“And you’re telling me this, why?” I asked.
“Because I love her, but not like you do, which is why I need you both to get your shit together.” He placed his hands on the wall and dipped his head. “Fuck me,” he groaned. “She’s miserable, and I hate it when she’s miserable because she’s a pain in my arse. Plus, we go through a tin of Milo in a matter of days. I’m sick of making her Milo. You should be doing it.”
I shook my head, confused, but was more concerned at hearing how miserable she was. “I don’t know what to do or say, Chris. I don’t have any answers.”
He pushed off the wall and took a step toward me. ”What do you mean you don’t have any answers, you son of a bitch?”
“I’m the son of a bitch? You don’t ‘love her like I do’ and yet you’re happy to fuck her?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not fucking her.”
“That’s not what she said and you know it.”
“You’re a disappointment, mate,” he said, picking up a nearby hand trowel. “No wonder you keep abandoning her—”
My body jerked at his choice of words. “Wait! What did you just say? Abandon? Why’d you say abandon?”
“Because that’s what Dani says you do. She can’t take it. Every time someone she loves leaves her, she dies inside, and apparently…” He pointed the trowel at me “… you’ve killed her the most.”
I stood there, stunned, not knowing how to react. “I’ve done what?”
“That stupid look on your stupid face indicates you’re stupid.” He turned his back on me and balanced the handle of the trowel on his pointer finger. “This doesn’t make sense. Dani said you’re smart. A lawyer. Lawyers are supposed to be smart.”
“What the fuck are you on about, Chris?”
“Think about it. Her father abandoned her. Her good for nothing boyfriends abandoned her. You abandoned her.”
“I haven’t abandoned her. I’m still here.”
“The way she sees it, you abandoned her when you moved away, you abandoned her after she finally broke her own rule of intimacy with a friend, and you abandoned her that day in the storm drain.”
A chill swept over my body, icing me to the bone. “I didn’t abandon her in the storm drain.”
“You left her alone to go and get help, right?”
“Well, yeah, but I—”
“You left her, mate. She was terrified you’d drowned to try and save her. You leaving her that day triggered abandonment issues. She saw a doctor for years because of it. She can’t handle people leaving her so she doesn’t let them stay to begin with. Only a select few. Only those she trusts. She trusted you, again, and you left her and broke her fucking heart and spirit.”
“I didn’t leave her again. I would never do that.”
“Yeah? Well you did. You backed off after you fucked her.”
“I had no choice.”
“Of course you had a fucking choice.”
“I was triggering her nightmares again.”
“What?” The trowel wobbled and he caught it.
“That first night, after we made love, she had a nightmare. It was horrible. Then she had another the following night. She couldn’t remember them, and she was adamant she hadn’t had one for years.” I turned my back to him and looked out the window, spotting her showing a young boy the carrots and tomatoes she’d grown. “It was me. I was triggering her memories of the storm and causing the nightmares to return. How could I stay so close knowing I was at fault? That’s selfish.”
The clatter of the trowel being placed back down on the bench sounded behind me. “It’s not you. She has nightmares every now and again but doesn’t wake. You don’t trigger them, and neither does memories of the storm.”
“If it’s not me then what does?” I asked, feeling absolutely helpless.
“The notion that you could leave her.”
I turned around. “What?”
“Her fear lies with abandonment.”
Chris had all of sudden turned into a fully qualified psychologist. It was making my head hurt even more. I rubbed it, as if it were a gene’s lamp. “How do you know all of this?”
“Because I’m her friend, her roommate, and I might have gone to the doctors with her a few times.” He shrugged. “She was fucking waking me up and nearly making me crap my pants, all right? It was scary shit. So it was either sort it out or kick her out. I like Dani, and I’m not an A-grade arsehole, so we opted to sort that shit out.”
“Hang on a minute, so what you’re saying is that her doctor said the nightmares are triggered by her fear of being abandoned?”
