Pulling Me Under

by Rebecca Berto

  Excitement bubbles under my skin, however, I’m still feeling guilty because I don’t deserve presents for just a silly birthday.

  Liam looks between the gifts and me. “We didn’t have enough time for a card. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be silly. Ella, Liam, you didn’t have to buy me presents . . . but thank you.”

  Liam grins. “Don’t thank us yet, there could be coal inside those bags.”

  “No, Mommy. I promise there isn’t. It’s pink and—”

  “Pink and nothing,” Liam corrects, before reminding Ella not to spoil my surprise and let me see for myself what she handpicked.

  “Handpicked?” I remark proudly as I withdraw the little navy box, “Wow, I wonder—” my voice cuts out the moment the top-half springs open. I mean to say thank you, or some expression of gratitude, but for a moment the words won’t make sense aloud. The beauty of the earrings captures me. I dig my fingers into the pouch.

  Two golden love hearts lie on white velvet backing. I drag my finger along the left side of each heart, which are adorned with pink stones. I pull the box in closer, marveling at the smooth curve of the right side.

  “Oh, Ella, are they . . . ”

  “Di—a—monds,” she sounds out. “I told you they were pink, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, Elly, but it was mean to be a surprise,” Liam explains.

  “Oh,” she says, embarrassment setting in.

  “Liam,” I murmur through gritted teeth, “this is too—”

  “Shush,” he interrupts, pointing to the other bag, “open the other one. That one is from me. I picked it to match the ones Ella chose.”

  “Oh my, where do I start . . . I love the earrings!”

  I lean down to plant a kiss on Ella’s cheek. Then with a grateful smile, I plant a kiss on Liam’s cheek. He smiles knowingly as I return to my second gift.

  This one is big. It has the same navy blue color scheme and white velvet backing that clasps down the jewelry. The pendant inside shimmers brilliantly under the light.

  The golden heart matches my former present perfectly. It curves on the right side of the heart and the left side sparkles with inset precious stones. It’s at least five times the size of the earrings sitting in the box by its side. I narrow the space between the boxes. The matching pendant and earrings lie side by side.

  “Liam I . . . why did you . . . ” I stutter, my head spinning too fast to make sense. “Thank you, really.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just put them on, dummy. They’re no use in their boxes.”

  “Yeah, put my ones on!” Ella joins in.

  She says she’ll take the earrings out for me, and Liam and I watch intently as she fiddles and prods at the jewelry.

  Eventually, she figures out how to squeeze off the backing clasp. She drops them in my palm, smiling so that I can see almost all of her teeth. I finger the hole in the lobe of my ear and poke through each earring as Liam removes the matching pendant from the box. I open up my gold chain around my neck to drop through and replace the old one instead with the new matching heart.

  Ella bounces on her seat eagerly, almost toppling over.

  Liam stares, only saying one word: Gorgeous.

  The excitement that bubbles under my skin means that anything I try to say for the following half hour is stammered, or rolls out at lightning speed. Liam, within a short time, becomes pre-occupied with his phone as usual, so I suggest going home so he can get back to work.

  “No,” Ella complains, her chin shriveling up. She isn’t ready to go yet, she whimpers, even as I insist that Liam is a busy man who needs to work. He retaliates against my assumptions and suggests Ella can play as long as she likes. My eyes roll tiredly, as I know I’ve been outvoted two on one.

  Ella goes over to the kids’ equipment to burn off some of the extra energy she seems to have found. I tell Liam to hold the table for us as I go to open the childproof gate. The play equipment is cleverly designed, with bright colors, shapes, animal pictures and brightly colored rubber covering the flooring.

  “Can I go now?” she says, already trying to slither out of my grip.

  “One minute,” I say. Her face drops. “Not long.”

  She props herself onto a chair by the side of the gates. I crouch on my toes, taking her hand in mine.

  “Did Liam ring you from Sydney when you were at Nana and Pa’s?” I ask, staring into her bright blue eyes and tucking back a stray golden curl behind her ear.

  “Yes,” she admits, staring at me for a while, her little fingers making swirls around the heart on my chest. “Hope I didn’t ruin the surprise.”

  We both grin goofily at each other. After realizing she should be in the playground, she slides off her seat to run to a tall slide that twists around a cage of colored balls and a mini flying fox.

  “Can I go?” she asks, turning around at the beginning of the rubber flooring and remembering that she forgot to ask first.

  “Yes, you can. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  How odd. Ella confirmed my thought, but I still don’t know what to make of it. Why is Liam putting so much effort into this? Why has he wasted so much money on me? I mean, he almost forgot about my birthday when I turned twenty-five. And twenty-six.

  Liam is still flicking through his phone when I sit down at the table. He looks up and digs it in his pocket.

  “I’m glad you liked your presents. I’m sorry I didn’t buy anything earlier.”

  “Just your style.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” I say, shaking my finger at him. “Something to do with killing you!”

  “Really now,” he grins, crossing his arms over the table and leaning in. The muscles under his shirt tense as he shifts his weight. Ugh. He’s ready to mock my protests. I can’t help but tell him off through a wide smile as he stares goofily.

