I thought you hated cooking.
She couldn’t get away from this guy. If he wasn’t chatting to her over the fence, it was via text.
I don’t hate it, I’m just no chef.
She opened the Facebook app on her phone.
A text flashed across the top of the screen:
Can I ask a question?
April swung her legs back down and sat up.
You’re asking my permission? And aren’t thirty-six of them enough?
There was a longer than expected wait for his reply. The little bubbly dots to show he was typing appeared then disappeared, then appeared again.
I guess you’re feeling a bit … exposed? After Wednesday night. Sorry if anything triggered bad memories.
Exposed? She felt … what did she feel? At one end of the spectrum she felt annoyed that she had met an interesting guy but he was totally unsuitable, and like there was someone behind her pulling her away from him, and at the other end, she felt compelled, like there was an intense and irresistible pull towards him, like she was in a current and couldn’t stop being carried closer. But she couldn’t say, ‘no I feel annoyed that you’re amazing apart from the booze and compelled because you’re amazing and I’m a woman and you’re a man and that’s how it works which sucks because I can’t be around you without feeling things and I can’t feel things because I don’t want to end up like my mother’.
I’m fine, she typed back.
She waited for him to reply, and ask the question he asked permission to ask, but nothing came. She reread their brief text exchange. Yep, she’d sounded abrupt and a bit rude. Bugger. She could never get the tone right in text messages, let alone when words catapulted from her mouth in speech, but at least in those situations she had her hands and face to join in and give context to her words.
She started typing … sorry if I sounded, but then there was a knock on her door. Her gaze darted to the white glossy front door, a large silhouette visible beyond.
She got up and went to the door, and didn’t need to check out the side window, she already knew it was him. Not by the silhouette, and the fact they had just been texting each other, but she could feel it. Somehow, it sounded crazy, she could feel his presence, his energy, his being-ness.
‘Zac,’ she said, opening the door. ‘This is a first.’ If anything, she thought he’d simply jump the fence and knock on her back door.
He stood there with hands in pockets, and the sunset blazing red and orange behind like he’d brought a fire with him. ‘It’s good to get out and about sometimes,’ he said. ‘My question: does knowing about my alcoholism bother you?’
The virtual fire must have grown stronger as its warmth spread inside her skin, tensing her muscles and making her want to run. She gripped the side of the door with one hand and fiddled with her silver necklace with the other.
‘It does, doesn’t it,’ he said.
‘Zac—’ she was about to bluff.
‘Just tell me.’ He pinned her with his stare.
‘Yes. Okay, yes. It does,’ she blurted.
His chest rose sharply. ‘So, now you know the ugly truth you don’t want to talk to me? At all?’
‘No, of course not, it’s just …’
‘Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of avoiding me and fobbing me off.’ His voice was tense and blunt.
So he wasn’t Mr I’m-So-Calm all the time. See? She was right. Charming one minute, agitated the next.
Like Dad.
‘Okay, yes. Yes, I have been avoiding you and fobbing you off.’ She crossed her arms. ‘You cook a great meal and I appreciate your hospitality—’
‘My hospitality?’ he scoffed. ‘I think we shared a bit more than my hospitality the other night.’
April took a small step back. ‘I know. And you didn’t let me finish.’ Her father never let her finish things she was saying. He’d ask her something and then in the middle of her answer he’d start talking about something else, usually something insignificant, or some story he’d told her a hundred times but thought he was telling it for the first time. Talking to an alcoholic took a lot of patience. ‘And … I appreciate your company, and your empathy about my accident, and I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m really sorry, but …’ she sighed. ‘My dad is an alcoholic. It tore our family apart.’
They fell silent and heat burned the air between them.
Zac dropped his gaze. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
She shrugged. ‘He is who he is.’
Zac looked up. ‘And I am who I am. We’re all different, even if we share something the same.’
They all said that. But she’d seen other alcoholics her dad had associated with, and the drink united their differences in the same destructive bond. It didn’t matter what he said, it only mattered that if he drank again, he’d be different to the man she had dinner with on Wednesday night. He’d be uncharming, un-intriguing, and maybe even worse. Who knew?
‘Has your father tried to stop?’
‘Yes. Once, but it didn’t last long.’
Zac nodded. ‘And I take it he’s been like this for quite a long time?’
‘Most, if not all, of my life.’
Zac nodded again, his face creasing. ‘So, what, we can’t be friends? Because of this?’
April rubbed her arm, as the cool air finally brushed past the heat and into her house. ‘I …’
‘The thing is, April, your dad may not have stopped drinking. But I did. I have. And I have no intention to go back to the way I was.’ He hooked his thumbs into the corners of his pockets.
He had a point, but still. ‘Intentions are one thing, but they’re not foolproof.’
