It opened doors that I thought I had shut very well. Locked even. A part of me that I was content to leave untouched and forgotten. And now the very thing I didn’t think I wanted is suddenly there, like a shiny new toy, that I so desperately want to have.
I hoped to bump into Sasha when I took Lily to school, and the disappointment in my chest when she wasn’t there scared the shit out of me. Enough that I showed up to her house like a fucking stalker.
She’s a distraction I want, but definitely don’t need. I need to focus on tying loose ends here and getting back to Melbourne. I need to make sure Lily is back in her normal routine, in our house, as soon as possible.
“Where’d you go last night?” Max’s voice interrupts me, immediately adding to the to-do list I was mentally writing. I need to work out what’s going to happen to Max.
“I just needed a change in scenery. Thank you for watching Lily.”
She makes an unimpressed noise, while she lays across the second-hand couch that graces the living room. I look up from my laptop and cringe at the sight of her. She’s living sadness and I have nothing good to offer her.
“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” She doesn’t answer me, she won’t even open her eyes “Max.”
I incessantly tap on one of the keys, trying to work, but getting overwhelmed the more I think.
One thing at a time, fuckwit. Max first, everything else after.
“Max.”
“Can’t you just shut the fuck up, and leave me alone.”
Leaving the table, I stride to where she is and sit on the floor beside the couch. Her eyes are still closed, but the light flutter of her lids lets me know she’s aware of how close I am to her.
“Max,” I whisper. “I know you’re upset, and there’s no rush on your grief. But you have to take care of yourself.”
Her chin quivers, her tears a constant running tap.
“I know, you want me out of here,” she says through sniffles. “Just give me a few days until my friends clean out their spare room.”
Curious as to what kind of friends she’s referring to, considering there was nobody but a bunch of junkies at Leroy’s funeral, and nobody has checked in on her since I’ve been here, I probe a little more than she’d like. “Where would you go?”
“I’ve got options,” she offers vaguely.
“Max, you can stay as long as you want.” It's not entirely true, because this house needs to go back on the market, but I want her to know she is a priority. If I can get her back to the land of the living, hopefully everything else will just follow. I don’t want to kick her when she’s down, I just want to know if she has a plan.
“How come you’re so put together?” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and cradles the small cushion to her chest.
An awkward chuckle leaves my mouth. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me. Even if it’s completely untrue.”
“You just seem so unaffected.” She shies away from my gaze. “Almost like you don’t care.”
I crack each knuckle on my left hand as I think of the best way to respond. I was already beating myself up about this long before this. Wondering how I can explain why I just switch on and off. Feel sad one day, almost indifferent the next.
Burying him was the hardest part. The finality of seeing a body being lowered to the ground is something I hate to repeat, and hope to never have to again.
As the groundskeepers piled shovel sized lumps of dirt into the human-sized hole that housed his casket, I prayed to whoever it was that listened that my brother died happy. That’s all that feels important right now. Not my grief, not how I look, or react, or feel.
Unlike Max, I don’t measure the loss in my life by how many tears I cry, or how many I don’t. Or care that it looks like I’m unaffected or moving on.
When my mum left, I learned we all deal with pain differently, and none of it mattered. She was still gone, and it’s exactly the same way now.
“Max, you didn’t even know I existed before this happened.”
“So?”
“So,” I say with frustration. “The guy you were in love with and the brother I had were two different people.” I blow out a defeated breath of air when she looks at me blankly. “You and I are mourning two different people. Two different types of love, and two different sets of memories. I’m sorry if that makes you think I’m heartless.”
“I didn’t say heartless,” she argues.
I wave my hands as if I’m weighing up my options. “Same. Same.”
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be in the ground with him,” she acknowledges.
“Maybe you should take the second chance at life for what it is, and work out what’s next, instead of moping on the couch.”
“I loved him.”
“And doing something for yourself doesn’t change any of that.”
I keep Lily from school for the last day of the week, and we have an uninterrupted three-day daddy-daughter weekend. The removal of hospital visits from my daily routine means there’s no real reason her and I need to be apart. I can take care of her on my own just fine, but because I know she needs to be around other people, I don’t give in to my irrational need to unenroll her just yet.
There’s also the high probability of bumping into Sasha every day, which seems to have a very high stake in my decision making. I haven’t spoken to her all weekend, and she wasn’t there when I dropped Lily off this morning either.
I’ve wanted to call or text her every day, but have no clue on what to say. So, I’m now in some kind of awkward limbo where I want to fuck her for as long as I can, but have no skills when it comes to starting general conversation.
What’s worse is apart from her agreeing to seeing me this week, I have no idea if she’s as twisted up with uncertainty as I am. If she’s losing as much sleep as I am, repeating the night we spent together, the way it felt, and not just the physical part.
