by Dawn Sister
Rachel comes down the steps to join me in the drive. We haven’t really had that many conversations, Rachel and I. It’s not for want of trying, but she’s never really had time to wait for me to get my head and mouth in sync. She regards me with a worried frown.
“He won’t listen to me,” she tells me quietly, almost conspiratorially. Her expression is troubled. “He said he was getting a car. He went to that damn auction with some of the guys he met at work, and came home with that. I don’t know where his head is at the minute.”
“H-he’ll b-be c-c-c-careful, I’m s-sure.”
“His dad had a bike. Just before he passed, he gave Zak some lessons. He spent all that time trying to get a British driving licence and now he’ll have to get a bike licence. I’m worried sick he will do something stupid. He so wants to be like his dad…” Rachel’s voice hitches, and she stops herself from saying anything else.
I want to tell her it’s fine to talk, but she’s already looking at the now-closed garage door with a determined frown on her face. She turns back to me and brushes her dark hair from her eyes as the wind tosses it about at random.
“Will you speak to him, Niall?” she pleads. “He listens to you. I’m just his mom, you’re his…friend.”
I have no idea why she paused before she said that, except…if she can’t work out what Zak and I are to each other then I have no chance.
***
Ten minutes later, Zak and Zen are back in my house, in my kitchen in their usual spots: Zen in his basket chewing contentedly on a treat and Zak perched on the bench watching me cook.
“So, what do you really think of the bike, Niall?” Zak asks eventually, after watching me in silence for a few minutes.
I think he’s already guessed what I’m going to say, which is why he’s waited this long. I just haven’t really thought of a good way to say I’m not happy without it sounding like I think I have a right to approve or disapprove of what he does.
“N-not really m-my place, Zak.” I don’t turn to face him, pretending that the dinner I am making needs constant attention. “W-what you choose to drive, ride or w-whatever is up to you.”
“But you’re not happy.” Zak sounds ‘not happy’ too.
“What g-gave you that idea?”
I check the recipe card. I don’t have to, but it’s better than meeting his eye and seeing irritation, or anger, or whatever he’s going to feel when I admit I hate the thought of him riding that bike even with all the protective gear
With a tetchy huff, he jumps down from the bench and snatches the card from under my nose.
“Hey!” I turn and scowl at him, stretching for the card which he holds just out of reach.
“You’ve made this meal twenty times at least since we first met, so don’t pretend you need to look at the recipe just to avoid talking to me, Niall.”
He’s angry, and I try to deny that I’m avoiding talking to him about this, but the words get completely stuck.
“And don’t you dare stutter at me, because you talk to me all the time without stuttering now. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He points his finger at me, his blue eyes flashing. He is really pissed off, but at what? Me stuttering, or me disapproving of his choice of transport?
He’s right, of course. I talk to him all the time with no hint of a stutter. It’s as natural talking to him now as it is talking to myself, or Zen.
Zak is like part of the wallpaper, and his presence here is just another fixture of my home. Most of the time I don’t even think about it, which, of course, helps immensely. It’s when I get stressed and have to think on my feet that it gets bad, and right now I want to tell him how I feel about this damn bike, but I haven’t had time to think about what it is I want to say.
I give up trying to reach the recipe card with a huff and a sigh.
“D-d-don’t b-be cross w-with m-m-me, Zak,” I stammer, feeling my stomach flip as his expression goes from angry to gentle in an instant.
I see the regret in his eyes as he realises how his anger has affected me. I don’t want him to feel bad. He reacted naturally. He shouldn’t ever think he has to walk on eggshells around me. I’m not fragile, I’m just a little badly wired.
I reach out to reassure him, and suddenly I’m in his arms. I didn’t expect this, and I think I might have squeaked as he pulled me into a hug. He feels warm and firm, and I can’t help turning my head so my cheek presses against his chest. I’m surprised how well I fit there.
“Oh god, Niall, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I know you’re not happy about the bike. What can I say to make you feel better about it?”
