by Jenna Cox
“It will be alright,” I said again. “Do you trust me?”
Brendan narrowed his eyes at me and said slowly, “Yeah.” But he phrased it like a question. I didn’t say any more. My throat was thick.
“I should go,” he said eventually, into the heavy silence, but he didn’t move immediately. He was watching me with deep lines of regret in his face.
I considered him for a moment, then stepped closer, right up to him, and leaned in close. He held still as a statue, as if afraid to move. I stretched up to press a light kiss on the uninjured corner of his mouth. I couldn’t help loving him still. Even though it hurt. Even though it was like a thousand daggers to my heart to even admit it to myself in the face of everything that had just been revealed.
And then I let all the frustration and disappointment fill me; how different this day had gone, than how I had so hopefully pictured it not that long ago. All my optimistic rebellion was replaced with something much darker. It shook through my body until I felt I would burst with it.
I closed my eyes and breathed in Brendan’s earthy, sweet scent one last time.
Then I whirled away from him and stalked to the door.
fourteen
“I’LL NEVER FORGIVE you for this.” I flung the door open as I shouted it, my words echoing down the long hallway. “I can’t believe I ever thought I loved you.” My body shook. I may have been laying it on a bit thick, but I felt keyed up. And mad as hell. And my anger had to go somewhere. When I stormed out into the hallway, I caught a glimpse of my parents ducking back into the living room doorway, as if they hadn’t been standing watch, waiting to see what was happening.
I looked back over my shoulder at Brendan, who was watching me, wide eyed.
“Kat—”
“No. Forget it. Just leave — or don’t, but I am.”
I stalked down the hallway past the living room, towards the front door.
“Katherine.” My dad emerged into the hallway behind me and I stopped. Facing away from him, I took some shallow breaths through gritted teeth. Frustrated tears pooled in my eyes, but I didn’t want to give my father that kind of satisfaction. So I channeled it all, the years of frustration, into a sharp rage, and I turned on him slowly. His eyes flared slightly wider, and though he fought for composure, I could see the alarm in his eyes.
I pointed my finger in his face and came up close to speak low and clear; no chance of being misunderstood. No matter what else happened, I meant this with every fibre of my body: “I never, ever want to see you again. You may think you’ve won a battle, but you have lost a daughter.”
I shivered as I said it. The ice in my voice chilled even me. I saw it hit its mark — somewhere around the place his heart would have been, if he had one. I turned slowly and walked away. When I reached the door, I heard him take a breath to speak. Always the last word. I paused, though, some small part of me still holding on to the hope that he would take it back, change his mind, do something, anything, to make up for the way he had been all my life.
“Katherine, I’m doing this for you. You will thank me one day. And that’s enough for me.”
A fat tear rolled down my cheek, but I kept my face to the door so he didn’t see. My stomach twisted, and I felt a sharp pain lance me. He thought he was doing this because he loved me. He believed that. In his twisted perception of the way the world worked, of who a father was meant to be, all of this made sense to him.
I glanced back over my shoulder and looked at him with pity. I was getting out — he would be this way forever. He was the one I felt sorry for. But I still felt a heavy grief settle in my gut.
Behind him, my mother stood watching in the living room doorway. At least she had the decency to look stricken, even if she was too cowardly to speak up. And past her was Brendan. My gaze lingered on him for a few longing seconds — he was pale, the blotchy marring on his lip standing out starkly. And then I turned away and went out, before any of them saw me break down.
I got in my car and drove a few miles down the road before the tears overwhelmed me and I had to pull over. And I leaned over the steering wheel sobbing for a while. But I didn’t have to call Justin this time. The tears subsided on their own. Because it all felt final now, and this was just the last outpouring, and I would be fine. Whatever came next, I would be fine.
I repeated that to myself like a mantra all the way home, all the way up the flights of stairs, and into the kitchen where I found my friends laughing over a bowl of oven wedges and a tub of sour cream. They cut off abruptly and looked my way as I let the door swing shut behind me.
