergency department and went out into the still stormy night outside. I jogged down the street to my car and fumbled with the keys with icy fingers — all I had to do was press the remote unlock button on the fob, but I almost dropped the whole lot twice, I was shaking so much.
And by the time I was finally behind the wheel, I was sobbing. I couldn’t really pinpoint exactly why, but everything just came crashing down over me, and I dissolved under the weight of it. I thought I’d just cry for a few minutes, compose myself, and then drive myself home. But after ten minutes, still sobbing, wiping at my blurry eyes, I wondered how long it would actually take me to calm down enough to see straight. I felt hollowed out inside and my chest ached, and every time I took a few long breaths and thought it was coming to an end, there was a stabbing pain around my heart that set me off all over again.
Eventually I grabbed my phone from my handbag and spent a good minute jabbing at it to call Izzy. When she didn’t answer, I called Justin. He did pick up.
“This had better be good, Kat? I’m kinda in the middle of something,” he grunted down the phone. I tried to speak, but just howled instead. “Oh fuck, what’s happened? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”
“Ye…yesss,” I blubbered, and eventually managed to communicate where I was.
“Hold tight. I’m coming to get you.”
And just from the warmth in his voice alone, I started calming down immediately. So by the time he got to me, I probably could have driven myself. But Justin didn’t ask questions. He just tucked me into the passenger seat with his coat over me like I was a small child, took my keys and drove us home.
He was guiding me towards my room, his arm around me and my head on his broad shoulder, when I suddenly remembered the plan for the night.
“I can’t — Izzy’s staying in my room.”
“So you’re in hers?” Justin looked at me quizzically, but led me there. But as soon as I opened the door and saw the faint glow of stars on the ceiling, I shivered violently and turned into him. His arms tightened around me.
“You want to talk about it?” he murmured. I could feel his breath against the top of my head, and he brushed his lips against my hair while I shivered.
“Not right now.“ I didn’t know what I’d say anyway. I didn’t know what I was feeling. “I just don’t want to be alone,” I murmured into his shoulder. I felt him nod. He took me to his room and laid me down in his bed, then lay behind me and cradled me gently.
“I’m sorry for—“
“Shh,” he said.
“But I—“
“Forget it Kat. I’d do anything for you, you know that. You need me, I’m here.”
I sniffled, and wiped my nose on my sleeve, relaxing into the soothing feel of Justin’s hand stroking my hair. And for a few minutes I felt okay, even as tears dripped quietly from my eyes, and I fell into sleep.
thirteen
I WOKE SLOWLY, with the stuffy feeling in my face of having cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t remember why right away. I only leant back into the warm body behind me, the arm that cradled me, feeling comfortable and sleepy. I didn’t open my eyes yet. I might have sighed quietly as the hand resting on my stomach began to move in languid strokes, moving up, caressing the swell of my breast through my shirt. And then I felt the throb of hardness against my back, and as his hips pressed forward lightly, I shifted back to meet it.
“Mmm,” I said, smiling, and turning into him, blinking my bleary eyes against the light. But it was the smells that jolted me first. Familiar but unexpected. My eyes flew open and I squeaked. “Justin!” I scrambled into a sitting position, and his hands left me. He blinked up at me owlishly.
“Huh?” His voice was thick with sleep.
“What were you doing?” I had my hand clenched at the neckline of my shirt, and my other arm wrapped protectively across my stomach. I felt mildly sick at waking and sitting up so suddenly.
“What? Nothing. Sleeping. I thought you were Steph.” He looked slightly flushed and didn’t meet my eye.
“I don’t — you don’t…”
“It’s not a big deal. A mistake.”
“You were…thrusting.” I said it in a strangled whisper, remembering the feel of him pressing into me. And despite myself, I felt a shiver of heat ripple low through my abdomen.
“You did too.“
I was blinking at him, a frown on my face. “It was just, like, we were asleep, right? I was.”
“Yes. So was I. Is it a big deal anyway. Not like it’s anything we haven’t done before.”
“Once. And that was a long time ago. You’re like a brother now. Right?”
“Yeah. ‘Course.” He still didn’t look me in the face, and he skirted carefully around me to climb out of the bed. I watched him as he went to the sink and splashed his face. Then he reached behind his head, about to pull his shirt off. He glanced at me before he did. “I’m going to have a shower now. You want to join me?”
His impish grin had returned, and I picked up the pillow and chucked it at him, missing by miles. He waggled his eyebrows, then turned away. But I saw a flash of something else in his expression before he hid it.
“Justin. You love Steph.”