I shrug, and he holds me at arm’s length. I doubt he can say anything, but there are certain rules he has to follow in order to keep him safe.
“It t-takes t-training to ride well and safely,” I offer. “Lessons are expensive.”
“This isn’t the first bike I’ve ridden, Niall. I’m not a novice. I had lessons in the States. I know what safety gear I need. I won’t be riding in my shorts and T-shirt.” He seems to have it all thought out.
“I-I j-just worry that you might h-have bitten off more than you can chew, Zak. Y-you got it for a song, but it needs some serious work.”
He narrows his eyes. “You spoke to Mom already, didn’t you?”
I grimace and nod. I think I’ve been rumbled. He steps away from me, making me feel just a little deprived of his closeness. He’s back to being pissed again.
“Did she ask you to speak to me?”
I bite my lip and nod. There’s no point in denying it, but the fact that Rachel asked me is not the only reason I am speaking to him about it. Before I can tell him this, he speaks again.
“That’s really low, Niall. Of her, and of you. Did she think you’d have more of an influence on me?” He sneers, not waiting for me to answer. “Did you? What did you both cook up? Did she want you to suggest selling the bike, hoping you could get me to do it when she couldn’t?”
I don’t actually know if this is what Rachel hoped when she spoke to me before. She did hint at it, though, and I have to admit it crossed my mind.
“I can’t believe you would take Mom’s side over this, Niall.”
“I w-wasn’t aware there were sides t-to take.” I don’t want to make this into a war, but I’m not going to pretend to be ecstatic about the situation either. “And if there were sides, I’d be taking the side of reason, Zak. B-bikes are dangerous and neither of us wants to see you hurt. You can see that, can’t you?” He shrugs, in a petulant, immature kind of way. “I’m just a bit shocked, really,” I continue. “You said you were going to buy a car.”
“I said I was getting myself a ride, Niall.” Once again he sounds unhappy.
He was pissed off when he arrived, I realise, because he and his mum had already had words about his choice of transport. I don’t think I’m making things better, but he asked my opinion, and I want to be honest.
“Y-yes but there’s a difference between a car and a bike.”
“There’s no difference, Niall. A ride is a ride. And I never actually said I was looking solely at cars.”
When I think back, he’s right. He didn’t say he was definitely getting a car. I just assumed.
I know he wants me to understand, and I do, a little, but he can’t expect me to happily watch him ride off on that thing every day, each time wondering if he’ll come back in one piece. His mum feels the same way.
“Th-think about it, Zak. Y-you can understand your mum’s shock, when you went out to get a car and came back with that th-thing.”
“Jesus!” He throws his hands up in the air and paces in a tight circle, with Zen trotting at his heels like it’s some sort of game. “You sound like her, and besides, she doesn’t care. Not really.” He dismisses my statement with a wave of his hand. “As long as I’m not asking to borrow her car all the time she doesn’t give a rat’s ass.”
“I b-beg to differ.” Zen stops his trotting and looks up at me. �
��She cares enough to ask me to talk s-some sense into you.”
“She asked you to do that? Is that what you think you need to do?” he squeaks.
Zen looks up at Zak now. His little head moves back and forth between us like he’s watching some sort of tennis match.
“What the hell? I’m not a teenager, Niall. I wanted my own set of wheels. I wanted to be independent and not rely on Mom letting me borrow her car, or the crappy excuse for public transport you got over here. Is that so wrong?”
“Y-you could have borrowed my car. I h-hardly use it.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of that in the first place. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to get him added to my insurance. It might have been expensive, but it would have been peace of mind knowing he wasn’t driving around on a two-wheeled death trap. My car sits in the garage, week in, week out.
“That wouldn’t have solved anything, Niall.” Zak sneers. “It still means I’m relying on someone else when I don’t have to. Why would I even consider that as an option?”
