by Belle Brooks
“What?” Her voice rises on the word and her eyes are the size of saucers when I lift my head and they make contact with mine. “That can’t be right.”
“It is.”
“I’d know that.” Her head shakes again as her mouth hangs open. Flabbergasted.
“How long have you known him?”
“Four years.”
“It was before that, Asher.”
“He’s never spoken of you to me. He’s not mentioned a thing. Why?”
A smile tugs at my lips. The people Marcus wanted to tell, he did.
“So hang on—you said you didn’t know he was Marcus Klein on the phone in Sydney. Wouldn’t you have known who he was if you’ve been in love with him?”
“Asher, it’s seriously a really long story. I told you, I just need space.”
“You have to tell me,” she begs as her eyes shape to those of a cute puppy dog that’s insistent on winning an early dinner.
“Well, you asked for this. Let me get some water first. This is going to take a while.”
“I have all the time in the world.”
After going through the story of Marcus and myself with Asher, I’m faced with a multitude of personal realisations, yet confronted by the magnitude of my situation. Asher displays varying expressions as each part of the story unfolds. First there’s shock, then confusion and then some sort of understanding, which leads us eventually to a point where we are both mentally exhausted. Asher and I part with her knowing I’ll never return to Sims, General, and Klein, but a friendship with her is one I would appreciate. However, now is the time to allow me the space I need to heal and move on. Asher seemed chuffed that her small and short part of my life was not going to end and agreed to give me the space I asked for.
We say our goodbyes and the innocence that radiates from her, has me smiling. Asher’s beauty comes from the soul of a pure person. As soon as the door latches, I want nothing more than to break down and cry. I don’t. Instead, I wrap the ball of tears tightly inside and opt for a bottle of vodka and a very large glass.
Today I hit the bottle again. I need to be numb. I need to forget Marcus once more.
The Curse in Full Swing
Over four days and three nights I drank myself stupid. I consumed every drop of liquor in the house. Monday morning brings the world’s largest hangover. My stomach aches, my heart palpitates, and my head thumps so loudly it’s like a percussion band has homed itself in there. The urge to vomit is constant, but my stomach is raw and empty, and I have nothing left.
Rolling from the bed and falling onto the floor in a heap tells me I’ve now hit lower than rock bottom. It exists. It’s called the deep depths of Hell and I’m there visiting. Crawling into the narrow space between the partly open door of the bathroom and the wall, the smell is so disgusting and overpowering I turn immediately and crawl back the way I came.
“Mum.” My voice is weak and hoarse. “Help.” There’s barely a sound. What am I doing to myself?
My ear lies against a pile of dirty clothes on the floor as my face coats with liquid that oozes from my eyes. I cry. I really cry and the sounds of my howls are full of pure desperation that beg for relief from all my pain. The pressure of my stomach pressing down against the floor has me rolling onto my back, which only causes my nose to block with mucus. I can’t breathe.
“Abigail.” Mum’s hand slips under my head, lifting it upwards. Her eyes are filled with moisture and puffy dark bags surround them. “Are you ready to get help now?” She quivers, her brow furrowed.
I don’t answer…I just keep letting everything I feel out in tears.
My body is lifted into a seated position and Mum sits on the floor, cradling me. “You need help.”
“Why did you let me do this?” I mumble through my sobs.
“Abigail, how was I supposed to help you? I’ve been here the whole time, waiting by your bedroom door.”
“There’s vomit everywhere in there.” I try to wipe away my tears before my arm stretches out towards the bathroom.
“I know there is, petal. It’s going to be okay.”
“You’ve done this to me. All of you have.”
“No, Abigail, you’ve done this to yourself. I’m taking you to the hospital because you need fluids and rest.”
“Everyone thinks I’m a failure,” I screech.
“No, they don’t. Sssh, come on now, it’s time.”
I nod as I continue to howl into my mother’s chest, surrounded by her arms. I’ve plummeted farther than Hell.
