Infinite Completion (The Infinity Series Book 1)

by Michelle Dennis

  Valentine’s face is ashen. I haven’t seen this look before.

  ‘Come on, we’re leaving,’ he shouts over the music, pulling me behind him without looking back at me.

  ‘What? Why?’ I shout at him.

  He doesn’t answer me.

  ‘Sam, I’ll call you tomorrow and you can bring me to get the bike?’

  ‘Yeah, man – for sure! Be good, sis,’ he shouts out over the music with a grin.

  I can feel my temper rising.

  The cold early-morning air makes my head spin more, as we step out onto the street. Valentine leads me to a taxi, opens the door and guides me in. ‘Watch your head,’ he says as he slides in next to me and leans over to put on my seat belt.

  ‘I can manage my own seatbelt,’ I say, starting to feel really annoyed. He’s dragged me from my friends – and my brother – for what?

  ‘I want to make sure it’s on properly,’ he says flatly. He’s really annoyed too, but why? He doesn’t sound like Valentine.

  ‘Where are you going?’ says the taxi driver, looking at Valentine through his rear vision mirror.

  ‘22 Copper Ave, Lathlain,’ he answers, not taking his eyes from me, doing up my seat belt.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ I say, trying my best to sound compliant. I really don’t like to see him upset. And I hate conflict.

  ‘That guy was hitting on you,’ he says calmly, as the taxi pulls out onto the road. The driver flicks on the heater and turns the radio up a little – probably so he doesn’t appear to be listening to our argument.

  ‘So we leave, because a drunk guy was dancing nearby?’ I keep my own voice low. It’s an honest question.

  ‘He was dancing very close to you and his eyes were all over you,’ Valentine explains, as though he is explaining why we use an umbrella when it rains.

  ‘Phil came close to me so the guy would back off. I didn’t need you to pull me away like I’d done something wrong.’

  ‘You did nothing wrong, Abbie,’ he says. Now I know I’m in trouble – Abbie – what happened to Princess?

  He takes a long breath and takes hold of my hand. ‘I’m sorry – I just don’t like it,’ he adds, as though this clarifies everything.

  ‘It was all under control.’

  ‘No it wasn’t – what if he’d hurt you?’

  ‘He wasn’t even very close – and Phil was there!’

  ‘Where I come from, we settle things differently,’ he snaps.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He sighs and speaks lower. ‘In my neighbourhood, if a man mistreated a girl, he’d be dealt with before the police even had a chance to arrest him. I’ve been boxing since I was ten and I’ve been fighting for survival since I could walk. I’m sorry, but instinct sometimes gets the better of me and I try to avoid situations where I may be forced to kill a man—’

  ‘You’d kill a man, because he dances near me?’

  ‘I’d kill a bull for you,’ he says flatly. I can’t believe he’s being so serious.

  ‘He was just dancing near me! You can’t go around beating people up for dancing too close to your girlfriend!’ I’m so angry that my voice is getting louder.

  ‘I’m sorry, Princess,’ he whispers and squeezes my hand. ‘I will not share you, even with another man’s eyes or thoughts.’

  Whoa! Now here’s a revelation. Does he want to hide me in a tower somewhere? This doesn’t sound like my Valentine at all.

  ‘You can’t wrap me up in cotton wool,’ I shout at him, a little too loudly. He flicks his eyes to the front of the car briefly to see if the taxi driver heard but then looks back down at my fingers entwined through his. ‘And I left my rose behind,’ I add, realising I left my rose on the bar with my drink.

  ‘I can get you another rose—’

  ‘I don’t want another damn rose, I want you to not behave like a teenager,’ I snap.

  ‘I want to be the beginning and end of your world – with no exceptions. And I don’t want other men looking at you—’

  ‘I can’t stop people from looking at me… even though they aren’t anyway – you’re not flattering me with this behaviour,’ I say.

  There’s silence for a few minutes; except for the song playing on the radio. Radiohead’s Creep. I love this song. Valentine is my creep, and I love him.

  ‘I know I can’t stop them from looking – I was being silly. I just don’t know how I’m going to cope with you being so damn beautiful and me feeling this way. This is all very new to me – forgive me, Princess?’ he smiles.

