The Definition of Fflur

by E. S. Carter

  I turn to find him with an apron wrapped around his waist and that devious smile once more on his lips.

  “I haven’t forgotten our deal. My room needs tidying, so hurry along.”

  "Huh?"

  "I covered for you. Now it's your turn to pay me back for the mess I cleaned up for you." Without waiting for my agreement, he’s gone.

  I stand on the bottom step and debate sticking my tongue out at his back. But he’s right, I do owe him.

  When I walk into his room, it's not as bad as I feared.

  He doesn't have anything gross like dirty underwear lying about, so I get to work clearing up some books and magazines. His room smells of him. He always smells the same. I can't name the scent, but it smells like the sunshine.

  His bedclothes are rumpled and unmade, and as I straighten them, his scent thickens, and I take a deep breath and hold it.

  Sunshine. And Galen.

  As I pull back his duvet, I notice a wad of used tissues in the bin at the side of his bed, and my face burns in understanding.

  I’m not naïve. Galen is almost seventeen, I can only imagine what he does in bed to use all those.

  God, don’t think about it.

  But the more I try not to, the more it’s all I can think about and I find myself staring at his bed with a film reel of Galen touching— Gah. Stop. This is wrong.

  I quickly make the bed, and stuff any clothes I find into his laundry basket. Then I look back at the bin. I should empty it. Gross. I find an old plastic bag from a sports store, and bend to fit it over the top of the bin so I can tip it out without touching anything. The contents slide out and hit the bottom of the bag heavily. I remove the now empty bin, set it back next to the bed and peer inside the bag filled with rubbish. I can now see that what was heavy at the bottom—only now it sits right at the top of the open bag—is a magazine.

  I blink.

  It's porn.

  I've seen porn before. Rhys has it at Dad's house, only he hides it under his bed.

  I blink again, rapidly. The weight of the bag in my hands getting heavier and heavier. This should be funny. I should be laughing my arse off right now. But I’m not. It actually makes me quite angry and a touch nauseous, and I can't figure out why I'm so upset about it.

  'Liar,' my heart whispers. 'You know why.'

  "I was just coming to check if you were doing a good—” Galen stands in the doorway. “—job.”

  He looks at the bag in my hands, to the empty bin, then up to my face. "And you have," he rushes out. “Thanks, Fflur. You’re off the hook now.”

  I should shove the bag in his face and run, but I can't.

  I saw the women on the front page. Is that what Galen wants?

  He stands in front of me and takes the full bag from my hands, before dropping a brief look inside, and forcing out a laugh. It sounds strained.

  "Did you like what you see?" He tries to be funny and laugh off his embarrassment, but it falls flat.

  I can't look him. I can't look at his room. I can't look at his bed, and I can't breathe in his sunshine anymore.

  I all but run out of his bedroom, grab my trainers and rush downstairs, darting through the kitchen and taking my first deep breath to clear my lungs when I get outside.

  I need to find some flowers. I need to tell them my secrets.

  But it's night time, and the only night flowering blooms anywhere close to our house would be the evening primrose that Galen showed me all those many months ago.

  I have no choice. I have to go.

  I push my way through the trees and feel tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, but I swipe them away with my knuckles before they can fully form.

  The primroses are precisely where they were before. Some have already bloomed, but the further I make my way down the brook the closer I get to some that are just beginning pop open.

  I toe off my trainers and slide my feet into the cold stream.

  My skin feels like it's burning to ash, and the cold water helps ground me. I wade down towards the furthest patch of primroses and find a rock to sit on close to the bank.

  Instead of picking one flower, I tell my secrets to the whole bunch.

  How do I stop the whispers in my heart?

  Why am I feeling like this?

  Why did I run away like a stupid kid?

  The Primroses don't answer.

  I feel Galen's presence long before he murmurs in my ear, "What are you doing out here?"

  I don't turn around to look at him and I don’t bother to answer him.

