Pieces of Me

by Jacquie Underdown

  I scooted closer, unlatched the rusted metal clasp and heaved the lid open. Under the strong notes of stuffy damp came a book smell. An old-library-filled-with-ancient-leather-backs book smell. I lifted to my knees and peered inside at the chaos of books, photos, and papers.

  I shuffled through them all, hoisting out those that weren’t riddled with rot or damaged and piled them onto the floor beside me. The photographs were of Grandma. Not when she was young, but rather recent ones. Grandma standing in front of the Eiffel Tower; Grandma eating freshly shucked oysters right from the rocks; Grandma preparing herself to jump out of an aeroplane. I had no idea she had done any of this. Her hair was long and lightly coloured—different than what I remembered of her short dark hair with a few lines of silver. She looked so happy, carefree and younger. She was … beautiful, radiant.

  There were postcards among the photos and other bits and pieces of memorabilia like bottles of sand, spoons, charms and even a stuffed baby crocodile.

  I lifted some books out, reading the titles, ranging from romances to thrillers to the more literary types. I flipped open the cover of a Mills & Boon. Grandma’s neat script appeared on the inside cover. ‘On holiday in Las Vegas 2008’. I grabbed out another book and opened it up. ‘On flight to New Zealand 2007’. After looking at the inside of more covers, each were inscribed with details about when they were read ‘On Bondi Beach 2011’, ‘By the resort pool in Bali 2008,’ ‘Road trip to Perth 2010’.

  ‘You were adventurous, Grandma, I’ll give you that,’ I whispered.

  The next book I pulled out was thick with a brown leather cover. There was no title. I flicked through the yellowed pages. They were filled with Grandma’s handwriting in different colours of ink. Each entry was dated.

  A diary.

  I snapped the book shut before I read something personal.

  My throat grew tight at the sudden realisation that this diary would never see another entry. That this was all the life this book would know.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier you were sick? I could’ve been there for you,’ I whispered to the silent room.

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. My chest was so tight. Damn grief. Damn guilt. I took a few deep breaths, working through the pain before I opened my eyes again. Beating myself up wasn’t going to benefit anyone, but that was easier said than done.

  I leant over the box and pulled out a worn sheet of paper. It was a checklist of some type. I looked more closely.

  Bucket List–01 January 2006

  I will not cry another tear over that man!

  I will not feel guilt over him ever again!

  His name will never touch my lips again!

  Take a deep breath in, as though it’s my first and START LIVING

  ‘Whoa.’ This was … heavy. Who was Gran talking about? Pop? I checked the date again and did the math. Pop died winter of 2005, so maybe. I didn’t remember the date of his death for any other reason than the fact I recalled his funeral being blistery cold, I was thirteen, and I only saw Grandma once more after that time.

  I kept on reading through the list.

  Find reasons to laugh so hard that I cry tears of joy

  Quit smoking

  Buy and wear sexy, red lace lingerie

  Go shopping for a brightly coloured tight-fitting dress and wear it to dinner

  Dye my hair blonde

  Grow my hair long

  Wear a bikini on the beach

  Wear bright pink lipstick all the time

  I smiled. What lovely, yet simple items to put on a bucket list. As I looked over the list again, my chest grew heavy and I frowned. Because for these items to be on a bucket list, Grandma must never have experienced them before, or hadn’t for a long time.

  My heart thudded and all breath left my lungs. I scanned the list again, searching for my own attached memories as I re-read each one. I stopped when I reached number twelve and stared into the space in front of me.

  I hadn’t done any of these either.

  Not one.

  I felt my drab hair, never seeing a bottle of dye in its life. I fingered my lips. Allister didn’t like me wearing makeup. And mum never let me while a teenager. So I never did. A memory stung me then. Yes. Mum let me wear lipstick. Once—my prom night.

  I wore a long, black dress. It wasn’t revealing like all the other girls were wearing, but sophisticated and the silk skirt felt lush against my thighs as I walked. Allister came to pick me up in a limousine. I squealed as I saw it from the lounge room window. Excitement tingled beneath the surface of my skin like effervescent bubbles.