***
When we reach the hospital, a room is allocated immediately. I suppose because my mother is a nurse here, I don’t have to spend hours waiting in Accident and Emergency, or maybe it’s because I must look such a wreck, they don’t want me scaring the sick.
I’m hooked up to a drip and given some pills before this man called Dr. Herbert checks me over. He has an Irish accent, crystal blue eyes, and a five o’clock shadow. His touch is gentle and his bedside manner seems nice enough. Placing his hand on Mum’s shoulder, he tells her that she’s done the right thing bringing me here today, and the way she looks at him and flutters her eyelashes has me wondering if Mum likes Dr. Herbert in a romantic way.
Surely not.
“Get some rest,” he advises before asking Mum to accompany him outside and away from me. It only takes a few moments before the cool liquid rushing through my veins and the pills they gave me bring a little relief. I do as he says, taking not a second more to close my eyes.
***
“Where are we going?” I was giddy.
“Somewhere special. Now stop trying to remove my hands,” he said, feigning annoyance.
“I can’t see, Marcus.”
“That’s the point, Abigail.”
“Are we almost there?” A loud girly giggle burst from my mouth.
“You’re so impatient. I love that about you.”
“Well, I love everything about you. Now show me already.”
“Almost there. One…two…three more steps, beautiful. Watch out for that rock.”
“I can’t see the rock, you idiot.”
His chuckle was loud and I pictured his head tipping back just like he always did when something amused him.
“Okay, ready?” he softly whispered into my ear. His breath skimmed my exposed neck.
“Yes,” I squealed in suspense.
“Ta-da.”
“Wow,” I mouthed once my eyes adjusted to the light and I spied the perfect picnic set up. We were overlooking a majestic waterfall and the grass was a lush emerald green.
“You like it?” He fidgeted.
“Love it.” I leapt into his arms, and he held me securely.
“God, I love you.” His lips crashed to mine. His tongue swirled in my mouth and I pressed my chest to his.
“I love you, more than life,” I told him, trying to infuse my love into the words.
Lowering me down onto the red and black checked blanket that had been laid out, he hovered above me. He lifted the bottom of my dress up to my stomach and his hand stroked my leg tenderly, stopping at my hip. Digging his fingers into my hip bone, my pelvis tilted upwards.
“Take me,” I moaned as my hand bumped the picnic basket as it rose above my head.
“My pleasure.” He grinned, pulling his white T-shirt over his head and throwing it to the ground. His chest was one made for the gods, his skin tanned and smooth. He knew how much I loved to look at his unclothed skin.
“Marcus.” I ran my fingers down his arm.
“Abigail,” he replied before his fingers took hold of each side of my underwear, removing them down my legs. Kissing me from my ankles up to my inner thigh had my back arching, and I knew I was about to experience another explosive climax at his touch. I never wanted them to ever stop coming.
“Hold still.” He smiled before his mouth kissed between my legs. Each kiss hit another spot. Each spot provided a feeling of pleasure. His mouth and tongue knew
me well, knew how to take me to places I’d only wanted to experience with him. Taking a clump of his dark hair into either hand, I moaned, a sound that vibrated ferociously in my throat. As my body began to peak I pulled his hair hard, but he never stopped. Instead, the intensity increased and I surrendered to him.
My climax built and built until I couldn’t hold back. “Marcus,” I yelled as my body shuddered. My release flew me sky-high until I was floating on clouds before I was gently cradled back to Earth. He grinned as he looked into my eyes, showing how much of a pleasure it was for him.
“Your turn,” I whispered shyly.
“Not right now, Abs, it’s time to eat.”
“Really?” My eyebrows lifted. “Looks like you’re packing something in your boardies that might be tasty.”
“Abs,” he groaned. “I love it when you talk dirty like that. Now stop. I’ll survive. Here, I made you a delicious lunch. Today is all about your pleasures, about you.”
