Unspoken Words

by K. M. Golland

  “What Ellie needs is none of your business.”

  Chris placed his hand on Tristan’s shoulder and pulled him back. “I think you should go, mate. These two have some shit to sort out.”

  He shrugged Chris’s hand off and moved toward Ellie, lifting a finger to wipe a lone tear from her cheek. The move was deliberate and far too fucking intimate. It also snapped a piece of my heart and the last tether holding me back.

  I lunged for him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him away from Ellie. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground just as my fist connected with his jaw. Pain shot up my arm but I didn’t care. All I cared about was stopping him from touching her ever again.

  “CONNOR! NO!” she cried out. “STOP!”

  “Don’t ever touch her again, you hear me?”

  I landed a second punch before firm arms wrapped around mine, hauling me backwards. “That’s enough,” Chris barked in my ear. “Break it up. He’s not worth it.”

  Rage soared through my veins like lava, but it was the terrified look in Ellie’s eyes as she stood there, hands over her mouth, that chilled me to the bone.

  “Baby, I’m sor—”

  She bent down and helped Tristan to his feet. “Are you okay?”

  “Your boyfriend is a maniac, Ellie.”

  My body slumped as Chris directed me toward their backdoor. “Go inside and put some ice on that hand. You’re gonna need it.”

  “But Ell—”

  “She’s fine. Go. I’ll sort this out and send her inside in a minute.”

  Nodding, I hung my head and made my way inside their house, hoping and praying that Ellie would follow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ellie

  The backdoor to my house creaked closed behind me. I paused in front of our ornate, wooden framed mirror, hanging against the laundry room wall. My cheeks were damp with tears, a look of complete and utter despair accentuated by puffy, red eyes and wayward hair. I rubbed the palms of my hands over my face and shook my head, more tears springing from my eyes. What the hell just happened?

  One minute I was in my backyard, Tristan showing me how not to shoot a basketball in preparation for the Teachers versus Students game this coming Friday, and the next minute I was watching my boyfriend—who I hadn’t so much as heard a peep from for over a month—pummel my friend to the ground. How did this happen? How did we even get to this?

  For the past month, I’d spent minute after minute wondering what I’d done to deserve Connor’s cold shoulder. It was so unlike him to ignore and neglect me, to be so dismissive and aloof. Sure, I’d suggested he give basketball another go. And, okay, I may have even pressured and goaded him a little. But that’s only because I’d honestly believed it was the best thing to do. That it was what he’d wanted me to do without asking me to do it. I’d thought he’d wanted to once again play the sport he loved and just needed the extra push, but never had I dreamed he’d stopped playing because he felt it was the reason for Aaron’s death. Had he just told me that in the first place I’d have let it go.

  Or maybe I wouldn’t have.

  Sucking in a breath, I blew it out and nodded at myself. Right, go and talk to him, and make him talk to you. Make him explain. Make him use his goddamn words for once. I was done waiting, worrying and wondering. I was done walking on eggshells I didn’t even know were there. I wanted answers, and I was going to get them whether he was ready to give them to me or not.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached my bedroom and opened the door. Connor was sitting on the edge of my bed, his arms resting on his knees, his head in his hands. And for the towering giant he was, never had he appeared so small.

  “Hey,” I said, quietly.

  He looked up. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

  “Don’t be.” I closed the door behind me and pressed my back to it. “But you should be sorry for hitting Tristan and for treating me like shit these past few weeks.”

  He narrowed his eyes, the remorse he’d just shown washing away like a receding wave. “I’m not sorry for hitting Tristan, the bastard deserved it.”

  “How on earth did he deserve that?”

  “Because he’s been making a move on you.”

  “WHAT?” I pushed off from the door and placed my hands on my hips. “Who told you that? Oh, wait a minute, let me guess … Lilah?”

  “No. Why would Lilah tell me that?”

  “Because the two of you have become quite close. You tell her things and she tells you things and—”

  “What are you talking about, Eloise?”

  His use of my full name, as if I were a child being lectured, pissed me off. “Don’t patronise me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Then stop talking in riddles.”

  “If I wanted to riddle, I’d go read a fucking Dr Seuss book,” I snapped.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Lilah has nothing to do with anything, unlike her dick of a brother.”

  “Bullshit! When you go running to her instead of talking to me, she has everything to do with it. Tristan, on the other hand, has only ever been sweet and helpful.”

  His face contorted. “Running to her instead of talking to you? What are you talking about?”

  “Remember Good Friday?”

  “How could I forget? You gutted me that day.”

  “Yeah? Well, you gutted me when you poured your heart out to her instead of coming back when I called out to you.”

  “I didn’t pour my heart—”

  He paused, realisation widening his eyes. “Wait, let me guess … Tristan told you that?”

  “Yeah, he did. He was there. Said he heard everything.”

  “Sounds like he heard things that were never said.” Connor laughed, but it wasn’t the pleasant kind. “Wow! The fuckwit must have magic ears.”

