Do Not Respond

by M R Field

  I shrug. “No idea.”

  I drink more tea and look out at the bay where the current view of the sailboats would look amazing on a canvas. She could paint anything. Even run that brush across me if she wanted.

  “The beach portrait looks great at the Heavenly Downs home.”

  My gaze darts over to Mum as she lifts her cup to her lips and smiles, shooting me a side glance before staring out over the balcony. “Shit,” I mutter, shaking my head at my stupidity.

  “You forgot I started volunteering at Poppa’s old nursing home, didn’t you?”

  “Yep.” I shrug sheepishly.

  “Her signature is the same.”

  “Yep.” I lift my teaspoon and rub it between my thumb and forefinger. Tension builds in my shoulders, but I try to suppress it. This is my mum, for fuck’s sake. She doesn’t need to see what I am feeling just yet.

  “Cole.” Her voice lowers to that misleading tone, where you think that you’re not in trouble, but you really are. My reaction is still the same. Avoid eye contact at all costs.

  “While I appreciated that portrait, it’s not as impressive as the one with the sunflowers in Mrs. Neatie’s room. They just glowed. Or the one in Mr. Derimutt’s room with the Eureka tower. That looked like a postcard for that building. Even the one in Mrs.—”

  “Fine!” I snap, slumping forward to tilt my head down, my chest tingling as I grind my teeth together. My pulse is beating so quickly I feel like a racehorse. I close my eyes for a moment before blowing out an audible breath, and then I raise my cowardly eyes to my mother. Her smile would crack her face if it were any wider. Her eyes twinkle with mischief. I rub my lips together to suppress a grin.

  “Oh, Cole, you’re trying not to smile, and you forget that I know all your tricks.” Her long, slender index finger taps the side of her face, a knowing gesture. “So, rather than dissect why I counted at least ten paintings in the home that would have made your poppa proud, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Boss?”

  I lean back in my chair like a schooled teenager, my head resting as my eyes stare at the ceiling above, and I attempt to count the downlights.

  “Are you still being a complete Neanderthal to her at work?”

  My forehead tilts toward her in surprise, as I was not expecting that. “How did you … never mind,” I mutter. “You and Bern talk.”

  “No, it was Odette, actually. I Skyped her to see how her trip was going, and we had a bit of gossip.” She raises her eyebrows at me and I groan.

  “I can just guess what was said and how many names I was called.”

  Her brow tightens as she leans closer to me, and I sense a shift in the air.

  “Of course, but those were all from me,” she chides. “After all, how could my lovely, well-mannered son still be behaving like the idiot he was when he was eighteen? If Kevin knew, he’d probably club you. You had your time at university to grow up, and it clearly failed.”

  I cringe as she’s right. Sure, Letty and I were civil at her house, but if they knew the extent of my dictatorship, my balls would be mounted on Elliot’s wall as a dartboard.

  “I know.” I sigh heavily. “I’m working on it. Just trying to sort out my head. It’s a tangled mess.”

  “So, does Letty know you’re in love with her yet?”

  The blow is fierce when it strikes. Hearing her say it aloud compresses my chest. I puff out in frustration and admit defeat.

  “No.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  “Because…”

  “What is it, Cole?” Her voice softens in concern as she shifts her seat to turn her whole body to mine. Oh, this is fucking harder than I thought.

  I swallow and brace myself, ready to remind Mum what a shit son I am. “I wasn’t there for Dad. I promised him I’d return back early to tie up the boat, and I didn’t. I was too busy mucking around with Letty in the caves. I could’ve saved him.”

  Tears burn behind my eyes, but I hold them back. I don’t deserve to cry. “I let him down and wasn’t there when he died. Instead, I was chasing the girl he warned me away from.” I curl my hands and punch into my bent legs, the anger building. “He warned me against her.” My voice hardens. “While he died, I was too busy collecting sea shells. Maybe he was right. We weren’t right for each other. It doesn’t stop me from loving her, though.”

  My gut rolls, the word love sounding foreign from my lips.

  “No.” Mum’s voice breaks through my resolve. “Cole, look at me.”