  Allister, dressed in a black suit, met me at the door and walked me to the limo, my fingers entwined with his. School was over and the weight off my shoulders left me as buoyant as a balloon. Tonight represented the end of that part of my life and the start of something new—university, moving out of home, an apartment in Melbourne. I was so excited I wanted to squeal.

  The leather seats were luxurious and the enormous space inside the limo, with its minibar and lighting, was unlike anything I had ever seen. I wanted to poke my head up through the sunroof and scream to the street how lucky I was. School was over and life was beginning.

  The doors closed, the engine started, and the limousine backed out of the driveway. I turned to Allister, opened my lips to thank him, but shrank back when I saw his narrowed eyes and twisted mouth.

  ‘You look like a clown whore. Who’re you trying to impress?’

  I flinched at his words. ‘My … what?’

  His gaze darted around the back of the car until he spied a box of tissues. He ripped out five, six, with frantic motions and shoved them so hard against my lips that his arm was shaking and I tasted blood.

  ‘Wipe that shit off,’ he grunted, his breaths heavy on my face as he scrubbed the tissues over my lips, smearing the lipstick and blood. ‘I will not be going to the prom … embarrassed by a worthless whore.’ I whimpered and tried to push his hands away as pain pierced, the inside of my lips splitting open from the pressure. He scoffed. ‘You think you’re pretty enough to wear this shit?’ His voice grew louder as he continued scrubbing. ‘Stupid …’

  I shook my head, trying to toss the memory aside. I hated the way those memories made me feel—a tightness and sickly heaviness in the pit of my stomach. And if I didn’t stop the thoughts, they would be strung on a mental circuit, haunting me for days.

  I stood up and took Gran’s list with me into the kitchen. I turned the jug on to boil. As I waited, I leant against the counter and read the further items.

  Talk to strangers

  Rekindle old friendships

  Have a one-night-stand.

  My eyes shot wide open as I read and re-read that one. ‘Grandma, you’re naughty.’ I grinned. I guess she was still quite young back then. Not yet fifty, I calculated. Well and truly young enough to engage in such activities.

  Fall in love

  Be loved

  The jug boiled. I put the paper down and poured a cup of tea. This list was like something someone my age would write, not a woman who had been married and had children and grandchildren, who you would expect to have experienced all these things. I grabbed the list, my tea, and went to the lounge room. I sat on the couch, pulling my legs up under me.

  Learn to surf

  Sky dive

  Snorkel in the Great Barrier Reef

  Swim with sharks

  Sing karaoke

  Visit a nudist beach—naked

  Drink coffee in Paris

  Eat tapas in Spain

  Ride the rapids in New Zealand

  Blow money on the tables in Las Vegas

  Smoke marijuana

  Consult a monk in Tibet

  Laze by a pool in Indonesia

  Now this was more like it. Though the ‘smoke marijuana’ one nearly made me spurt my tea everywhere. There were two final points added to the list in shaky handwriting and different ink. They’d obviously been added at a
later time than the original thirty.

  See Hannah again

  Georgia forgive me.

  Those last items took a hold of my heart and squeezed. Hard. The last phone call with Gran reflected number thirty-one. Her voice was frail and hushed. ‘I’ve got lung cancer … only weeks left … I just want to see you again before my time is up.’

  I palmed the tears that fell onto my cheeks. I wished now more than anything that she had told me earlier. I could have seen her more. She shouldn’t have had to write that on a bucket list. Not something like that.

  But it was number thirty-two that broke my heart. The last item not checked off. Georgia was my mother. She hadn’t spoken to Gran for ten years. Not even when I told her she was dying. Mum didn’t go to the funeral.

  What did Gran do to make her very own daughter not talk to her for a decade?

  How bad could it have been to make her daughter not want to be there with her as she was dying?

  The sound of magpies, kookaburras and cockatoos, woke me. It could only mean one thing—the rain was gone. I rolled out of bed and pulled the curtain aside. Blue sky. And not a single cloud after three long, full days of nothing but. And I thought Melbourne weather was unpredictable.

