Paper Dolls

by Hanna Peach

  “I’m here. I’m committed.”

  Clay slipped his hand over mine and squeezed.

  “Okay, let’s talk about schizophrenia, what it is, what it isn’t, and how you can help Clay if he starts to relapse…”

  At the end of the session my head was spinning. Dr Bing had spent most of the session talking to me, Clay just sitting silently beside me, holding my hand. I tried to push away the small nagging worry that I might not be able to handle it if Clay were to relapse.

  “How are you feeling?” Dr Bing asked me as she showed us to the door.

  “I’m okay.”

  “It’s a lot to take in.” She slipped a card in my hand. “If you have any questions you can always call me.”

  I felt weird taking her card but I slipped it in my bag anyway.

  “I’ll see you next time, Aria.” Dr Bing closed the door behind her before I could say anything.

  “Next time?” I turned to Clay. “Why would I have to come back next time?”

  He grabbed my hand. “I’d like you to come, at least for a few sessions. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah…I guess so.”

  * * *

  I arrived home that evening to find Salem on our bed lying on her stomach and reading a magazine. Clay’s admissions echoed in my mind and my blood began to shimmer. I’ve caught her following me before. She promised me that she wouldn’t stop until she took you away from me. I stormed into the bedroom.

  “Oh hey, sis.”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Nice to see you too, Rosey.” Salem rolled her eyes like a truant teenager would. “I’ve been out.”

  Everything began to bubble over. My vision began to shake and my hands clenched into fists by my side. “Damn you. I’m your sister and you live here with me in my apartment. The very least you could do is to have the common decency to let me know where you’re going and when you’ll be back so I don’t kill myself worrying.”

  She snorted. “You and loverboy didn’t seem to be worrying much earlier.”

  I blinked, my mind stuttering. She couldn’t have… “Were you following us?”

  “No.”

  “You liar. I know you’ve been following him. That’s stalking, Salem.”

  Salem shoved the magazine away and rolled out of the bed so she was standing toe to toe with me. I stood my ground. “You don’t know where he goes when he’s not with you.”

  “I trust him.”

  “You’re naïve and stupid. Like always. I’m just trying to save your ass. Again.”

  “Jesus Christ.” I rubbed my face with my hands. She couldn’t see how ridiculous, how insane she was being. “I know that you threatened him.”

  “I’m protecting you. He’s lying to you. He’s bad for you.”

  “Stop it, Salem. Just stop it.”

  “You don’t know. You don’t know what he’s hiding.”

  “I know. He told me everything.”

  Her mouth flew open in horror and she stumbled back. “No. He can’t have… How are you still…?” Then her eyes narrowed. “What did he tell you, exactly?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “You don’t know anything about him. I’m your sister, your blood, and you’d take sides with some guy over me?”

  “Don’t try and guilt me.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Truth? You want to talk truth? You’re just jealous. You hate that I’m not your poor pathetic little Rosey who needs big brave Salem to look after her anymore. You hate that I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. And you hate that I don’t need you anymore.”

  Salem’s mouth pinched into a pale line. “I’m just trying to protect you. To do what’s right for you.”

  I roared and my hands flew up, making a strangling motion. If I reached out just a little bit more I could have my hands around her stupid neck.

  Salem’s eyes narrowed at me. “You going to try and kill me too?” She lifted her chin so her neck was exposed to me. “Go on, then.”

  I stumbling back, gasping for air. I couldn’t be here another second longer. I wrenched my hands away, spun and ran out of the apartment, the front door slamming behind me.

  * * *

  I stood on the sidewalk a few blocks from my apartment staring into space. I barely noticed as Clay’s Mustang pulled up. I hadn’t taken my car keys when I’d run out of the house. Luckily I still had my purse slung over my shoulder with my mobile in it so I could call Clay. The summer storm was going full throttle, the large drops of cool rain running down my arms and soaking through my hair and clothes. I didn’t have the energy to move yet. It was like everything in my brain was going in slow motion.

  “Aria?” Clay called over the crack of thunder. The following flash of lightning lit him up, separating his face into light and shadows of concern as he ran to me. His arms wrapped around me and I fell against him. I closed my eyes and let his presence wash over me, calming me, bringing me back to life. I felt his lips on my forehead.

  “I’m sorry to drag you out here.”

  He shushed into my hair. “I’m glad you called me. Come on. Let’s get you somewhere dry.”

  Clay drove me to his apartment. He kept his arm around me as he led me from the parking garage and into the elevator. He had thought to bring a towel, which he wrapped around my shoulders.

  My curiosity over being at his place for the very first time overruled most of the turbulent emotions left over from my fight with Salem and at least for now, made me forget about my problems. He lived on the top floor of a five-level block of new apartments, a small gym on the ground floor. The marble flooring and stylish mirrors along the white walls oozed modern comfort.

  He unlocked his front door, number 501, and pushed it open.

  Clay flicked on the light and let me step in. It was stunning. An open plan apartment with floor-to-ceiling glass encasing it, a large wrap-around balcony going around the spacious living area, white and black leather furniture, and a view over the lights of Mirage Falls partly hidden by the steady drops of rain from the passing storm. A large moon shone in through the glass. “Wow,” I breathed. “This place is incredible. How do you…?” I stopped myself mid-sentence. It was none of my business.

