Bait

by Jade West

  “Morning,” she says. “Good night?”

  I don’t even grace her with an answer. I give Cameron the TV remote and pour his cereal with a smile, and then I gesture her to the living room, heading through and leaving the door open just a crack.

  She takes the cue.

  My voice is a raging fucking hiss as I jab a finger at the drinks cabinet.

  “One fucking night, Serena. I’m out one fucking night and you let Jake come calling. What the fuck does he want with my fucking house?”

  Her eyes are fiercer than I expected. “I invited him.”

  It’s like a slap in the face, sobering enough that I take a step back. “You invited him? Here? Why the fuck would you invite him here?”

  Her voice is a hiss right back at me. “He’s my brother, Leo. Where the fuck else have I got to invite him to? Did you know he sleeps in his fucking truck nine nights out of ten? The heating in his place packed in a few months back, the place is a shithole from what I hear. He won’t let me come to him.”

  I shake my head as she talks. “And this is supposed to make me feel guilty, is it?”

  She groans. “I’m just telling you the truth of it. I’m here all the time, with you and Cam. You never go anywhere. You’ve never been anywhere! I used the opportunity to see my other brother, is that such a big fucking deal?”

  I don’t believe her that it’s not a big deal. Her eyes drop too quickly from mine.

  “What did he have to say then, your brother?”

  “Stop,” she says, but I don’t.

  “I don’t suppose he had any wisdom to impart seeing as he’s holding back a whole fucking jigsaw puzzle of fucking answers from me?”

  “He doesn’t remember…”

  “Bullshit,” I hiss. “That’s fucking bullshit.”

  “The night of the fire is repressed…” she begins, but I hold up a hand.

  “He remembers enough to fucking hate me for pulling him out first. He remembers enough to blame me for her being there in the fucking first place. The rest is what? Mysteriously forgotten?”

  Her lip trembles and it’s enough to knock me off my axis. She gestures toward the kitchen with tears in her eyes.

  “So it’s okay for little Cam to play mute for twelve months straight? It’s okay for little Cam to play baby while we all tread on eggshells? It’s okay for everyone else to struggle with all of this, but Jake is a liar? Nothing but a liar? No trauma for Jake? No? None at all?”

  I suck in breath, reeling as she keeps on rolling.

  “It’s not as if he loved her or anything, is it, Leo? Not as if he was crazy about her? Not as though you fucking knew it?”

  “Shut your mouth,” I hiss, but she shakes her head.

  “You’re in denial and you can’t even see it!” A tear rolls down her cheek, and I hate it. I hate seeing her cry.

  “He wants to sell the old premises,” I snap. “He’s the one who hates my fucking guts, Serena. He’s the one who’s threatening to sell his shares to anyone paying.”

  “And why do you want to keep them? Why do you want to keep any of it?!”

  I shake my head. Smile at the ridiculousness. It’s ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous. I hate that sack of shit even more for addling her fucking mind the first opportunity he gets.

  “I’m refurbishing the premises,” I say, even though I’m not sure I am. “It’s a better size than the unit in town. We can expand.”

  “Expand?!” Her eyes widen. “Leo, the business is on its fucking knees. The insurance isn’t going to cover it and you know it, even if you won’t say it. You’re not even sure it was an accident, and you think they’re gonna toe the line? You’re driving yourself into the ground after her, all because you won’t just stop and face the obvious.”

  But she’s wrong. She’s fucking wrong. The business isn’t on its fucking knees, not anymore. Not after twelve months of blood, sweat and pain. So much fucking pain.

  And it was an accident. It has to have been a fucking accident.

  My soul can’t fucking take it. Not any fucking more of it.

  “What’s the obvious?” I ask her, even though I don’t want to. My voice is weak. Hell, I feel fucking weak.

  “The obvious is that you aren’t over any of it, Leo. Not even close. The obvious is that you’re using all these problems as a crutch to stop you facing your own grief. The business… Cam… me...”

  There’s a lump in my throat that I struggle to choke back down. “Cam needs me to be this way. He’s been through too much…”

  Tears track down her face. She shakes her head. And I don’t want to hear whatever she’s about to tell me, but I can’t walk away.

  “He can talk,” she whispers. “I hear him when he’s alone. I hear him through the door when he thinks I’m not listening…”

  “It must be the TV…” I interrupt, but her head is still shaking.

  “It’s him, Leo. You think I’d make this up? You think I’d have any doubt before I said this aloud? He can speak, I swear.”

  “No–” I protest, but she cuts me off.

  “Yes,” she says. “I’m sorry, Leo, but yes…”

  “But the speech therapists…” I argue. “Why would he?” But I know it. I know it too. It sucker punches me, right in the fucking pit of me. I don’t know how I keep my footing. I force some tiny scrap of composure. “Why bring this up now? Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “Because I needed to be sure…”

  “And you’re suddenly sure, are you? After inviting Jake round for the first fucking time last night?”

  “It’s not the first time…” she admits, and I let out a choked laugh at how this keeps getting better and better.

  “Jake’s seen Cam, has he? He’s seen my boy?”