Caught up in the afternoon rush, I follow a group of parents inside the centre. As quick as we can, we disperse into the three rooms, thinning out the hallway before it becomes a backlog of bodies.
The woman in front of me steps out of the way, and a blonde ponytail comes into view.
Jackpot.
She bends over to hand out blank pieces of paper to the children sitting around the table, and I inappropriately ogle the curve of her arse. I stop myself from replaying the image of me pounding into her naked body, and look for Lily before I become the creepy guy who gets a hard-on in a public place.
I find her sitting with a red-headed boy putting together a puzzle on the playmat. I kneel beside and smile at the little boy.
“Hey, Lilypad.”
She turns to face me, giving me her widest eyes and her biggest smile. She looks at her friend and back at me. “Daddy.”
Her arms circle around my neck and I give her a tight little squeeze back. “Who’s your friend?”
“Louis,” she says, a little lisp coming through.
“Well, say goodbye.”
She lets me go and walks to the little boy. She ruffles his hair and comes back to me. I guess that’s how she says goodbye.
I glance over a few times in Sasha’s direction as I gather Lily’s bag and the copious amount of paintings she wants me to take home and hang on the walls. She’s busy talking with parents, and I begrudgingly accept the fact that the universe is not on our side today.
I bump into the other woman, who after coming and going all this time, I now know is Holly. Her smile tells me she’s been very well informed about my night with Sasha.
“Hello, Mr. Evans.” She winks, her greeting full of cheer and sarcasm.
“It’s Jay,” I tell her for the hundredth time.
“Oh, I know.” She gives Lily’s hair a soft flick. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
Oblivious to it all, Lily waves, as I lower my head and hide my smirk.
For reasons I can’t explain, I like
that she opened up to someone about me.
Maybe, just maybe, she’s as intrigued by this as I am.
Finishing off my second beer for the night, I sit in my backyard on the concrete patio. My knees pulled up to my chest, my back resting on the bricks, and cigarette in hand.
I used to sit out here almost every night when I lived here, doing this exact same thing. Drink after drink, it was just me in this unforgiving hell hole, taking inventory of my day. It was one of the only times my mask ever came off.
The other time, was with Sasha. Something about her made me feel comfortable about my vulnerability. She had no desire to hide her insecurities from me, and I felt like I owed her that in return.
Her gorgeous face dances across my mind. Seeing her this afternoon was the extra push I needed to make the next move. I have no idea how long I'm going to be here for, and I don't want to waste it just thinking about her.
I want to take advantage of the fact that she’s down to fuck and maybe try and fit in some conversation where possible. There’s more to her than what happened between us, and I want to know as much as she’ll tell me.
Finding my balls, I interrupt my self imposed solitude, and decide to just call her. I pick my phone up off the floor and scroll through ’til I find her contact.
An unrestrained smile stretches across my face when she answers. Her voice is a little groggy, and I quickly pull the phone off my ear to check the time.
Who sleeps at nine thirty?
“Shit. Are you asleep already?”
“No,” she says, trying to make her voice sound less tired.
“You're a terrible liar.”
Her lighthearted laugh travels through the phone, and I bask in the sound. The beautiful noise comes to an end with a loud sigh. “That I am. I must’ve fallen asleep reading, I’m normally awake at this time.”
“Do you want me to let you go? I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No,” she hurries. “I’m actually really glad you called.”
“You are?”
“I was hoping it happened sooner, but tonight is just as good.”
“Yeah, about that.” I light up a cigarette and take a drag, stalling the lie. “I figured you’d have a full weekend with your daughter and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“That’s what text messages are for.”
“I didn’t want to come on too strong,” I admit. “I know you’re busy. We both are, but I didn’t want you to think I had any expectations.”
“Well I agreed to see you again, so I think it comes with some expectations.”
There’s a hint of humour in her voice, but it’s clear waiting’til tonight to call wasn’t the best decision. “I was hoping to catch you this afternoon, but fuck, those parents sure can talk.”
She chuckles lightly. “Everyone definitely had a lot to say today.”
“You look like you really enjoy it.”
“It has its moments, but for the most part it’s exactly where I want to be.”
Wanting to keep the conversation flowing, I choose to keep it all centred around her. “Holly said you owned the place.”
“She did?” she squeaks. “I mean I do. Own the place, but I didn’t know she told you.”
“It was just the once.” I don’t want her to think I’m talking about her behind her back. “That time I was trying to find a way to get you to talk to me. And you could probably include this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” She sounds weary.
“She didn’t exactly talk to me, but she gave me one of those smiles.”
“What smiles?”
“The one that says ‘I know you fucked my friend.’”
“Oh my God. Tell me she didn’t?” I imagine her covering her face with her hands in embarrassment, hiding her newly formed pink cheeks. “I knew I shouldn’t have told her, she can’t hide anything for shit.”
“She seems like a good friend.”