“Yep. Because you, you fuck, keep abandoning her.”
I glared at him but felt the pit of my stomach drop past my balls. “Fuck! So it is my fault?”
“Partly, yes, so fix it. I don’t want to wake up in my own excrement, nor do I want to be making Chris’ Magic Milo every few hours because she’s moping around like a sad little puppy dog. Even Pugly is over it.” Chris opened the door to leave but paused. “She loves you. You love her. So for fuck’s sake, geek boy, fix this shit.”
The sun burst through the open door and slammed into my face. I squinted and shielded my eyes, trying to process everything he’d said. She loves me. I’m not triggering the nightmares, but then I am triggering them because she’s scared I’ll leave her. She likes to drink a lot of Milo. Chris shits himself. Geek boy?
One thing was for certain; I wasn’t going to abandon her. Ever.
I planned to do the opposite.
I planned to make our engagement official.
After the re-opening of the garden, our families went back to Mum’s house for a celebratory dinner and drinks. It was such a relief to have successfully completed our project before the deadline. And to see the excited and impressed faces of everyone who visited during the day, made it all worth the effort.
“Jeanette! This potato salad … my word.”
Mum smiled appreciatively at Helen. “It’s good, huh? You can thank Danielle’s roommate, Chris, for that. It’s his recipe.”
“Chris?” Laura piped in. “The hunky guy with guns bigger than the US army? I was meaning to ask about him. He looked familiar.”
I avoided Elliot’s heated stare, which was practically melting the leftover sunscreen from my face, and finished my mouthful before answering her. “Yeah, he plays for the Essendon Football Club.”
“Reeeeeally? I figured he was an athlete … or model. Mm mm.”
Laura’s husband, John, raised his eyebrow, a playful grin creeping in at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t say anything, though, instead blowing on a sausage and handing it to their one-year-old son.
Their son tossed it back.
“Samuel Coben, no! That’s naughty,” John scolded, picking up the sausage from his lap.
He placed it on a plate but it was immediately snatched up by Elliot and offered to Samuel again, the cheeky toddler taking it and shoving it into his mouth.
“Seriously?” John asked, glaring at Elliot.
Elliot shrugged but then held up his hand for a high-five from Samuel. “Give Uncle Lots some skin, buddy.” Uncle Lots?
I couldn’t help but smile. It was so damn cute, which was weird considering I’d never given much thought to having kids of my own. It wasn’t that I was opposed to having them. I just wasn’t inclined to have them either. They were happy, grumpy, indecisive gluttons — massive mindfucks. I mean, why would you want a sausage after it’s been in someone’s lap?
“So, Danielle, are you and Chris a thing?” Laura asked nonchalantly while grabbing the salad dressing.
“LAURA!” Helen forcefully placed down her glass, a look of warning on her face.
“What? It’s a perfectly legitimate question.”
Her shit-eating grin and sideways smirks at Elliot indicated she was up to something, which wasn’t out of the unusual for Laura. Stirring the pot was her forte, something she’d resorted to a lot when we were kids. Unf
ortunately, Elliot had always taken the bait.
“Define ‘thing’?” I asked, metaphorically swimming around her hook.
“Is he your new fiancé?”
This time, Elliot was the one to slam something down, the abrupt, loud, clang setting a Mexican wave of startled jerks around the table … except for Samuel, who slammed his plastic spoon down animatedly, mimicking his uncle. No one reacted, so he did it again, and again, which made me laugh.
A sea of eyes were suddenly cast my way, wide with anticipation, except for Elliot’s, whose were boring into his sister’s head and hers into his. My God, it was reminiscent of Parker Pizza Friday Nights. The two of them would fight, every time, over stupid crap. Elliot hated it, but I’d always found it amusing, partly because family scuffles weren’t something I ever got to experience, unless they involved my mother, and when they did, she’d always be the victor.
It sucked.