  “He wasn’t the only one who told me, Lilah mentioned it in passing as well. She was just so ‘thankful she could lend her ear in your time of need’,” I said, my tone mocking her pathetic explanation. “I’m sure she’d be happy to lend other body parts as well.”

  “Don’t be so bloody stupid.”

  “I’M NOT BEING STUPID,” I yelled. “YOU WENT TO HER. YOU TALKED TO HER.” I pointed to my chest. “You’re supposed to talk to me. You’ve always talked to me even when you haven’t, when you’ve used your unspoken words. Those words, all your words … they’re mine not hers.” Tears fell onto my cheeks, so I wiped them and continued. “Do you think I want Lilah to be the one to console you? I begged you to come back. I was sorry, really sorry, and I wanted to tell you that. I wanted to tell you that the only reason I was pressuring you to play basketball again was because I knew you loved playing it. How could you not after reaching such a high level? I wanted you to have that love and passion again. And I … I wanted to be the one to give it to you. I wanted to fix it.”

  “Ellie—”

  “Don’t,” I said, holding up my hand. “You walked out on me that day, and it wasn’t the first time. You can’t keep walking away when things get tough, Connor. And you can’t leave me and go to another girl. That hurt. A lot. Especially after we—”

  “Hey!” He shot up like a rocket and dropped to his knees before me, placing his hands on my hips. “I would never leave you for another girl. It wasn’t like that.”

  “You left me for four weeks!”

  “And you left me for four weeks.”

  “You didn’t write me a note.”

  His head drooped. “I was angry. You hurt me, too, whether you thought you were doing the right thing or not. I’m not broken, Ellie. Stop trying to fix me.”

  I stepped back, shocked at what he’d said. “I’m … I’m not trying to fix you.”

  “Yeah, you are. This—” he said, gesturing to himself “—this is me. This is what you get. I can’t always say what I feel but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the things I want to say. I’m not perfect, and I know I keep parts of me cag
ed, but maybe I like them caged. Maybe it helps me feel in control.”

  Walking to my window, I gazed out at the yard and tried to process what he’d just said. Leaves swirled in the wind and settled on the ground only to be gathered once again and thrown into another chaotic twist. I felt as if I was one of those leaves: constantly spinning, dizzy and disorientated.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” I said, fingering the book charm he’d bought me on my thirteenth birthday. It was dangling from the end of my necklace, always close to my heart.

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  “It’s actually frightening how much I’ve missed you.”

  “Frightening?”

  “Yeah, it’s not natural.”

  He was silent behind me, so I continued. “It’s not natural to love this much.”

  “No, it’s not,” he said on a sigh. “But it’s rare, and special.”

  “It’s also not good.” I turned to face him. “Connor, we’ve been joined at the hip since we were twelve years old. That can’t be healthy.”

  “Why can’t it be healthy?”

  “Because it all hurts too much.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that maybe we’ve spent too much time together, that we’ve relied on each other too heavily. Become too attached.” I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Look at me, Ellie.”

  I glanced up but barely had the strength to meet his eyes.

  “Where is all this coming from?”

  “I don’t know.” I threw my hands in the air and rested them on my head. “Maybe I’ve had time to think during these past few weeks.”

  He got up from his knees and paced my room. “Right. So in my absence, you’ve come to the conclusion that we spend too much time together?”

  I glared at him. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “THEN WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?” he shouted.

  “I’M SAYING I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH AND IT HURTS. It hurts because I can’t breathe when I’m with you and I can’t breathe when I’m without you. I’m saying this final year of school is vital for both of us and fighting like we do isn’t healthy. It’s disruptive, which is why I think we need a break.”

  “A break? We’ve just had a break.”

  “I know. I just … I just need some space right now. I’ve got mid-year exams coming up, and I need to focus.”

  He ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “And you can’t focus when I’m around?”

  “I can’t focus when you’re jealous. I can’t focus when you’re mad, or when you snap, and I can’t focus when you touch me … when you say you love me without saying it.”

  He closed the distance between us and clasped my face, the pads of his thumbs gently wiping away my tears. “Ellie, you know you mean the world to me.”

  “And that’s why we need this break. Your future rests on how well you do this year, Connor, so you need to love your study more than you love me. You need to focus. I need to focus.”

  His damp, pleading eyes searched mine. “Does this have anything to do with Tristan or Lilah? Because I told you, Lilah means nothing to me.”

  “No,” I sobbed, trying desperately to see through the wall of tears now flooding my eyes. “It’s to do with us, and only us. We need this break.”

  He wiped away more tears. “I disagree, but, fine, if space is what you need to get through this year, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you want and need.” He closed his eyes and kissed my forehead, his lips lingering with desperation I felt to my very core. I wanted to throw my arms around him and anchor his body to my own. I wanted to tell him I’d changed my mind and to never leave me like that again. But I knew you had to be set free to find your way home. I just hoped I was Connor’s home, like he was mine.

  Moving away, he made for the door, turned the handle, and pulled it open. “This is not ‘a break’, Ellie,” he said without looking back. “It’s a breather, so breathe.”