He’d whipped off his shirt now. I’d seen him half naked countless times, but my face flushed now, and I swallowed nervously, feeling like I shouldn’t be there. He laughed awkwardly.
“I don’t know about love.”
“Don’t get scared. You two are so good together. You’re not freaking out are you? Is that what this was?”
“This was an accident, Kat.”
“Yeah, so you said.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he aped my expression and shook his head.
“Leave it, Kat. It was nothing — you interrupted my night last night. Any wonder I’d wake up frustrated, with a warm body in my bed?” He picked up the pillow from the floor and chucked it back at me.
“Okay. You’re sure everything— oh shit, is that the right time?”
Justi
n glanced at the bedside clock too. “Yeah.”
“It’s late. I’m meant to be going to Sunday dinner.”
“With your folks? Both of them?”
“Yeah. I guess so. They’re both still living in the same house, just in different…wings.” I crawled out of the bed and went to the sink too, to look at myself. I grimaced. I was puffy and disheveled. My hair had set at kinky angles, from going to sleep on it wet. Justin had gone into the shower room and turned on the taps, and now he emerged again in just his underpants. My eyes drifted too low, and I yanked them back again. Ugh. I didn’t feel that way about him. I loved Brendan. But the strange wake up call had left me feeling awkward about Justin’s body so naked and close right now. He seemed recovered and totally unfazed.
“You want to talk about last night?” He came behind me and put his hands on my shoulders, resting his chin on the top of my head. I stood stiffly.
“I don’t even know. I don’t have time now, anyway,” I said, turning away and out of his reach. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Did Brendan do something?”
“What? No…no, his sister was just in hospital. Her boyfriend assaulted her.”
“Oh my God. Is she okay?”
“She’s banged up but nothing that won’t heal. The worst of it is, she still thinks she’s in love with the guy who did it.”
“Love is messed up.”
I frowned at him. “It’s not love that’s messed up, it’s just that people don’t even know what it is. So they take all sorts of screwed up shit, and call it love.”
Justin grunted. “Since when are you the expert?”
“I’m not.” I sighed. “Trust me. I have no idea what love is.” I chewed on my lip and Justin watched me, then pointed a finger at me.
“You’re in love with Brendan!”
I flushed. Then shrugged. “I don’t know — I just said that, didn’t I.” I was biting on the inside of my bottom lip still. Then I added in a small voice, “I told him last night.”
“Oh, like… shit, okay. What did he say?”
“Nothing really. Then he found out about his sister and we went to the hospital.”
I felt my eyes filling with tears.
“Ah.”
“‘Ah’ what?”
“That’s what this was all about then. Are you and Brendan okay?”
“Yeah, I — well, I think we are. Why? Do you think—”
“Woah.” Justin stepped closer to me and put his broad hands on my arms. “I don’t think anything. I just wondered how you left it — you seemed pretty upset last night.”
“Yeah, it was just… it was a weird night.”
“Happy Valentine’s all round, then.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I stretched my mouth into a contrite smile.
“Forget it. It’s just a stupid made up day anyway.”
“Hopefully Izzy got some, then. For all of us.”
“Ha. Yeah. I’m sure she did.”
“I’ve really got to go.” I picked up my shoes from where they lay by Justin’s bed and turned for the door.
“Are we okay?”
I stopped with my hand on the door and looked back at him. I still felt a ripple of awkward tension when I looked at him standing there in nothing but boxer briefs, but I shrugged it off and smiled.
“Yeah. Of course. But…” I licked my lips briefly. “Maybe lets never speak of this morning again.”
“Agreed,” he said with a grin. And I opened his door and went out.
Running straight into Izzy. Also exiting a bedroom. Not her own, which was understandable. But not mine either.
She had been backing out on tip toe and quietly pulled the door shut to the room at the end of the hallway beside Justin’s — Damien’s room. I just stood with wide eyes until she turned around and saw me. Her face frozen into a mask of forced brightness.
“Kat! Hiya. Morning, I—” Then she glanced at the door I had just come through, and her face went through a range of acrobatic contortions. “What—”
“Was there a game of musical beds going on last night? Damien’s in my room or something, right?” Izzy swallowed audibly, and her mouth worked, but no sound came out. “Iz?” I cocked an eyebrow at her and smirked. “Seriously, Damien?”
“Shh,” she admonished me, waving her hand and glancing back at the closed door. “He’s asleep. We were both so drunk. Maybe he won’t even remember.”
“Oh my God. This is…I don’t even know what this is. And I will be getting all the details later, but I really have to go.”
“Where?”