Sitting here in my childhood home, with my mum and my childhood adopted family, I felt happy and ‘mostly’ amused by Laura’s antics. “Is Chris my new fiancé? Nooooo.” I continued to eat, unperturbed by her provocation. “He’s too messy for me. Plus, he’s not a fan of Dudley.”
“Who’s Dudley?”
I forked potato salad into my mouth. “The love of my life.”
Elliot smirked, his tension easing, and forked some salad into his mouth, too.
“You like him, don’t ya, Lots?”
“Oh, I love Pug— I mean Dudley. He makes himself right at home.”
I burst into laughter.
“Who is Dudley?” Laura asked again.
“My dog.” I carried on eating, waiting for her to strike again. She obviously had a point to make, and something told me she hadn’t made it yet.
“So, you and Chris have never been an item?”
“Nope.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Laura, what’s your point?” Elliot snapped. “If you’ve got one, make it.”
She held her hands up in defence. “What? I just thought they looked good together today, that’s all.”
“Laura, that’s enough,” Helen added.
“Riiiiiiiight. Anyone want dessert?” Mum asked as she stood up, smiling and trying to keep the peace. “I’ve got Pavlova and some ice cream for the little guy.”
“Sheesh. Why are you all so uptight? It’s not as if Danielle and Elliot are in love with each other and too stubborn to admit it, right?” She smiled satisfactorily at us both. “Right?”
Annnnnnnd there it is.
I narrowed my eyes at her then shrugged it off, standing from the table. “Right.” Picking up my plate, I picked up Elliot’s as well. “Elliot knows I love him. Always have. Always will. What he does with that piece of information is entirely up to him.”
I fired her the same satisfactory grin, bigger, in fact, and left the room to help Mum.
“She’s a bit of a bulldog,” Mum said under her breath as she prepared the Pavlova.
“Who? Laura?” I dipped my finger in the whipped cream and licked it.
Mum swiped at me. “Yes.”
“Na, she just has a particular way of getting her point across.”
“Particular way?” she scoffed. “I can see that.” She kept smearing cream on top of the Pavlova. “She was right, though.”
“I know.”
Placing her spatula down, she turned to me. “So why can’t you both figure it out?”
“We can.”
“You can or you will?”
I smiled. “Both.”
“When?”
“When the time is right.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m just gonna go outside for a little bit, okay?”
She hovered her hand over my forehead, a concerned look in her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s been a big day. I just want some cool air.”
“Okay. Do me a favour and bring in some lemons?”
Nodding, I opened the back door and entered the cool night air, letting it tame the heated embarrassment I’d kept at bay during Laura’s attack. I’d known she’d had an objective; I just hadn’t realised it was that. Yeah, she was right; we were stubborn, and I loved him and he loved me. But sometimes that wasn’t enough. Sometimes, there were niches we held onto or hid behind, because they kept us safe from the fear of letting go.
Sometimes, that fear took precedence.
Over the past week, I’d realised I no longer wanted my fear of losing the ones I loved to rule my heart. I didn’t want it shackling me from the greatest happiness I may ever experience. That notion, alone, was more terrifying than taking a leap out of my safety zone.
Sitting down at the base of our lemon tree, I rotated one of the yellow fruits in my hand just as the back door opened and Elliot stepped out to join me, his hands behind his back, his posture sheepish.
“You all right?” he asked, squatting down in front of me.
“Yeah, of course.” I tossed the lemon and caught it. “Your sister is harmless. She means well in a not so well kinda way.”
“Tell me about it. Still, I want to apologise for her taking aim like that.”
“You don’t need to apologise, Lots. She was right.”
He nodded and moved to sit on his arse, pulling out from behind his back a box of Cheezels.
I laughed and snatched them from him. “First dibs!”
“Cheat.”
“That’s not cheating. You snooze you lose.”
“Technically, you snooze you sleep, and when you sleep, your body rejuvenates. That’s far from losing.”
