by Jewel, Bella
The door rattled in its hinges when Elliot pounded on it again. Dudley barked but then turned around and went back upstairs. I went to follow.
“Danielle, please! I never finished what I was trying to say.”
“Oh, you said what you needed to say, loud and clear.”
“I love you.”
Hearing those three words lit a fuse that barely crackled before it exploded, my legs stomping back down the stairs, my hand wrenching the door open and nearly causing Elliot to crash into me.
“LIES!” I screamed, poking him in the chest, tears stinging my eyes like liquid razorblades. “Everything you’ve said has been a lie.”
“WHAT? What are you talking about?”
“The first chance you got after fucking me, you left. You left mentally and physically. Just like everyone else. So don’t you dare tell me you love me.”
“I didn’t leave you. I just needed—”
“A little time? Some space? I’ve heard it all before. What you did was fuck me then fuck me off.”
He stepped closer, so I stepped back. “I did not fuck you and then fuck you off.”
“Yeah, you did. You got scared and you abandoned me, just like you did when we were kids.”
“What are you talking about?” He clasped my arm and tried to pull me to him. “Danielle, listen—”
I slapped him away. “Don’t you touch me.”
At that moment, Chris arrived home, concern and anger etched all over his face as he walked along the entry path. “Is everything okay?” he asked, stepping between Elliot and me.
“It’s fine. Elliot was just leaving.”
“No, I wasn’t. Danielle, you’ve got it all wrong. Let me explain.”
I shook my head and stepped back inside the house. “I haven’t gotten anything wrong. Friends should never fuck … unless you’re Chris and I.” I pointed to Chris, whose eyes had near widened to the size of the dumbbells he was carrying. “Because when we fuck, we know how to respect each other afterward.”
The realisation on Elliot’s face as he looked at Chris and then me was all I needed to know that I’d successfully rubbed salt into the wound, and as I ran up the stairs, the sound of the two of them scuffling below, I wasn’t sure whose wound I’d just rubbed it into.
His.
Mine.
Chris’.
All of the above.
* * *
“What happened?” Chris asked, the creak of my bedroom door sounding as it slowly opened.
“We fucked and fucked things up. The usual. End of story.”
“The Danielle I know doesn’t pit people against each other.”
I stopped pointlessly rearranging the items on top of my tallboy and glanced into the mirror, noticing his dishevelled state. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“Sure it was.”
Turning to face him, I burst into tears. “It wasn’t. I just … I just wanted him to feel the pain he’d caused me to feel when he abandoned me.”
“When he abandoned you?” Chris walked in to my room and took a seat on my bed. “When did he abandon you?”
“He always abandons me. I should’ve known better. They all do. Everyone does … except for you and mum.”
He patted the bed. “Come here.”
I plodded over and flopped onto the mattress, curling up into a ball and laying my head on his lap.
“I don’t understand, Duck. How does pretty boy geek always abandon you?”
Sniffing, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “He did it the day we were stuck in the storm drain, and when he moved away, and then again after we fucked the other day.”
Chris stretched toward my bedside table, grabbed my tissue box, and handed it to me. “Let’s start with the storm drain. What do you mean he abandoned you there? You never told me that. You said you were both rescued together.”
“We were, but, before that, he left me there, alone. He said he was going to get help.” The memory tore right through me: the raw of the water, the darkness, the terror of not knowing where he was. I trembled just like I had uncontrollably that very day. “I was so scared, Chris. I thought he’d drowned.”
“But he didn’t. You were both rescued.”
“Yeah.” I sniffed again. “But he left me. Everybody leaves me.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had has left me. My dad left me—”
“Dani, you can’t compare your shithead exes and your poor excuse for an old man with pretty boy geek.”
“Yes, I can. He left me when he moved away. He didn’t have to abandon me then. We could’ve still remained friends. He only moved a town over, for fuck’s sake.”
“So you’re gonna hold that over him … seventeen odd years later? Come on, kiddo, you’re better than this. You were both kids back then. And anyway, what stopped you from keeping in contact with him, huh?”
I sat up. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“You can’t blame him for moving away. That wasn’t his fault.”
“Fine. But I can blame him for how he has treated me since we fucked.”
“Which is how … ?”
“Like I was leftovers that seemed a good idea to keep at the time but then didn’t appeal the next day.”
He shrugged and stood up, making his way to my chair-of-clothing-I-need-to-put-away. “Nup. Can’t see him doing that.”
“What would you know? You don’t even know him.”
“But I know you,” he said, picking up my bra and checking it out. “And I know you could never be seen as leftovers. Ever. Plus, I know when a guy has it pretty bad for a girl. Trust me, I normally try to cut his lunch just for shits and giggles …”
I climbed off my bed, snatched my bra from his hands and glared at him, his juvenile sex life disgusting at times.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Duck, pretty boy geek has it bad for you.”
I desperately wanted to believe him, but actions always spoke louder than words, and Elliot’s actions had been what they’d always been — to up and leave.