  He sits next to me in the mud even though I know it must be uncomfortable as it seeps into the fabric of his shorts, but I don’t care, I just continue to whisper to the flowers

  "Why do we still do it, Fflur? Why do we do this to each other? We could be friends, you know."

  "You tell me,” I flippantly reply, annoyed that he’s followed me here when I’m feeling so off kilter.

  "I wish I knew," he admits forlornly. "It was the roles we fell into, I suppose. But that doesn’t mean we’re stuck in them. We can change it, if we both want to."

  He turns to look at me and asks, “Can’t you even look at me now?” And when I turn my head, it's fire I see in his emerald eyes.

  "I know you didn't choose to have me in your life. I know all of this was out of your control, but if I had a choice, Fflur, if anyone had bothered to ask me what I wanted, I would have picked you."

  My breath sticks painfully in my throat.

  "What I’m trying to say is,” he continues, his voice strong, his words emphatic. “If we hadn’t been thrown together, in what has to be one of the most ridiculous situations, I think I would’ve found you any way. You were meant to be in my life, Fflur.”

  The words are out before I can stop them. "Liar. I'm weird remember? Plus, I'm younger than you. You wouldn't have given me the time of day."

  He chuckles softly. "What can I say? I'm a fan of weird."

  I would have picked you.

  My traitorous heart races as I replay his words.

  He can't possibly mean them.

  “So, Fflur?” he says with a hint of challenge in his voice. “Do you think you could befriend a boy like me?" He stands and pulls me up too fast, forcing me to hold on too tightly.

  If he knew what I confessed to my flowers, would he still want to be my friend?

  "I'd like to be friends…" I hesitate.

  "But?"

  "But I kinda like the ‘The Battle’ when we play it."

  “The Battle?”

  I smile shyly, and allow my gaze to fall away from his knowing stare to my feet. “Yeah, you know. I wait for my bus. You wait for yours. I call you a wanker. You pretend not to laugh.”

  His head tilts back, exposing his throat and Adam’s apple, and he barks out deep laugh that settles low in my belly.

  "Yeah, Fflur, we can still play ‘The Battle.’"

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gorge walking was invented by humans with a death wish.

  I am completely and utterly terrified.

  It's all fun and games in the calm water, as we wade through up to our waists, but then the instructor warns of a waterfall, and the next moment I’m standing at the edge looking down into a frothing, swirling, bubbling hole of water that wants to suck me to my doom.

  Despite this, I'm giggling and laughing like it’s the best fun ever.

  Rhys and Max are at the front of our group, both soaked to the bone and laughing like loons, while Mum and our instructor chuckle at their antics.

  Galen is behind me, and he looks like he’s being made to endure hell on earth. For a boy who dragged me on every crazy ride when we went to the fairground and didn’t bat an eyelid—not even on the corkscrew coaster—his fear of the slippery climbs and deep drops is somewhat amusing, even though I should be feeling bad for him.

  Every time we wade into rougher water, his back stiffens, and his hands seize the guide-line for dear life. His eyes widen dramatically an
d almost bug out of his head.

  We’re boulder hopping towards a small waterfall that we’re about to climb when I lose my footing and slip. I rush to grab onto his life vest, my other hand clinging tightly to the guide-line, and the extra weight has him toppling and falling under the current, dragging me with him. Frigid water rushes over my head, and I scramble on the river bed to find purchase with my feet. We both push our heads above the surface at the same time, spluttering and choking on Brecon’s finest spring water.

  Mum, Max and Rhys, catcall and holler at us, enjoying our misfortune, and our instructor makes his way back to us with a broad smile.

  “The first dunk is the hardest. Don’t listen to them lot,” he throws his thumb over his shoulder to the others. “They’ll get dunked soon enough.”

  “Can’t wait,” Galen mutters, wiping the water out of his face before hauling himself back up on the boulder and holding out his hand for me to take.

  "We’re going to die out here, Fflur,” he says, when the instructor walks away. His voice deadly serious. I clamber up onto the boulder, and when I get my footing, I elbow him lightly with a snort, and he wobbles, but at least he smiles.