“Sunday Dinner,” I said, turning away with a grimace.
“Oh, okay. Good luck with that.” We both headed to our own rooms this time. Izzy stopped in her doorway and looked across the hallway at me. “Wait, how did last night go?”
“Uh…long story. That’ll have to wait till later too.”
“Where’s Brendan? And…wait, you distracted me with this Damien stuff…why were you in Justin’s—”
“Iz, I really have to go. I’m already late.” I smiled at her apologetically as I disappeared behind my bedroom door.
As I shut it I heard her muttering, “What a weird night.” She could say that again.
There were so many thoughts whirling in my head, but I had no time to process any of them. Wait till after this dinner. Getting through a stuffy meal at a table with both my parents would take everything I had — I had no room in my brain for anything else until that was over.
I jumped in and out of the shower in record time and started pulling on my Sunday best, the standard uniform of respectability I always donned for this event. And then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and almost laughed. I didn’t even recognise the person there — staring back at me was someone else, an old version of me. Not that long ago I would have still identified with that girl in the mirror, but now she seemed so strange and foreign that I wanted to claw out of my skin to get away from her. I ripped off the respectable skirt and cardigan and rubbed a hand over my mouth roughly to smear the lipstick in disgust. I stripped everything off and got back in the shower, scrubbing until I felt like I’d shed something.
When I got out again, I put on pale, distressed jeans and I pulled out a leather biker jacket that still had its tags on. It wasn’t even a real biker jacket, just the fashion version, with zips in places that were only for looks and a waterfall neckline — I’d bought it ages ago because I loved it, but I’d never had the guts to wear it. My mother’s voice always came into my head telling me that it just wasn’t me. But what did she know? I didn’t even know if it was me. How would I, until I wore it and decided whether I liked it or not?
And so far I did, turning back and forth to examine my appearance in the mirror. I felt good. And though I couldn’t completely decide if that was because I actually liked it, or I just liked knowing that it would make my mum freak out, I didn’t care. Either one was good enough for now.
I jammed a wool hat on over my still damp hair. That would be a nightmare when I took the beanie off again…but maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I’d wear it at the dinner table, just because I wanted to.
*-*-*
I felt strangely light and happy as I skipped down the stairs to my car. The day was icy and overcast, as always, but the storm had passed, and everything felt more vibrant than normal. Who knew razzing up my parents in stupid little ways could feel so good? Good enough to wipe away all the other confusion and anxiety that was swirling around underneath, at least temporarily.
I was hardly even daunted when I pulled up in front of my parents’ double-fronted, country-style house, the gravel crunching under my tires as the automatic gates whirred shut behind me, keeping out the world and trapping me in. Normally I felt like I was suffocating as soon as I got to this point, but today, I was almost grinning.
All illusions about my parents were shattering, and I could finally see clearly for the first time in my life. My parents didn’t love each othe
r. Maybe they never had. My dad was an adulterous wanker with too much power, and my mother had been weak and trapped by the money she grasped for.
I climbed out of my car almost laughing and crying at the same time as it felt like a physical weight fell off my shoulders, one that had always been there and I hadn’t even realised it. I leaned back against my car door and stared at the house — the house that had been called my home, but had never felt it. When I hadn’t been in boarding school, this place had felt like a prison, like Rapunzel’s tower.
Why did I keep voluntarily walking back in? I considered just getting back into the car and driving away. I could do that. Why had I not realised that all my life. I could just walk away if I wanted to.
But I didn’t get back in. I pushed off the car and strode up the steps to the door. Now that I saw past the illusions, I was actually starting to relish — perhaps perversely — the opportunity to go in there and let them know I saw through all their bullshit. That they couldn’t trap me anymore. I’d cut off all my own hair and make a rope to climb out of the tower if I had to.
Metaphorically, of course. And, okay, no need to take the fairytale metaphor too far. My parents were just people, messed up people like everyone else, and I was no princess. And even with my zest for rubbing my new found sense of independence in my parents’ faces, there was still Sunday Dinner to get through, and that could be either insufferable, or deathly boring, and was usually both. “Still time to drive away,” I murmured to myself, but my hand was already on the door handle. I sighed and pushed into the house, not knocking and waiting for the housekeeper like normal, like I couldn’t find my own way to my own bloody dining room in my own bloody house.
“Aye up, she’s here,” I called, in the thickest northern accent I could muster, as I approached the room. I could hear the light clinking of glassware, but no-one was talking. I shuddered, imagining the frosty silence I was about to walk into, still not completely decided that I shouldn’t just leave, even as my feet carried me in.
