Not a Word

by Dawn Sister

  “What do you think, Zen?” I ask my attentive Jack Russell as I emerge from the bathroom. Zen tips his head to one side with a whiny growl. If he was human, I think he would have shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I don’t know either.” I huff.

  Going over to Zak’s house for dinner seems the only course of action. I need to assure Zak everything is okay, no matter how difficult it is for me to do so.

  I get ready, grab a bottle of wine, and make my way over there for seven.

  Standing at the door, I hear my dog barking. Zen is already here, since he has his own route into Zak’s house, which he takes at every opportunity. It really is as if he has two homes now.

  Zak answers the door, wearing the brightest, broadest grin I’ve ever seen.

  “I-I’m n-not angry with you,” I blurt out before he has time to even say ‘hello’.

  If possible his smile gets brighter, and my heart does backflips. He nods as if this was already common knowledge.

  “I know,” he replies in a gentle, warm tone that does very strange things to my insides. It’s said without his usual flare for words.

  “Oh, right!” I smile back nervously, not really sure how to proceed from here.

  He doesn’t pull me into a hug. He simply steps aside for me to enter. As I do, however, I feel a…something…pass between us. Is the electricity that shoots through my veins just my over-active imagination?

  Chapter 15

  In which Zak decides to volunteer me

  “Oh my god, Niall, so this guy at the store wouldn’t serve me because he thought I was underage. He insisted on seeing my ID, but when he saw it, he thought it was a fake. My dog-eared driver’s licence, a fake? You’d think a fake one would be in better condition, right?”

  I chuckle, because I’ve seen the state of his licence. I can also see the tears of mirth in his eyes that makes the blue sparkle brighter and my breath catch in my throat.

  “W-why d-didn’t you use y-your p-p-p-passport?” It’s hard to speak at the best of times with such a dry mouth, but add a damn stutter and it’s nigh on impossible. Zak never seems to get frustrated with me, though.

  “I did get my passport out, but I always carry my UK one, because it’s easier, and he just laughed in my face and asked me who I thought I was, Jason Bourne?”

  He sighs, and I can see why he’s annoyed, even though he’s laughing it all off. He has a British passport but a Californian accent and driving licence. He is a mixed bag, to be sure.

  “So take a test and get a UK driving licence,” I suggest.

  “Maybe I will.” He smiles widely. Why would that suggestion make him so happy? “And you’re just the guy to help me do it.”

  Oh, that’s why! I walked into that one, didn’t I?

  Chapter 16

  In which my voluntary services

  come to an emergency stop

  “N-no, n-not that way, it’s a roundabout. Y-you c-can only g-g-go one w-w-way…” I groan as Zak takes a wrong turn, and we end up going the wrong way around a roundabout for about the tenth time tonight. He’s been driving in this country for almost four months; how has he not got the hang of roundabouts yet? “Zak!” I gasp, and whack him on the arm. “P-pull over,” I screech.

  “Hey!” He rubs his arm, frowning, as he turns the wheel to swing the car around. He reacts angrily to a car horn, winding the window down and shouting, “Ain’t you ever made a mistake before, asshole?” He huffs discontentedly as he manoeuvres the car onto a side street. “I can’t get the hang of these stupid roundabouts, especially the mini ones. We don’t have them at home. We have sensible stuff, like intersections and stop signs.”

  “Y-yeah, well, th-this is y-your h-home n-now.” I scowl out of the window at another irate driver honking his horn. “G-get used to them.” I heave a sigh, about to offer to drive home when he puts his foot down and pulls away with a squeal of tyres and a squeak from me as I grip the seat in shock. “Zak!”

  His face is like thunder, and his eyes have this dark shadow across them as he drives. I don’t know where he’s going, but I’m guessing anywhere that doesn’t involve roundabouts. I can’t even ask him what’s wrong, because he looks so angry I don’t know what his reaction will be. I just sit in silence and wait for him to stop. I’m a little concerned, although I know Zak would never do anything to hurt me. I’m concerned about his sudden dark mood. This is a side of him I’ve not seen.

