by Jodi Perry
You hung up the phone and squealed so loudly my ears rang. ‘He wants to see me tomorrow.’
I sat there stunned when you leaped into your mother’s arms. ‘That’s wonderful news, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘Who wants to see you tomorrow?’
I have never been a violent person, but I was already gearing up to rip him apart.
‘Mr Jefferies,’ you replied. ‘He owns the ice-cream parlour in town.’
‘What! He’s old. Like, pushing fifty.’ My tone was abrupt.
‘Fifty isn’t old,’ Christine piped in, but neither of us paid her any attention.
‘So! What does his age have to do with it?’
I had no answer for that. To be honest, I was confused. I was certain you were going to mention one of the guys from school, or at the very least, someone our age. So, Mr Jefferies kind of threw me.
I couldn’t blame other guys for wanting you. You were beautiful—to me you were the prettiest girl in the school, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought that.
‘I applied for a job there. Just over the summer … and I got it. He wants me to come in for training tomorrow.’
You scrunched your hands up in front of you as your body bounced with excitement, and my anger was quickly replaced by hurt. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that you had kept this from me. We used to tell each other everything.
‘You what?’
‘I got a job. Aren’t you happy for me?’
Happy is not the word I would have used. Hurt, pissed off maybe, but definitely not happy. I slammed my textbook shut and rose from the table in such a hurry, my chair toppled over and fell to the floor.
‘Braxton, wait up!’ you called as I walked out of the room, but I didn’t stop. My head was spinning. ‘Braxton.’ I’d already made it to my front yard by the time you caught up to me. ‘Braxton, stop.’ You reached out to me, but I shrugged your hand away.
‘Leave me alone, Jemma.’
‘What in the hell is your problem all of a sudden? You were fine a few minutes ago.’
I stopped walking and spun around to face you. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you applied for this job?’
The look on your face was a mixture of hurt and annoyance. ‘Because I wanted to surprise you. To be honest I didn’t even think I’d get it.’
‘Well, surprise,’ I said with sarcasm dripping from my voice.
‘Why are you acting like such a jerk?’
I wanted to tell you that I was hurt that you didn’t tell me, and upset that I wasn’t going to get to be with you on the weekends anymore. Those two days were the highlight of my week. I was being selfish, I know, but I had no control over my emotions. So, I just stood there, and said nothing.
‘Fuck you, Braxton Spencer.’
I don’t know what hurt most—the sadness I saw on your face or the anger when you pushed against my chest.
It was the first time I’d ever heard you really swear. It was also the closest we’d ever come to a fight. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I turned away from you and stormed into my house.
Slamming the front door behind me, I headed straight to my room. I’d never felt anything like this before. I sat on the edge of my bed and buried my face in my trembling hands.
That night I hardly slept. I was laden with guilt. I knew I had acted like a total arse. I should have been happy for you, but instead I was miserable—I couldn’t even fathom what my weekends would be like without you.
When morning finally rolled around, I sat by my bedroom window and watched you leave for your first day on the job. Your dad was driving you, and as you made your way to the car you turned and stared at my house. You should have been happy, excited even, but because of me you looked really sad. I knew it was all my fault, yet I still couldn’t find it in me to go outside and wish you luck. It’s stupid, but in that moment it felt like this was the end of us. Like things were changing and you were slipping through my fingers. I loved things just the way they were, and I didn’t want to lose you … or what we had.
Hours later—it was around midday, and I was still moping around—there was a knock on the door. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ your mother asked.
I moved aside so she could enter. ‘I brought you over some lunch. I thought you might be hungry.’ She handed me a plate containing a wrapped sandwich as she passed.
‘Thank you.’
I had no appetite, but I appreciated the gesture.
‘You’re welcome, but that’s not why I’m here.’ I took a seat on the sofa, and your mother sat beside me. ‘I know you’re upset about Jemma getting a job, but I wanted you to know that I held her while she cried herself to sleep last night.’ I bowed my head. Knowing I was the cause of those tears was hard for me to swallow. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do. ‘Do you know why she took this job?’
‘No.’
I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her, so my focus remained on the carpet below.
‘She wanted money so she could buy you a Christmas present. She wanted to buy you something special, with her own money. That’s the only reason. It’s only a temporary position, just over the summer.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ I whispered.
‘To be frank, Stephen and I aren’t overly happy about her working; we both think she’s a bit too young, and we’d much prefer she concentrated on her studies for now. But this was important to her … you are important to her.’ She placed her hand on my leg and gave it a gentle squeeze before she stood. ‘I just thought you’d like to know that.’
I’m glad she told me, but it made me feel lower than I ever had in my life.
After she left, I set off on the long walk to town. I had no money for the bus, but that didn’t bother me—I would have walked to the ends of the earth for you.
You were busy serving when I got there, so I stood out on the street and watched you through the large window. You looked cute in your uniform: tiny hot-pink shorts, a white polo with matching hot-pink dots, and a white hat. Your beautiful brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail.