  “Mariana’s boy too, Leo. He loves Cam. Cam loves him.”

  And how it breaks my fucking heart.

  I stalk the room like a fucking beast, my pulse in my ears as I struggle for composure.

  My voice is a spit and hiss. “And Cameron speaks to Jake, does he? Does he call him fucking Daddy as well?”

  She rushes forward but I hold up my hands. She stands with wide eyes, shaking her head. “No! Of course not! Of course he doesn’t! That’s not what I meant!”

  My eyes are daggers, right on hers. “You think it, though, don’t you? You think Cam is his. Is that what Jake thinks too? Is that why he comes here?”

  She chokes for words.

  “That’s what you think, isn’t it?!” I bark. She points at the kitchen puts a finger over her lips and I curse myself. I lower my voice. “Tell me the fucking truth. Please just tell me the fucking truth.”

  She shrugs and still the tears fall. “I’m saying none of us know, Cam. Not you, not me. Mariana’s gone, and Jake…”

  My demons are playing inside me and they are vile. The darkness is behind my eyes and no amount of running, or early mornings at the office, or choosing my son’s TV channels has the power to quash any of it.

  “You’re leaving,” I tell her. “Today. You’ll be gone from here by the time I get back from the park with Cam.”

  Her wide eyes are like saucers. “What?! No! Leo, no! You can’t!”

  But I can.

  I don’t want to recognise the woman in my living room. I don’t want to know the sister who kept so many cards this close to her chest.

  “Go live with your other brother,” I whisper. “You can see him all you want. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

  And she cries. Oh how she cries.

  “You don’t mean that!” she sobs, throwing her hands in the air. “Leo, you can’t mean that!”

  But I do.

  I do mean it.

  I choke it all down, just like I always have. Force my demons back in their little cages.

  All apart from the one that escaped last night.

  The one Abigail coaxed from me.

  I let that one stay free.

  “Cam wil
l be done with his breakfast,” I say, as though it’s just a normal day. “You’d better start packing your things.”

  I leave her sobbing, her heart breaking as she cries.

  But I don’t feel a fucking thing.

  Thirteen

  It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.

  Lewis Carroll

  Abigail

  For the first time ever, after years of waiting… hoping… the monster catches me in my dreams.

  He catches me and hoists me off my feet… and his cock is thick and studded with metal…

  And then he kisses me…

  The monster kisses me and I want it.

  I’ve always wanted it…

  And then I wake.

  The room is empty. The sunlight making patterns on the wall through the drapes, just like always.

  But nothing is just like always.

  My belly is still aching, my thighs still clammy from the promise of him, and I’m more desperate for the beast than ever.

  I flinch as I grab my laptop, my heart in my throat as I log in to my profile.

  I said I’d delete it, but I won’t. I can’t.

  His messages are still greyed out. His profile is still listed unknown.

  Fuck.

  I take a breath, trying to contain my running thoughts.

  It’s over. Done. Just one crazy experience for the memories.

  I wince as I get to my feet. Wince again as I hobble to the bathroom.

  The monster really got me good.

  I grit my teeth as I take a piss. Ow, I’m fucking sore.

  I should be thinking about getting tested for nasties, but somehow I know I’ll be alright. I couldn’t justify why if my life depended on it, I just know it.

  Unfortunately, I don’t have to be thinking about getting the morning after pill, either. The operation that saved my life took my fertility away in the same breath. Scarring. An unfortunate complication, they said.

  Even the thought brings tears to my eyes out of nowhere.

  The odds that I’ll get pregnant again are… slim.

  Virtually nil.

  There’s still a chance… more surgery… but no guarantees. Nothing even close to a guarantee.

  I’ve transferred my medical notes to the local practice from back home, but the hospital referral… that’s still in the process of moving to another health authority. The waiting lists make it not worth thinking about imminently, so I don’t. Or try not to.

  Just like I try not to do so many things.

  Walk amongst families. Hear a baby cry. Watch a little kid run after their parents.

  I avoid it all.

  Another part of the reason I left. Selfish, but true.

  Friends getting married, having kids. Friends with kids meeting friends with kids and inviting me along – the woman that can’t have one.

  I wipe myself and flush. There is a tiny flash of pink on the toilet paper. A minor injury all considered. I expected worse.

  I expected him to be a lot less… considered.

  I expected him to tear me in two without a moment’s hesitation.

  I fantasised he’d take my ass once he’d done with the rest of me. I imagined him pressing his forehead to mine while he took everything I had.

  I’m half glad he didn’t when I have to use the handrail for leverage to get up. The aftermath of what he did do requires enough recovery to be going along with.

  I grab myself some toast and eat it in bed. I flick on the TV I haven’t watched in ages and keep my profile open on my laptop, just in case.

  And finally, when I dare risk it, I rub my clit until I come for him all over again.

  It’s different today.

  The way I come is different today. The way I picture the monster in the darkness is all about him.

  It always will be.

  From now on, it always will be.

  My fantasies couldn’t go back to yesterday if I tried. They’re different. They feel different.

  And that’s alright.

  It has to be alright.

  Because today I’m different, too.

