Nine Years: A novel (Beneath the Clouds Book 1)

by Jessica Leed

  The man who could have possibly, been it.

  Ting.

  She took her phone and unlocked it. Talk about timing. It was from Ethan. Her heart accelerated as she opened the message.

  Hey you!

  Looks like work is calling me out of Aringdale and into your hood for a 6-week project.

  Would love to see you if you have the time.

  Think of you often, hoping you’re alright.

  Just like that, the weight of the world lifted from her and she was back in his Ute again. With windows down, the wind in her hair, wild and free as they drove over the dirt dunes and into the sunset.

  Sixteen

  It was the weekend again.

  What a shame it was that she dreaded them so much. It was the two days a week where neither of them had work to distract them. Time they were forced to spend time together. Well, that’s how it felt anyway.

  Forced.

  At least lunch at Nancy’s would suck up a good hour or two of the day. He would order the steak burger and she would order the warm chicken salad, the way they usually did.

  If it had been Ethan opposite her, she would have ordered the carbonara with a side of haloumi, even if the two didn’t go together.

  Enough.

  She stepped in the shower and let the warm water rinse away the negative thoughts. In order to have a chance of a functional day together, she had to first change her mindset. She dried herself off and took a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she stepped out. Her bony collarbones were protruding like drum sticks from the base of her neck, her twiggy arms closely resembling chicken legs. She inched her face closer to the mirror and rubbed the steam from the glass. Even her face looked gaunt, lifeless. Her jawline was as prominent as ever. She looked like a lollipop. An alien even. No wonder Patrick never touched her anymore.

  She was ugly.

  She dragged the scales out from under the basin and positioned her two feet onto them. Forty-six and a half kilos. It was the smallest she had been in years. Probably since her mid-teens. She stepped off them and pushed it back where she found them. She was clearly underweight. So why did Patrick feel the need to monitor her so persistently? He always had to have control over everything she did. Probably as for years now, he had lost control over himself.

  She dried herself off and slipped into a pair of skinny jeans and a knitted turtle neck sweater. Even her jeans were too big for her as they hung off her tiny waist, her stomach almost concave when she looked down at it. How had she not noticed this before? She wrapped her towel around her and with damp feet pattering the floorboards, she walked back to their room.

  Patrick was out for a morning jog, which wasn’t unusual. He was either running off his hangover, in his study smashing down beers in preparation for the next hangover, or out with the boys drinking some more again.

  But the past week had been different.

  He had been out late but hadn’t come home drunk. Sure, he was still cooped up in his study on the rare occasion he was home, but without the beer cans stacked up. Even the fridge was free from them. It was weird to see the bottom shelve so empty. She should have felt relieved, pleased, optimistic. After all, it had been a skeleton hanging over their relationship. A burden that they hadn’t been able to free from.

  So why did she feel as though nothing had lifted?

  She should be happy. This was progress. Maybe today would be different.

  She spent a little more time than usual on her makeup, attempting to hide the shadowed rings under her eyes. She didn’t apply blush—she didn’t need to make her cheekbones stick out any more than they already did. She dried her hair, allowing her soft blonde waves to frame her face, falling just below her shoulders.

  There. Much better. Now she didn’t look like a deadbeat.

  Patrick was quick to notice the extra effort she had put into her appearance.

  ‘You look nice,’ he complimented her, walking in with his earphones still intact, music blasting away.

  There was hope after all.

  She smiled and for the first time in a long time, it genuinely filled her face.

  She was sitting on their bed crossed legged, flicking through a magazine when he returned from the shower, the smell of his after shave filled the room.

  ‘How was your run?’

  He took a pair of socks from the draw and slipped them on his feet. ‘Yeah, felt good. Definitely ready to eat something though.’

  Things had been strained between them, even more so after the way the counselling conversation had gone down the weekend before. But as usual, they had swept it under the carpet along with the rest of their aborted conversations and carried on existing.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in towards her, squeezing her sides where her skin buckled at the waist line of her jeans. There was nothing on her, just skin and bone. Yet the caved position she was in still managed to form the smallest muffin top. He grabbed hold of them and sent them a series of quick, deliberate squeezes.

  Squeezes of condemnation.

  She looked at him, her smile slowly fading from one smeared wide on her face just minutes ago. He raised his eyebrows at her and without saying anything, stood to his feet.

  ‘I’m ready when you are.’ He continued to get ready as she flipped through the magazine, unable to focus on a single word as the soppy love stories—no matter how fake—stirred her misery.

  Any optimism she had for a good day were dwindling fast.

  As usual, Nancy Green’s was spewing with people, with little chance of reserving their usual table. Not that a seat changed anything. If anything, it had only brought them bad luck so far.

  Jeremy wasn’t working which had to be a first. He had apparently flown to Cairns for his niece’s wedding. Everyone was getting married these days.

  Everyone but them.

