Something in the Air

by L.H. Cosway

  “Hide and hope someone will be interested enough to come find me.”

  He chuckled again and the sound lit a spark of happiness inside me. I loved his deep, masculine laughter. James leaned forward, both hands clasping his bottle. “And what if they never do?”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to resign myself to a life of spinsterhood.”

  “Now that would be a travesty,” James said quietly.

  I blinked, again shocked by what had come out of his mouth. A silence fell. I stared at the table a moment before glancing at him. His eyes had a faraway look, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. I saw a flicker of the sadness that I’d been seeing in him a lot lately, and I spoke before my brain had a chance to intervene. “Leanne said Diana tried to hit you.”

  James’ eyes refocused on me, his jaw firming. He looked away as he answered, a dark cloud coming over him. “She shouldn’t have told you that.”

  I frowned at him. “Why?”

  He started to peel at the label on his beer. “Because it’s not her business.”

  “She was just worried about you. She was worried it might not have been the only time Diana did something like that,” I said, my voice a whisper. I’d been bottling up my need to ask James about this all week, and now the cocktails in my system finally pushed it out. When he didn’t say anything, I went on, “Was it the only time?”

  His eyes flicked up, his expression a mixture of shame and vulnerability. I hated it. He stood from the table. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”

  I stood, too, rounding the table and reaching out to touch his hand. “I’m sorry for asking that. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just…when Leanne told me I got so angry.”

  James stared down at me, his eyes wandering back and forth between mine. “Why would you be angry?”

  I straightened my shoulders, steadying my voice so there was no mistaking the truth of my words. “Because you’re a good person and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I don’t care if you’re a man and she’s a woman. No one should raise their hand to you, James. And if they do, they’re the ones who should be ashamed.” I tried to channel as much meaning into my eyes as possible.

  I watched as a shallow breath left him. We were standing so close and for a second, he was no longer the strong, athletic, independent man I’d come to know. For a second, I saw past all the fences he’d erected to the sensitive soul who lay beneath.

  “It wasn’t the only time,” he said in the quietest voice imaginable.

  My throat grew heavy as the words hung between us and I blinked back tears. At the same time, my heart hardened to a rock. I wanted to confront Diana. I wanted to tell her exactly what I thought of her.

  The urge to hold him took over and I pulled him into my arms. James melted into my embrace like he hadn’t had a hug in years. Maybe he was trying to be stoic, not letting anyone in. I didn’t think about any of the things that had been occupying my head lately, all the things that complicated our relationship. In that moment I just wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. I wanted him to know that whatever Diana had done to him, it wasn’t right and it certainly wasn’t normal.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I asked, gazing up at him.

  His expression was torn, like he wasn’t sure how to answer. Finally, he stepped out of my hold and sat back down. I retook my seat and waited, giving him as much time as he needed.

  He exhaled heavily. “I didn’t tell anyone because at first, I didn’t think it was that important. Diana’s always been a fiery person, so I attributed her actions to that. And besides, it was only little things, like throwing her shoe at me or shoving me when she didn’t get her way. Then it escalated to slaps on the head, pushes on the chest. Not outright violence but physical aggression. I was so confused, because when she hit me, it didn’t feel like a big deal. I never hit her back, and I’m big. I can take it. But emotionally it brought me down. It made me feel less equal, like her feelings were more important than mine. And if she needed to get them out in this way, then why not? It wasn’t like being punched by a man. Diana hitting me was never going to cause me injury. But it affected me psychologically. Every time it happened, I’d lose another piece of my confidence. I’d feel low for days.”

  Again, I sucked back my tears, but it was tough. His story made every part of me hurt for him.

  “That’s abuse, James,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand again. “She had no right to do those things to you.”

  “I know that now,” he whispered. “But I’d been blind to it for a long time. Then Mum passed away and I knew I had to end things. I couldn’t keep living like that. It’s such a weird thing. Even now, sitting here talking to you, I feel ashamed. Like I’m making something out of nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing,” I countered fiercely. “Don’t ever think that. Diana needs help.”

  “I told her that,” he said.

  “What did she say?”

  “She broke down, started telling me how sorry she was, that she’d go see a therapist and we could do couples counselling. I told her it was something she needed to do alone.”

  A silence fell. At least she was considering getting help. I felt relieved that James had told her she had to go it alone. Even if she did see a therapist, there was no guarantee she’d change her ways. And underneath it all, James was a teddy bear. He deserved love and care, not manipulation and aggression.

  “Any time you feel like talking about anything at all, I’m here,” I told him.

  His eyes met mine and some of the dark clouds had cleared, like a small weight had been lifted. “Thank you. It felt good to talk, to finally tell someone.”

  “I’m honoured to be the person you told.”

  Our gazes held for several beats, a warm affection coming into his eyes. “What would I do without you?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’d survive.”

  “You do so much for me. Too much, probably,” he went on.

  I’d do anything for you. I swiped at the intrusive thought. “I do what I can. You’re going through a lot right now. I’m just happy to help.”

  He sat back, folding his arms as he considered me. The atmosphere in the room shifted, and though I was glad to see some of the life come back into his eyes, there was something about the curve at the edge of his mouth that put me on alert.

