by Dawn Sister
“Just go!” I snap.
I don’t look at him; I can’t look at him. How could he say those things to me? After all the time we’ve spent together, growing closer and closer every day? He moves into my life, into my house, and why? Out of pity? I don’t need his bloody pity.
He used me.
“Niall…” His voice cracks, and I hear tears but I can’t turn. What he said has hurt so much.
Zak takes a step, and I think it’s towards me. Zen has finally had enough, and he growls. Zen might worship the ground Zak walks on, but he is still my dog and my protector. He would never allow anyone to hurt me, not even Zak.
Zen doesn’t growl very often, so when he does I know he means business. Zak knows that too. With a hoarsely whispered apology, as he finally gets the message, Zak leaves with all his stuff. The door shuts with a hollow thud, and my house is suddenly empty beyond recognition.
Zen gives a soft, whine and runs to the door, sniffing it and looking up at me, tipping his head in query and confusion.
“He’s gone, little one,” I whisper. “And I don’t know if he’s ever coming back.”
Chapter 20
In which Zen gets a new job
Spending the night awake, staring at the ceiling, is crap at the best of times. It’s worse when you know there’s not a damn thing you can do about the reason you’ve not slept.
Jesus! This is like the break-up from hell, except there was nothing between us to break. Was there? Something certainly feels cracked.
Zak summed up our relationship in three words: ‘just a neighbour’. How could he?
I know he was furious when he said it, but the truth is, even if he said it in anger, he must have still been thinking it.
I’ve spent all night trying to work out why his words hurt me so much, and what I might have said to bring him to that point. I know I’m not completely blameless. I did say some things that upset him. I mean, throwing him out of my house was not my finest hour. He was being an arsehole, though. He asked my opinion. If he didn’t want it, then he shouldn’t have asked.
What a mess. I never asked Zak to become the centre of my world, yet somehow, he has. To me he has been much more than ‘just a neighbour’ since the very beginning. Perhaps we should have talked about this before now; before everything blew up in our faces.
Zen has stayed curled up by my side all night, but as I get out of bed in the early hours to make myself a cup of tea and let him out into the back garden to do his business, he runs to the hole beneath the fence and disappears.
Oh crap! How is this going to work?
He doesn’t come when I hiss his name, and I’m about to stomp down the garden to see if I can get him to squeeze back through the gap when I hear Zak’s back door open.
I freeze as Zak’s soft whisper carries across the fence through the silence of the pre-dawn mist.
“Hello, boy. Oh my god, am I glad to see you. Are you still my friend, dude? I was so worried. Come inside, little buddy, I’ve got a job for you.”
What the fuck? Zen is my bloody dog. What does Zak think he’s doing?
After four months of allowing my dog to just roam between our two houses at will, I realise it is a little late to try and put a stop to it now, but still. Zak needs to learn some bloody boundaries. He can’t think I will just allow him to continue his relationship with my dog after he’s been such an arse to me.
With my heart pounding in my ears, I spin around and retreat back into my house.
I can’t go and retrieve Zen in my pyjamas, so I hastily dress, ready to storm across the drive to get my dog back.
I’m going to block that damn hole up!
I’m just about to open my front door when someone rings the doorbell. My heart nearly jumps out of my bloody chest.
This had better not be Zak, because he can go to hell if he thinks he can just turn up on my doorstep, with Zen tucked under his arm and a disarming grin on his face, and start over again without a proper apology.
Taking a deep breath, I pull open the door, ready to hiss at him like an angry cat.
Instead, I blow out my cheeks as my gaze lowers to find Zen sitting on the doorstep all on his own. I know he didn’t ring the doorbell on his own, though. What’s going on?
He isn’t empty-handed, or pawed, or whatever. Or, at least, his mouth isn’t empty. It’s filled with a bunch of flowers. As I gape at him, he crosses the threshold as casually as if he does this everyday whilst carrying a bouquet in his mouth.