  “As if you really let her pay for my earrings. They’re too much, so we both know that’s a lie. Then you go and buy a matching necklace! I swear, you’ll send me to my grave early,” I say, trying to tell him off, yet it sounds more like praise. “I guessed you were shopping for something to do with my birthday, but I didn’t imagine that you’d go and waste all your money on me.”

  “Not true. She wanted to put in some of her pocket money. I wasn’t going to let her, but,” Liam leans in, stealing my breath, “the girl has a will as strong as her mother’s.” He sits back, perhaps realizing how close he was. Again.

  I shake my head, remembering how exquisite they were, packaged in their little boxes, sparkling. I have around a grand’s worth of jewelry resting between my ears and the cavity where my collarbones meet. I doubt he let Ella’s contributions take part anymore than a few dollars of that sum.

  A feeling grows inside me. I try batting it away by thinking how long we’ve been friends, and everything we’ve been through, but it only serves to knot my insides further.

  This isn’t good.

  Liam seems blissfully ignorant to my protests as he sits tall, his broad shoulders shaping his triangular figure which overhangs the small swivel chair underneath him.

  “You’re spoiling the moment, Kates. Enjoy your present. Ella and I both know you deserve it. You look absolutely gorgeous in them,” he says, beaming.

  “You’re right; they’re gorgeous but it doesn’t mean you didn’t waste too much money.”

  “Spend,” he corrects.

  I fluff my hand in the air indifferently.

  “I really meant what I said,” Liam tells me, holding my gaze.

  I look around, oblivious to the comment I should have caught. “And that was . . . ”

  “The jewelry looks gorgeous on you,” he mutters, flicking off gunk from the table befor
e looking back. “Actually, it’s you who makes the earrings and pendant look as amazing as they do.”

  He stares with those same, still eyes. I’m not sure what he wants to hear, so what am I meant to do?

  “Oh, wearing your heart on your sleeve for once I see. That’s very kind of you.” I squeeze his hand as thanks.

  To my surprise, he squeezes me back. I wait for the shift or the blur I might see too late. I expect a slap, a laugh, a prank.

  Nothing.

  A few seconds pass and we still clasp each other’s hands. His eyes are fixated on mine. They are warm and inviting, the blue sea of his eyes captivating yet too intense to hold.

  I feel a tickle stroke down my index finger. Liam’s eyes are still, almost as if someone else has made the movement. I can’t make out what he means by this touch.

  Then he does it again. My finger tickles, as he strokes his skin along mine.

  I don’t want to look down. I think I know what is happening. I don’t want to be spoilt, even if it is a milestone birthday. If I look at our hands, they’ll tell a different story to what I need to believe. An image like that, the crossing of a line that can’t be undone—it’s a mighty thing to have stuck in my head.

  A kiss. I can hear Nancy telling me why a frickin’ little finger rub, hand holding, matters when we’ve already been further than this, already crossed the line as “just friends”. It matters. The first kiss was PTSD Kates, spiraling out of control, hands flapping about for purchase onto anything that would stop everything spinning so fast. For help. The second was Kates at her very lowest when she found someone to care for her, just in that very moment.

  This isn’t a kiss. A touch like this is deliberately sending a rational, clear-headed message: I want more than kisses stolen once every few months.

  Curiosity gets the better of me before I can stop myself, and I look down, see the proof. Our fingers intertwine and he rubs his other set of knuckles along my skin like a snake sliding along a marble floor. I feel watched. I know he’s waiting for the inevitable, our gaze to lock. It’s a signal that we both understand the terms. The eyes can’t lie.

  Questions flood my head. How long has he felt this way? Has he betrayed Paul all the years of their friendship and our marriage? I feel hot all of a sudden. How can I have let this happen?

  Our friendship evolved since my recovery. We’ve mended and grown closer. That should have been it. But even that lie doesn’t fool me. I’ve seen his hints; shit, I gave the hints in my kisses. I know what my thoughts have been, even if fleeting. It’s my fault I didn’t work up the courage to stop him earlier.

  Then I think. Why didn’t I stop him months ago? Lay out my feelings?

  All this time.

  This is my fault. I’ve betrayed Paul.

  I think, “What are you . . . I don’t get . . . Explain.” These words don’t come out. I also ask a bazillion other questions. Nothing comes out.

  “Kates . . . ” With the hand not holding mine, Liam picks up my jaw and nudges it shut. He caresses my lips. “You’ve got drool.” He points to the side of his lips by way of demonstrating. “Right there.”

  “Oh.” I swipe at my lips. That wasn’t what I expected him to say.

  He’s silent for a long time. No longer do the crowd, the squeals and chatter circle us. They fall to a hum beneath us. A vast, empty plain replaces the colorful walls and shops. Only Liam sits with me across the expanse of blackness.

  Liam sandwiches both my hands in his and props his elbows on the table. He sucks in a deep breath as his head dips in the space between us. If my hands were free, I imagine I could have swiped at the air he sucked in, and felt something solid.

  He licks his lips, preparing for . . . a kiss? I think No, no, no! but my reactions have stiffened, fallen apart. Through his eyelashes, his eyes are so blue, reminding me of the color of Ella’s eyes. This pulls me up at the same time as Liam’s lips part.