  Eventually, he pulls into a car park that feeds a local picnic spot not too far from where we live. We’ve walked Zen here a few times. Without looking at me, or offering any kind of explanation, Zak gets out, leaving the keys in the car, and walks away, towards the first track, kicking stones and looking thoroughly disenchanted with everything. He’s a picture of despair.

  I give it a few seconds then grab the keys and follow him. I feel terrible for shouting at him now.

  I forget how long his legs are. When we walk Zen, we just stroll at the same pace, but catching him up when he’s determined to out-stride me is proving a little difficult.

  “Zak!” I call. “W-w-w-w…” Good god. I can’t even shout after him. I try to quicken my pace but he’s too far ahead. I’m never going to catch him up.

  I resort to a time-old method of attracting someone’s attention when they’re too far to hear a shout, or when, in my case, you can’t shout. I place two fingers in my mouth and whistle. I’ve always been good at that.

  The whistle is quite loud and piercing on such a still evening. Zak stops and turns.

  He doesn’t start walking back but he does stay where he is.

  When I eventually get there, he’s slumped down onto a park bench and I’m too out of breath to speak, even if I could form any kind of question about his behaviour. I slump beside him.

  I can now see he isn’t angry anymore, he’s upset.

  He turns away to try to hide the fact he’s crying, but I’ve already seen the tears.

  “Oh, Zak.” I feel terrible. Did my shouting at him upset him so much? “I’m s-sorry.”

  “This isn’t your fault, Niall.” He shakes his head, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “I’m sorry for being such a drama queen.”

  Wordlessly, I hand him a handkerchief, which he accepts, wiping his eyes and cheeks. He still doesn’t speak, so I wait. It’s a nice evening, but here in the shelter of the trees, the air has become cool. I shiver slightly. I’m wearing a sweater. Zak isn’t. He’s been here four months, and he still dresses for California weather. I don’t think he owns more than one pair of socks. I take off my sweater and lay it across his shoulders.

  “Do you think I’ll ever get used to any of this, Niall?” he eventually says, pulling my sweater around him like a comforter He hangs his head, and I lean forward, my shoulder touching his.

  “T-tell me what’s wrong, Zak?”

  He sits up again with a loud groan. “Does it get any better? Any easier? Please tell me it does, because right now it feels like I’m falling apart inside.”

  “About what?” I regard him with deep concern.

  “Everything, Niall. Coming here, missing my friends, missing my dad, trying to do the right thing for my mom.” He buries his face in his hands, and I know he’s crying again. It’s only the second time I’ve seen him like this, and again I wonder who he has had to talk to about this.

  He lost his dad. He had to drop out of college to support his mum. They were forced to sell the house and move to another city away from his friends, and then he followed his mum to another country so she didn’t have to make the move by herself. All those transitions haven’t been without stress and trauma, and all this time Zak has supported his mum but had no one to support him.

  “T-talk to me, Zak,” I urge him. “I mean, y-you t-talk all the time, but you never say anything.”

  He looks up in shock, and I realise that came out wrong.

  “About yourself—how you f-f-feel, h-how you cope with it all.”

  “I cope.” He sniffs, wiping his f
ace. There’s a hint of a smile. “Nice recovery, by the way. What do you mean I never say anything? I never stop saying stuff. It’s a wonder you’ve only ever told me to shut up once.”

  “I n-n-n…” I shake my head in denial, but he raises his eyebrows and nods.

  “Movies, three weeks after I moved here. You stuffed popcorn in my mouth and told me to shut up. I was so hurt. I never forgot, Niall.” He places the back of his hand on his forehead, feigning despair.

  I chuckle and shake my head. I know he’s kidding, but I also know he’s directing the traffic. He’s once again avoiding talking about how he really feels.

  “Zak. Don’t hide what you’re feeling. You know I’ll listen,” I urge him, taking his chin and turning his head to face me.

  I look into his eyes, and I see the spark disappear as his expression crumbles. Tears well up and fall, and he takes a shaky breath.

  “I miss him so much, Niall. It’s been nearly two years, and I still miss him. Will it ever stop hurting so bad?”

