by A. S. Kelly
I get back on the bike and extend my hand to her, but she refuses it and gets on without my help. I hit the pedal and we’re off, forcing her to hold on to me, right over my belt. I can feel her nails scratching through the fabric, at my skin, and a shiver runs through my entire body. I’m sure it’s just the cold morning air and the speed of the motorbike.
There’s no other reason.
Absolutely not.
I ride along the street that faces the sea. The hazy winter sun unexpectedly rises slowly over a slice of water and the saltwater scent mixes in the wind with the smell of coffee and pastries from the cafés with their already gathering crowds.
I watch the city wake up before my eyes, the sky in soft shades. I’m aware of her arms around my waist, her body so close to mine, and I find myself enjoying this ride after spending so much time alone, and this silent company. Her hands slowly soften their grip, resting looser around my waist.
For the first time in my life, I find myself wanting something that I never believed in, and that desire for more reminds me just how truly alone I am.
8
Ian
When we get to Riley’s place, she points out her door, and I park on the pavement. She gets off the motorbike and takes off her helmet, letting her dark, damp hair wave down her back.
And my heart skips about five, maybe ten beats.
Holy crap.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says briskly, before digging into her jeans. “Shit!” she yells, kicking the gate. “I must have forgotten my keys.”
Perfect.
Getting off my bike, I take a look at the street and the houses on it. There’s an aged cottage, with a wooden door and shutters, the kind of place you rarely see anymore – the kind that would probably fall down if you gave it a good push.
It’s a subtle, still memory – one that shadows over the present.
I shake my head vigorously, hoping to drive it off, but the memory remains, suspended between the need to push it away and the need to remember what I am.
“Don’t you have a spare key hidden under a plant somewhere?” I ask her, forcing myself back into the present. “Do you see any plants around here? I have to find a locksmith or someone that can…”
“Nah. Leave it to me.”
She looks at me skeptically, crossing her arms.
“I’m sure it’s an old lock.”
“I have no idea.”
I give the handle a shake before going to my motorbike to grab some tools from under the seat.
“What are you doing?”
“Make sure no one’s watching us.”
“What?”
“Relax.” I wink at her before getting to work. I clear my throat and make an attempt at conversation. “Do you live by yourself?” I ask, not knowing why.
“What are you implying?” She goes right to the defensive.
“It’s just a question,” I justify, even though I shouldn’t have to.
“We don’t have to make conversation.”
“I was just trying to be polite.”
“No one is asking you to,” she responds bitterly.
And the same bitterness that I hear in her voice invades my stomach, as if someone had set fire to it.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying to rid the sensation of being a complete idiot.
It doesn’t make any sense to keep getting angry with Riley. It doesn’t help me feel any better, it won’t bring back all that I’ve lost.
It won’t bring her back to me.
“Well, you know…what do you do?”
“I work at Gate Theatre on Parnell Street,” she says, helping me out of my embarrassment.
“That’s a nice place,” I comment, even if I have no idea what I’m talking about.
“Have you ever been there? To see a show, I mean?” Her voice takes back a shade of colour.
I smile instinctively before looking at her over my shoulder.
“Do I look like the theatre-going type?”
She smiles too, lowering her head, and I can luckily still hide the effect it has on me.
“Done. That was easier than I thought,” I say, opening the lock.
“I don’t want to know where you learned how to do that,” she says, raising her hands, and walking into the apartment.
“You’re welcome,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“I would invite you in…”
I don’t let her finish as I hurry inside.
“Make yourself at home,” she says sarcastically.
I take a quick look around and am left speechless. I don’t know how long she’s been living alone here, but this place is barren; it’s completely bare, cold and impersonal. It’s a small, oppressive apartment with an odour of mold that fuses together with loneliness, and I’m not sure which one is harder to take.
It’s a scent that’s been imprinted in my memory – one that continues to torment me at night, forcefully taking control of my soul.
A table, a chair, a sink, a counter full of glasses, with empty wine bottles covering every inch of available space. A second-hand sofa takes up almost the entire space dedicated to the living room area. There’s a bed, a night stand. Nothing personal, no photos.
There’s no light. There’s no life.
She isn’t here.
I turn to look at her and something inside me breaks. My toughness crumbles in her eyes, so wide and lost, plummeting me into an endless vortex I’d like to remain in forever, to avoid being spit out into the sunlight again.
She tries to escape, heading towards her bedroom, but I grab her arm before she can make her getaway. I don’t squeeze hard this time.
My touch is delicate. It’s a strange sensation, touching her again. It makes my head spin, and for a second, my sense of balance feels off, like I’ve been hurled into another dimension where feeling something for myself and for someone else is not a sign of weakness or something to be avoided at all costs.