He deposits the flowers at my feet and sits, his little stump of a tail wagging happily. His luminescent brown eyes regard me with expectation. It’s like he’s asking did I do good?
I stoop down and retrieve the flowers, giving him a scratch around the ears in thanks. No one ever gave me flowers before. They’re beautiful, if a little crumpled due to the method of delivery. There’s a folded piece of paper tucked between the stalks. It contains one word: Sorry.
Oh, Zak!
How the hell am I supposed to stay angry now? He’s done exactly what I wanted.
Should I go over there and accept his apology?
Maybe I should have another cup of tea and think about what it is I want to say first, because I don’t have a damn clue. I never expected flowers. I never even expected an apology, to be honest. In ten years I don’t think I ever got an apology out of my arse of an ex. I certainly never got flowers. We have one little fight, and Zak is sending me flowers and notes, and he’s not even the only one to blame for our fight.
While I’m boiling the kettle, making tea and thinking about how on earth I want to respond, Zen disappears out onto the deck again, down the garden and under the fence.
The sun is just peeping through the trees at the bottom of the garden. The birds are going crazy, taking the dawn chorus up a notch as the sun fills them with the joy of the new day.
Dawn choruses never sound quite as beautiful when you’ve spent all night tossing and turning. I know there’s no point in going back to bed, because Zen will need to go for a walk, I have work to do, and today promises to be a long one if Zen is going to continue ducking under the fence at every opportunity.
Ignoring the fact I was considering blocking that gap up a few minutes ago, I wonder how long it will be before Zak and I actually meet face-to-face. It’s surely too early to go over right now, even though it is obvious he’s awake already. How long should I wait? Will I have thought about what I want to say by then?
I’m just getting settled at my desk about three-quarters of an hour later, when the doorbell rings again.
My heart skips a beat. Is this Zak?
I open the door to find only Zen again. This time, he’s carrying a gift bag. Inside are six of my favourite chocolates and another note: So sorry.
Zak must have taken Zen for another walk, gone to the shops on the way back and bought these. I wasn’t even aware he knew what my favourites were.
Having delivered his message, Zen gives a small grunt before disappearing through the house, out the back door and underneath the fence without giving me a second glance. I suppose he’s a little bit sore that he couldn’t eat the message.
It’s about another hour before Zen returns.
I stand in my front doorway looking down at him as he gazes up at me, wagging his tail and looking insufferably smug. He doesn’t have anything with him, but behind him on the floor of the porch is the word ‘sorry’ spelled out in dog treats that are shaped like hearts.
Where the hell do you buy dog treats in the shape of hearts? And how the hell did Zak stop Zen from eating the lot?
I glance across at Zak’s house. I still haven’t seen him. He’s in full stealth mode, obviously, since it must be him ringing the doorbell.
“And I suppose you get to eat this message, do you?” Zen tips his head to one side, then yelps his reply, making me jump, then laugh. “Oh, what the hell? Knock yourself out.” I wave in the direction of the treats and watch Zen devour them all, leaving no
physical trace of Zak’s message. I do think Zen is beginning to get into his new role though.
That’s three apologies Zak’s sent me. Am I really going to make him wait before I go over there and talk to him?
Part of me wants to see what else he’ll do.
Zen finishes his impromptu snack and gives a soft, whining growl before he disappears into next door for the fourth time today.
I’m shocked when he appears in my office about an hour later, dragging something very big, very square and very well wrapped.
How the hell? Then I remember that Zak still has my key. He must have let Zen in. He is definitely in stealth mode, since I never heard a thing.
I lift the box onto my desk and carefully unwrap it.
Oh my god, it’s a cake. With two words iced on the top: Forgive Me.
The cake is still warm, and it looks delicious, but I know Rachel didn’t bake it. Hers are always perfect. This one is lopsided and messy and must have been baked by Zak. He can’t even bake, for goodness’ sake.
This is getting out of hand. In his haste to apologise for one indiscretion, he has spontaneously baked, hand-picked my favourite chocolates, bought me flowers and fed Zen.