  “Y-your dad!” I know this is who he means, and I want to tell him it gets better. It does, but only because the years dull the memories, and that’s hardly a consolation. “I l-lost my dad when I was about your age.”

  “Really?” Zak looks up with a gasp. I nod. “That’s harsh.” Just like Zak to worry over someone else’s suffering. I didn’t feel the loss as much as he does, I suspect.

  I shrug. “It was bad enough, but my dad and I, we didn’t really g-get on.” My dad hated my guts, for reasons I couldn’t fathom until I was older and only after he’d put me through therapy after therapy, searching for a cure or an intervention and I still stuttered. I was just a source of disappointment to him.

  “My dad was my best friend.” Zak’s voice is small, and I just want to hug him, like the other night, when he broke down in my kitchen. I feel his loss; he seems to have had a very close relationship with his dad, something I didn’t have with mine.

  Now I understand his fragility over the last few weeks. If it’s coming up to the anniversary of his dad’s death, he’s bound to be feeling fractured. I throw caution to the wind and gently, tentatively slide my arm around his shoulders. He snuggles in, and like the time before, in my kitchen, he melts against me like he was made to fit there. I concentrate on what he’s saying rather than how good it feels to have him in my arms.

  “We did everything together, you know, my dad and me. It just got better as I got older. Weird, huh?” He rests his head on my shoulder as he continues. “You always think of yourself as getting older, but your parents always stay the same. They never age. You think they’ll go on forever.”

  I nod. “My mum is seventy, and whilst I can see she’s aged, she’s still my mum. I still imagine her being able to do all of the things she did when I was a kid.”

  “I know, right?” Zak nods in agreement. “And I never thought my dad was old—well, he wasn’t. Shit, Niall, he wasn’t much older than you when he died.”

  “R-really?” I’m shocked now. “H-how old?”

  “He was forty-four. He and Mom got together in college.” He nudges me, wearing an impish grin. “She’s only three years older than you, and that’s not old by any stretch of the imagination.”

  I chuckle, but only to hide the shock. It never even crossed my mind that Rachel was only three years older than me. Bloody hell!

  “Age means nothing, right?” Zak is still leaning against my shoulder, and I’m still hugging him to me. “If we let things like age get in the way, we’d die having never lived. My dad taught me that.” His words are wise, but I’m not really listening.

  I’m nodding and grunting replies in the right places so Zak doesn’t think there’s anything wrong, but the fact remains that I am getting cosy, on a park bench, with a man whose parents are only a little older than me. The thought is very sobering indeed. The fact Zak doesn’t see me as old makes me feel a little better, but still.

  “Thanks for helping me out with all this driving stuff, Niall.” Zak still hasn’t moved, and, despite my misgivings, I’m not inclined to move either.

  “N-no problem,” I whisper, fighting the urge to stroke his hair. That would be going too far. “I w-was w-worried I’d upset you when I shouted.”

  “Nah. You shouted, but you had good reason. I went the wrong way ’round a roundabout three times in a row. How stupid do you have to be, huh?”

  “Y-you’re not stupid, Zak. You were just distracted, that’s all.”

  “Distracted enough to almost cause an accident. I’m sorry if I scared you when I drove off like that, but it just got to me.”

  “W-water under the bridge.” I shrug. He takes the movement of my shoulders as a cue to lift his head.

  He smiles at me, and I fight to keep my breathing even, because he’s close enough to kiss, if I just leaned forward a little more…

  “It’s getting chilly.” I stand quickly, and I hear him give a soft huff. Not sure why, unless he doesn’t want to move. I suppose it was comfy, sitting the way we were.

  He stands as well and shivers, handing me back my sweater. “Brrr! You’re right. Jeez, it’s the middle of summer. We should be in shorts and tank tops, with flip-flops.”

  I eye him with a snort. “In C-California maybe. This is England, Zak. We had snow in June once. I remember that day. I was a kid, we went sledging.”

  “Snow in June?” Zak gasps, half horrified, half excited, as we start back along the track to the car. “Oh my god. That is extreme. I saw my first snow when I was fourteen, when Dad took me skiing at Lake Tahoe. Before that, it was just something you saw on Christmas cards.”

