Entwine

by Rebecca Berto

“I think you know the answer to that.”

  She nodded. “No wife, absolutely not. Not a girlfriend, but that doesn’t answer if you’re dating anyone. And kids. Possible.”

  Malik smiled. “You’re good. I’m single, free, unattached but with a kid.” He brought Sarah to him with a simple finger under her chin. She came easily, resting her hands on his thigh. Malik pressed a full kiss on her lips. Opening his eyes, she had to blink a few times to get used to him being so close. Her mind spun. This close, his intensity made her dizzy. “And do you want me?”

  How did Sarah reply to that? Did she “want” him? Hell yes. Should she say so? “I think you know the answer to that,” she replied.

  “Where to next, then?”

  • • •

  NOW

  It was quarter to ten when they’d decided what to do. As much as Sarah was excited at the thought of ending up in his bed, she had enough brains to figure out that, once he had that, she’d have nothing left to keep him hooked. He was too good to lose so quickly. Plus, she didn’t want to act like a kid straight out of university. She wanted to be an accomplished woman, far from the desperate urges of a fresh teenager that she really had inside.

  “Crown Casino,” she repeated after him. “The place that never sleeps.”

  “Yup.”

  Sarah, in the course of the last few hours, had theorised several fantasies about what she could do to hang onto Malik for one more moment. His house? Too suggestive. A café? Too hard to find one open late on a weeknight. And anywhere outside wasn’t an option, now it was dark. But Crown was where it all happened. She loved the big square pillars that would fire up at midnight, the flame sweeping high, and the heat hot enough to feel even from three storeys down. She loved the sound of the slot machines clicking over; the staff at the tables handing cards. The bustle.

  Money, restaurants, shopping, hotels, entertainment, gambling; it was all there.

  Malik took her hand, and they walked to the parking lot. She was beside him, and he standing by her, like a protective boyfriend, and she wondered again what he would end up being to her.

  When they crossed at the lights, she thought about his car parked in the parking lot ahead, and started guessing what he drove. Audi, she decided. He’d be the type to drive a European car. Audis were sleek, fast, and luxurious. That, and they were pricey, and he seemed established enough that he’d have no issues spending that cash.

  “Just here,” he pointed.

  Pointed to a Ford. Her face must have paled, because he smirked. “I’m a Ford guy. Did you expect a Holden?”

  Fords were for families, young guys and girls, car enthusiasts. Ford was an everyman car, for lots of regular people.

  “No, no, it’s just … I don’t know.”

  “A BMW? A Ferrari?”

  She tutted, moving around the car—away from him.

  “XR6 Turbo, special edition. Can’t do better, in my opinion.”

  Sarah sat on the passenger seat and quietly enjoyed this turnout. She wasn’t sure a guy who would spend half the price of a little apartment was the right type to have long-term. It was when Malik belted himself in the driver seat, started the engine, reversed, and took off with fast precision that she decided she loved this true-to-heart guy who was passionate enough about an Australian car favourite. Just enough cockiness to please, yet not too little to care.

  By the time they were a bit into their drive, traffic was scarce. Malik asked if she wanted to put on a particular playlist, but she didn’t mind, so they stuck with the radio, volume turned low.

  They pulled up at a red light, and Sarah felt the tension. “How come you didn’t tell me your name at first?”

  “I’ve been thinking the same as you.”

  “Well, Malik, I asked first.”

  He chuckled at that. “Few things. I assumed you’d have a boyfriend. Assumed you wanted to keep to yourself, and then the right time never came up to ask. I didn’t think you’d be in to me. But, mostly, I assumed even if you were, I’m over the hill for someone as amazing as you.”

  “That was more than a few.”

  “Can’t help that you make me feel many things.”

  Sarah didn’t have the confidence to even reply her thanks, so she nodded and hoped he’d see from his peripheral vision. Sarah was freaked, but not in a bad way. No matter how she tried to describe him in her head, the best she could do was a New York male model, minus the attitude, mixed with the personality of a CEO. And both of those weren’t in Sarah’s circles. Not even close to her world.