“Look, I appreciate what you’re doin’, Chris. You’re a great friend, my best friend. But, you’re wrong. Elliot is just like the others.” Snatching my mini skirt from his hands, I gathered up the rest of my clothes. “You seem to forget that he’s a lawyer. He makes a living fooling people.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“What? No it’s not. He knows how to manipulate. He said so himself. It’s part of what he does. I just never thought he’d manipulate me the way he has.”
Holding back the onslaught of tears that threatened to erupt again, I called back, over my shoulder, as I headed out of the room, “I’m doing the washing. Got anything dirty?”
* * *
Elliot didn’t call or text all week, which just enforced that I was right and Chris was wrong; that Elliot truly didn’t give a flying fuck about me, or our friendship. The truth was a sucker punch to my heart, but I couldn’t acknowledge that fact because we had a community garden to finish before the looming deadline. What was also looming was seeing him again, something I didn’t want to do, because I wasn’t as strong as I made myself out to be. Plus, I sure as hell didn’t want to pretend we were together and getting married. That bullshit ended today no matter what. As far as I was concerned, we’d broken up, and that was exactly what I’d be telling our mothers, which wasn’t entirely a lie. My stance would be that I didn’t want to talk about it, or to him, and that my main focus was to complete the garden.
I could do this.
Pulling up to the site, I shivered as I switched the engine of my beetle off. I was frozen solid inside and out, and for a split second wondered if I could use that as an excuse not to get out of my car.
The morning was overly crisp for Spring, the fog only just having lifted enough for me to tell that Elliot had not yet arrived. Maybe he’s gonna pike i
t and abandon the garden project. Wouldn’t surprise me.
I got out of the car and made way into the garden along the newly dug out feature path that was due to be paved later in the day. It was going to look amazing, and I couldn’t wait. The paved path had been one of my favourite features of the old garden because it had reminded me of the Wizard of Oz. Many times I’d been Dorothy, skipping along and singing that I was off to see a wizard, and many times Elliot had pretended to throw apples at me.
The memory knifed me in the chest, so I hurried along until I was standing next to mum. “Good morning. Geez, it’s cold.”
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Mum looked past me toward the road. “Elliot not with you?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Oh. Is everything okay? Did you sort out what was upsetting you last week?”
I shook my head again. “No.”
She touched my shoulder. “What’s going on? Helen and I are concerned. She said Elliot isn’t answering her calls, instead texting her that he’s busy.”
“He probably is,” I muttered.
Helen stepped out of the garden shed. “Good morning, dear.” Her face fell when she noticed I was alone. “No Elliot?”
I shook my head. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you both—”
“Oh! There he is!” She exclaimed, her face morphing into an instant smile that that just as quickly morphed back to sadness when she took in Elliot’s demeanour. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Good he’s here.” I continued quickly, not wanting anything to haphazardly stop me confessing like it had in the past. “You should both know that Elliot and I have decided to call off the engagement.”
Both our mum’s gasped and covered their mouths with their hands, Helen’s eyes shooting to Elliot’s and filling with tears.
“It’s not really working out for the two of us. We both want different things. We—”
“But you can work through your differences together. That’s what commitment is all about—”
“Don’t, Mum,” Elliot interrupted, his expression as cold and disappointed as his tone. “Let her finish.”
“We’re both just better suited as friends.”
Mum was quiet, but I could see her mind screaming all kinds of unanswered questions.
“We don’t want to discuss it any further. Our minds are made up. Plus, we have a garden to finish, so that’s what we’re going to do. Isn’t that right, Lots?”
“Sure is,” he chided.
Helen burst into tears and headed back into the garden shed, mum following suit. It broke my heart and my tear bank. “I knew this would happen,” I sniffed.
“Yeah, you did, which makes me wonder.”
I wanted to ask him what that was supposed to mean, but I didn’t. I wasn’t there to fight. I didn’t have the strength. All I wanted was to get the garden finished, and thank god that wasn’t far from happening.
Without so much as another look my way, he lugged some bags past me and disappeared into the glasshouse, and I set myself to work on sewing some seeds.
* * *
Elliot and I barely spoke for the weeks that followed and it gutted me, but what gutted me more was how absolutely awful he looked. Gaunt. Lifeless. The sparkling blue from his elfish eyes dim and murky grey. I hadn’t seen him this distraught since his father died, and my memory of that was vague considering we’d both been five years old. Regardless, you never forgot how a person looked when their will to live had been severely damaged. It didn’t matter how old you were.
“Mum, this potato salad is delicious!” I said, spooning another mouthful in. “You should make it for the garden unveil on Saturday.”
“Funny you should say that because I am. You were my guinea pig.” She slopped some onto her plate. “Pass me the corn?”
I laughed, shook my head and passed the dish of corn across the dinner table to her. “I’m so proud of you, you know.”
“Me? Why’s that?”