  I manage to smile at him, but I’m still mad.

  ‘Good, now let’s go home and make up,’ he grins at me wolfishly.

  How can I stay mad?

  When we get home he gives me some private time in the bathroom while he undresses. The bathroom is spinning and I can feel my stomach burning. I think I’ve had too much to drink.

  ‘Valentine,’ I call out. I don’t care if he sees me sitting on the toilet. I think I’m on fire.

  ‘Coming!’ I hear him shout out.

  Then I’m on my knees and my face is in the toilet. Gross.

  ‘Princess?’ I hear my Valentine’s voice crack. Is he laughing?

  He’s rubbing my back and I’m vomiting. Romantic.

  ‘You’ve had too much to drink, Princess,’ he says. I know he’s smiling.

  ‘No, I’m just not feeling well,’ I gurgle between gags. My throat is burning. My stomach is on fire.

  ‘Better?’ Valentine whispers in my ear, holding my hair away from my face.

  I nod.

  I feel Valentine pull up my panties and lift me up from the cold floor. I hear the toilet flush and I feel the pillow when he settles me onto our bed.

  I spend the next day in bed, and can hardly keep anything down; even my morning coffee is sent back up with what feels like my whole stomach lining. The only benefit to being sick, is having Valentine rubbing my back.

  Our first fight, and I think I won.

  Chapter 7

  I’m a sensible person. I like rules and order. I thrive on knowing exactly where my day is headed and I never panic, because I don’t want to look like a fool. So, when I receive a call that turns my life upside down, drags it through the mud and shakes it off to get rid of the dirt, I try with every ounce of my being to be calm and listen to my intuition’s voice say, It will be okay.

  ‘Good evening, Perth Wellness Centre, Abbie speaking, how can I help you?’ I roll out my usual spiel.

  ‘Abbie? Abbie Bennet?’ asks a female voice.

  ‘Yes, how can I help?’ I should’ve known as soon as she said Abbie Bennet that it was a personal call, but this part goes straight over my head.

  ‘My name is Kerry Simpson, I’m a nurse at Victoria’s Hospital,’ she says.

  This is okay, because I always deal with Victoria’s Hospital, when we are waiting on results of a medical test for one of our patients. Nothing to worry about.

  ‘Do you know a Mr Valentine Hewitt?’

  ‘Yes, yes, he’s my boyfriend.’ Panic fills me.

  ‘He’s been involved in a car accident, and he’s been asking for you.’

  I need her to say it again. ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Mr Hewitt, Valentine… he’s been in a car accident and he’s been asking for you,’ she says again, but slowly this time.

  ‘So, he’s okay?’ I ask with a voice that doesn’t sound like mine. This isn’t real.

  ‘He has some injuries, and he’s been given morphine to ease the pain...’

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ I murmur into the phone, clasping it with both hands. He’s okay. I can breathe again.

  ‘Can you come in and see him?’ The nurse’s voice pushes through my shock.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course – I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you please tell him I’ll be there?’

  ‘Of course, he’ll be pleased. He has another visitor already, but he’s asking for you... has been since they brought him in. I was
trying to get sense out of him, just to get your contact details. The nice lady that’s with him now gave me your name and told me where you worked... I hope you don’t mind?’

  The only woman I can think of who would be with him is Jacquie. She’s with him. Of course, she’s probably still listed as his next of kin. Panic sparks into annoyance, but I push the feeling aside and focus on Valentine. He asked for me.

  ‘Oh, no, that’s fine. So is he awake?’ I say to the nurse.

  ‘He’s a bit groggy, but yes.’

  ‘Can you tell him I love him... and I’ll be there soon?’

  ‘Yes, of course I will,’ the nurse says in a genuinely caring voice.

  Putting down the phone and scanning the waiting room, I have no idea how I’ll get out of here. It’s already six o’clock and we’re meant to close the centre at seven, but this never happens. Just about every patient here tonight came just for a chat; no medical urgency, just to have someone lend an ear. My boss, Dr. Rodgers is this someone. Homosexual teenagers in physical and emotional turmoil, prostitutes who are mothers and wives during the day and somebody’s fantasy by night, lonely middle-aged men looking for ‘the answer to their sexuality’, the list is endless. I’ve come to know these people over my time at the wellness centre, and I actually enjoy the evening shift; it opens my eyes to a whole new world.