  She’d never moved suburbs. In fact, once her parents split up, her dad moved to the other side of the suburb. Sarah went to one primary school, one high school, one uni and had one job as a register girl at a clothing store before she had her first day in the real world, today.

  It didn’t matter that she didn’t know Malik’s history; he still came from a different world.

  He glanced at her, then back to the road. “So, you going to make me suffer in silence, waiting?”

  “No,” she shook her head. Be cool. “I’m not ready to say why yet.”

  “Seriously?”

  Yes, she was serious that she couldn’t tell him what she was thinking. She wasn’t ready for him to run off frightened, not now or ever.

  “I’m not usually a relationship guy,” he said, after so much silence Sarah had settled to barely hum the tune of the current song on the radio. “I used to be, but that was years ago, and I haven’t had a girl in my own bed in eight years. Besides my own daughter, when she was smaller. So, no, no girls in my bed. Girls in my house? Yup. Just never overnight.

  “I wasn’t always like that. Lucy’s mum was meant to be a keeper, but guess it wasn’t meant to be. I can’t afford a broken heart. Mortgage, child support, my job to support clients with a broken heart … I see it and have experienced it and life is better now than it was before.”

  Sarah gulped. If that wasn’t opening up, she couldn’t say what was. She couldn’t decide if it was worse if he were a player or like this, but then, she felt bad for assuming he’d play girls around. He’d just told her otherwise, anyway.

  Still, she couldn’t pick his type. Now, she knew, and it seemed worse like this. Not because he had a little girl, because Sarah would be delighted to meet her, but because of his habits. His learnt way-of-life meant she was sure she’d never be the one who would change him.

  She realised two things were wrong with that. She was attracted to Malik because of the way he was. Changing him would not only be selfish, but also to her detriment. The other thing was, she wasn’t a kid anymore. Sarah well and truly knew that only characters in movies “changed” a man. Life didn’t work like that. Her dad married her mum, had an affair with Alyssa Fawnheart for years, moved onto Jessica Stone, and after them, all the women blended into one blonde skinny prototype. Her dad had said the whole time he “just knew” the current girlfriend would be the one.

  Life wasn’t fair, but it was how it was.

  Trying not to hesitate, Sarah took a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s not meant to happen that way, is it?”

  Malik had expected a different answer, just as much as Sarah had. But Sarah was more mature than her friends. She’d heard “I’m so sorry to hear that” and “It’ll all work out” one hundred times too many, and they were weak answers coming from a person who didn’t care enough to say a fitting response.

  She went on, “We’re meant to have the one dad stick by family, a wife who’ll be forever. In the end, we have to make do with how it all breaks apart and find a way to put it back together enough to be happy with it and move on.”

  “I haven’t had one person who’s replied anything like that,” Malik said.

  “Happy to be your first.”

  They had driven into the outer city, and were getting closer to Crown now. The roads were denser than where they’d taken off from the train station, and everything was brighter here: signs, lights, cars. It was a clue they wer
e getting closer to their destination, and it made Sarah’s muscles tighten, anxious at the thought of getting there, anxious at the thought of driving forever.

  “Here,” he said softly, holding out his hand.

  Sarah took it, and a calm drifted over her. She relaxed into the contours of the leather seat, and turned only her head to gaze at Malik.

  “What you lookin’ at?”

  “Thinking, really,” she said. “I worried you were too busy-slash-important-slash-gorgeous-slash-whatever-else-you-can-add for me. But now, it’s only been four and a half hours or so and … ergh, I don’t even know how to describe it.” Sarah grunted. “Like you know me? Or understand me?”

  Sarah continued to grumble, trying to describe her thoughts and only succeeding in her cheeks getting redder and hotter, and getting more agitated.

  “Like we were meant to meet and we somehow must have met before. Like it was in another life, or something.”

  “Yes!” Sarah cried, after he’d barely finished talking. “Wait …” She turned so her knee was bent, foot under her thigh, and her torso facing him. “Have we met?”