  "Don't worry," I tell him teasingly. "You can hold my hand. I'll save you."

  Rhys and Mum bark out a laugh, and Max joins in, too. It's the first time I've seen all three of them share the same joke.

  They realise this too, and Max and Mum share a secret smile.

  "This was a great idea," Max exclaims, stretching his arms wide as water rushes past him. "Fresh air, exercise, and getting to experience all the natural beauty of our glorious country."

  Max is right. Being able to see parts of my country this way, exploring a hidden Wales, is like opening a chest full of treasure.

  A myriad of plants and flowers line the banks of the river, ones you usually find on mountains and in meadows, drawn by the lush green grass and life-giving water.

  When the instructor announces we’re about to come upon our biggest waterfall yet, Galen grabs my hand, linking his fingers through mine.

  "Well," he says with his trademark smirk. "You said you’d save me."

  His smile morphs into a grimace as we make our way to the edge and look down into the rapidly swirling water below.

  Max jumps in first, followed by Rhys with an almighty, ‘Whoop.’ And Mum isn’t far behind. We look down at them all, bobbing in the water as they make their way towards the bank, and even their shouts of encouragement do nothing to boost Galen’s confidence.

  “You can jump in together if you want,” the instructor says. “Just keep to the centre where it’s deepest.”

  I look at Galen and he nods his head once, his face pale, his eyes terrified.

  “Relax, Gal. I’ve got you,” I say, using the same words he’s told me numerous times.

  Bright blue meets lawn green, and we jump.

  The moment seems to last forever but is still over too soon, and Galen's hand releases mine as we hit the water with a bone-crunching splash.

  I emerge before him, with Gal popping up moments later, a shaky grin on his face.

  “We did it,” he yells over the roar of the waterfall.

  Yes, we did.

  As we join the others and clamber up onto the bank to have a break and a quick drink, I mourn the loss of his hand in mine.

  I tell myself that I'm glad it's over, but the voice in my heart calls me a liar.

  'You liked holding his hand. You liked it a lot.'

  I beg it to stop saying these things. 'No. I can't feel this way.' But the voice in my heart whispers back, 'Don't be stupid. He’s not Rhys.'

  I'm quiet for the rest of day until we make our way back to the adventure centre and the bunkrooms, nobody noticing my mood change as they all ride the high of our exhilarating day.

  We all grab hot showers, and arrange to meet in an hour for food, but I must be quicker than everyone else because when I step into the common room, nobody is here. Taking the opportunity to have a few minutes on my own, I leave the centre to explore the grounds, and find a pretty area beneath some oak trees, with a babbling brook just off to the side.

  Rhys finds me about half hour later.

  "What's up, Flower?" It's the first time he’s called me Flower in months. His hands are behind his back, and I nod towards them in inquiry.

  "What have you got?"

  "Nothing." He smiles.

  "What's behind your back, Rhys?"

  He slowly pulls his arm around and proudly presents me with a Digitalis Purpurea, more commonly known as a Foxglove.

  "It's beautiful." I smile at the two-foot long stem in his hand, tipped with spheres of pink bells. "But did you know that it can be poisonous?"

  He drops the gift like it’s hot.

  "Even fatal?"

  He turns white.

  I can't help but laugh, and I push myself up to walk towards the discarded foxglove.

  I gently grasp the middle of the long stem and bring the fragrant blooms close to my nose. With a deep inhale, I smile at my brother, and he just shakes his head.

  "I only came to tell you that dinner is ready. I was sent to collect you."

  "What are we having? I’m starving."

  "Scrambled egg and baked beans on toast. Max burnt the toast on the kitchen grill, though."

  I step alongside him and lean my head against his shoulder. "What's going on with you?" I ask. The difference in him today is welcomed but unexpected.

  His hair is still wet from the river, and he tilts his head towards mine. It's a strange thing for my brother to do, as he doesn't tend to show emotions this way.