  They were seated by the door accompanied by the draft shooting an uncomfortably shot of wind every time the bell tingled, and the door opened. As predicted, he ordered the steak burger and she ordered the warm chicken salad. Which was fine. It still tasted amazing even though Jeremy hadn’t prepared it. If anything, it was a slightly bigger serving which was a good thing as a handful of lettuce and the strip or two of chicken rarely filled her.

  They discussed work as though they were two colleagues sitting in on a business meeting. She updated him on the Nolan saga and he talked about recruiting a new team for some upcoming six-month project. What the contract entailed, she had no idea as she kept zoning in and out on the conversation on the table opposite them.

  A couple were talking about a wedding expedition that was taking place this weekend. An expo she was very familiar with, one that took place three times every year in Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane.

  And she hadn’t been to a single one of them.

  Fifteen Melbourne expos she had missed over the years. Her sister had bought a ticket for her once, but she had somehow double booked herself on that day and the ticket had been wasted.

  The woman was going on about how she had been sent an extra set of tickets and didn’t know what to do with them. She kept turning the envelope in her hands as her and the man she was with brainstormed potential recipients.

  She was a deserving candidate, surely? Shame she didn’t have a clue who the girl was otherwise she might have put her hand up.

  Before she had a chance to pretend she was listening and come up with a convincing response to Patrick’s ramble, she excused herself to the bathroom, breaking the momentum of the one-sided conversation.

  She closed the door to her toilet cubicle and rested her back against the cold cement wall. She took out her phone for the first time that morning and scrolled through the thread of messages between her and Ethan. She hadn’t brought up anything to do with her dysfunctional relationship since that Thursday night—he hadn’t
mentioned it either. Their messages had been light, filled with an overload of emojis and playful banter. It was innocent enough, being careful that what she sent couldn’t be interpreted as anything more than friendship. She could understand if their words were read aloud, people would question the connection they shared. She found herself holding back at times, hitting the backspace key on words her heart desperately wanted to free. But she wouldn’t enter such dangerous territory. Her heart would remain somewhat hidden and it would stay that way. But even her holding back it still didn’t take away the fuzzy feeling she got with every message that came through from him. It was although after all this time, they were best friends again.

  A friendship that picked up right where it left off, nine years ago.

  He was due to arrive in Lilydale the next day and would stay at his cousin’s house over the six-week period while he completed renovating in the area. They had arranged to have dinner on the Wednesday night. The one night where she didn’t have a late finish at school. She hadn’t told Patrick about it yet. There was a good chance she would be back before he got home anyway, considering he was always out doing whatever it was that he did after hours.

  She no longer wanted to ask.

  Maybe he wouldn’t even question how she filled her night. Not that she would have to lie about anything, there was nothing really to hide. She would tell him. Wouldn’t she?

  She flushed the toilet and made her way to the basin. The woman with the tickets was by the hand dryer, smiling at Sienna’s reflection through the mirror.

  ‘You look familiar.’

  ‘I think you might be sitting next to me,’ Sienna replied with a smile, taking a paper towel from the dispenser.

  ‘Possibly! But it’s not that, I think I’ve seen you before. Your face rings a bell.’

  Sienna searched her memory. Was the woman a parent from school? A friend of Patrick’s?

  Nothing came to mind.

  ‘Devoted, loyal regular?’

  ‘Used to be! Although making more of an effort now,’ she joked. The woman lifted her finger knowingly. ‘Sadie!’

  The blood drained from her face. Was she a friend of Sadie’s? She hadn’t heard or spoken to her old friend in years.

  ‘You know Sadie?’

  The woman shook her head and took her handbag from the bench. ‘No, I was trying to remember what your name was. I’ve been away with work, but I remember there being a celebration or something here years ago. Everyone was congratulating you. An engagement or something?’

  ‘Yeah. Good memory.’ She felt as though the story wasn’t even hers to tell, as though it was never hers to begin with. ‘The owner of this cafe put together something for my partner and I.’ She sighed feeling a familiar waft of sadness over her.

  Jeremy had hung a big silver banner along the back wall of the café, behind their usual table, filling the room with helium balloons that covered the ceiling. The staff had brought out a ginormous chocolate ripple cake, big enough to feed a small army. It had easily fed everyone in the cafe that afternoon, with leftovers stored in their freezer for weeks after.

  ‘I’m Sienna,’ she finally said.

  The woman didn’t seem to notice the smile drop from her face. ‘Sienna, that’s it! How was your wedding? Was it everything you imagined it to be?’

  She wanted to run at the very reference of the word.

  ‘Nice to meet you too. No wedding yet, but it’s on its way.’

  The woman didn’t flinch, or ask any questions. Instead, she rummaged through her bag and took out the envelope from earlier. ‘Here, have these.’ She extended it towards her.

  Sienna accepted sheepishly.

  ‘There’s a wedding expo at Exhibition this weekend. I don’t know where you’re at with your planning process, but just in case you’re interested. I was sent an extra set.’ Her kind smile made it impossible for Sienna to say no.