  I blink a few times before my eyes slide toward hers. Her eyes shimmer with tears as her lips wobble. “It was probably the only time, except for Santa and the Easter Bunny, that your father lied to you.”

  I jolt in surprise, and I sit up in the seat to look at her directly. “Wait, what?”

  “Cole, you were a walking, talking hormone. Anywhere Letty went, you followed, and vice versa. We saw how close you guys were getting, but she was just fourteen. Too young to be near a raging hot-blooded eighteen-year-old male. We were protecting her.”

  “I wouldn’t have touched her!” I growl. “I would have never hurt her.”

  “We know that, but it was just a matter of time before you guys got together. We wanted you both to be a little older and more mature.”

  “What a stupid reason.” I frown, crossing my arms in front of me. “It screwed me over even more; I thought I was betraying Dad by lusting after her. It was easier to hate her and push away the one girl I felt anything for, to assuage my guilt for not being there. I thought keeping her away was the right thing to do.” My chest feels cracked in two. “It still doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve been there to help Dad. Even to hold his hand.” I exhale, trying to hold the whirl of emotion at bay.

  “You were both young and adventurous,” Mum says. “There’s no way on this earth that your dad would’ve wanted his last moments in complete agony spent with his children looking on. He was a proud man who would have wanted you to remember him as you are now. As a strong, fierce man, who loved us unconditionally. You didn’t need to see those last moments, Cole.” Her voice breaks. “You and Parker are lucky that his last moments of suffering haven’t haunted you for years every time you closed your eyes.”

  She pulls a handkerchief from her side pocket and wipes her tear away. “I’ve been haunted for years, but I will take that burden if it spares my boys.”

  She blows her nose gently, and I reach forward to wrap my arm around her shoulder, drawing her to me.

  “Forgiveness is golden, Cole,” she declares against my shoulder. “You were wrong to punish Letty and yourself. She was an innocent bystander. Just like you were. You will need to make amends with her about that. Or that hurt will resurface and haunt you when it needn’t. It could destroy any possible future you might want with her.”

  “I know, Mum.” I squeeze her tighter. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot. I stupidly blamed her for a while, and it forced us apart. But there’s more now, Mum. So much more at stake.”

  “What do you mean?” Her brow furrows as she assesses my face. No doubt, my own frown is more severe than before.

  “Elliot approached me…” I swallow, feeling my throat tighten slightly.

  “You mean when he asked you to hire Letty?”

  My face freezes in shock. “How do you…” But I stop myself. Of course, our parents talk.

  “Are you feeling guilty for hiring her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you hire her?” Her eyes stare back into mine.

  I turn away, afraid to answer, but the words, leave my traitorous lips on a hiss. “To be near her again. That Christmas morning, after Park and I returned from the beach, she was there, and everything I felt came rushing back full force.” My teeth grind as I spit out, “But she was with someone else, and I realised I was too late. When Elliot approached me, I thought maybe we could get our friendship back on track at least, but…”

  “Yes?” she pries.

  �
��I saw her in the lobby with her boyfriend at the time, and all the stupid resentment I had came back.”

  “You mean, you were a jealous Neanderthal?” Her brow raises, and I shake my head.

  “Yeah. Then, I thrived on the tension. It consumed me.”

  “Of course it did. You used to tease each other all the time. Now you’re adults; you’re no longer children. You’re just playing childish games. Between your stubbornness and Parker’s immaturity, I’m keeping my hairdresser busy covering all my grey hair.”

  “It’s backfired, though.” I pick at the crumbs on my plate.

  “Is she a terrible assistant?”

  “No, not at all.” I shake my head. “She’s the best. But she’ll be pissed when she finds out I hired her because Elliot asked me to.”

  “Whatever for? It’s only natural for parents to look after their children.”

  “She won’t see it like that.” I grimace, knowing her pride is stronger than titanium. “She won’t see how amazing she is.”

  “Well, my darling son, you’re just going to have to face it, tell her the truth, and show her what she’s worth.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping to do. We’ve driven circles around each other at work these past few years. Time to get us back on track. I’ve been an idiot.”