I tried hard not to focus on your long, lean legs, but it was impossible. You’ve always had the most amazing legs.
I stop reading again, and stare down at my legs. He wouldn’t say that now. I may have had amazing legs once, but not anymore. They’re horribly disfigured by the huge ugly scars that will forever remind me of the accident.
The older we got, the harder it became for me to hide my true feelings for you. You were no longer the little girl with the missing front teeth who stole my heart; you had grown into a beautiful young woman who owned me completely.
I must have stood out there for about fifteen minutes until all the customers had left. You were wiping down the counters when I entered. Your eyes widened in surprise when you noticed me standing just inside the doorway. I was worried about how you’d react to seeing me, but I needn’t have been. Moments later your face broke out into a beautiful smile, and it made my heart race.
‘Braxton,’ you said as I stepped towards the counter. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to apologise. I acted like a jerk yesterday.’
‘You did,’ you said, as your gaze moved back down to the countertop, ‘but I forgive you.’
I can’t even put into words how relieved I felt when you said that.
‘Would you like an ice cream?’
‘I don’t have any money on me,’ I replied.
‘That’s okay. I have some change left over from my lunch. Actually, I didn’t even eat lunch. I wasn’t hungry.’
I saw sadness flash through your eyes, and the guilt I had been burdened down with all day quickly returned. I knew exactly how you felt, because I hadn’t eaten anything either.
‘I’m sorry, Jem.’
‘It’s okay. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.’
You moved over to the display cabinet that held all
the different ice-cream flavours. ‘I want you to try the new creation I invented today, it’s called The Braxton.’
‘You named it after me?’
‘I did. I was going to call it The Triple-Decker-Jerkoff, but I didn’t think my new boss would appreciate that.’
I laughed as you picked up the metal scoop and rolled the first flavour into a neat ball. ‘This one is Apple Pie Delight. I know how much you love Ma’s apple pie.’ You placed it on the cone and rinsed the scoop before moving to the next flavour. ‘Vanilla Dream, because you can’t have apple pie without vanilla ice cream. They’re made for each other.’
‘Exactly,’ I replied as my smile grew wider. They were made for each other, just like we were.
‘And lastly, Wicked Chocolate, because I know how much you love chocolate.’ You grinned proudly as you held the cone out to me. ‘Ta da … behold The Braxton.’
A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach so they say, but in that moment I didn’t fall head-over-heels in love with you, because I’d been hopelessly in love with you for years.
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
I look down at the tiny ice-cream charm in my hand, and I do something I haven’t done all week … I smile.
TWENTY-TWO
Jemma
I look over at the clock next to my bed and see it’s only 5.15am. I hardly slept last night. My head is all over the place. I’m restless and can’t seem to find peace.
Throwing back the covers, I get up and head to the bathroom. I can’t stand being cooped up in this house anymore. I need to get out, and get some fresh air into my lungs.
Leaning over the vanity, I splash water onto my face. When I look in the mirror, I see dark circles under my eyes.
After brushing my teeth and running a comb through my hair, I head back into my room. Pulling my nightgown over my head, I toss it on the bed. I’m getting out of here for the day, and I know exactly where to go. The place I feel most at peace … the beach.
The sun hasn’t even risen by the time I leave a note on the kitchen table for Christine and then close the front door behind me. It’s starting to get a little light, though, as I make my way to the bus stop.
The bus pulls up as I approach the stop, and I have to jog the last ten metres so I don’t miss it. I still have a slight limp, but I can live with that.
I hope to be at the beach before the sun rises. According to my phone, today’s sunrise should be around 6.30am. I should make it in time.
I zip up the front of my jacket and pull the hood over my head as I make my way across the sand. There’s a nip in the air this morning.
The bus stops further down the beach, but just like my last visit I find myself drawn towards my favourite house; the pretty white one with the sky-blue shutters and trim around the windows.
Once I reach my destination, I stand and stare at the house for a few seconds, before turning to face the ocean. I’m just in time: the sun is starting to rise. I fill my lungs with the fresh sea air and sit down on the sand.
I pull out my phone when the sun appears on the horizon and snap a few shots. It’s just as beautiful as I imagined it would be.
I pull my hood further down over my head and sigh as I stare out at the ocean. I knew coming here was what I needed; I’m already starting to feel calmer. I draw my legs towards my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. I close my eyes, letting the sound of the waves soothe my soul. I’m so lost in the moment I don’t even hear the footsteps approach until I’m almost barrelled over. My eyes spring open when a cute little dog jumps onto my lap and starts to lick the side of my face.
‘Hello there,’ I say, giggling at its excitement.
‘Bella-Rose!’ I hear someone call from the distance, and my body instantly tenses up. I not only recognise that name, but the voice as well.
I quickly stand up and reach for my bag just as the dog starts jumping up my leg.
‘Bella-Rose,’ he says again in a breathless tone. The voice is coming from behind me now, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. ‘Come here, girl.’ He reaches down and scoops up the dog and I want to turn and run. ‘I’m so sorry about my dog, she’s never done that before.’