“Well, I love the sound of that. A day all about me. How exciting.”
He opened the basket to reveal all of my favourites—egg, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches, ripe delicious red strawberries, melon, chocolate, and a bottle of wine.
“Perfect,” I said before taking a bite of the sandwich.
Once the bottle was empty, the sandwiches devoured, and the strawberries enjoyed, Marcus grabbed my hand. He lifted me to my bare feet. My underwear was still absent from my body.
“Dance with me, beautiful.” He took me in his arms and he hummed “Dreams” by The Cranberries, my favourite song. It was perfect. We twirled, we danced, and we laughed, in our own world, together as one. My eyes closed before he twirled me once more and I fell into his body. He kissed my forehead and then spun me again, my dress fanned outwards. I laughed loudly.
“I love you, Abigail,” Marcus whispered, pressing his body to mine. His warmth left me as he dropped to his knee. A red velvet box opened.
I took a step back, my heart filled with excitement. I squealed, stepping back a few more times…I slipped. I was slipping. My hands clung onto a cliff face as my nails scraped through the dirt. I couldn’t stop.
Marcus’ pained voice screamed my name.
I went over. The sky became my vision and then I felt a thud and everything was dark.
***
“Marcus.” I’m sucking in air rapidly as I sit upright.
“It’s okay, Abigail. You’re in the hospital.” Mum’s voice greets my panicked state.
“Marcus, get Marcus. Tell him yes, my answer is yes.”
“Sweetie, what are you saying yes to?”
“I’ll marry him—my answer is yes. I’ll marry him.”
“Marry him,” she gasps. “Did he ask you in Sydney?”
“No. What are you talking about? Sydney? I’ve never been to Sydney. Mum, just before I fell and ended up here. I’m okay now…I want to marry Marcus.”
“Petal, stop, look around. Your fall was years ago. You’re here because you drank too much alcohol, remember?”
My eyes dart around the room. I look at my hand where a drip is in place. I see a machine beside the bed where the drip starts. Using my other hand, I rake it through my hair, but there are no bumps or bandages. Then everything comes flooding back—Sydney, the betrayal, my amnesia.
“I wanted to marry him. I loved him.” I begin to cry as Mum strokes my hair.
“Petal, I didn’t know that he’d proposed.”
“How could you not? You knew everything else and have been doing a great job of lying this entire time.” Anger whirls through my head and lashes from my tongue.
“I never knew,” she whispers before wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
By dinner time I’m discharged.
“No more drinking alcohol…none at all. Your liver needs time to repair. Your body needs time to rehydrate,” Doctor Herbert says, handing me a script for some medication that helps prevent stomach ulcers forming, or so he tells me.
“Thank you.” My mouth is dry. I guess fluids through an IV can only do so much. My desire for a bottle of water is super strong.
The car ride home is a quiet one and before long I’m snuggled under the blankets in Mum’s bed.
“Go to sleep now.” Mum’s outstretched finger instructs with authority. “I’ll wash this up.” The empty bowl that was filled with pumpkin soup now rests in her hands. It takes a split second from her exit until sleep washes me away like waves pulling the current out to sea.
When morning comes, I’m somewhat ready to face the world. A world I’ve been avoiding for days.
“Good morning.” Mum sits by the bed in a soft covered chair reading a book.
“Morning.” A long yawn leaves me.
“How do you feel?”
“Better, I think.”
“Well, that’s a start.” She places a bookmark between two pages and lays the novel down as she stands.
“Yep.”
“What would you like to do today?” Mum asks as she removes a prescription package from her pant pocket, handing me two beige pills. Reaching for a glass of water resting on the bedside cupboard, she says, “Go on, take them.”
“Sleep, I think. More sleep.” I then swallow the pills down with a hard gulp, my throat still burning from all the stress it’s endured.