  “You are your father’s son. He was a big idiot, too.” She chuckles, and I laugh too.

  “So, Santa isn’t real?” I joke. “I feel so betrayed.”

  “Come here, you big goof,” she pretend-scolds me and raises her lips to kiss my cheek. Even though my mum is shorter than I am, she still carries a strength that has always held me up.

  “You feeling better?” She rubs my back briefly. “This is Letty; she will forgive you.”

  I lean back and take a moment to realise that despite the intensity of her words, my chest is lighter and my thoughts are clearer.

  “Well, you know what to do now, Cole. When you get back, you need to explain yourself and go and get your girl.” She reaches for another piece of cake, and I grin, shaking my head. “Neither you nor your lazy brother have provided me with any grandchildren, so chop, chop!”

  “Ease up, Mother dearest. Gotta see if Letty wants me first.”

  “She will; you’ll just have to work for it.” She slips a piece of cake on her plate and waggles her eyebrows at me. “You’re in for a battle, honey, but the journey will be worth it. You can start by calling her Letty. You know she hates her full name.”

  I groan as I cover my face with my hand. “What didn’t Odette tell you?”

  “Not much. So, get ready to work your arse off. You won’t need your bike with all the circles she’s going to put you through.” A cackle leaves her lips. “I can’t wait to Skype Odette soon. This is going to be delicious.”

  I roll my eyes but take in every single word. Later that night, as I go to sleep, my thoughts are no longer muddled with the remnants of guilt, but instead full of memories from our childhood.

  “I’m going to make her remember,” I whisper into the darkened room. “We have a future to start living.”

  Letty

  To: lchase@innovationdesigns.com.au

  From: lchase@innovationdesigns.com.au

  Subject: DNR

  Date: Fri 28/7/18 8:47am

  You know what is weird?

  Walking into work and finding your boss has arrived there before you and is spraying your lucky bamboo plant. I almost thought he was trying to deliberately drown it somehow, but he wasn’t.

  I’m looking at you, boss. My lucky bamboo is a soft spot. You trying to butter me up? You about to send me on a fucking goose chase to find a ruler on the other side of Melbourne? Or a calculator that doesn’t have a rechargeable panel?

  Your “good morning” was weird too. What’s with being nice? Maybe spending time with me in an elevator robbed your brain of oxygen, and you got amnesia. Hmm.

  What’s your game, dude? I’m not used to these emails not containing insults. I kinda miss calling you a fuck-knuckle noob.

  Also, you’re screwing with my sleep. Stop appearing wearing nothing but your cycling bib. It’s distracting from like, you know, sleeping.

  I triple-check that my address is in the sender tab and hit send. My stomach then grumbles as the hour closes toward lunchtime. I have my lunch with me today, as I have the end-of-month invoices to do and know I’ll be eating at my desk.

  I have an exhibition tonight as Annette is having a wine soiree where clients can “meet and greet” the artists. Personally, I think the cases of wine that will be popped and poured will be the magic touch to sell more art. She is also excited that I will finally meet my fan. Hope he’s nice and not a stalker.

  It’s impressive to know someone procures my pieces on a regular basis, but if it is some whack job who has an underground pain dungeon with my canvases all over the wall, then no thanks. I have already insisted she not introduce me personally until I check the buyer out from a distance. She laughed at that, but this is coming from the woman who wanted to set me up with her nephew who is single and “ready to move out of home.” He’s nineteen. I don’t think I have cougar written all over my twenty-six/almost twenty-seven-year-old face, but apparently, I do.

  I continue to distract myself from my rollercoaster stomach by ordering subscriptions to the new magazines the boys want, even chuckling as I remember a time when I almost ordered Cosmopolitan or Vogue just to see if he’d notice. I was sure he showed more care for his bike than me, unless his family was near, yet that was disproven after he accidentally ran into me.

  But I don’t feel like furniture today. I haven’t for the last month.

  I’ve almost gotten used to him not being a pedantic arsehole, even if my gut tightens habitually from time to time. Past agitation is tough to crack. I have acute muscle memory from all the times I’ve refrained from telling him which bridge he could jump off. I should’ve had a flat stomach from all those months clenching. But nope.