  ‘That’s really lovely of you, thanks.’

  The woman nodded and sent her another smile before disappearing out the door.

  Sienna didn’t even catch her name.

  After catching up on a few messages, she left the bathroom and made her way over to thank the woman again for her generosity. But by the time she neared the table she realised that they had left and their table had been cleared.

  She hovered by the counter looking in as Patrick engaged in what looked like a flirty conversation with a passing customer. She was taken back by his sudden liveliness, the way his eyes lit up, laughing in a way he no longer did with her. The girl was pretty, with short, chopped, blonde hair dressed in the latest fashion. Her hip was cocked to one side, a hand on her hip, the other flouncing side to side as he chatted with her. She looked taken by him.

  Of course, she was. Patrick was a head turner, and apparently, a womanizer too.

  She should have felt jealous. Not because he was talking to another woman, but because of the way he was with her. It was then that she realised she had lost him. For his eyes glistened at the pretty blonde in the same way they had once glistened at her.

  He casually picked up his phone to show her something. The woman leaned over to view it. Whatever was on there must have either been cute or funny by the way the woman’s flouncing hand covered her mouth as she giggled some more.

  Suddenly the tickets in her hand felt like a complete joke.

  She walked over to her fiancé and stood behind the back of her chair, waiting for an introduction. He ignored her, keeping his smile steady as he conveniently waved the woman goodbye. The woman returned a playful wave, also ignoring Sienna as though she was invisible.

  ‘What’s this?’ His eyes were fixed on the envelope she didn’t realise she was now clenching.

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Louisa. Brad’s partner,’ he responded a little too quickly.

  She had no idea who Brad was. She narrowed her eyes, watching him exchange another little wave as the woman walked out the door.

  His eyes eventually focused back on her. ‘What’s this?’ he repeated, taking the envelope from her hands, uncovering the tickets.

  ‘Wedding expo,’ she said, observing his muted expression. ‘A woman in the bathroom just handed me them. She recognised me from a few years ago and asked if I was interested, noticing my ring.’ It wasn’t exactly the truth, but she wasn’t about to explain how the conversation went down. She took a seat. It was probably a dumb idea to have accepted them. Not when they had issues to sort through first before attempting to fit with the hundreds of newly engaged couples in their little love bubble of happiness.

  Especially when theirs had popped a long time ago.

  His eyes inspected the square invitation. ‘This weekend?’

  ‘Yep. ’ She fiddled anxiously with her hands in her lap. She was waiting for the quiet explosion, a hiss of aggression—one or the other.

  ‘Did you want to go today?’

  She almost fell backwards off her chair. Her heart pounded inside her ears, the world around her zooming in as lens narrowed and focused its position on the man before her.

  ‘Yeah … sure, that would be nice … I have always wanted to go,’ she stuttered.

  Suddenly she forgot about the woman with the short cropped blonde hair and allowed his smile to smooth over the broken fragments of her heart.

  Because this time, his ocean blue eyes were glistening at her.

  She didn’t know why he said yes, why he agreed to spend the next two and a half hours at an exhibition that represented everything he had resisted for the past five years. Yet, for the first time the very essence that had pushed them apart, seemed to have brought them together that afternoon.

  To some extent anyhow.

  It had been a long time since they had been out together like a normal couple. They didn’t really talk, laugh or play, but he did take hold of her ha
nd tight enough and long enough to make her palms all sweaty.

  Upon arrival, they were asked to fill out a raffle for the chance to win a ten-thousand-dollar voucher towards their ‘big day’, along with fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of flower catering. One of the questions asked for the date of their wedding. She had scribbled down a random date and stuffed into the box.

  The exhibition had been set up in three rows comprising of countless stalls extending over a hundred metres in length. From venues, cars, flowers, dresses, cakes, photography, right down to the finest details—the event had it all.

  It had been the first time she had seen everything in the flesh, under one roof. It made her feel as though they were newly engaged, looking at it all for the first time. Although there was some truth in that, it actually was her first time experiencing it all.

  She couldn’t help but notice the leap of excitement bound through her as she tasted samples of red velvet and the lemon meringue cake. Luckily the portions were so tiny, she didn’t need to worry about Patrick slapping her hand away. Her excitement only intensified as they took a seat and watched the runway models strut down the catwalk in the most exquisite bridal gowns she had ever seen.

  Passing the bridal stalls, she had spotted the dress that had caught her attention on Sydney Road, months ago. It was a stunning strapless, ivory gown with crystals and lace decorating the bodice, with a silk train delicately falling just below the hips. Women were lining up everywhere, conversing with the sale assistants as they set up their appointment times for dress fittings at the many neighboring stores. She had wanted to join the queue. She wanted to book in the appointment she had anticipated for years. But where their relationship stood at this particular point in time, it was an appointment that illogically, was still too premature to make.