“Well, y-you b-borrow m-my dog, m-my sofa, m-my spare room—” I tick off the items on my fingers “—and you h-hog my b-bathroom. You do your laundry here and you use my kitchen for your cooking experiments. You b-borrow everything else of mine, w-why not go the whole hog and use my car as well?”
Zak’s scowl deepens, and his eyes seem to go flat with anger. I think I may have gone a little too far, but I am cross.
“W-what do you mean, I borrow everything else?” Well, if I hadn’t pissed him off before, I have now. I don’t think I’ve seen him quite so angry. “I don’t borrow anything from you, Niall, and we talked about this before. I was here helping you out while you were working, nothing more. I. Don’t. Live. Here.” He points to himself as his voice goes up an octave. He’s on the edge of shouting, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “And if you weren’t happy with any of those things, then why the hell didn’t you say something?”
I give him a withering look. Why the hell didn’t I say something? Is he trying to be funny?
“W-when the h-hell did you ever g-g-give me the ch-chance?”
He gasps and looks at me with a slightly hurt expression. I realise I have done him a disservice there, because he gives me all the chances in the world to get my point across.
“S-sorry!” I grimace. “I d-didn’t m-mean t-to—”
“Save it, Niall.” He curls his lip. “At least I know where I stand now.”
“W-what is that supposed to mean?” Now I’m pissed off. Something tells me this is not going to end well.
“Well, for one, you take Mom’s side over mine.” Zak begins listing things off on his fingers now. It’s like we’re a mirror image of each other; we even argue the same. Why am I only just noticing that? “And now the truth is out.” He continues without breaking his stride, oblivious to my inner ramblings. “You don’t really want me here.”
“Zak, th-that’s not t-true. I d-do…”
“And you know what? You’re right. I was kind of borrowing all your things without really asking. I know I should’ve asked to walk your dog, or become your friend, or even to spend time with you, or stay the night on your couch, or spare bed. I should’ve asked. But I was doing you a favour.”
“Zak, y-you’re b-being—”
“Silly? Huh? Am I being immature? Is that what you were going to say? Or maybe unreasonable. That’s what Mom said. I’m being unreasonable, spending my money on whatever I want.”
God, where the hell is this argument going? We were arguing about him staying here, now we’re back to that stupid bike. We’re going round in circles.
“It’s n-none of m-my business how you s-spend y-your—”
“You’re damn right it’s none of your business,” Zak hisses angrily, and Zen yelps in confusion because his two favourite people in the whole world are shouting at each other. He has no idea whose side to take. “And you know what, Niall? I’ll make it even less of your business by getting out of your hair. I’ll just go and get all my stuff out of the spare room, and then you don’t need to worry about me invading your space anymore.”
He storms out of the kitchen and disappears down the hall and up the stairs. For once, Zen doesn’t follow him. He just stares after him and then looks up at me with a quizzical look on his face. I shrug.
“I don’t know either?” I have no idea why Zak is so pissed off. Have I crossed a line? I think I might have offended him, but does he really think I haven’t wanted him here all these months? “Zak!” I call after him and run out into the corridor to find him already on his way down the stairs with an armful of clothes and other stuff. I had no idea he had that much stuff here, yet he’s still adamant he wasn’t living here.
“Out of my way, Niall. I’ll get these things out of your house and out of your life.”
Oh god, he really is moving out, and he hasn’t even admitted he was moving in. What the hell did I do wrong? He’s taken everything I said the wrong way.
“Zak, what the hell? St-stop!” I shout at him as he passes me in the hall without a second glance. “Whatever I said that got you so angry, I’m sorry. I’ll make a cup of tea, and we can talk.”
“No!” he yells, dumping the pile of clothes on the floor and taking a step towards me in such an intimidating way that I take a step back. Zen woofs a warning. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, and neither does my mother. It’s my money, I’ll spend it how I want, and I wanted a bike. I like that bike so the damn bike stays.”
“A-and wh-what about this?” I ask, indicating the mess of stuff—not just clothes, but his possessions—strewn across the hall floor.