  “I know a way I might be able to do something for you,” he said.

  I lifted an eyebrow while trying to ignore the way his voice made my stomach flip. “Oh?”

  “I was just thinking about what you said earlier, about resigning yourself to Spinsterhood.”

  I chuckled to cover my self-consciousness. “Ah, right. Well, don’t you worry about that. If I do turn into a spinster, then it’ll be my own fault.”

  “I could help you, though,” James suggested and my heart thumped hard.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean, I could help you build your confidence. I’ve seen how you are. You don’t seek people out. You wait for them to come to you.”

  I stiffened, unsure where he was going with this. “Yes, well—”

  “It’s not a bad thing, M. But contrary to popular belief, not all men find wallflowers tempting and irresistible. Don’t get me wrong, some do, but most of us will go with the woman who has the confidence to approach us. In essence, we’re insecure, lazy fuckers.”

  That would never be me, I thought. My instinct to stay invisible was far too strong.

  “I’ll never be that person,” I said.

  “You could be if you practiced.”

  “Like you’re the expert on approaching people,” I scoffed.

  He gave a small smile. “Okay, true. But you forget I spent six years with a woman who was the epitome of self-confidence. I never would’ve gotten to know Diana if she hadn’t approached me first.”

  I was pretty sure Diana was the last person I wanted to emulate, but I didn’t voice the sentiment. Instead I tried to
change the subject. “Don’t you have enough on your plate without worrying about my romantic life?”

  He looked at me funny now, and I couldn’t decipher his expression. He cleared his throat, his voice sober, “You’re probably right. Besides, I’m hardly the person to be giving advice, what with the current state of my own love life.”

  I hated the melancholy I saw creeping back into his features. “We’re a fine pair, eh?” I said, nudging his foot with mine.

  His handsome brown eyes lifted, that hint of a smile curving his lips again. “At least we have each other to commiserate with,” he said and I smiled at him.

  “Exactly. I’ll be happy to eat ice cream out of the tub with you anytime,” I replied, then stiffened as a very different scenario than the one I’d intended entered my head. I blinked away the image, standing abruptly, and went to grab some water from the sink. I could feel James’ eyes on my back as I filled a glass and swallowed a long gulp. “I think I’ll go to bed,” I said and he stood from his chair.

  “Me, too,” he agreed, exhaling heavily. “It’s been a long night.”

  He pushed his chair under the table, then followed me upstairs. Tingles ran all down my spine with him so close behind me. We reached the door to my room first, and I turned to say goodnight, finding him far closer than expected.

  “Goodnight,” I whispered, tipsily gazing up at him, my attention inexplicably wandering to his lips. Then my eyes rose to his and he looked conflicted for a brief second.

  He held my gaze for a beat before finally whispering back, “Goodnight, Michaela.”

  I went into my room and pulled off my dress before dropping down onto the futon. I stared up at the ceiling, my heart aching as I replayed our conversation in my head. It had been a strange mix of cheerful and melancholy, and I couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that the solid, together guy I knew had also been going through a toxic relationship behind closed doors. Diana didn’t seem like the type to be violent, but then, you just never knew what people were capable of.

  Relief filled me to know he’d finally put an end to things, but at the same time, I worried for him. I worried that losing his mum and coming to terms with Diana’s abuse might be too much, that he might break under the stress of it.

  These thoughts filled my head as I drifted off to sleep and made a promise to myself that whatever happened, I’d be there to help him through.

  Fourteen

  James

  My head was pounding.

  After I got back from dad’s last night, I’d made short work of a six-pack of beer, and since I rarely drank, my body wasn’t used to it. Now it was giving me hell. One good thing was that the bed Neil had delivered was like sleeping on a cloud. I needed to commend him on his choice.

  I rubbed at my temples, memories from last night flooding back. Michaela came home to find me drinking alone in the kitchen. I must’ve been a pathetic sight. Then I remembered our conversation about Diana and several emotions warred within me. I didn’t exactly regret telling her, but I worried it might change how she saw me. Hell, the reason I’d been hesitant to tell anyone was because I feared them thinking I was weak. I knew that was all kinds of messed up, but it was how I felt.

  Michaela’s soft, calming presence and kind words made me feel less alone. Maybe it really was true that a problem shared was a problem halved. The simple act of having her listen to my story felt like a weight had been lifted.

  Then I remembered offering to teach her how to be confident with men and cringed. Must’ve been the beer talking. As if I was some fucking expert.

  Last night I’d felt a strange stirring in me. Michaela was so pretty and smart and kind. She didn’t know it, but having her around was the only thing keeping me together. Her presence in the house was both peaceful and reassuring. I even flirted with the idea of kissing her, just to see what she’d taste like. It was a moment of madness. I was lonely, missing Mum, and trying to figure out what I wanted from life now that Diana and I were over. Michaela didn’t need me using her just to make myself feel better. So, I threw out the suggestion of tutoring her in the art of flirting. Some part of me thought that if I directed her toward other men, I wouldn’t have any more inappropriate thoughts.

  God, I was an idiot.