“It’s just a house,” she says, reading between the lines of my silence. “A place to live, that’s all.”
Good Lord.
“But why…”
“I needed a place for myself that wasn’t in Jamie’s shadow.”
A place of her own is understandable, but this: the neighborhood, the apartment, the emptiness. All things that, I’m afraid to admit, I have an intimate knowledge of myself. I try to shoo away the thought, that indelible mark on my soul that I’ve tried to shake off for years with no result, because what you are and where you come from cannot be changed, no matter how hard you try. One moment is all it takes, a brief encounter with the past, and everything comes rushing back, catapulting you into a memory of something you never wanted to be – and yet, here you are, unchanged.
“This is not who you are.”
“This is exactly who I am, Ian.”
“That’s not true.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she says in a tone that tells me I will probably never know.
“You can’t live like this,” I tell her, hearing my voice soften.
“Why do you care how I live? I’m not your problem,” she says with an edge, freeing herself from my grip.
“Riley…”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you pity me,” she says, and I feel a stab in my chest.
I breathe deeply to numb the pain that has come back to haunt me and to break my heart.
“I don’t.”
I move to touch her face gently. My fingers run along her features, which relax under my caress, as if they were being moulded by a tenderness I didn’t know I had. The warmth of her skin fuses with mine, and I almost find myself holding my breath in an attempt to control my emotions, which threaten to betray me.
I let my hand slide down, and ask her something I don’t want to know the answer to.
“Do you really hate me so much?”
“Yes.”
The fucking truth.
“Even though I understand, it doesn’t make sense. It’s not fair.”
No, Riley. The thing that isn’t fair is that you came into my life and stayed there just long enough for me to see you leaving. That I waited too long, like a damn idiot, continuing to hurt myself. That I wasn’t man enough to keep you. That I’m not able to feel anything that isn’t unhealthy and destructive.
And then Riley speaks again, ripping my heart out and setting it on fire.
“It’s just…I miss what we had and I know we can’t have it anymore.” She lifts her eyes to me. “I miss you.”
Breathe.
It’s not enough.
Our eyes lock for a few seconds, and I simply let myself be taken in, closing the door behind me.
I stop to distinguish the line where the green of her eyes fades into blue, setting off a battle with no clear colour winner. I realise I’ve been holding my breath the moment her eyes soften and some almost imperceptible dimples appear at the corners of her mouth. And I can no longer control my heart rate; I’ve been staring at her like an idiot.
I lower my gaze, breaking the contact, but I’m still inside her.
And she’s still trying to survive inside me.
9
Ian
I leave another voicemail message. It’s the fourth one, but he’s still not picking up. I can understand him not answering Ryan’s calls, even though I was hoping that hearing his voice would make him reason, but he’s not answering me either. God Nick! How much of a dick are you?
Before putting away my cell phone, I check for new messages. I left her my number. She said she had erased it from her memory and from her phone book.
I made note of that too.
She wasn’t too convinced, but in the end, she took it down. Obviously, she hasn’t written, called. Nothing.
It’s better this way. One less problem to think about. I’ve got enough on my mind these days.
Better this way, I repeat through clenched teeth.
I stayed with her for as long as I could before realising in her eyes that she needed me to leave: and then I granted her wish. I would have stayed longer, talked about things, tried to understand, but she didn’t feel the same.
I have to confess that, as a first meeting, it didn’t go too badly.
Actually, it was a complete disaster.
The truth is that I didn’t want to leave her, a part of me felt that if I did, I wouldn’t see her again. And maybe that would have been a good thing, stopping everything before I self-destructed, but it would appear we’ve gone past that point, and I know where it leads.
Because I’ve already seen this play out, and I know how it ends.
She’ll disappear just as suddenly as she appeared a year ago. I’ll make her run away because I won’t be able to keep her here. And I’ll be left alone again, drowning in a sea of regret, unspoken words, and suffocating sighs.
She’ll take everything with her. She’ll slide under my skin, she’ll suck my blood dry and she’ll leave me for dead on the sand, and the tide will wash up my empty, useless body.
That’s what I’ve been, and what I still am.
That’s what she’s done to me.
I ask myself what the hell is going on, what has happened to her life. I can’t help but wondering why I wasn’t there. Why I have denied myself of her. Why I stood back when all I should have done was ask her to stay.
Two simple words: Please stay.
It’s not so hard.
“Hey, Ian.” John sticks his head out. “Coach is looking for you.”
I head back to the gym where the team is going through their morning workout. I walk through the room where the guys are lifting weights, dividing into groups with their trainers, who push them to their limits. As I approach the coach’s office, he gestures me inside.
I sit down in front of him as he finishes up a phone call, drumming his fingers nervously on the desk. When he hangs up, he sighs heavily, before looking at me with a serious expression.