With a huff, Zak bends down and begins to scoop it all back up. “Don’t worry, I’m taking it all. There won’t be a scrap of anything belonging to me left in your house, then you can’t grouch about me living here anymore, ungrateful bastard that you are.”
“U-ungrateful w-wha—”
“You heard me.” He cuts me off again as he stands and throws his things back down on the floor, in order to wave a finger at me. I’m beginning to get really angry with his constant interruptions. “You know how much I’ve done for you over the last month. You were working so hard you would’ve forgotten to sleep if I hadn’t made you. Well, now you think that gives you the right to dictate how I spend my free time and my hard-earned money. Don’t forget that while I was looking after you, I was also working full-time.”
Does he think I don’t appreciate what he’s been doing? I’ve said thank you so many times it’s almost an automatic reaction every time I see him. He didn’t have to do any of it but he did, without hesitation.
“I n-never asked you t-to—”
“No, you didn’t, did you? You just accepted it all as a given. You take me for granted, just like Mom does.”
I swear if he cuts me off again I will snap!
“Zak, th-that’s n-not—”
“Yes it is, Niall, and you—”
“Stop bloody interrupting me!” I shriek at him, my entire body shaking with rage.
Zen starts to bark in earnest now, because why shouldn’t he join in the shouting match?
Zak’s face goes white as a sheet, but I’m too angry to notice if it’s with shock or fury.
“L-let me bloody finish what I’m b-bloody saying.”
“Niall, I…” he splutters but I don’t even want to hear his apologies.
I’ve heard it all before, and I’ve been through this all before. I won’t have another person walk all over me the way Greg did, no matter how damn lovely Zak’s been over the months since we met.
“D-don’t you ever interrupt me like that again.” I seethe at him. “I s-spent t-ten years with a man who n-never let me finish my sentences. I swore it would n-never happen again. I thought you were different, Zak, but the m-minute things get heated, it turns out you’re just as bad as him.”
“I am nothing like Greg.” Zak gasps. “He’s an asshole. Are you saying I’m
an asshole?”
“Y-you’re acting like one, moving your stuff out, just because I don’t agree with something you did.”
“You don’t have any say over what I do.”
“No, you’re right, I d-don’t, but you asked my opinion, and I gave it. If you can’t cope with me having an opinion, why don’t you just t-take all your crap and go?”
“Niall…”
“No, you wanted to make a point, so make it. You don’t live here, and I have no say over what you do.”
“Yeah?” Zak sounds upset as he bends down to pick up his stuff. “Well, you’re damn right.” He gathers it all into his arms. “You don’t have a say, because you’re nothing to me, you’re just a fucking neighbour, Niall.” He turns to face me as he reaches the front door and his lip curls in contempt. “You’re just a neighbour with a cute dog that I took pity on because of the stutter.”
With a strangled gasp I take a step back, his words cutting far more keenly than any knife would. I feel a lump the size of a football form in my throat as it begins to close up.
“O-okay,” I whisper hoarsely. “Th-th-that’s h-how it is, yes.” I nod. I know how we stand now, exactly how.
His mum couldn’t work out what we are to each other, and neither could I, but I don’t even need to ask, because Zak has summed it up quite effectively with those few words. I’m just a neighbour with a dog. A neighbour he’s been practically living with, but still just a neighbour.
“G-glad we g-got that cleared up really.” I feel weak and sick, and I really need him to go now, because there is no way in hell I will give him the satisfaction of seeing me break down in front of him. No way! “I-I think you should l-l-leave now.”
“Niall…” His stricken face is as white as a sheet, but I turn away from him, anger sizzling in my gut, replacing the butterflies I’ve felt since that night I gazed at his sleeping form on the sofa and thought I’d never seen anything so lovely.
Of course I’m just a neighbour. What else could I possibly be to him? I was going to tell him how I felt today. What a bloody fool I would have made of myself.