“Oh, Kat. Thank God,” Justin said around a mouthful of potato. He swallowed. “We thought you were Damien.”
I flicked my eyebrows and looked at Izzy. “Did you? That shouldn’t be a problem any more, hey, Izzy?”
Izzy blushed a deeper shade of red than I’d thought it possible to go. For Izzy to blush like that, she was either really embarrassed, or really… smitten.
“What do you mean?” Justin said, glancing at Izzy and stuffing two wedges in his mouth at once. I came to the table and sat down opposite them.
“Well last night Izzy flirted her way into a jar of pasta sauce from Damien’s cupboard for me,” I said.
“O, ho,” Justin laughed, muffled around the food. “It worked?”
“Yeah. And now it seems our girl has gone above and beyond the call of duty. I’d say she’s done enough to give us free range at his food any time we like.” I winked at her.
“Hey!” Izzy said, pouting.
Justin’s eyebrows were up in his hair line. “No.”
“Yes. I caught her coming out of his room this morning.”
“Yeah, when you were coming out of Justin’s,” Izzy said, deflecting, waggling her finger between the two of us. I pushed her hand away.
“Leave off. That was nothing and you know it.” I glanced at Justin briefly — he didn’t meet my eye — before looking back at Izzy. “He was just looking after me.”
“Looking after you? Why? Seriously, what happened last night?”
I swallowed and looked between my two friends — they were both staring at me curiously, both waiting to hear the story. And, boy, did I have some things to tell them. Where did I start. They were studying me closely now. Justin had even stopped eating. I was going to speak, but my throat had suddenly constricted. I made a little squeaking noise instead.
“Have you been crying?” Izzy jumped up from her seat and came around to plonk next to me. She squeezed my hand.
I took a breath and steadied myself. “My dad offered Brendan money to stop dating me.” I was surprised at how calmly I said it.
“What?” Justin breathed.
“And he took it.”
Izzy squawked in inarticulate shock. “No,” she said. “Why…no…”
“Fucking bastard,” Justin spat.
“It was a lot of money. And he needed it,” I explained. My hands shook slightly, but my voice was even.
“So, what, you’re okay with it? That your dad paid him off and he took it?”
“No, I’m not okay with it,” I said harshly. Then I took a deep breath. “But I understand it.”
Justin huffed and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll kill him.”
“Who, Brendan or my dad?”
“Both, if you want. But especially Brendan. That’s bollocks.”
“You don’t know the situation.”
“Sure, he needs money, but that’s no excuse,” Izzy said.
“I thought he was better than that.” Justin was scowling darkly.
“Do you know what happened to his mum, though? And what’s happened since?”
“I know she died. In a car accident. And that his dad is a no-hoper who pisses away all their money. But still—”
“And his brothers got taken away, and he wants to get them back. And they’re in heaps of debt. Sixty grand worth.”
Justin blinked. “Faaark. I di
dn’t know that. But still—”
“I know. I know. It’s all fucked up. But it will be okay.”
“How are you so calm about this?” Izzy said, squeezing my hand again and looking miserable on my behalf.
“She must be in shock, poor girl. Get her a drink, Iz.”
“I don’t need — actually, yeah, get me a drink. Vodka, preferably.”
As Izzy started rising from the table, I leant to put my head in my hands, feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. But then the kitchen door opened. Damien stepped through, stopped for moment and looked at all of us — staring at him — then his eyes paused on Izzy, and a small smile flickered on his face. He didn’t even glance at the bowl of wedges on the table, which Justin was unsuccessfully trying to obscure from view by leaning awkwardly in front of them.