  “Katherine—”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Katie, I—”

  “Just stop. What are you doing?” I ask, desperately hoping he is pranking me. I never knew he was such a good actor. I mean, this is all so convincing! We’ll laugh it off later whilst belching out some rock tunes. He loves Nickelback too.

  Liam tucks his hands under his armpits. That certifies what’s happened. There’s no way he’d go this far with a joke. We’ve been friends longer than I’ve been able to remember and one move has changed all those years.

  Where do we stand now? How can I break his heart?

  Finally, he manages to finish his sentence. “It wasn’t like this, not before . . . ” The tremble in his voice increases. It bubbles up and finally swallows his words altogether. It sucks away the cheer I’m used to hearing.

  Before I stabbed my mate in the back, is what he should say. It isn’t.

  “ . . . with Paul.”

  He hangs his head in his hands. I let him sit that way for a minute. A minute where my mind runs wild, but I keep my lips closed. I need to hear what he’s thinking. When he looks up, Liam’s eyes seem to belong to a middle-aged man. Not a man at the peak of his life.

  Liam groans, looks at me for a split second, then shakes away my image. “I swear to you,” he takes my hand again, firmly this time, and clasps it as if I were the meat patty in a bun. “Katherine, this, before, all this stuff that’s happened with us, it wasn’t my intention. I don’t want to take Paul’s place or spring this on you because he isn’t here. It’s just . . . you’re intoxicating. I can’t help it.”

  “We’ve spent more time together lately than we have before, which has made me see what I was too busy to notice all those years ago: working my ass off, spending half my savings visiting every continent around the world and meaningless hook ups with girlfriends never mattered.

  “But you matter. You always have, and I’m a fool for not telling you how much I love you earlier.”

  “Oh my God,” I mumble, mostly to myself.

  Rewind, he said ‘love’? Liam asks what I said but the thought never comes to answer. Slowly, the shops, voices and the crowds come back. There are running children. One passes too quickly to make out the color of his hair as another taller boy dashes at his heel. The children on the playground are yelling and banging their feet and fists harder than ever. My head starts to spin.

  Then there is Liam, still staring at me. His eyes are scrupulous, inquisitive, like a parent waiting to hear if I’ve done my homework.

  I need a moment.

  I stand, lashing at the nearest surface and grip on. I stand too fast for my blood pressure to keep up. The last thing I see is Liam sliding out of his chair as my vision blacks out.

  “Are you okay?” I hear his voice from across the table.

  “Mm,” I say, “I’m fine.”

  “All right, slowly now,” he says, rushing to my side, but still unable to look directly at me. I back away as he comes closer. He halts after a couple of steps, noticing my hostility. I collect my phone and rubbish off the table, putting the former in my bag and the latter in the garbage.

  “Ella and I need to get back. You can drop us off at our home. I promised her something after school. I can’t break it, sorry. Thanks for the presents. They were . . . nice.”

  Liam’s jaw is slack. I see that blow, the one I dealt to his chest. His eyes read the rejection. His shoulders heave inward.

  “You won’t even tell me what you’re thinking.” It isn’t quite a question, not quite a statement.

  I close my eyes for a moment. “Another time, Liam. I have to get home. Like I said, I promised her we’d have an important chat. It’s getting late now.”

  It’s a pathetic excuse at best. A weak attempt at faking a test I haven’t studied for in the slightest. He deserves an answer, and that’s w
hy when I can explain my feelings, it has to be right. Not here.

  The uneasiness between us is stifling.

  Liam is on my trail as I hurry to the metal barred playground. I scan the equipment and find Ella on a rocking horse. She’s using its mane as a whip. As I pull up beside the enclosure’s opening, Liam comes to my side, casually leaning his elbow in between the bars with his head in his hand. My fingers fumble with the latch the first two times I try it, Liam’s patient eyes scrutinizing my weak fingers.

  “Ella, time to go,” I call out, making my way to her. “Hurry now.”

  “Aw,” she whimpers, looking up through her eyebrows.

  “We’ll come back soon, darling. Off you get, please.”

  She struggles to find her balance and then hops back to the floor, one leg at a time. She runs to Liam, hands outstretched, but he’s already turned away. Feeling defeated, she settles for skulking between us, the three of us making off like the shuffling line of a chain gang.

  I catch up to Ella, holding her hand in mine.

  “I can’t believe you’d say that,” I whisper under my breath. I fall back, my shoulders lining up with Liam’s. His I love you is as confusing as it is infuriating.

  Liam lifts his chin from its snug position over his Adam’s apple. “I deserve the decency of an answer.”

  “You lied to me all this time. Did you think I’d fall so hard I wouldn’t care?”

  “You know it’s not like that.”

  “No, I really don’t know what it’s like.” I remember something that annoys me further. “Do you actually know Brent’s friends, or were you jealous I’d spent time with them? Maybe you thought you’d nip those relationships in the bud in case I liked them.” Okay, that last bit was excessive, but I’m past polite.

  “Really?” He turns to see if I take back my comments. I don’t. “I really know them. They’re not the best of guys.”