  I smiled as I yanked the curtains wide open allowing splashes of tree-filtered sunlight to burst through. I peered out over the street, unguttered gravel roads, and tin roof houses spaced apart by enormous yards. And, in the distance, the sapphire ocean. Despite the roof and imminent repair bill, I was one lucky girl. I looked up to the ceiling and closed my eyes, my whisper saturated in gratitude. ‘Thank you so much, Gran, for giving me this opportunity at a new start. Thank you so much.’

  I showered, dressed, and tied my hair back into a low ponytail. From the back of my cosmetic case, I pulled out my lipstick palette Gran sent me for my nineteenth birthday. In three years, I hadn’t tried a single colour.

  Staring at me was a pot of red. I took a deep breath. ‘Perfectly acceptable for you to wear lipstick,’ I said to my reflection. I steadied my hand and applied a nice, even layer to my mouth. I smacked my lips as I peered into the mirror. I looked … different. A good different. My irises seemed bluer, my teeth whiter. I grinned wide at the hopeful girl staring back. This felt like a beginning and an end in one moment.

  Chapter 6

  Bear

  I could tell myself whatever tales I wanted, but it wasn’t going to hide the fact that I was excited to see Hannah again. My stomach had been doing that childish back-flipping performance since I rang to tell her I was on my way over. Unstoppable. Infuriating.

  I knocked on her door. She opened up, dressed in a pair of running shorts and a singlet. I smiled and my focus fell on her lips. Hell, they alone were my downfall, and today she was wearing bright red lipstick. My stomach squeezed tighter, no longer with excitement, but with something more dangerous—desire. Desire to taste her lush mouth.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said, gesturing I come inside.

  I wiped my boots on the mat. ‘Hi.’

  ‘You been for a surf?’ she asked as she shut the door behind us.

  I ran a hand through my sea-wet hair. ‘Always.’

  ‘Even in winter?’

  ‘Yep. That’s what my wetsuit’s for. Besides, we don’t get much of a winter here, as you probably remember.’

  She nodded and led me through the lounge room. ‘Yeah, there never was much need for a jumper. It’ll be a nice change from Melbourne.’

  ‘That’s where you’ve moved from?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘From a bustling city to a tiny beachside town in Queensland—you’ll need to adjust to more than just the weather.’

  ‘I like the size and the slow pace. That’s what I always loved about coming here to stay with Gran. And the beach, of course.’

  I could argue about the other things, but not the beach. With that, I agreed one hundred per cent.

  We headed down the hall towards the broken bedroom. It was the biggest in the house with a window seat that offered views of the ocean through huge bay windows. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked up at the gaping ceiling, then into her blue eyes when she spoke.

  ‘What do you need me to do while you’re fixing the roof today?’

  ‘Just go about your normal routine. I’ll pop in and out as I need.’

  ‘Would you like a coffee or tea?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m fine for the moment, but I might pester you for coffee a little later.’

  She smiled. ‘No worries.’ And headed out the door to leave me to it.

  ‘Um, Hannah,’ I said before she disappeared down the hall.

  She poked her head back into the room.

  ‘Red looks great on you.’ It was out of my mouth before my mind had caught up and warned me about complimenting girls that would complicate my already complicated situation.

  She hovered her hand over her lips. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot I was wearing it. I’ll go take it off.’

  I shook my head. ‘Hell no. I like it. I was trying to give you a compliment.’ I pulled on my ear and grinned. ‘But perhaps my delivery was poor. Out of practice.’ I finished with a nervous chuckle.

  But Hannah didn’t smile like I hoped. She dragged her hand away from her mouth. She was shaking. Did I say something wrong? Overstep some line?

  ‘Everything okay?’ I asked.

  She nodded. ‘Yes. Of course.’ Her lips were straining to smile and her face had paled. ‘Sorry. I’m not used to wearing lipstick, that’s all.’