  Besides, she was already texting that bloke, Louis. She didn’t realise it, but she needed zero help in getting male attention. A woman like her could have whoever she wanted.

  I picked up my phone and saw that for the first time in three weeks, I didn’t have any missed calls or texts from Diana. Was she finally accepting that we were over? Relief trickled in. Mum’s words echoed in my head, and I knew ending the engagement was the right thing.

  That woman will take, take, take until you’ve nothing left to give, boy.

  Mum hadn’t known the true extent of how right she was. She’d never been fond of my ex-fiancée. She said I couldn’t see it because I was the one person Diana was sweet to, that you couldn’t trust a person who reserved all their sweetness only for one. Little did she know, that sweetness didn’t last very long behind closed doors.

  Finally, I’d snapped. I could see my life so much clearer through this strange mirror of grief. All the lies I’d told myself were suddenly plain as day. And I’d been lying to myself for a long time. I wasn’t happy in my relationship. I’d merely stayed in it out of a kind of skewed loyalty. I felt like ending things would mean I’d stolen all those years from Diana when she could’ve been with someone else.

  But then, wasn’t stealing a few years better than stealing an entire lifetime?

  I saw that I’d allowed her to direct me, to lead me into things I never would’ve chosen on my own. Hell, even me proposing, was a result of her laying hints and clues. I’d convinced her we should have a long engagement. That way we could save and afford a dream wedding. She hadn’t been happy about it, but she’d gone along. Now I accepted that prolonging the engagement was my subconscious telling me I didn’t really want to be married in the first place.

  There was also the fact that I’d been thinking about Michaela a lot. It wasn’t just last night. For months my thoughts had wandered to her, always wondering what she’d think of a particular situation, what advice she’d give.

  It was so fucked up.

  At first, I didn’t think too much of it. I’d told myself it was simply because she was a friend and we worked together. We got along, had shared interests. But it wasn’t normal to fixate on her smile, the light behind her eyes, the way we laughed together about silly things only we were interested in.

  I could talk to her for hours and never once feel bored.

  I felt like a dirty old man, obsessing over my twenty-two-year-old assistant. I was a bloody cliché, and I needed to get my act together.

  I hated how relieved I was last night when she told me she hadn’t sent that selfie to Louis. And I was jealous of the thought of her taking it in the first place. When it appeared on my phone, I knew I was going to have a hard time forcing myself to delete it.

  Sitting up, I ran a hand down my face, groaning at the ache concentrated behind my skull. I headed to the bathroom to take a shower. After that, I decided to grab some breakfast from the café down the street. Michaela definitely deserved a thank you after consoling my pathetic drunken arse last night. Her door was still closed as I passed her room. She was probably sleeping in after the late night.

  When I got back, I found her in the kitchen in her pyjamas, sipping on a mug of herbal tea. Her long dark hair hung messily around her shoulders, her eyes tired and her lips puffy. She wore sleep shorts that ended just above the knee and I couldn’t resist a quick glance at her long, shapely legs. She’d never looked prettier, just sitting there tired and hungover and completely unaware of how gorgeous she was.

  “Hey,” I said, setting the brown paper bag down on the counter.

  “Morning,” she replied, eyes wandering to the bag. “What’s that?”

  “Breakfast. I thought you mi
ght need a hangover cure after last night.” I handed her one of the cardboard containers.

  She took it from me eagerly and I resisted the urge to grin. Why did I always feel so much better when I was around her? It was like whatever she was made of sucked out all the sadness inside me and replaced it with hope. Michaela somehow made me hopeful that one day I might not feel Mum’s absence so starkly. That I wouldn’t regret all the times I wished I’d let her know just how much I adored her. Mum had always been there for me, and it felt wrong to live in a world without her in it. I knew I’d never stop missing her, but maybe there’d come a time when the pain wasn’t quite so powerful.

  I took the only other seat, across from her, and opened my own breakfast.

  “I was thinking of going shopping for a couch today,” I said.

  Michaela glanced up from her food. “Oh, but I thought you weren’t planning on living here after—”

  “I’m not,” I cut in. “But we need a couch, and maybe a TV, too. I’m sick of sitting on these crappy folding chairs.”

  “They aren’t very comfortable,” Michaela agreed.

  “Will you come with me?” I asked impulsively. “I could use your input.”

  She blinked. “Um, sure. I don’t have any other plans.”

  I nodded, and we fell silent. I wanted to bring up what we’d talked about last night, to thank her again, but I couldn’t think of the right way to broach it.

  She tucked some hair behind her ear, and my eyes were drawn to the movement, the delicate line of her neck. “So, about last night,” she said, and my nerves kicked in.

  I hadn’t been taking my medication in recent days, and I’d had to keep reminding myself that it was normal to have nerves. It was normal to feel anxiety and fear. It was manageable without medicine, far from overwhelming, and I was sick of being chained to a pill. I knew some people needed them, but I wasn’t one of those people. I started to wonder if I ever truly needed medication at all. It had been something Diana talked me into without really giving me a chance to decide for myself. I’d spent so much time agreeing with her I didn’t even know what my own opinion was anymore.