What will he do next? More importantly, what will I do next? I need to apologise to him for the things I said, but he knows it takes me this long to get my head around what it is I want to say, doesn’t he?
I try to knuckle down to some serious work, but I can’t concentrate. My heart is skipping beats all over the place. My ears are hyper-vigilant as I imagine every sound could potentially be him coming through the door with something else he’s concocted as an apology.
The next is quite simply the most bizarre. As I answer the door to my dog once more, he is looking just a little disconcerted, since attached to his collar are three helium balloons. On each one is printed the words: I was an ass. Forgive me?
I almost lose my grip on my emotions as I unfasten the balloons from Zen’s collar. I can’t see the knots because of the tears in my eyes: tears of laughter. Where the hell do you get balloons with those words printed on them?
There is absolutely nothing Zak can do to top this. I have to put him out of his misery. Going over there and stuttering through an acceptance speech is out of the question, though, and I realise Zak has shown me the perfect method of communication. I could have done this after his first apology. I take a piece of paper out of my printer and scribble a quick note on it:
I’m sorry too, Zak. Come round for dinner. I hate that we argued. I think we need to talk.
Am I mad to be asking this? He’s apologised, in a rather unconventional way, but the fact remains that he was still able to hurt me with a few choice words said at the wrong time. I spent ten years in a relationship with someone who could do exactly the same thing and reduce me to nothing.
There are subtle differences, though—more than subtle, actually—the biggest being that Greg never ever apologised for anything. Zak has spent all morning apologising for one misdemeanour, when it wasn’t entirely his fault in the first place.
Enough is enough. Whatever this turns out to be, I can’t let him continue to think I am angry with him.
I fasten the note to Zen’s collar and send him back under the fence. Then I wait. I don’t think my heart has ever missed so many beats in one day.
Will he come round straight away? Or will he wait? It’s only mid-afternoon, and I invited him for dinner. Should I expect him then?
I abandon my desk, since I haven’t managed to get any work done anyway. I relocate to my kitchen in order to see if I have the things I need to make Zak’s favourite.
When he comes, we’ll talk. We’ll see what made him say what he said, and we’ll see if there’s any hope of salvaging what we had. Small steps is what we need to take, and—I realise—small steps is what we were taking anyway. But towards what? That is what we need to talk about.
Chapter 21
In which our problems take a back burner
Zen surprises me by trotting back into the kitchen only minutes since I sent him to find Zak. What the…? The note I wrote is still attached to his collar.
“What’s up, boy?” Zen tips his head to one side. “Go and find Zak.” I point in the general direction of the garden. That’s where Zen usually goes when I give him that instruction. He never usually needs to be told twice, or even once most of the time. This time, however, he stays where he is. “Go on, Zen, go and find Zak.”
He still refuses to move, giving me one of his little confused, whiny growls as a reply.
The doorbell rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Is that why Zen hasn’t gone, because he knows Zak is coming here?
I rush to open the door, but whatever greeting I might have given dies in my throat when I see Zak, and the state he is in. He’s deathly pale and shaking like a leaf. Something is terribly wrong.
“Zak?”
He practically falls through the door, almost tripping over Zen who is overjoyed to see him. For perhaps the first time since we met, Zak ignores my dog and paces in my entrance hall like a thing possessed. “Zak, what’s wrong?” I manage to squeak.
“Niall, oh my god, thank fuck you’re here. I didn’t mean to swear, but, shit, this is the worst day of my life, but it’s still not as bad as the day she’s having. Oh my god, what if I don’t get there in time? What if it’s worse than they’re making out?” He grabs my shirt, desperation and panic written all over his face. “What if she dies before I get there, Niall?”
“Wait, Zak, slow d-down.” I try to make sense of what he’s just babbled incoherently at fifty miles an hour. I prise his hands from the front of my shirt and hold them in mine to try and ground him, because he’s freaking out big time. “What if who dies before you get where?”
“My mom, Niall.” His fingers tighten around mine, and I try not to notice how good it feels, and focus on what he’s just said.