Then he remembered where he was and cleared his throat, continuing past the table into the kitchen. Izzy followed, ostensibly to get me a drink, but there was a dreamy look in her eye, and I was sure she was following him. Justin and I leaned in our chairs, further and further over, until we were almost horizontal, to peer into the kitchen after them. They didn’t speak. Just did their own separate things, Izzy pouring vodka into a glass, Damien buttering bread for a sandwich. But they kept glancing at each other. And Damien smiled more in those few minutes, than I’d seen him smile in all the previous days I’d known him combined.
Justin and I raised our eyebrows at each other and sat up.
“Oh. My. God,” he said in a low whisper.
“I know,” I mouthed, and then composed my face in a rush as Izzy and Damien emerged from the kitchen, still not speaking but walking conspicuously close together. And Damien had made a whole ham sandwich in the time it had taken Izzy to pour one drink. And all it was, was straight vodka.
Izzy placed it in front of me without really looking, her eyes constantly drawn back to Damien, who was heading for the door. Then he paused, and glanced back.
“Uh, Izzy?”
“Yeah?” She perked up brightly, and swung her whole body to face him.
“Uh, just, uh, I was gonna go get some food later, maybe? Want to come?”
“Um, yeah. Okay. I could eat later.”
“Ok. Cool.” And then he left, and Izzy turned back to the table with her head in the clouds. She was smiling and twiddling her hair between two fingers for a while before she noticed Justin and me smirking.
“What?” We just grinned wider, but then her gaze flicked to me and she covered her mouth. “Oh, shit, sorry Kat. I didn’t mean to forget about you. Are you okay? Sorry.”
I shook my head and shushed her. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll be fine. It’s no reason for you not to be happy.”
Her eye were wide and sheepish, and a smile danced across her mouth, though she tried to stifle it. She pressed her lips together.
“And you have to spill now. How did this happen?” Justin said, leaning across the table. “When did this happen? I never knew you even noticed Damien.”
“Me neither,” she said. “Not really. But he was nice to me the other day. When Tom was being a right twat about stuff, and I came home upset.”
“When was this? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“You were both off with — it’s okay. You were busy. It wasn’t that big a deal, but Damien offered me chocolate—”
“Out of his cupboard? It must be love,” Justin said.
Izzy rolled her eyes. “The point is, he was actually really good about it, and we talked a bit. I guess I saw him differently then.”
“Is this what you were upset about yesterday? When you were all ready to beat up poor balloon sellers?”
Izzy grimaced wryly. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just since that time, he’d hardly looked at me. And it pissed me off.”
Justin laughed, and we both glared at him. “What? It’s just funny — I can imagine how pissed off you would have been. I mean, when has that ever happened to you, that you want someone and they don’t even notice you?”
“I know, right? Never,” Izzy said, mostly serious, though she grinned. “Anyway, when you needed that pasta sauce last night, Kat, I was looking for an excuse to talk to him anyway. And I flirted and it worked. And then I got ready to go out and drank too much—”
“No! You, drunk?” Justin shut up again when we glared.
“—And I just got it into my head to just flat out ask him. I was just going to see if he wanted to come out with me for the night, but, you know, one thing led to another, and we, like, never left his room.” She looked between us and narrowed her eyes, getting her waggling finger out again. “But don’t you guys dare make a big deal out of it.”
We held up our hands with gasps of offence. “Us?”
“I’m serious. I don’t know what this is yet, and I don’t want you guys ruining it.”
We made cooing sounds, and Izzy blushed and glared at us.
“Seriously, we’re happy for you, Iz,” I said eventually. And I reached out and slapped Justin on the arm. “Aren’t we.”
“‘Course.”
“You’re just thinking about all the food shopping you’re not going to have to do,” Izzy said to him, pursing her lips disdainfully. Justin shrugged. And then they looked at me as I moved to get up from the table.
“You alright?” Izzy asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I just need to be alone for a bit. Got a few things to sort out.”
“Are you sure? You still seem stupidly calm.”
“Yeah. I’m dealing.”
“I guess you’re used to it,” Izzy said.
“To what?”