  “It’s like that here, mostly. G-global warming has a lot to answer for. W-we get some snow, though.”

  “Cool.”

  We reach the car and both put a hand to the driver’s door handle, smirking.

  “You go ahead and drive, Niall. I don’t wanna risk giving you a coronary driving home in the semi-dark.” He chuckles as I nod. “Besides, your stint as driver’s ed is over.”

  “Oh?” I look up at him in curiosity. I was kind of enjoying it, despite the stress.

  “Yeah.” He nods. “I got my theory test booked for next week and a practical three weeks after that. I guess all I have to do is practise, and I’ve got enough saved up that I can get a cheap runabout.”

  “Oh? From where?” I would have helped him look if he’d asked, but he sounds like he’s got it all planned.

  “A couple of the guys from work are taking me to the car auctions the week I take my test. They say it’s the best place.”

  I nod, although I’ve never been. I’d be no good going with him, since I wouldn’t have a clue. Let him go with his friends. It’s certainly more appropriate than snuggling on a park bench with a man only three years younger than his mum.

  “Thanks for tonight, Niall.” He lifts his hand, and for a moment, I think he’s going to touch my face, but instead he moves it awkwardly to my shoulder. Maybe I just imagined he was going for my face, if he’s that awkward touching me at all.

  “Are you okay now?” I grimace. “I mean, I know it’s n-never really okay, but what I mean is…”

  Zak’s other hand comes up to hold my other shoulder, and he leans close.

  “I’m fine, Niall. Thank you. Thanks for being a good friend. Thanks for listening, always. Thanks for everything really.” Then he kisses my forehead quickly, like he’s dared himself to do it, and runs around to the passenger side of the car without looking at me at all.

  It’s dark in the car, so I can’t see if he’s blushing or not. That’s a blessing really, because it means he can’t see my hot flush either.

  Chapter 17

  In which my feelings are sent

  through a blender, quite literally

  We get back from our adventure in driving lessons emotionally drained but otherwise unscathed.

  Zak jumps out of the car and walks up the steps to my house. He doesn’t even hesitate. I really want to a
sk him what he thinks is going on here, but I know I’ll stumble over the words, sound like a bumbling idiot and probably rock the boat so badly he’ll leave and never come back.

  That would kill me.

  Oh god, I feel so mixed up about this I can’t think straight. Four months ago, I was perfectly happy living on my own, just me and Zen. Then in breezes Zak, and far from feeling he has invaded my life, it’s like he is completing it somehow, giving me something I didn’t even know I was lacking.

  Zak is standing in the hall when I eventually get inside. A concerned Zen sits attentively at his feet. Zak’s shoulders are slumped slightly as he waits, I guess, for me to speak, to say something.

  “It’s okay that I’m here, right?” he asks, and I realise he has read my expression and thinks I don’t want him there, when I do. I just don’t know what is going on, or whether it’s a good idea. “Please don’t ask me to leave, Niall. Mom isn’t home, and I don’t wanna sit in an empty house right now. I know I’m kinda dropping all this emotional crap on your doorstep again, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to, and you listen like you really want to hear it all.”

  I nod and sigh as I walk passed him, patting his arm in understanding. “It’s fine, Zak, stay. I-I’ll m-make some tea.” Did he really think I would let him be alone at a time like this? No matter my emotional turmoil, he needs a friend right now, and I’ll be that friend. I’ll sort out what else is going on some other time

  “Thanks, Niall.” He gives me a weary, wan smile.

  “G-go sit in the living room. I’ll bring it in.”

  How sad must his life be if his best source of company is a grumpy, forty-something guy with a killer stutter?

  As I make the tea, I can hear Zak talking to Zen. I don’t hear what they’re saying, but it sounds like one of their intimate little chats, where they share earth-shattering secrets. It sounds like they’re getting comfy on the sofa. Zak looked tired after all the ‘emotional crap’ of the evening, not that I thought any of it was crap in the slightest. I do wish I could just take away all that hurt and pain and make him happy.