Plight

by K. M. Golland

  I sighed but smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Cheer up. Today is going to be great. It’s lemon slice day!”

  Chuckling, I forged ahead to my office, calling back over my shoulder, “Sneak me an extra one when Lina comes by, yeah?”

  “Already planned to,” she called back.

  Lina was the morning tea-cart lady, and Tuesday was lemon slice day. My favourite. Rebecca knew that because she was one awesome secretary, and, of course, that involved being great at her secretarial duties, which was why I had a stack of subpoenas to peruse and approve by midday.

  Tossing them onto my desk, I settled into my chair and pulled my phone out of my pocket, staring at the screen, willing it to ring or display an incoming text from Danielle. But it didn’t. It had been an hour and a half since I’d contacted her, and I was starting to get a little concerned. Shit! She’s really pissed at me.

  I couldn’t say I blamed her. I had promised I’d call and hadn’t. She’d been understandably worried about my headache — my fake headache — the one I’d used as an excuse to flee being in her presence and instigate Operation Distance for the Greater Good. Fuck! I felt awful, but I also had a shit tonne of work to get through. So, picking up the subpoenas, I tapped them on my desk a couple of times and flipped open the very first page, instantly slamming it shut again and reaching for the phone.

  “Pick up, pick up,” I murmured to myself, as I dialled her number again, and, again, she didn’t answer.

  Stubborn, little, chocolate-headed … faaaaaaark!

  Unable to help myself, I sent her another text.

  Elliot: Danielle, if you don’t answer, we can’t talk. And if we can’t talk, we can’t discuss what we need to discuss.

  I was about to place the phone down when it chimed an incoming message. Yes! Thank God!

  Mum: Why haven’t you called? Why’d you leave the garden so suddenly on Sunday? Are you okay?

  Damn it! Not now.

  Elliot: Been really busy at work, Mum. Everything is fine. Call you tonight.

  * * *

  Mum: But why’d you leave early? Did you and Danielle have a fight? Seriously? The woman was better than a Customs sniffer dog.

  * * *

  Elliot: No. I’ll call you tonight.

  * * *

  Mum: Yes, please do. Jeanette said Danielle is upset and won’t tell her why. I’m worried. We both are.

  Jesus fucking Christ! Maybe I should just pass my message on to Mum who can then pass it on to Jeanette who can then pass it on to Danielle and vice versa. Because at the rate I was going, Danielle and I would probably communicate better that way.

  Elliot: Everything is fine. Stop worrying.

  As I was about to put my phone down and headbutt the desk continuously, it chimed again. MUM, ARGH!

  Danielle: We don’t need to discuss anything. Clearly, you would’ve discussed what needed to be discussed if anything was worth discussing.

  Her smartarse retort made me smile despite the circumstances.

  Elliot: Of course I want to discuss things with you. I’ve just been busy. Work is ridin’ me hard at the moment.

  * * *

  Danielle: Sorry to hear. Hope it settles down soon. Feel better.

  * * *

  Elliot: Please don’t be like that.

  * * *

  Danielle: Like what? Like me?

  Bloody hell! She possessed more defence than a porcupine. I should put her on my legal team.

  Elliot: You know what I mean. You’re dismissing me. I want to talk to you. Will you answer the phone if I call again?

  * * *

  Danielle: Fine.

  Dialling her number yet again, relief flooded me when she answered … until I heard her tone of voice.

  “Make it quick. I only have a minute. A customer just came into the store.”

  “Should I call back then?”

  “No. You didn’t really need to call in the first place.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course I needed to call. You’re upset. I want to fix this.”

  “Elliot, let’s just say it like it is.”

  I shook my head, confused. “Like what is?”

  “Look. I can’t talk. I have to go.”

  “Danielle, like what is?”

  She didn’t answer before disconnecting the call, which left me sat there, dumbfounded, staring at my phone, the screen lighting up when her incoming message flashed across the screen.

  Danielle: Friends should never fuck.

  WHAT?

  Shit! My plan had backfired.

  Fuck!

  Fuck!

  Fuck!

  As soon as I was able to leave the office, I did, and drove like a perfectly legal madman to the Essendon Football Club merchandise store, catching Danielle as she was locking up.

  “Danielle!” I called out, slamming my car door shut in my hurry to stop her from leaving without seeing me.

  She spun around, startled, a gust of wind blowing her hair around her like a fan at an 80s hairband concert. “Elliot, what are—”

  “You’re right,” I said, interrupting her, a little puffed from my jog. “Friends shouldn’t fuck.”

  Her chin trembled for the slightest of seconds, distracting me from finishing what I had to say, which was at the exact moment my stupid phone rang, displaying Rebecca’s name.

  “Sorry.” I cringed, knowing I had to answer it so held up my finger, apologising. “I have to get this. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Turning around, I answered the call. “Hello, Rebecca.”

  “Hi, Mr Parker. I just wanted to let you know that—”

  “Look, I’m just in the middle of something right now. Can I call you back?”

  “Sure. It’s not urgent. I can emai—”

  “Excellent. Thanks.” I hung up, abruptly, and turned back to Danielle, only to find she was no longer standing there. “Shit!” I cursed, my stomach figuratively plummeting to my feet.