“To your parents doing stuff like this. It’s just like when you were with Mark at school. Didn’t they pay him off so that Whatshisname-Barrington the Third could take you to the Deb instead?”
“Yeah, it is a lot like that,” I agreed.
“Seriously? What is wrong with your folks?” Justin said.
“She just got everyone to cover for her though, even Barrington. They used the money to buy booze, and then made out with Mark out the back, while her parents were inside none the wiser.”
Justin shook his head, then got up from the table and came round to me, pulling me back against his chest and hugging his arms around my neck. He kissed me on the side of the head. “We’re here for you okay. No matter what.”
I nodded and felt tears welling. But I’d had enough of crying. I had things to do now. “I know. Thanks.” I felt bad, knowing how much they cared, and all the things I wasn’t sharing with them. But I’d tell them, soon, once I had things in place. For now all I had to hold onto were the little threads of secret thoughts and plans, and I didn’t want to share them yet. It was all too fragile.
So I hugged them both and left.
“It hasn’t hit her yet,” I heard Izzy mutter to Justin when they thought I couldn’t hear. And I smiled.
Then I got to work changing my entire life.
fifteen
UPHEAVED, I WROTE on the page. Was that an actual word? I wasn’t 100% sure, but it sure described how my life felt after the last month. I’d taken to writing in a journal after the crazy Sunday Dinner, because I’d had so much inside that I felt I couldn’t talk to anyone about, and writing it down had got it out of my head. I kind of liked the experience, so I’d kept doing it, even after I’d let Izzy and Justin in on my plans.
I was trying to write now, sitting by myself in the corner of the coffee shop, but I felt too agitated to think straight. My heart was racing so much, my hand shook. Fuck. I wrote next. That was the only word I could think of. Then I flipped the cover shut to hide it when the waitress came to my table to refill my cup. That was the reason I’d come here, for the free tea and coffee refills, because I was watching my pennies now.
Thinking about money was a new experience, but I almost liked it. I liked fending for myself. I liked making all my own decisions, and not consulting my parents first. I occasionally talked to my mum now, but that was still courtesy more than
desire. We had a long way to go if we wanted anything resembling a close relationship, but at least she was doing me a big favour now. Well, it was more of an exchange of favours, but it was a start. She appreciated me for it, for what I was doing for her, and I was grateful to her for the secrets she was keeping for me, so we were getting somewhere. But I drew a firm line at her having any interference whatsoever in my decisions. I’d tell her about them, but only if she butted the hell out. I knew it was hard for her, but she had managed so far.
But today I had butterflies. So many I felt a little sick. Today was the day I really made all these plans official, really committed to all these changes I’d been putting in motion.
And in all my new found independence, I was now waiting on the one person who could still make or break me, who could crush me more easily than I liked to admit. But I leaned into that intense vulnerability with everything I had, and waited. With the waitress gone, I flipped over my notebook again and stared at the two words I’d written.
Then under those I wrote, Trust me. I asked others to do that, so I was going to trust myself, if it was the last thing I did. I was terrified every day these days, but I was doing it anyway. And this was the moment of truth — no turning back after today.
I leaned into the window I sat by that gave me a view of the narrow street outside. I’d checked it every couple of minutes like this for the forty minutes I’d been sitting here. I’d been early. He was late. Nothing had changed, but my heart was racing.
I was learning to trust in myself, but did I trust him? I did, didn’t I? Otherwise why would I have done all this? There were ways I could have changed my life that didn’t involve this.
But then I caught a glimpse of him, the first time I’d seen him in person in a month. His hair was longer, and the wind ruffled it and whipped it across his eyes. I caught a glimpse of those eyes, intensely amber and gold in the pale Edinburgh afternoon. Then he disappeared for a moment as he ducked through the low door frame of the coffee shop. The bell over the door jangled as he pushed it, and my breath was caught in my throat. My heart seemed to thunder in my ears and everything was extra bright, extra loud.