“Because you’ve once again, with Helen’s help of course, created something incredible enough to honour Mr Hillier’s memory.”
“We didn’t do it alone, dear. If it hadn’t been for the contractors, and you and Elliot, and Elliot’s funding and legal know how, the garden would most certainly have been demolished.”
Reaching for my glass of wine, I paused. “Elliot’s funding?”
“Why yes. He paid for the entire project.”
“What?” I nearly choked.
“Danielle,” she said, her tone a little disappointed. “Where did you think the money came from?”
“I … I don’t know. I didn’t really think that much about it. I guess I just assumed the council funded it.”
“The council wouldn’t fund a fundraiser let alone fund a garden to honour a local hero.”
I fell silent, contemplating what she’d just said as I pushed a piece of sausage around on my plate.
“Have you spoken to him?”
I glanced up. “Elliot? No.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t want to speak to me.”
“Danielle, the boy is madly in love with you. He always has been. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see that this rift between you is killing him from the inside.”
“And you don’t think it’s killing me?” I put down my fork and pushed my chair back, pacing back and forth as I gripped my hair in my hands. “He confuses me so much, Mum. One minute he’s here. All in. Guns blazin’. He’s romantic, quirky and fun. Alive. When we’re together, it’s as if we both breathe the same breath and share the same heartbeat. He moves, I move. I move, he moves. But then …” I stopped pacing and stared at her, tears flowing from my eyes. “Something happens and he withdraws, becomes distant. He pulls away without a care in the world and carries on as if nothing ever happened. I can’t deal with that, Mum. I can’t deal with the constant flip. It’s too painful. I’d rather not have at all than to have, only to lose it.”
She stood up from the table and wrapped her arms around me. “No, sweetheart. Choosing to have nothing for fear of losing what you could have is the biggest mistake anyone can make.”
“I don’t see how. You can’t miss what you never had.”
“Oh you most certainly can. Hope, Danielle. Hope cuts you deep but keeps you living. It’s what’s keeping Elliot living right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s hoping that one day you’ll realise what he already knows.”
“That’s just fucking stupid.” I shrugged out of her arms and sat back down.
“Language!”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not stupid. Why’s it stupid?”
“Because he should just open his big mouth and say what it is he wants to say. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that.”
She sighed. “You two are more alike than you think.”
I rolled my eyes. Somehow, I just knew what she was about to say, probably because I’d heard it before, and probably because I knew it to be true.
“I knew in my heart of hearts that what you both endured when you were ten years old forged a bond that would never be broken.”
“Bonds do break, Mum.”
“No,” she said with a knowing smile. “Not this one. And I think you know it, too.”
Chapter 20
I hadn’t eaten properly for weeks. Every time I tried, the process seemed pointless. I couldn’t taste, smell … feel. I couldn’t do. Losing Danielle, yet again, was all I could think about, and it was slowing killing me. She’d been fucking her roommate — a friend she was happy to fuck — and I’d never even seen it coming. I was too obnoxious and self-involved in my own quest for her that I’d forgotten the art of a good blindsight, something I didn’t experience all too often. It had really knocked me down and was keeping me there, my struggle to get up and move on from it, painstakingly difficult. But I knew I had to, eventually, perhaps after the garden was finished and
I wouldn’t have to see her. But then that notion tore me to shreds even more so, because what was killing me the most was that I’d let our friendship slip through my fingers, again, and not being able to see her beautiful smile or hear her sweet voice was the worst punishment imaginable.
Today wasn’t about Danielle, though, and it wasn’t about me either. Today was about Mr Hillier and his selfless act of courage. It was about paying our respects the best way we knew how; by celebrating the hero he was in a place built in his memory.
“Everyone will start to arrive soon,” Mum said, her head on my shoulder. We were seated on the park bench overlooking the completed Hillier Community Garden.
I wrapped my arm around her and hugged her tight. “You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
“Yes. I created you, didn’t I?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, but you created her, too.” I gestured to my sister as she sat on the other side of Mum.
Laura handed us both a takeaway cup of coffee. “What’s he winging about this time? Let me guess … Danielle? Honestly, it serves you right. I did warn you that your stupid, immature game would backfire and hurt you all.”
I snapped my head in her direction. “Stay the fuck out of it, Laura.”
“Elliot! Don’t speak to your sister like that.” Mum’s head turned from side to side, looking between us both, her brows pinched with concern. “What’s she talking about, Elliot? What’s going on?”
“Nothing. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”
“Sure I do. Your engagement was an elaborate ruse, and it has blown up in both your faces. I mean, seriously, Elliot, what did you expect? You’re not kids anymore. You’re adults, and you can’t play the ridiculous games you both so often played. People get hurt, clearly.”
I went to speak but dropped my head to hands instead. “It wasn’t a game. It was real. I love her.”
“I never said you loving her wasn’t real. But the engagement, yeah, that was a sham.”
“I don’t understand,” Mum pleaded. “Why would it have been a sham?”