  “I hope not, or else I’d be concerned. How old are you?”

  Sarah’s chest tightened. How was she meant to answer? She decided on the truth. “I turned twenty-two a few weeks ago.”

  “Yup, I hope we haven’t met before.”

  Sarah’s body was a world of emotions: tight, anxious and now devastated. Her shoulder sagged and she couldn’t help the frown that curled at her lips.

  “Because,” Malik said, “the things I would have wanted to do to you back then are the same things I want to do now, and I rather like my freedom outside of jail.”

  Dropping her gaze from his face, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the bulge in his pants again and, more than ever before, she thought she could feel what he was thinking.

  AFFECTED

  THEN

  Sarah spent a couple of days in bed after she turned down Nicholas’s proposal, which turned into their subsequent break up. The box of tissues was always within her arm reach. She had a packet of chicken potato chips beside her bed, so she could lean down and grab a handful when needed. She re-watched a whole season of Everybody Loves Raymond in those days, and only left her room for food or a loo run.

  One of her girlfriends couldn’t understand her heartbreak. “But you didn’t want to marry him,” she replied. “You don’t even love him that much! I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but I can’t see why you wouldn’t be happy he’s gone.”

  “Well,” Sarah said, between sniffles, “that is bitchy. I just broke up with my boyfriend, and you want me to be thrilled?”

  “Don’t get all snotty at me. I’m trying to help you move on and be happy again.”

  “Thanks, but I might go rest.”

  “Okay, take care, Sez. Don’t give him too much thought.”

  How can I not? Sarah wanted to say. Instead, she replied, “Bye.”

  Looking back, Sarah saw why it was weird for her to care so much. Others wondered why she hadn’t felt free after losing attachment to a boyfriend she didn’t want. Sarah got that now, too.

  People had expectations of couples. Sarah and Nicholas had been the cutesy type; went on picnics, movie dates, coffee dates, shopping dates. Any stereotypical couple thing to do, they’d done it.

  On their anniversary, Nicholas bought her roses, chocolates, and her favourite bottle of sweet wine. He was a great boyfriend, and the first guy Sarah who made Sarah feel safe. Nicholas would only get angry for a few beats and then pipe down, letting Sarah win an argument. Sarah felt special with him, but she’d read romance novels and watched a tonne of movies, and seen the way her dad had looked at her mum back when he was faithful, at her aunty and uncle. They all had a look. Like they could close their eyes and lose themselves in each other, like they could finish each other’s sentences, and know what the other would be thinking when faced with a certain situation. She didn’t look that way at Nicholas.

  Sarah wanted space. He was amazing, but she had to take him in doses or she’d lose her grip, and just be too caught up.

  It did take a weekend of crying, a week at university moping around, and several weeks after that to get used to living without him in her life, but she finally understood it all.

  Nicholas wasn’t her forever. He was her right now, and she wanted him around, rather than needed him around. He was everything she’d needed, and nothing that true love should have been. He was overbearing, if she had to sleep over with him two nights in a row. If he got drunk at a party, she felt like she had to walk away to breathe—he was just too clingy. He’d be on her arm, lips or waist, and just never go away.

  She needed him, but as a friend, and Sarah knew that, no matter what anyone thought, her heart would always miss the part of her when she was with Nicholas because she’d never been treated so right, or had a boyfriend listen or care as much as he did.

  Why couldn’t she have truly loved someone as great as Nicholas?

  • • •

  NOW

  Sarah and Malik had just passed the security guards on one of the levels, opening up to slot machines, bars, lounges, and blackjack tables, when Sarah’s mobile rang. She wasn’t the busy type; her friends didn’t call every other hour, so she knew it was important to pick up. Plus, she’d already snuck on Facebook during some breaks at work to message them how her first day was going.

  When she looked at the screen, “Mum mob” showed up.

  “One sec,” Sarah said to Malik, holding up her finger. Then, turning, her mobile wedged between her ear and shoulder, she said, “Mum?”