  “How do I afford it?”

  I nodded feebly. He’d caught me out. “You don’t have to answer. It wasn’t right for me to ask.”

  “It’s fine. My parents had money. When my mother was hospitalised my father just left everything and disappeared. I was made trustee over everything.”

  My heart panged. I couldn’t imagine being made to look after his mother at the age of eighteen. I’d only just started feeling like I could look after myself. “I can’t believe he just left.”

  “He just couldn’t take having to look after her, I guess. At least he left us with most of the money. Out of guilt, I suppose.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Clay shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He let out a gentle laugh. “You don’t have to be sorry for everything bad that’s ever happened to me. My situation could have been worse, much worse. Money doesn’t solve your problems but it makes dealing with them easier. Because of the money I can afford twenty-four-hour care for her. She can remain at home instead of in a facility.”

  “That’s so incredible that you can look at it that way.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t always feel so lucky, trust me. I had my own fair share of feeling sorry for myself. Happiness can’t shape you, only the things that leave scars do.”

  I nodded, understanding exactly what he was saying.

  “Besides, if I wasn’t in such a dark place, I wouldn’t have met you.” His eyes darted to me as if my reaction to his words was important.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said slowly, “if I hadn’t been going through a dark moment, I wouldn’t have gone for a
drive, a long drive, I wouldn’t have stopped in Mirage Falls and I never would have seen you, walking down the main street at dawn looking like an angel with the sun in your hair.”

  I smiled at his words, recalling that day.

  His face softened. “Look at me. I’m talking your ear off while you’re standing there soaked and freezing to death.”

  He took me by the hand and led me through a door off the living room into the bathroom, all white and chrome with a large shower in the corner.

  He slipped his fingers under the edges of the towel and pulled it off my shoulders. That one small movement sent a riot of tingles through my body and I felt frozen to the ground.

  His hungry gaze roamed over me. Only then did I realise what I must have looked like to him, my white summer dress soaked and see-through, clinging to my body. I wanted to lift my arms across my chest but I kept them at my side instead. I wanted him to see me.

  “You can,” his voice came out croaky. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You can have a shower if you like. Use the new towel over the hanger. This one’s soaked.”

  “Thanks,” I said, my voice a mere whisper. The rain had made my skin cool and clammy but under his gaze, I felt like I was standing near a fire.

  He shook himself. “Right. I’ll go now. Give you some privacy.”

  “You can stay…if you want.” I don’t know where this boldness came from.

  He flinched and his lids fluttered shut. “I…” He inhaled deeply and let it all out before opening his eyes. He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I’ll find something for you to wear.”

  I tried not to feel rejected as he closed the bathroom door, leaving me standing there alone. But I knew his reasons. I could be patient.

  I stood under the hot water for longer than I needed to, my mind ticking over what would happen next, nervous because I was at Clay’s place for the first time. Was there protocol for this kind of thing? A list of dos and don’ts? A manual? Maybe I should have looked this up. But I hadn’t planned on having a fight with Salem. I hadn’t planned on staying here.

  When I got out of the shower my wet clothes were gone. I noticed them in the washing machine tucked in one corner. He had touched my clothes, my bra, my underwear…

  I flushed. Thank God I had worn one of the lacy boy shorts sets that Flick had sent me home with.

  There was a pile of folded clothes on the toilet seat. I picked up the shorts folded on the top. Pyjama bottoms. Woman’s pyjamas, a cream singlet and boxer shorts with cherry patterns.

  Whose clothes were these?

  I pulled the shorts on and pulled the shirt down over my head.

  They fit.

  And they smelled faintly of lavender. I looked down at them, tugging out the hem with my hands and looking at the patterns. He didn’t have a sister… Did he actually have the nerve to hand me an ex’s clothes? I was mulling this over as I dried my hair with the hairdryer he had left out for me.

  When I turned the hairdryer off, I heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”

  Clay opened the door and stepped in, smiling when he saw me in the clothes he’d laid out.

  “Whose clothes are these?” I demanded, more harshly than I had intended. “Are they your ex’s?” Did they belong to Olivia?

  He chuckled and tapped me on my nose. “Do you really think I would give you another woman’s clothes to wear? They’re new. I saw them a while ago and thought of you. I know cherries are your favourite fruit.”

  I couldn’t remember when I had told him that, but I must have. That was really sweet that he remembered. “Thank you.” But the smell. “They smell…worn.”

  “I washed them. I don’t like wearing clothes straight from the store. You never know who’s tried them on before you.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “We can keep them here for when you want to stay over. Or you can take them with you if you’re really attached to them.”

  …for when you want to stay over. That’s what he said. Which meant that I would be staying over again. I felt a flutter of happiness in my chest.