  I must look as though somebody had just died, because when Dr. Rodgers steps out of his room and picks up the next patient file, he asks, ‘Abbie, are you okay?’

  ‘Valentine’s been in an accident,’ I say, trying to sound calm.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘At Victoria’s...’

  ‘Then get going!’

  ‘I can’t, we have all these—’

  ‘I am quite capable of locking up, they’ll be fine, just go,’ he insists.

  I pick up my cardigan and handbag – leaving the patients and Dr Rodgers to fend for themselves. I run down to the taxi bay.

  I feel like throwing up. But this is no time for me to worry about how I feel. As soon as the taxi pulls up at the emergency entrance, I pay the driver and make my way to the enquiries counter, get directions and find the lifts that will take me to Valentine.

  I hate hospitals. They’re cold and filled to the brim with uneasiness.

  The lift comes to a stop and the voice announcing the floor we’ve arrived on makes my stomach flip. I clutch my handbag tighter and take a deep breath; I can do this. On goes the bravery mask that I haven’t worn in a very long time and out I step into the cold linoleum-paved corridor.

  As I walk toward the ward reception counter, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  ‘Abbie?’ a familiar voice asks.

  I turn around a little startled and I’m facing Jacquie. She’s been crying. Her rosy English cheeks are blotchy and her eyes are puffy. This annoys me, and I know it shouldn’t. She has a right to care for Valentine still, doesn’t she?

  ‘Oh, hi Jacquie,’ is all I manage. And to be honest, I feel my bravery mask slip a little and clear my throat to cover up a sob that almost tumbles out of my gaping mouth.

  ‘Hi, um, he’s just through there,’ she gestures to a door on the right. ‘He’s been asking for you.’

  ‘Oh, uh, thanks,’ I flick my eyes from her and decide to keep moving. I really don’t feel comfortable speaking with her and I’m not really sure why. Jealousy, possessiveness, primal instinct – all drag me into a prickly state of nervousness. I guess the girlfriend and the ex-wife are just not meant to be friendly. So, I walk away.

  I find Valentine’s room and adjust my bravery mask before going in. I’m not prepared for any of this. His left leg is slightly raised off the bed and wrapped up in bandages, from his knee, down to his toes. His left arm is bandaged, from his elbow to his fingers. And his perfect face is flawed with a not-so-neatly-stitched wound, which goes from his hairline in the centre of his forehead, down to his eyebrow.

  I feel my legs trembling and I pause in the doorway for a moment to gather my strength.

  Valentine opens his eyes and they lock onto mine. I see that familiar sparkle as a smile spreads across his weary face and relief washes over me.

  ‘I love you – infinity,’ he mutters. I hold back a sob as I scurry over and climb up next to his broken body. The nurse had obviously passed on my message.

  ‘Ahhh, careful, Princess.’ He winces as he tries to move over, so we can lie together on the cold, hard hospital bed.

  ‘Sorry,’ I whisper. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I am now.’ He sighs, and I can’t help but smile.

  ‘What happened?’

  He tries to take a breath and coughs. ‘I can’t remember much,’ he winces and groans. I try to move away from him a little and he grabs hold of my arm. ‘No, Princess, don’t go, I’m okay – a couple of broken ribs – that’s all.’

  I look him over and sigh. ‘And a broken leg, a cut across your forehead and a broken wrist…’

  ‘I’m okay. I’m just glad you’re here.’ He moans and leans his head back into the pillow, releasing his grip on my arm and moving his hand down to entwine his fingers through mine. ‘I was on my way to get Tyler for football practice and some dick in a truck pulled into my lane and…’ he coughs again. I wipe his face and push his black curls back from his forehead. They’ve stitched the wound with butterfly clips and it looks like it could bleed very easily. I kiss his cheek, trying to look like I have it all together. Oh God, give me strength. I can’t believe we are here, in this hospital bed.

  ‘I saw Jacquie,’ I say, then immediately regret I brought her name up.