  “Sarah!” her mum cried. “I know I said I wouldn’t call on your first day because you’re a big girl, but it’s ten-fifty. Are you okay? Is everything fine?”

  Sarah sighed. By everything she’d seen and heard from her friends, she knew she had a great Mum. Sarah’s mum had let her out to parties when she was in high school, and let her stay until the end but, by the same token, she wouldn’t buy her a six-pack to get drunk there. Sarah’s friends’ mums were either strict or carefree. Of her high school friends, the ones with strict mums would be too scared to try anything, and those whose mothers were carefree would turn rebellious, free spirits, wild, and, at times, dangerous girls, too. But Sarah’s mum was concerned yet friendly, and they shared most things together.

  “Almost eleven pm?” Sarah asked to be sure, and her mum said yes. “It was a hectic first day. Dad was going to drop me off at home, but I caught up with a friend instead.”

  She couldn’t help it; Sarah looked up at Malik and he was looking back. Is that what they were? Friends? The thought made her sad, but the look in his eyes, knowing she had said it as a cover up, made her feel all stupid and giddy again, like she were much younger than she was.

  “Aw, that’s great but who on earth can stay out this late? Don’t you both have to work to—” Her mum halted mid-word, and continued, “—oh no, don’t tell me they let you go after your very first day?”

  “Mum!” Sarah rolled her eyes. Her mother probably knew it. “No, I just wanted to celebrate. I’m going back in the morning. I don’t have a first day at my first real job doing what I love every day, so I figured I could catch up on that sleep thing tomorrow.”

  “Right, well be safe, Sez.”

  “Thanks, always am. Bye, Mum.”

  She hung up, and wondered what Malik would be thinking now. If there was one thing Sarah had made sure not to do all night, it was to give any word, hint or gesture about parting ways and going home, and she’d practically just given him the exact idea she’d been dreading.

  “Do you want to go home?” he asked her.

  She shook her head just as a woman rushed by. Malik reached for Sarah’s shoulder to pull her to him, narrowly avoiding collision. Under his chin, she gazed up, tried to store this memory away. She knew he’d surely ask for her number, but right now she wanted to remember him. This night.

&
nbsp; They walked to a bar. Sarah ordered a strawberry daiquiri for her and a coke and scotch on the rocks for Malik, and took their drinks to the stretch couch he’d saved for them. One knee was bent, his ankle resting on his other thigh, and his huge arm span was spread over the back. When Sarah sat down, she felt his hand come down to her shoulder.

  She focused on the drink and talking. If Sarah wanted him to have an impression of her it was a hint of sexy, but mostly she wanted him to remember their connection, and how she could talk her head off all night and he’d still want to talk right back.

  They went through their first drink within only a couple of topics, and he urged her to go and get another, since he was driving.

  Sarah had lost some reasoning by the end of her second cocktail. She’d barely eaten all day and, with two down, she’d decided she should grab a third. It was only after she’d managed to talk about her old dog, Lucky, her favourite high school teacher and the various colours of roses in the once sentence, all while standing to grab another cocktail, that Malik, leaned over, grabbed her waist and pulled her back down flush against him. She was only confused for a moment before she forgot about that, too, and wrapped her arms around his neck, hooking her wrists behind him. The action reminded her of their first kiss at the movies, and she pressed herself on his lips within a heartbeat, surprising him. His hands cupped her jaw and neck, pulling her back, but once he saw the hunger in her eyes he demanded her back, dropping a hand to the small of her back as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. She wanted that, and anything else he could do to her.

  They found a photo booth, and Sarah insisted they take some shots. He rolled his eyes, and said, “What are we? Sixteen?”

  “Close enough,” she replied and tugged him inside, then yanked the curtain closed, shielding them in their own tight space.

  They took a series of shots. The first one they weren’t ready for, the second they were puckering up, and the third their lips were locked, Sarah giggling into his mouth because she couldn’t stop herself. For the fourth, he’d rested his forehead against hers, his hands touching the base of her neck.