  Phoenix

  I usually carry Cam everywhere out of habit, but today I let him clamber down from the truck on his own. I take his hand and let him walk alongside me. Encourage him to open the park gate on his own.

  I push him on the swing with a lump in my throat. Push him higher and higher, faster than usual, just to see if he’ll squeal.

  He doesn’t.

  He doesn’t make a single sound.

  I watch him on the slide with a fake smile on my face. I hoist him onto the springy metal horse with a giddy-up and a laugh.

  But I’m breaking inside.

  I wonder if Serena is done packing her things. I wonder if she’s already called Jake to ask for a ride.

  She’s been staying with us for twelve months, my domestic crutch through a workload that would have swallowed most people alive.

  It nearly swallowed me.

  I trusted her. Needed her. We both did.

  Still do.

  Fuck.

  I force that under the surface with the rest of the shit down there.

  And I stare at my boy. My boy.

  My boy who looks like his mother and not like me.

  My boy who has the same cow’s lick as Jake had when he was a boy.

  Cameron looks my way and smiles, rides that metal horse a little bit harder. He’s mine.

  He has to be mine.

  Because if he’s not…

  I force the demons back in the pit. Kicking back on a bench as Cameron keeps playing.

  I pull my phone from my pocket and call up my hookup login, and I’m so close to reactivating my profile. So fucking close.

  But I can’t.

  I don’t trust my demons. I don’t trust hers either.

  I don’t trust where this insanity will end.

  I don’t trust where I’d want it to.

  When I look back at my boy, he’s going too fast. Rocking that horse as though he’s in a fucking steeplechase.

  His eyes are on me, his mouth unsmiling, and I don’t understand why it hits me so hard in the gut, until I do.

  I’m already poised for action when I realise the obvious.

  My instinct is to run to him and sweep him off there before he hurts himself.

  My instinct is to baby him like the baby I’ve let him be these past twelve months.

  The baby I’ve made him be.

  But today I don’t.

  Today I let him keep rocking.

  He’s tall enough that his feet easily reach the foot bars. His grip is strong and his balance is good. He could dismount if he wanted and I know it. He knows it, too.

  His expression turns to a grimace as I don’t react to him. He rocks so hard that the metal springs squeak and lurch and my stomach squeaks and lurches with them.

  And then he falls, loses his footing and tumbles onto the woodchips below. He rolls onto his back with his face scrunched with tears that make no sound, and I hate myself.

  I hate myself and I hate Serena for opening her stupid fucking mouth with her stupid fucking theories.

  If only they were fucking stupid.

  I’ve scooped Cameron from the floor in a heartbeat. He’s tight in my arms before the horse has even stopped rocking.

  He’s tense, flailing, his face screwed in agony as the tears roll down his face. But I see no injuries.

  I tug his trouser legs up and there’s not even a mark, there’s not even a graze on his elbow. Nothing.

  “What hurts, Cam?” I ask him, but he keeps on silent-crying. “Tell me what’s hurting, champ,” I try again, but he doesn’t even point.

  I sit back on the bench and hold him tight, and I’m asking him with my eyes right on his. My soul is on my fucking sleeve as my world goes to shit, and I’m begging him. I’m fucking begging him.

  “Please, Cam, please just say something. Please, just say
something, bud. Anything. Just talk to me. Make a noise. Anything.”

  I’d feel like an idiot if it wasn’t for the way his eyes sharpen on mine. I’d call Serena out for spouting bullshit if it wasn’t for the way his fake tears dry to nothing.

  “Cam, please…” I try again. “Talk to Daddy. Please, just say something. Come on, champ, please.”

  But he doesn’t. He sniffles and stares at his muddy boots, and then he points at the pond behind my back, accident forgotten.

  “Ducks?” I ask. “Say it, Cam. Ask Daddy for the ducks.”

  He stares blankly ahead.

  He acts as though he doesn’t hear a word.

  Deaf as well as mute today.

  I sigh and brush his hair from his forehead. “Alright,” I say, “let’s do it.”

  And we do.

  I lead my little boy to the duckpond and dig the food from my pocket. I squat on my haunches to help him throw the pieces. I smile like this is just another day, just like yesterday, just another fun day at the park like all the other times we’ve been here.

  But it’s not.

  This isn’t yesterday.

  Today my demons have broken from their cages and my eyes are open wide.

  Things will never, ever be the same again.

  And I’ll never, ever be the same again either.

  Fourteen

  I will not be a common man. I will stir the smooth sands of monotony.

  Peter O’Toole

  Abigail

  I try with everything in me to stick to the plan.

  I try to let that one wild night fade into memory and start living my new life with a full heart.

  I’m still smiling with colleagues. Still giving my all to my ever increasing workload. I’m still calling my parents and letting them know I’m doing just fine.

  But it’s not enough.

  I should’ve deleted my profile like I promised. I should’ve drawn a line in the sand and moved on from our one crazy night in the shadows.

  I wish I could.

  I think it’s the monotony that’s killing me slowly. Wake up, shower, head to work. Smile at the same faces, pretend I’m just another girl in the office, make sure I offer a round of coffee at least once every day.