  Frantically scanning the space surrounding me, my searching eyes bouncing from traffic to storefronts and dodging pedestrians as they passed by, I spotted her shutting her car door, tears streaming down her face.

  “Danielle, wait! I didn’t finish what I was saying,” I called out.

  Her tyres screeched as she reversed out of her car space, and the look of utter heartbreak she met me with before she sped off nearly brought me to my knees.

  “Wait!” I called out, my voice lacking its prior volume. Friends shouldn’t fuck … unless they’re in love, and in that case, they should definitely make love.

  I knew it. Every intelligent particle of my body had tried to tell me not to fall for and have sex with Elliot Parker. Every. Single. Fucking. Particle. But like the stupid idiot I was when it came to sleeping with my friends, I’d chosen to bathe in ignorance and let its false sense of security cloud my amenable mind.

  Because it felt good.

  Because a lie that suited your purpose always felt good.

  Wiping my tears, I drove home as quickly as possible, which didn’t take me long considering I only lived ten minutes away.

  “You stupid, stupid idiot,” I berated myself, slamming my hands on top of the steering wheel. “You never fucking learn.”

  I was so angry, so hurt … so ashamed. I’d done what I swore I would never do again, and I’d done it so easily. How did I get it so wrong? How did I get him so wrong?

  It had felt different this time around. Elliot had felt different. Our connection seemed incomparable to the others. It seemed real; it always had. Every second we spent together as friends was consistently effortless. But maybe that was the problem? Maybe we were only ever supposed to be friends? That notion hurt my heart because it meant I’d royally fucked up the best thing I’d ever had … twice.

  Pulling into my driveway, I got out of my car, rushed inside and slammed the door shut only to hear Elliot pounding on it moments later.

  “Danielle! Open up. We need to talk.”

/>   “No, we don’t,” I shouted from my position half way up the stairs.

  “We do! Please just open the door.”

  “Open the door? Just like I ‘opened’ my legs? No. Fuck off.”

  Dudley appeared at the top step and slowly hobbled down until he was in patting distance. “It’s okay, baby. Mummy is just angry at the stupid man outside.”

  The door rattled in its hinges when Elliot pounded on it again. Dudley barked but then turned around and went back upstairs. I went to follow.

  “Danielle, please! I never finished what I was trying to say.”

  “Oh, you said what you needed to say, loud and clear.”

  “I love you.”

  Hearing those three words lit a fuse that barely crackled before it exploded, my legs stomping back down the stairs, my hand wrenching the door open and nearly causing Elliot to crash into me.

  “LIES!” I screamed, poking him in the chest, tears stinging my eyes like liquid razorblades. “Everything you’ve said has been a lie.”

  “WHAT? What are you talking about?”

  “The first chance you got after fucking me, you left. You left mentally and physically. Just like everyone else. So don’t you dare tell me you love me.”

  “I didn’t leave you. I just needed—”

  “A little time? Some space? I’ve heard it all before. What you did was fuck me then fuck me off.”

  He stepped closer, so I stepped back. “I did not fuck you and then fuck you off.”

  “Yeah, you did. You got scared and you abandoned me, just like you did when we were kids.”

  “What are you talking about?” He clasped my arm and tried to pull me to him. “Danielle, listen—”

  I slapped him away. “Don’t touch me.”

  At that moment, Chris arrived home, concern and anger etched all over his face as he closed his Ford Ranger door and walked along the entry path. “Is everything okay?” he asked, stepping between Elliot and me.

  “It’s fine. Elliot was just leaving.”

  “No, I wasn’t. Danielle, you’ve got it all wrong. Let me explain.”

  I shook my head and stepped back inside the house. “I haven’t gotten anything wrong. Friends should never fuck … unless you’re Chris and I.” I pointed to Chris, whose eyes had near widened to the size of the dumbbells he was carrying. “Because when we fuck, we know how to respect each other afterward.”

  The realisation on Elliot’s face as he looked at Chris and then me was all I needed to know that I’d successfully rubbed salt into the wound, and as I ran up the stairs, the sound of the two of them scuffling below, I wasn’t sure whose wound I’d just rubbed it into.

  His.

  Mine.

  Chris’.

  Or all of the above.

  “What happened?” Chris asked, the creak of my bedroom door sounding as it slowly opened.

  “We fucked and fucked things up. The usual. End of story.”

  “The Danielle I know doesn’t pit people against each other.”

  I stopped pointlessly rearranging the items on top of my tallboy and glanced into the mirror, noticing his dishevelled state in the reflection. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Sure it was.”

  Turning to face him, I burst into tears. “It wasn’t. I just … I just wanted him to feel the pain he’d caused me to feel when he abandoned me.”

  “When he abandoned you?” Chris walked in to my room and took a seat on my bed. “When did he abandon you?”

  “He always abandons me. I should’ve known better. They all do. Everyone does … except for you and Mum.”

  He patted the bed. “Come here.”

  I plodded over and flopped onto the mattress, curling up into a ball and laying my head on his lap.