“W-what’s h-happened to Rachel?” I can feel panic rising in my gut, but I force myself to calm down.
“Oh god.” Zak swallows hard then continues. “My aunt and my mom, they were in a car accident. My uncle just called from the hospital. I need to get there, but my bike is still off the road, and I don’t think I’m in a fit state to ride right now anyway. I know I was a total ass, and I know you’re pissed with me, and I don’t blame you if you don’t accept my apologies, but I…” He stops to take a shaky breath, and I see the tears hovering, and the sheer panic in his expression. “I need a ride to the hospital, and I don’t know who else to ask.”
Oh my god. Does he really think I’d refuse to help him?
“I’ll get my keys,” I reply without any hesitation. Whatever has been going on between us, I would never refuse to help him.
He looks so relieved I worry that he’s in danger of passing out. What colour is left immediately drains from his face. He’s practically grey, and swaying, before I can react.
I barely manage to get him to a seat, and push his head between his knees to stop him from fainting. He’s also hyperventilating, gasping for air. I kneel in front of him and rub up and down his arms to try and calm him.
“Zak, you need to calm down, okay. I’m taking you. You need to tell me which hospital though.”
“Oh my god. There’s more than one?” He gasps, forcing himself to breathe slower.
I’ve never really seen myself as a calming influence, but his colour is already returning, until he frowns, his blue eyes wide and helpless. He starts to shake again.
“I can’t remember what my uncle said,” he wails. “I don’t know the hospitals around here. What if we can’t find out which one? I don’t have my uncle’s number, only my aunt’s, and she was in the accident too. Niall, what am I gonna do?”
He’s not thinking straight at all, since his uncle just called him, so he could call him back. I put my hands on his shoulders, and he stops as I hold his gaze. His eyes are wild, like he’s beyond thought right now. I think about the nearest
hospitals that might have conceivably taken in car accident victims.
“Well, there are two hospitals with Accident and Emergency near here. County General and King’s Memorial.”
“County General! That’s the one,” he shouts, causing Zen to yelp. “I’m sure he said County.” His hand goes down automatically to calm Zen, scratching his ears. I guess I’m not the only one with calming skills, since my dog seems to be doing a good job too.
“Good. County is only a t-twenty-minute drive from here. W-when you’re sure you’re not going to pass out when you stand, we’ll get going.” I stand and move towards the door but he stops me with a hand on my arm. He holds my gaze, and I feel myself melting inside.
“Thanks, Niall. I mean really, thanks so much for this.”
I try to ignore the flutter in my chest as I see the gratitude in his deep-blue eyes.
“It’s n-no problem, Zak, really.” I don’t add that I would do anything for him, that he only has to ask. Instead, I pull him into a hug, which he returns without hesitation, as if this is what he has needed since he first fell through my door.
His arms wrap around me, and he balls his fists into the back of my polo shirt. He clings to me as if I am his lifeline, his only hope of rescue.
I can’t read too much into this. Like he said, he’s only come to me because he had no other choice. After all of this is over, there’ll be time to try to sort out any of the other stuff that’s going on, like why his words hurt me so much, or why he’s felt the need to spend all day concocting such elaborate apologies.
“Okay, are you g-good to go?” I ask him, and that’s when I realise my shoulder is wet, where his tears have soaked the fabric. “Oh, Zak.” He tightens his grip on me, as if I am the only thing holding him together.
“What if something happens to her, Niall? We had a fight about—stuff, after I got home last night.” He pulls away and eyes me sheepishly. I wonder what the fight was about. “I spent all night worrying about that and about this.” He waves his hands between us. “What I would do if something happened to you before I got the chance to say I was sorry properly, or to tell you… Urgh! Holy shit, Niall.” He sobs almost uncontrollably into my shoulder, and I hold him. Is it okay to still enjoy the sensation of holding him, even though he’s in such distress? “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Zak’s voice cracks slightly. “Oh god, what if she dies? What if she can’t work again? What if she ends up in a wheelchair?”