My hood is up and my back is to him, so he can’t see my face. But it’s no use, there’s no escape.
When I turn, the first thing I see is the surprise on his face. ‘Jemma.’
‘Hey.’ My gaze moves to the left of him, and then the right. He’s on his own. Then I look at the dog in his arms and it dawns on me. I feel like such an idiot.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks as a smile spreads across his face.
‘I just needed some air. I’ve been cooped up in Christine’s place all week.’
‘I know. I came around the other day. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts. I was starting to worry. I thought maybe you were avoiding me.’
I shrug. I’m certainly not going to admit that I thought his dog was his damn girlfriend. ‘I just needed some space from the world for a while. I was starting to feel overwhelmed by it all.’
‘That’s understandable,’ he says, reaching out and rubbing his hand down my arm. It leaves a tingly feeling in its wake. Why does he have to be so understanding?
‘I’m sorry I didn’t return your messages.’
‘You don’t need to apologise.’
‘So, is this your dog?’ I ask, trying to sound casual but probably failing. ‘I remember you mentioning you wanted to get one.’
‘Yes, this is Bella-Rose.’ He runs his hand affectionately over her fur. ‘I’d originally planned to get a puppy, but when I saw her, I knew she’d be coming home with me.’
‘Love at first sight, hey?’
He smiles before answering. ‘Not exactly.’ He tells me how he felt when he learned that Bella-Rose’s owner had died; he couldn’t not take her home.
I reach out to scratch Bella-Rose under the chin. ‘Poor girl.’ I move my gaze back to Braxton. ‘You’re a good guy, Braxton Spencer.’
‘I have my faults,’ he admits, with a shrug.
‘Well, I’m yet to see any of them.’
This brings a smile to his face. ‘I was just about to grab a coffee. Would you like to join me?’
‘I should get going. I left Christine a note to say I’d be home in time for breakfast, and my bus will probably be here shortly.’
‘Just a quick one, then I’ll drop you home on my way to see my dad.’
‘Okay.’ The truth is, I’ve missed him.
He turns and gestures for me to follow, but to my surprise he doesn’t head in the direction I expected. He walks straight towards my favourite house.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To my house. This is where I live … where you used to live.’
‘This is our house? I lived here?’
‘Yep. I built it for you.’
‘You built this house?’ I stop walking and stare at him in wonderment.
‘Well, not technically, I designed it. It was your dream house when you were a kid.’
‘Wow,’ I whisper as my gaze moves down to the sand around my feet. No wonder I felt so drawn to this place.
We climb the steps that lead to the back deck, and suddenly I’m feeling anxious about being here. It’s too soon. I’m not ready. I pause when he wipes his bare feet on the mat by the large glass sliding doors.
‘Are you coming in?’
I shake my head. His shoulders slump slightly, but he tries to cover it up with a smile. ‘Well … umm … make yourself comfortable out here, I’ll just go grab the coffee.’ He gestures towards the outdoor setting, before disappearing inside. There’s a part of me that wants to go in and look around, but I’m scared to do that. I feel weird about all these things that should be familiar to me but aren’t.
I walk across the deck, towards the long white wooden bench seat. It holds a mixture
of cushions: some are blue-and-white striped, the blue the same shade as the window trim, and some are plain blue with white piping around the edges. I like them. It helps tie this space in with the rest of the house. Taking in my surroundings has me pondering my old career. It makes me wonder if that passion I once held for design will ever return.
The bench seat has been placed close to the house, under the only covered part of the deck. It makes sense, I suppose, because it’s sheltered from the weather there. Off to the left is a large white six-seater wooden table; in the centre are three white box lanterns, each containing a half-burned candle. My eyes are then drawn to the string of fairy lights that span the perimeter of the deck. I find myself wishing it was dark so I could see what they looked like when turned on, imagining how lovely it would be to dine out here by candlelight.
On the far right-hand side of the deck sits a barbecue, complete with a small outdoor kitchen, bordered on either side by palms in tall sky-blue pots. I see a large decorative anchor mounted on the wall.
As I sit, I take in the small white coffee table in front of me. There’s a rectangular wicker basket as a centrepiece, and within it sits a blue candle surrounded by shells and ornamental blue starfish. I love the attention to detail everywhere I look; it’s all very simple, yet effective. Did I decorate it? The thought has my stomach flipping. I wish I could remember.
I settle back in the chair and try not to over-analyse everything. I still can’t believe this is my home, or was my home. The fact that I was drawn to it from the moment I first saw it gives me hope. I pray that one day it will all come back. I’m not sure how I’ll cope if it doesn’t. Apart from Braxton’s letters, there’s a huge chunk of my life missing.
‘Here you go,’ Braxton says, breaking my train of thought. He places a tray down on the coffee table, and my gaze gravitates towards his hands. He has beautiful hands, so strong and masculine. I find myself wondering what they would feel like against my body, and that thought shocks me.