“Well, kid,” he says, resting his back on the seat and folding his hands. “Is there something you want to talk to me about?”
I look at him doubtfully. “We’re ready, just like always.”
“I’m not talking about the team.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re distracted. You’re tired. It’s clear that your head is somewhere else.”
“I didn’t sleep very well last night, but I’m still focused on what needs to be done.”
“And that’s why you got tackled three times today?”
I shrug. “It was just practice,” I justify, miserably.
“Just practice…?”
“That didn’t come out right.”
“If something’s bothering you, we can talk about, you know.”
I shake my head.
“Is there a woman?”
“No,” I reply unconvincingly.
“Mmm.”
“There’s no woman.”
“Okay.”
“I just have some family issues at the moment.”
He sighs. “Your father.”
My head snaps up.
“I was just on the phone with McCall, Ryan’s coach.”
I look at him and raise my brow.
“Your brother gave up everything without any explanation. The coach is furious, and the president wants his head. If Ryan doesn’t go back immediately, they could nullify his contract.”
What a fucker.
“Before making a final decision, he called me to see if I knew anything about it.”
I let myself fall back into the chair.
“I asked Ryan to come back, but I didn’t think he’d create all this fuss.”
“I’m sorry, kid.”
I tighten my jaw.
“And what about that idiot, Nick?”
“I’m trying to get in contact with him.”
The coach huffs. “He’s probably busy on a tropical island photo shoot with his arse hanging out.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
He gets up and walks around his desk before stopping in front of me.
“Everything’s all on your shoulders, right?”
“Not exactly, it’s just that, I’m…alone.”
“You know that you’re not alone. We’re a team, on and off the field.”
“They’re personal problems.”
“We’re a family. Personal problems don’t exist here.”
“This one is, it doesn’t concern the boys…or you,” I say, shooting him a quick glance.
The coach doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he turns to the glass door and watches the guys training.
“We’re counting a lot on you. Jamie’s off the team for a bit.”
“I know,” I say, crushed by the pressure.
He turns to me.
“Will you be alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Remember that if you need anything, I’m here. We’re all here. And if you don’t feel like…”
“Playing? It’s the only thing I do feel like doing.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“If that’s it, I’d like to leave.”
“That’s all.”
I nod before leaving his office and going back to the gym where I attempt to drown my problems in hard, physical work and sweat like I always have.
To dedicate myself to the only thing I know how to do – rugby. It’s the only thing I’ve got left.
Three years earlier
I go into the gym and head towards the changing rooms, when a familiar laugh stops me. I turn slowly to see a waterfall of hair, waving over someone’s shoulders.
I squeeze the door handle and walk through, pretending nothing happened, but my legs don’t move and neither do my eyes. And then she turns slightly, allowing me the pleasure of seeing her profile, and my stomach goes
up in flames.
“Hey, what are you doing? In or out?” Jake says behind me.
“Huh?” I look at him, confused.
“You’re blocking the door, mate.”
I shake my head and let him pass.
“What’s so interesting?” he asks, following my gaze. “Ah, got it.”
“What?” I snap out of it. “No, it’s not…”
“I can’t blame you.”
I lock my jaw instinctively.
“Hey Ian!” Jamie comes over to us holding her hand.
“Hello again, you,” she says smiling at me.
I try to smile too.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I reply dryly.
“I’m Jake,” he sticks out his hand, introducing himself and flashing a smile that looks like an invitation to a knuckle sandwich.
“I know,” she replies. “You made a move on me at the party a few nights ago.”
“I…er…”
Jamie bursts out laughing.
“Forget about it, mate, you don’t have a chance. My sister is too much for you. She’s really too much for anyone,” he says smiling, but inside, I know he’s right.
Jake acts like her rebuff is no big deal, shrugging it off like nothing happened, but also shooting her a glance that lasts a little too long.
“I brought Riley to see the centre. I wanted to show her where we train.”
“He practically forced me,” she interrupts.
“That’s true.” Jamie says looking at her. “She’s never shown any interest in rugby, doesn’t even come to the stadium. I’m not even sure she actually watches the games on TV like she claims she does.”
“You’ll never know for sure,” she jokes.
“It’s just because you’re my sister that my charm doesn’t work on you.”
“Leave it to me,” Jake tries again shamelessly.
“No one can convince her. She hates rugby, and most of all, she hates the players.”
“Except you,” she adds affectionately.
“You just haven’t met the right player yet,” Jake persists.
I have to hand it to him, the guy never gives up.
“Maybe you’re right…Who knows, I might change my mind for the right player,” she says smiling before laying her eyes on me, invoking a fit in my chest that crawls down my left arm.