“How about breakfast or at least a cup of tea first? We could go for a walk after. It’s still pleasant outside…well, for the moment, anyway. I’m sure it will get scorching hot quickly.”
“No, I’m pretty settled on my sleeping idea.”
“You can sleep until lunch. After that you have to get up and live.”
“Okay. I’m going to my room for a bit.”
By the time I look at my phone, its memory is overloaded with missed calls and messages. Most of them are from Sammy, but there are also missed calls from Marcus, Sophie, Ange, and even Leza. I don’t read or listen to any of them. Instead, I delete everything that exists. It’s such a refreshing feeling.
Mum’s words about a walk and the pleasant morning cool temperature has me pulling on a pair of leggings and a workout top. I then fasten my sneakers, which still look new. I have to get out of here. I need space.
Making my way to the kitchen, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I can’t afford any more liquids to sweat from my skin without replenishing them. Well, not after my booze fuelled binge anyway.
“Where are you going?” Mum enters behind me, causing me to turn in her direction.
“I thought I’d go for a walk on the beach. Clear my head.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll come with you if you want.” She bites at her lip—my mother never bites at her lip.
Worry.
“No thanks. I just want to be alone.”
“How about you eat breakfast first like I also mentioned before?”
“I’ll eat at the café. I promise. Only light food, I know,” I add, spitting out the words before she can say anything more.
“Well, okay. Drive safely. Also, take your phone and I’d like you to be home in two hours maximum.” She places her hands in the pockets of her pants as her body sways.
Escalating worry.
Taking three steps to her, I thread my arms through the gaps hers have created and snake them around her thinning waist. Kissing her cheek, I say, “I love you, Mum. Thank you for everything.”
She smiles sweetly before freeing her hands and seizing a hat that is sitting on the corner of the counter. “Wear this. It’s hot out. Also, I love you too.”
Gosh, Mum looks tired. A break from me might be a good thing this morning. “Catch you later. Oh and, Mum, have a rest.”
The door latches behind me and I climb into the comfortable seat of Bertha. The engine clicks over and the radio announces the morning news. Beginning the journey to the esplanade, Broods’ song “Never Gonna Change” follows the news headlines, now playing through the speakers. I find myself lost in the lyrics. I don’t know why, but whenever I he
ar songs, I always find a way to relate them to my life.
“Nothing is ever going to feel the same,” I say under my breath as Bertha reaches our destination, and I turn the steering wheel to park in an available spot across from the café and in front of the beach. Holy crap! Another rarity. I didn’t have to do circular laps today.
Every stride along the yellow sand brings fresh air into my lungs. The soft breeze blowing through my untamed hair carries a sense of ease to relax my tense limbs. The sound of the rolling waves is rhythmic as I step to its beat. How I wish I could curl up in the barrel of a wave and reside there forever, free and without a care in the world.
Fifteen. Not a bad effort if I say so myself after the last stretch of sand walked is completed. The sun rays bring a subtle pink colour to my arms. It’s this observation that halts any more laps for me today.
Sweaty, calm, and hungry, I scurry across the zebra crossing and over into my favourite coffee place, the one where Sammy and I always hang out, to fill in time. Also, it’s the same spot where Sophie flashed her diamond rock in my face. I’m not sure if I even want this place to be my favourite go-to place anymore.
The line is short at the counter—there are only two ladies who chat quietly in front of me while I wait. Ignoring their whispered gossip, I search the menu board for something light to eat…my eyes track back and forth over the chalk lettering, but nothing is standing out. My body moves in a shiver as it sears down my spine. Somebody just trotted over my grave or danced. I’m going to go with busted a move, for sure.
“Hello, Abigail.” His voice is deep and smooth.
What the actual fuck. “Mike.”
Unbelievable
Standing frozen with feet cemented to the ground, my legs begin to shake as gut-wrenching nerves mixed with fear wash over me. Turn around, Abigail. I can’t.
“It’s been a long time.” He states the obvious.