  "I'm an arsehole," he admits almost hoarsely.

  "Uh-huh, you can say that again."

  "I'm an arsehole."

  We both laugh, but then he adds quietly, "I don't know how to change."

  I wrap my free hand around his waist and push my cheek into his bicep.

  "Yeah, you do. It’s not hard."

  "I'm fucking up everything lately."

  "Everything?"

  "Rebecca dumped me. Said I was too moody."

  "I didn't even know you had a girlfriend, but I'm sorry, that’s crappy."

  We don't tend to have conversations like this, and we're headed into unknown and rather uncomfortable territory.

  He doesn't feel awkward, though, because he keeps going.

  "Take some advice from your big brother. If you ever get a boyfriend, don't dump him a couple of days after the first time you do it."

  "It? Oh... it."

  We both go quiet then. I don't know what’s appropriate to say to that.

  Feeling the need to break the silence, I say, "Cheers, bro. That’s… insightful."

  "While we're over-sharing," he says with a grin on his face. "You know you can talk to me about anything."

  I nudge him with my elbow. "Look at you, changing already. Soon you’ll be all grown up. Not an arsehole in sight."

  He wraps his arm around my shoulders and brings me in tight against his big body. We stay like this all the way back to the centre.

  I carry the Foxglove the entire time.

  After we eat, Max tries to embarrass Galen with funny stories from his childhood, and Mum joins in and tries the same with Rhys and me. It's not long before we all make excuses to go to our bunks to get away from their cackling laughter and our mortification.

  My tiny room is opposite the one that Rhys and Galen share. They tossed a coin for the top bunk earlier, and Rhys was over the moon to have won.

  An hour or so after climbing into the tiny single bed, and despite having muscles ache that I never even knew I had before, I still can't sleep. Someone in a nearby room is snoring, and the noise is grating on my nerves.

  The soft snick of my door opening echoes in the small room, and I sit bolt upright in panic, my heart galloping crazily in my chest.

  Galen pushes his head around the door, the dim light of the hallway softening his features, and I bring my hand to
my chest to soothe my racing emotions.

  He's wearing an old Stone Roses T-shirt and loose sports shorts. He grins at me in that cocky way that's all his.

  "Why are you coming in here? Go back to your own room," I hiss.

  "Rhys snores," he answers simply.

  "There's not enough room for you in here," I half whisper half shout.

  "Don't be daft. There's plenty. Just shuffle up."

  I roll onto my side, my back up against the cold wall, all the while thinking of the Foxglove that I've left on the grass outside, and wishing it wasn't poisonous so I could have it in here with me now.

  His cold feet touch mine, causing me to shiver, as he deftly slides under my covers

  "Keep your cold feet away from me."

  He ignores that comment, makes himself comfy and says, "What shall we talk about?"

  "What do you want to talk about?"

  "Well, it's dark, nobody can see us, so we can talk about anything."

  My traitorous heart whispers, ‘Ask him. Ask him.'

  "Okay, I'll start with the juicy stuff. How many girlfriends have you had?"

  Why did I ask him that?

  I shouldn't care, and really shouldn’t have asked that question.

  "Who said I've had any?"

  An unladylike snort bursts from my mouth. "You’re bound to have had some. All the girls I know fancy you."

  I blush, even though the room is dark and neither of us can properly see the other. I feel the warmth of his breath as his head turns to face me.

  "I shouldn't have said that," I all but stutter.

  He laughs. "Trust me, Fflur. I bet you have more boys lusting after you, than I do girls chasing me."

  I wish I were holding my Foxglove.

  "I met a girl at Gareth's place last week," he says casually.

  That's the week I stayed with Dad.

  "He had a party because his parents were away. Anyway, she's pretty cool."

  My body stills. I don't even breathe, and wrack my brain trying to think of something to say that won't sound breathy or foolish and settle on, "Great."

  He answers with a heavy breath, "Yeah. She's... cool."

  "What's her name? Maybe I know her." As soon as the words are out I know I sound too interested.