Shaking my head, I opened the box and split the foil bag, the waft of cheese hitting my nose. “Mm … yum. They smell so good. Why do they always smell so good?”
“Artificial flavourings.”
My head tilted and my eyebrow rose.
“What? Truth.” He reached into the box and stole the first one while his glittering eyes distracted me.
I whacked his arm. “Hey! I had first dibs.”
“At my heart, yes. At this Cheezel, no.”
Heat flushed my face, my heart beating a song and dance at his words. I swallowed and looked down at the lemon, not knowing what to say.
“Do you want it?” he asked, waving it in front of me.
I tried to snatch it but he was too quick. “You’re so mean.”
“I’ll tell ya what. You can have it, but you have to do one thing.” My eyes met his, and he leaned in closer. “Marry me.”
“What?”
Elliot took my hand in his, his soft fingers gently caressing mine. “Marry me. Say yes just like you did twenty-two years ago.”
Tears pricked my eyes, the sense to hold onto my niche strong. “I don’t know, Lots. I've learned the hard way that some people just aren’t worth the fight, no matter how tempting their bullshit promises may seem.”
He lifted my chin, his eyes magnetising mine. “I’m worth it. You’re worth it. And that’s no bullshit promise.”
My God he was right. We were more than worth it.
Gasping, I sniffed and blinked back my tears. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he asked, his grip on my hand tightening.
I nodded. “YES! Yes, I’ll marry you. Now give me the Cheezel.”
His shaky fingers slid the cheese ring onto my finger before he pulled me onto his lap and dipped me for a kiss, his lips crashing down on mine, butterflies — not real ones — once again exploding within me. In that moment, I let go of my niche, let it slip away with the breeze, bidding old fear farewell and welcoming new fear. Fear of marriage, living together, commitment … children. Children? Oh shit! And what about Dudley?
The sound of cheering and a window being pounded on, snapped me from my new fear. I looked in the direction of the house, finding our families standing at the kitchen window, Mum and Helen crying and embracing, Laura pointing to herself and nodding, and Samuel’s little hands constantly slapping the glass.
“
Wait!” I said, sitting back. “What about Dudley?”
“What about Pugly?”
“Dudley!”
“Yeah.”
“You said Pugly.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Danielle! What about him?”
“We’re a package deal.”
He nodded, sadly, squinting as he deliberated the dilemma. “Riiiiight. This could be a problem.”
A smile stretched across both our faces.
I whacked him.
He kissed me.
I whacked him again, this time, my whack, losing any whack it possessed.
“Doggy training,” he mumbled against my mouth.
I smiled and melded to him. “Fine. Deal. Now, let’s get married.”
Twenty-two years ago I promised myself to a girl. We were eight years old. Neighbours. I gave her a Cheezel, pushed it onto her finger, and asked her to marry me.
She ate the Cheezel.
She also said, “Yes” but that we’d have to wait until she turned thirty.
I waited and waited, and through a series of fortunate events, convinced her we were meant for each other and, that one day, we would get married.
Today is that day.
Standing under the gum tree at Hillier Community Garden in my black tuxedo, my mother and sister by my side, all of us waiting as Danielle took tentative steps down the yellow brick road toward me, I let out a chuckle when she stopped, lifted her wedding dress and pointed her ruby red sparkly heels at me. The entire garden was filled with varying pastel coloured satin ribbon tied to chairs, fenceposts, and tree branches. The sun was shining, the flowers were in bloom; it looked absolutely magical, as if it were a scene in a fairy tale. And perhaps it was.
I’d practically waited my entire life for this day, this moment, when the girl of my dreams would float toward me to become my wife. Except, Danielle had never been the girl of my dreams, she’d been the girl of my reality, my best friend, and that was even better. Because dreams ended, reality didn’t.
I swallowed, choked, and blinked back tears so that I wouldn’t miss a single smile she gave our closest friends and family. That smile, whether it was gifted to me or someone else, lit me up from within — every time.
Plight Page 18