  He handed me a new toothbrush in a shade of pale blue and pressed a dollop of toothpaste on the bristles. We brushed our teeth side by side in the sink. My elbow kept grazing his side, sending flares through my body. He had changed into a pair of navy boxers that highlighted his sprinter’s legs and a black sleeveless shirt that showed off his round, tanned shoulders. I tried not to stare in the mirror but my eyes kept being drawn back to him, his arm flexing as he worked his brush over his teeth was a mesmerising sight. A sight that made me squirm. I pressed my thighs together. Good God, would everything be erotic to me about Clay?

  When we finished he pushed his fingers through mine and led me into his bedroom. Just inside the door he paused. He looked like such a boy, his teeth fussing along his bottom lip, an unsure look in his eyes. If I wasn’t so caught up in my own nerves I may have laughed.

  His bedroom was cleaner than I expected for a man. Everything was put away and his bed was made up with cream and brown sheets. He had carried my handbag up from the car and had placed it on one of the bedside tables. That must be my side. He had given me the side farthest from the door. Like Salem always did.

  Salem. She would be sleeping alone tonight. I swallowed as a knot began to lodge in my throat. I hated that we had fought. I hated it so much.

  I quickly looked over to his side of the bed, trying to push all this sadness away. I noticed the photo frame, the only thing on his table. I walked over to it and picked it up. There was an older couple in it. He was handsome with dark hair and dark eyes, and I recognised Clay’s hair and jawline, his top-heavy mouth, and his tanned skin. She was stunning too, brilliant blue eyes and thick golden hair and a smile that radiated. It took me a second to realise that this must be Clay’s mother, the same woman I had met earlier.

  Oh God. The poor woman. It was clear to see how much she had deteriorated from when this photo was taken. Her eyes no longer shone with intelligence, her cheeks were no longer rosy, merely shallow pits. My heart filled with sadness. What if this happened to Clay? What if he got worse just like she did? Could I stand to watch him disappear into a shell of himself?

  I felt his presence at my shoulder and when I turned to look at him he was staring at the photo as well.

  “You look like your father.” I traced his face with my fingertip.

  “But I got everything else from my mother,” he said quietly. He picked up the frame and placed it back down. “I have something for you.”

  “Something else? Clay, you’re spoiling me.”

  He grinned. “I haven’t even started.”

  He tugged me over to the other bedside table, his movements jerky like an excited child. He gripped the handle of the top drawer and grinned at me. There must be something in the drawer. With a flourish he pulled it open.

  It was empty.

  “Er, thank you?”

  “This is your drawer. You can keep things here for when you stay over. That way you won’t have to pack so much.” He frowned. “Is it okay? I can give you a bigger drawer.”

  A drawer. He was giving me a drawer. At his apartment. He was making room in his life for me in a serious way.

  “No, this is perfect.” I stretched up to kiss him. When our lips melded the ache in my core picked up straight where it left off in the bathroom. My hands roamed across his neck and down to his chest, so hard under my palms and so warm.

  He broke the kiss off. “It’s late. We should…” his eyes flicked to the bed.

  I nodded, my throat too closed to speak.

  I slid under the cool sheets and he climbed in next to me. Our limbs clashed as we moved in to hold each other, obviously both trying to get into a position that conflicted with the other.

  I was so nervous I burst out laughing. “I don’t actually know how to do this.”

  He smiled as he used his hands to move me into position in the crook of his arm and against his chest. “Here. You fit r
ight here.”

  I leaned my head on his chest and let a breath out, the air cascading around my thudding heart, and my body relaxed against his, melding against his hard lines like water finding its level around a rock. For the first time in my life I fully appreciated how beautiful the differences were between a man and a woman and how these differences seemed to let us fit.

  With more courage than I thought I had, I lifted my hand to his chest and began to trace his hard lines with my fingertips, from the stray dark hairs peeking out of the top of his singlet down to his abdomen.

  I felt him tense. I paused and glanced up to him. “Is that too much?”

  He let go of a breath. “No. It’s perfect.”

  I kept exploring, feeling a thrill running through my body as my fingers travelled over the hard ridges of his six-pack. His fingers dug into my back and he let out a small moan. The sound was deep and rumbling and it travelled through my body like a tremor, lighting sparks inside me. I flattened my hand against him and touched him again from his stomach to his neck, this time with my palm. His breath began to shake and he clenched me tighter and an ache grew in me. I shifted my leg further over him and the pressure in my touch grew.

  I ran my finger over one of his nipples, hard underneath his cotton shirt. This time he didn’t try to hide his moan as he pulled me tighter against him, my core pressing against his thigh and the sparks turning into a low flame. He caught my hand and he lifted the tips of my fingers up to his mouth, brushing them against his soft lips. “Dear God, I’ve missed you.”

  I couldn’t help my smile. “Missed me? You only saw me earlier today.”

  “I know. But I still missed you. You haunt me, Aria. When you’re not with me I’m just a shadow in the dark, waiting for you to return so you can breathe life into me.”

  My heart stuttered. I not sure which one of us moved first, or perhaps we moved together, realising that to be of two bodies suddenly wasn’t enough. He tugged me up his body, crushing my lips against his and holding me tight. My legs fell on either side of his thigh so that my core was pressed up against him. God that felt good, pleasure radiating through my body out from that tender spot.