  I run my fingers under the collar of my dress to check if it’s flat, giving me an excuse to covertly survey the room. The boys seem normal as they work on their individual projects. Everyone is here apart from Theo, who has weekly meetings at the restaurant he’s designing. As for Cole … my fingers tickle against my skin as I look at him, and I fight to continue an exhale. Looking over at him now feels as familiar as looking at him in the sand did way back then, while being foreign at the same time.

  Typing on his keyboard, he stares at the screen with a smile on his face. Like, an actual smile. It’s a wonder his face doesn’t crack in rebellion from the very underused facial gesture. His shoulders aren’t stock straight as he types. Instead, there’s a more relaxed vibe around him.

  A little flicker of nostalgia flutters my belly while I gaze at him, reminding me of the times he’d be on the beach, waiting for a wave big enough to tackle with a boogie board. I haven’t forgotten his wet hair and bright eyes, no matter how cold they turned.

  I shift my fingers down to my bare forearm and angle my face down to watch where I pinch myself. Nope. Not a dream. Cole is being weird.

  Looking back up, he is still smiling as he looks over to the printer by his desk and retrieves a letter. My pulse quickens. Do I detect a hint of mischief in his upturned grin? What is he doing? I didn’t think designing the Stellar project was that exciting, unless…

  Maybe that’s a contract he’s grabbing. Or a forced letter of resignation? My stomach plummets. Can he do that? Does he want to fire me?

  Oh, shit.

  That could be a smile of an assassin, luring me into a sense of false security by being nice and swoony all those times. That shithead!

  My skin tingles as his eyes suddenly slide over to me and I flinch, stupidly reaching forward to grab the desk phone. Who am I going to call? I’ve no clue, but my eyes instantly shift to my laptop, with the phone still poised in my hand, to find a blank Excel document staring back at me. I squint to pretend that this is the most importan
t information ever as my fingers hover over the keys, ready to dial this important ghost.

  I tilt my head to the side to allow my curls to fall forward so I can peek through them over to him. His gaze is back to his screen as the aggravating dial tone punches into my eardrums in single mind-exploding beats. I slowly move the phone back to its base and use my other free hand to pretend to type.

  Wow. Now that I’ve started this façade, how far do I go? Both hands? A nod? Surely, I can do some actual work.

  “Did we get new pens?” Cole interrupts my bad acting. I drop the façade immediately. A tremor of fear prickles over my skin. Mr. OCD is going to lose his bloody mind. I don’t feel as cocky as I did when I ordered ten boxes during that expedition Cole sent me on. Payback is about to make me the bitch.

  “Um, yep…” A tingle flutters behind my neck as I look around quickly, my movement jolty as Cole remains quiet, surveying the pen before his eyes lift to mine. His eyebrow raises for further explanation, but I have nothing.

  Uh, oh.

  “Would you look at that.” I laugh awkwardly, my hands frantically grabbing the random forms from the side tray on my desk. “Almost forgot to collect these. Better go and copy them.”

  I stand quickly, barely missing catching my hip on the edge of my desk. Smooth, real smooth.

  “Think it’s time for lunch,” Steve announces. “Your shout this week, isn’t it, Brad?”

  Brad flicks his finger rapidly in the air in agreement. Seeing as we still have another ten minutes, they must have worked out that my ridiculous stationery order has been discovered. The discomfort of my practical joke rumbles in the room.

  Cole stares again at the pen before he twists it to open and tilts his head, lifting his eyes to jump from worker to worker.

  Who are all avoiding eye contact and now are being quiet, just like we’d hoped he would be with these new pens. Suddenly, the sound of the irritating clicking pen is missed.

  He sits back in his seat, his knee crossed over his leg, rolling the pen in his hands, looking at me. Oh, shit. He’s onto me. He knows the boys would never do this. Before, he can ask anymore, I clutch the papers to my chest and wave to the boys who are spilling out the door in their escape to lunch. Shit! Why haven’t I made an excuse to go with them? I just left looking guilty.