  “I don’t understand, Duck. How does pretty boy geek always abandon you?”

  Sniffing, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “He did it the day we were stuck in the storm drain, and when he moved away, and then again after we started fucking the other day.”

  Chris stretched toward my bedside table, grabbed my tissue box, and handed it to me. “Let’s start with the storm drain. What do you mean he abandoned you there? You never told me that. You said you were both rescued together.”

  “We were, but, before that, he left me there, alone. He said he was going to get help.” The memory tore right through me: the raw of the water, the darkness, the terror of not knowing where he was. I trembled uncontrollably, just like I had that very day. “I was so scared, Chris. I thought he’d drowned.”

  “But he didn’t. You were both rescued.”

  “Yeah.” I sniffed again. “But he left me. Everybody leaves me.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Yes, they do. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had has left me. My dad left me—”

  “Dani, you can’t compare your shithead exes and your poor excuse for an old man with pretty boy geek.”

  “Yes, I can. He left me when he moved away. He didn’t have to abandon me then. We could’ve still remained friends. He only moved a town over, for fuck’s sake.”

  “So you’re gonna hold that over him … seventeen odd years later? Come on, kiddo, you’re better than this. You were both kids back then. And anyway, what stopped you from keeping in contact with him, huh?”

  I sat up. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “You can’t blame him for moving away. That wasn’t his fault.”

  “Fine. But I can blame him for how he has treated me since we fucked.”

  “Which is how … ?”

  “Like I was leftovers that seemed a good idea to keep at the time but then didn’t appeal the next day.”

  He shrugged and stood up, making his way to my chair-of-clothing-I-need-to-put-away. “Nup. Can’t see him doing that.”

  “What would you know? You don’t even know him.”

  “But I know you,” he said, picking up my bra and checking it out. “And I know you could never be seen as leftovers. Ever. Plus, I know when a guy has it pretty bad for a girl. Trust me, I normally try to cut his lunch just for shits and giggles …”

  I climbed off my bed, snatched my bra from his hands and glared at him, his juvenile sex life disgusting at times.

  “I’m tellin’ ya, Duck, pretty boy geek has it bad for you.”

  I desperately wanted to believe him, but actions always spoke louder than words, and Elliot’s actions had been what they’d always been — to up and leave.

  “Look, I appreciate what you’re doin’, Chris. You’re a great friend, my best friend, but you’re wrong. Elliot is just like the others.” Snatching my mini skirt from his hands, I gathered up the rest of my clothes. “You seem to forget that he’s a lawyer. He makes a living fooling people.”

  “That’s a bit harsh.”

  “Why? He knows how to manipulate. He said so himself. It’s part of what he does. I just never thought he’d manipulate me the way he has.”

  Holding back the onslaught of tears that threatened to erupt again, I called back, over my shoulder, as I headed out of my room, “I’m doing the washing. Got anything dirty?”

  Elliot didn’t call or text all week, which just enforced that I was right and Chris was wrong; that Elliot truly didn’t give a flying fuck about me, or our friendship. The truth was a sucker punch to my heart, but I couldn’t acknowledge that fact because we had a community garden to finish before the looming deadline. What was also looming was seeing him again, something I didn’t want to do, because I wasn’t as strong as I made myself out to be. Plus, I sure as hell didn’t want to pretend we were together and getting married. That bullshit ended today no matter what. As far as I was concerned, we’d broken up, and that was exactly what I’d be telling our mothers, which wasn’t entirely a lie. My stance would be that I didn’t want to talk about it, or to him, and that my main focus was to complete the garden.

  I could do
this.

  Pulling up to the site, I shivered as I switched the engine of my beetle off. I was frozen solid inside and out, and for a split second wondered if I could use that as an excuse not to get out of my car.

  The morning was overly crisp for spring, the fog only just having lifted enough for me to tell that Elliot had not yet arrived. Maybe he’s gonna pike it and abandon the garden project. Wouldn’t surprise me.

  I got out of the car and made my way into the garden along the newly dug out feature path that was due to be paved later in the day. It was going to look amazing, and I couldn’t wait. The paved path had been one of my favourite features of the old garden because it had reminded me of the Wizard of Oz. Many times I’d been Dorothy, skipping along and singing that I was off to see a wizard, and many times Elliot had pretended to throw apples at me.

  The memory knifed me in the chest, so I hurried along until I was standing next to Mum. “Good morning. Geez, it’s cold.”

  “Good morning, sweetheart.” Mum looked past me toward the road. “Elliot not with you?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Oh. Is everything okay? Did you sort out what was upsetting you last week?”

  I shook my head again. “No.”

  She touched my shoulder. “What’s going on? Helen and I are concerned. She said Elliot isn’t answering her calls, instead texting her that he’s busy.”

  “He probably is,” I muttered.

  Helen stepped out of the garden shed. “Good morning, dear.” Her face fell when she noticed I was alone. “No Elliot?”

  I shook my head. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you both—”

  “Oh! There he is!” she exclaimed, her face morphing into an instant smile that that just as quickly morphed back to sadness when she took in Elliot’s demeanour.