“The best,” she clarifies. “I couldn’t run that place without her, and she’s been a great friend to me over the years.”
The sense of satisfaction that washes over me when she mentions having a good person in her life, someone who regards her as a priority, is unexplainable. She deserves good things. Whichever way they come.
Background noise and muffled voices interrupt the conversation. Assuming she’s been interrupted I pick at the beer label while I wait.
“Sorry about that,” she says, her voice now clearer.
“It’s all good, Lily is asleep and that’s the only reason there’s no interruption on my end.”
“Lily.” I can feel her smile as she compliments the best part of me. “She’s beautiful, you know?”
“Thank you.”
“Is it weird to say, I never imagined you as a dad?”
“Is that because you only imagined me dead?” I joke halfheartedly.
She gives me that carefree laugh. My new favourite sound. “No. I just... I don’t know, it suits you.”
“For what it’s worth, I never imagined myself as a dad either.”
I prepare myself for the question I know is coming next. It’s the one everyone asks when they see a single man raising a three-year-old. “Where’s her mum?”
It’s not a question I want to answer over the phone. In fact, I would rather I never have to speak about it at all. But if I dodge it, it makes me seem suspicious, and that’s the last thing I want Sasha to be towards me. My body feels like lead, the cold air from the floor rushing through me. “She passed away.”
I hear her sharp intake of air. “I’m so sorry, Jay.”
“Don’t be. Shit happens,” I snicker.
The conversation loses traction as the heavy silence stretches over us. I don’t know how to comfort myself in moments like this, let alone make her feel less guilty for asking.
The progress we made is taking a nosedive because I don’t want to talk about how it felt like the pieces of my life were all starting to finally fit together, just to be reminded of how easy it can all be taken away.
Now I’m just used to it. For any good thing that comes my way, I expect something to heartlessly whisk it away.
“Jay.” Her scared voice interrupts my pity party.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to let you go.”
“Sasha, I—”
“Jay. Don’t,” she says in a commanding voice. “Don’t pretend you’re okay for my sake. Get off the phone, and let yourself feel however it is you want to feel right now.”
“But I called to talk to you.”
“And I’ll be here the next time you call.”
I don’t want to admit that she’s right, that I need to work out how to get out of my own head now that Bianca is in it.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“And I’ll be waiting,” she responds earnestly. “Night Jay.”
“Night, Sasha.”
I’m feeling a little off centre as I get Lily settled in at school. After hanging up with Sasha, I got lost in a fog of memories. Bianca’s been dead for as long as Lily’s been alive, it will always be the double-edged sword of my life. The highest of highs, right there with the lowest of lows.
Usually I push that shit right to the back of my mind, but watching Max in her depressed state, and dealing with my own version of mourning Leroy, is bringing up wounds that will never heal.
I’m two steps away from the exit when I hear my name.
“Jay.” After last night I had no idea what it would be like when I saw her again, praying there would be no pity. It’s the last thing I want, and especially from Sasha.
But as those beautiful toffee coloured eyes look at me with worry and concern, I know I have nothing to be worried about.
We meet each other in the empty corridor. I shove my hands into my pockets, forcing myself not to touch her. She looks around, to see if anyone is watching, and it feels very reminiscent of our teenage years.
The coast must be clear enoug
h for whatever she has planned, because she wraps her small hand over the inside of my elbow, and drags me into a nearby room.
The door slams, and automatically locks as we face each other.
“Do you think it’s a good idea if we have sex at your workplace,” I joke, knowing very well there is little to no chance that will ever happen.
“We’re not having sex here she,” she whisper-shouts while softly hitting the top of my shoulder.
“I know, Pretty Girl, I’m kidding.”
She places her hands behind her back and steps a little bit too far away before speaking. “I just wanted to see how you were.”
“Aren’t you sick of asking me if I’m okay?”
“No. You’ve got a lot going on.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
She puts a hand on her hip in frustration. “Just answer the question, Jay.”
“I’m fine. I promise.” Reducing the gap between us, I’m now close enough to touch her. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No.” The end of her ponytail sits over her shoulder, and I twirl it around my fingers. “It's something. It’s way more than I deserve from you.”
“I—”
I draw her to me with her hair, cutting off her words and kiss her because I can’t not. Because it’s been too long since the last time. Because I’m a selfish fucker that wants to leave her wet and wanting when I walk out of here.
She melts into me, wrapping her arms around my neck like she’s been desperate for it just as much as I have.
Every stroke means something different. Empathy. Sadness. Comfort. Gratitude. Our tongues say it all to one another. Reading between the lines, exploring the unknown, wanting the impossible.
Rattling of the door has us reluctantly pulling apart. We press our foreheads against one another as we steady our breathing
“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” she whispers.
I look up at her and give her my cheekiest smile. “I look forward to it.”
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Rectify (A Redemption Novel Book 3) Page 13