  I tried my hardest to convey a warm smile and said gently, ‘Well it suits you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She spun and headed out the door, her quick footsteps sounding down the hall.

  I’m no expert on the human condition, but that was not the reaction I was expecting. I couldn’t be that out of practice with compliments. No, this girl had fallen at some point in her life, for whatever reason, and needed some help getting back onto her feet.

  Tread very carefully with her, Bear.

  I looked up at the ceiling to nudge my mind back on the job.

  Roofing.

  I’d organised a contractor to deliver the new corrugated sheets and guttering. In the meantime, I was going to rip off the old ones. I passed Hannah on the way out the front. She was in the lounge room with Penny.

  Penny barked as she saw me walking down the hall.

  ‘It’s me,’ I said in a sing-song voice.

  She barked again, but, as I drew nearer, she wagged her tail, her entire backside joining in on the activity. ‘That’s better. Now you remember me. That’s a good girl,’ I said, bending to pat her behind the ears. She was a gorgeous dog.

  I looked at Hannah. She was smiling with those delectably red, plump lips. Hell, I could kiss those lips all night long.

  ‘She likes you,’ she said.

  I nodded. ‘I sure hope so. We’ll be working together for a little while, won’t we, Penny?’ I patted her chest and ears again.

  ‘I’m going to take her for a walk. She’s been going crazy during the rain. You should see the holes she’s dug in the backyard.’

  I laughed. ‘No-good puppies. You’re all the same.’ I crouched in front of Penny and drew her into my arms. ‘Except for you. You’re a gorgeous little girl.’ Penny panted and tried to lick at my face.

  ‘So, you’ll be okay here without me?’

  I stood and nodded.

  Hannah smiled and my gaze dropped to those scrumptious lips. I’d really, really love to taste those lips. A blush crept up her neck, blotchy splashes of colour, and spread up to her cheeks. I take it I was staring for a little too long.

  ‘Did I mention red is a great colour on you?’ I said, and headed out the front door, regretting my lack of filter.

  Hell, Bear. That was not treading carefully.

  I jogged down the front steps, my teeth gritted as I grabbed my ladder from the ute. I leant it against the roof guttering. From my toolbox, I scouted for the extra to
ols I’d be needing and shoved them into my belt. My movements were sharp.

  Hannah’s footsteps down the front stairs sounded, along with Penny’s excited panting. But I didn’t turn; kept on with my work. I climbed up a couple of rungs, hauled myself onto the roof and damn it if I didn’t watch as she strolled down the road, those curves rocking from side to side. When I snapped back to the present, I had viewed an entire fantasy where I was tearing those clothes off, revealing her soft, creamy flesh …

  My god, I was hot for her. Brain muddled, tongue tied, hot for her. And it couldn’t come at a worse time.

  ‘Settle the hell down,’ I mumbled. It wasn’t like anything had to happen. She might think I was a wanker for all I knew.

  I had a good sweat up by the time Hannah arrived back with Penny. I’d stripped the rusted-through sheets of iron and cut out all damaged ceiling plaster inside, along with the rotted battens and trusses. I just needed to get inside the roof and install the new pieces of timber that I’d ordered.

  I stepped out of the house as they were coming up the front stairs. The cool sea breeze was a relief on my sweat-sheened skin. Hannah had two coffees in her hand, the leash wrapped around her wrist, and she and Penny had sand stuck to their feet and ankles.

  She held out a coffee. ‘Just so you didn’t have to pester me.’

  I smiled and took it from her. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I’ve got sugar inside if you need it.’

  I shook my head. ‘No sugar for me.’

  She ran her gaze very obviously down the length of my body. My stomach tightened, that same feeling I had this morning and identical to the sensation I got out in the ocean when I saw a gorgeous set rolling towards me. She was blushing again when she met my eyes. I was dying to know what she was thinking.

  ‘So how’s it all going?’ she asked.

  ‘Getting there. I’m glad you’re back though. I need to pop down to the hardware shop to pick up some timber. But I’m also waiting on a delivery I don’t want to miss.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out for you.’