  The door closed behind him, and I gasped for the air he’d once again stolen from me. And, for once, it was my words that went unspoken.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ellie

  For the months that followed, I buried my head in schoolwork and kept away from Connor as much as I possibly could. I didn’t know what was worse, seeing him or not seeing him, and even when I didn’t see him, I did—every night, when I closed my eyes. He was there in my darkness, and I missed him.

  But we needed to focus on ourselves and our study, not on each other, which was why, despite my brother’s awful driving skills, I’d bribed Chris with daily Milo milkshakes to drive me to and from school to avoid taking the bus. All I knew was that Connor distracted every waking and non-waking moment of my life when I allowed him to, and with both of our best interests in mind, I couldn’t allow that to happen anymore.

  Ideally, for my plan of schooling-first-relationship-later to work effectively, I would’ve opted to go Connor-Cold-Turkey, but a month after our ‘breather’ started, he turned eighteen, and I wouldn’t have missed celebrating that milestone with him for the world. In fact, I’d celebrated just a little too much and made love to him, and oh my God it had been amazing. Just thinking of how my body fizzled like dynamite as we frantically tore at each other’s clothing in his bedroom after dinner. How he’d picked me up and gently laid me on his bed, his hands feverish on my skin, his lips delicate yet hungry on my mouth, his eyes full of unspoken words that we both knew, if said, would slice our hearts to shreds. So we hadn’t spoken a word as he’d rocked into me and I dug my fingernails into his back. We hadn’t spoken when his tears fell to mine as we reached our climax. We hadn’t spoken while we redressed and I kissed him goodbye. And we haven’t spoken since, which was why I felt dead inside.

  I was sure he hated me for putting us both through this. God knows I hated myself for that very reason. But I had to, because he wouldn’t have.

  “You need to eat something, sweetie,” Mum said as she stood at the kitchen bench, her apron tied around her slender waist, a roast beef sizzling in the oven for Sunday dinner.

  I swirled my spoon in the bowl of tomato soup she’d made for lunch. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You didn’t eat breakfast, and you let Chris steal your banana. Eloise, you’d float away with the wind if it blew hard enough.”

  She was right. I’d lost too much weight recently and not purposely. Food was no longer appetising, study was time consuming, and every other second was spent trying not to focus on how much I missed my boyfriend. It was all excruciating.

  “Have you spoken to him lately?” She looked up from chopping a carrot, her eyes sad but kind.

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  “No.”

  “Eloise—”

  “Mum, pleeeease. I’m doing this for a reason.”

  “I know that, honey, but perhaps you’re not doing it the best way.”

  I stabbed at the bowl, the chink of metal hitting porcelain loud and obtrusive. “It’s the only way.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Did I tell you he was going to apply for a course in Darwin just because I was?”

  She shook her head.

  “He’s so talented, Mum, and I don’t want to be a distraction. I don’t want his love for me to overshadow what he needs to accomplish now, and I certainly don’t want him to settle just for me. I’d never forgive myself if he made choices now that he’d later regret and all for wanting to be with me.”

  “That’s all very admirable, but have you thought that this Ellie/Connor black-out period could be having the same disastrous effect? That he may not be thinking about his study at all because he’s so distraught over losing you?”

  “He hasn’t lost me.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “I …” I paused, my heart all of a sudden heavier. “I don’t know. He should. Why? Do you know something?”

  S
he diverted her gaze and started cleaning food scraps into the bin.

  “Mum! Do you know something?”

  “Raelene said she practically begged him to ask you to his Year-twelve Formal, but he refused because it wasn’t what you wanted.”

  My stomach sank.

  “She told him he had to go or she’d confiscate his car.”

  I swirled my spoon again. “That’s a bit harsh.”

  “She was desperate. Apparently, he barely leaves the house anymore, and she thinks he’s stopped playing the guitar.”

  “WHAT?”

  Mum nodded.

  “No! No, no, noooo.” Tears stung my eyes. “He can’t stop playing. It’s a part of him. And whether he knows it or not, it helps him breathe.”

  “I’m sure it does, sweetie, but all I know is that Raelene and Curtis are very concerned.”

  I wanted to storm over to his house and punch him, to tell him to stop being so stupid and play his guitar, to reassure him that our ‘breather’ wouldn’t last forever. I wanted to hug him, kiss him, and comb my fingers through his hair. I wanted … “So is he going to his formal?” I grouched, changing the subject so that I wouldn’t get up from my seat and do all those things I wanted to do.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Mum stopped wiping the bench, her eye twitching.

  “What?”

  “You might think differently after what I say next.”

  “Whyyyyy?”

  “Because he’s going with Lilah, and because the venue Greenhills had booked sustained water damage after a pipe burst, and now both formals have been merged and are to be held at Eastside.”

  Bile rose to my throat. “What?”

  “It was the only thing your father could organise in time to save cancelling their formal.” Mum’s smile was sympathetic.

  Of all things to happen, and of all people he could go with why did he have to go with her? I closed my eyes and willed the sickly feeling in my stomach to go away. “It doesn’t matter,” I choked out. “And Connor can go with whomever he wants, as long as he goes.”