  ‘Yeah, the ambulance called her. She said I was telling them I had to get Tyler. They managed to get her name from me and a Princess called Abbie…’ he tries to let out a chuckle, but it turns into another cough and a groan.

  ‘It’s okay, just sleep now, I’ll stay here.’ I caress his face and kiss his hand.

  ‘Okay, Princess, make sure they don’t tell you to leave,’ he whispers and closes his eyes.

  ∞~∞~∞~∞

  He spends a few days at Victoria’s Hospital. Telling him that his bike was mangled in the accident wasn’t easy, but he takes the news okay. We discover through one of his nurses that the cut across his forehead was a result of the helmet glass being forced into his face on impact and we both express our profound relief to the nurse that the helmet protected his skull from being split open.

  I visit him on my way to work and as soon as my shift ends, I go straight back to him. We lay on the hospital bed together like a couple of delinquents, laughing about how he had a cigarette in the toilet because he couldn’t make it down to the car park very easily – he’s a rule breaker, the dark to my light – my soul mate. Overall, he’s pretty busted up, but the doctors let me take him home if I promise to take care of him – of course I promise.

  This whole experience irritates our life – like getting a splinter in your finger – but we take it in our stride and soldier on. I take good care of Valentine. I help him shower (which is always fun) and set him up on the couch while I head off to work. When I arrive home in the evening, he gives me cooking lessons – Greek style. He’s unable to make an appearance in the band at all, and without a bike and his leg in plaster, the partying stops. Instead, we focus on each other even more.

  Jacquie agrees to let Tyler come and stay over every Friday and Saturday night.

  The first Friday night, I have everything ready. Valentine is sitting on the couch with his left leg propped up on a chair and I’m pacing beside the window like a caged tiger. She’ll be here any minute. I scan the lounge room again to make sure nothing is out of place. The cushions are tidy, the coffee table is clean, the fire is crackling, the carpet is vacuumed and the television is on, but turned down low.

  ‘Princess, stop pacing! You’re making me nervous!’

  ‘I can’t! I’m going to explode – what if Tyler doesn’t like me? What if Jacquie thinks our house isn’t good enough for him?’


  ‘Who cares what she thinks? Just come and sit down.’

  I look at him for a moment. There’s a lot I’d like to do with him right now, but sitting with him isn’t one of them. I move back toward the window and peek through the curtain just enough to see out into the night. There’s a car pulling into the drive.

  ‘They’re here! Oh, God, they’re here!’ I turn to Valentine and put my hands to my face.

  ‘Princess, it’s fine,’ he chuckles.

  I don’t know how long I stand in the middle of the lounge room, but I jump a little when there’s a knock at the door.

  Valentine gets up and hobbles over to open it and I stand behind him. He takes my hand as he opens the door and is nearly knocked over by a boy wearing Spiderman pyjamas. My heart is racing. I glance from Tyler up to the lady standing on the veranda, holding an overnight bag and a plastic container. Jacquie.

  ‘Hi guys,’ she says, smiling.

  I return a smile, but my eyes quickly fall on Tyler as he hugs Valentine.

  ‘Dad, where’s your bike?’ Tyler says, looking up at Valentine.

  ‘It couldn’t be fixed, son. But I’ll get another one, don’t worry.’

  ‘Oh,’ Tyler replies, sounding disappointed. We lock eyes and he grins. ‘Oh, are you Princess Abbie?’

  What on earth has Valentine been telling this boy? ‘Um, yeah, I’m Abbie,’ I say, putting out my hand to shake his. He accepts my offer and shakes.

  ‘I’ll show you how to shake hands properly, when Mum goes,’ he says. He sounds so grown up. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not this.

  Jacquie clears her throat and we all look at her expectantly. ‘Here’s Tyler’s bag and, oh, I made some pasta for him—’

  ‘Oh, we’ve got homemade pizzas ready to make,’ Valentine says. ‘But thanks anyway, we’ll have it tomorrow,’ he adds, taking the plastic container from her.

  ‘Oh, okay, well... have fun, Tyler,’ she says, leaning down to give him a kiss on the cheek. He hugs her and moves past us all into the house.