‘But the reality is, I’m not drinking. I haven’t for eight months. That’s all that matters right now. This moment in time.’
Their eyes locked for a moment and she was reminded of their eye-gazing exercise. She’d seen something that reminded her of her father. But she’d also seen other things, and still could. There was a world within his eyes, a universe, and it pulled her in while scaring her out of her mind. She looked away.
‘It’s just easier to … to keep my distance,’ she said quietly.
‘What for? It’s not like I’m going to come by tomorrow and ask you to marry me or to come over for a passionate night of you-know-what. I’m committed to being dateless and celibate right now.’
Her cheeks burned. ‘Oh, you think I can’t resist you, is that it?’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘Like I could just launch myself at you in any given moment with uncontrolled desire and passion? Huh!’
He was totally right.
‘Look, I just mean that you don’t have to worry. Right now, I just want to be your friend. Your neighbour. Someone you can chat to here and there, exchange books with, share the odd meal—if that’s not too difficult.’
Right now. Why did he keep talking about right now? In the moment. She remembered that he’d said that in September he will have been sober for twelve months. Of course. Alcoholics are advised to avoid getting into new personal relationships until at least twelve months of sobriety have passed.
‘It’s not difficult, but you revealing this to me, it’s brought back a lot of stuff about my dad. And he’s just been discharged from hospital. He ends up there a lot. It takes its toll, not only on him, but on my mum and me.’
‘Okay, fair enough, I get that.’ He relaxed his posture. ‘But let’s try to be civil, yeah? We’ve had some good conversations. No need to stop. I understand where you’re coming from, I do. But don’t forget that I’m not your father.’
That was true, but she also couldn’t forget that her father was not her father. Once the drink took hold, it possessed him, as it did with other alcoholics. It was like an evil spirit that lingered and spread itself among all those who allowed it. Zac had allowed it, maybe not now, but once.
She took a deep breath. It wasn’t fair to treat him badly because of her father.
‘I’m
sorry for being rude, I hope you understand. And okay, I’ll try to not let my past get in the way of being a courteous neighbour.’
‘And friend, perhaps?’
‘Sure.’ She shrugged. Friends. It sounded simple. But the thing was, deep down in that forbidden part of her, she didn’t know if she could be just friends. But she would have to be. And if she ever doubted her resolve, she need only visit her father and be reminded of the reality.
She could not, would not, allow herself to get involved.
Chapter 15
‘Wonder if he ever points that thing at you,’ Zoe said, as she peered discreetly out the window near April’s back door, spying on Zac as he looked through his telescope. ‘I don’t know why you won’t let me go out there and introduce myself.’
‘I’ll explain at dinner. Anyway he looks busy, we should leave him to it.’
‘Busy?’ She chuckled. ‘The man’s gazing at the stars.’
Well, she did say she’d try to be friendlier. She was surprised he even wanted to be friends, after the way she’d practically accused him of being like her father, who he didn’t know, but she hadn’t painted him in the best light. ‘Okay, but just a quick hello, don’t bombard him. He’s kind of shy.’ She didn’t know whether to reveal that he had mild agoraphobia. She told pretty much everything to Zoe, but had Zac told her in confidence? And what about his history, should she even be telling her that? But both secrets had been revealed out of the context of the confidential thirty-six questions, so it was different. She needed to tell her something, to help her manage the whirlwind of emotions swirling up inside. Yes she’d told her mother, but for her, there would be no discussion on Zac. Once an alcoholic always an alcoholic, she would simply say.
April opened the back door and Zac looked up and across at them. ‘Zac, this is Zoe. Zoe, this is Zac.’ Even though her friend knew too well who he was.
He smiled. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey,’ Zoe replied.
Romeo dashed through April’s legs and out onto the deck, then leapt into the tree near Zac’s fence and jumped over into his yard. ‘Oh, Romeo!’ April called out.
‘You called?’ Zac asked. Zoe laughed and April shot him an are-you-kidding-me look, and he held up his hands. ‘Kidding. I’ll get him. Hang on.’
Zac was back. Back to his old tricks.
Zoe and April glanced at each other, and Zoe fanned her face as though she had a hot flush. April nudged her. ‘Stop it.’
‘Romeo, wherefore art thou,’ he said, crouching near the bushes. ‘Stop humping Juliet.’
Zoe laughed again. ‘Who’s Juliet?’
‘Zac’s cat.’—‘My cat.’ They both spoke at the same time.
‘I might get a cat and call it Shakespeare,’ Zoe said.
Zac smiled as he picked up Romeo. ‘I think they want to move in together,’ he said, handing back her cat. His arm muscles bulged beneath his sleeves and she tried not to look. Zoe looked.
‘Thanks again,’ she said.
‘So Romeo’s done this before, huh?’ asked Zoe. ‘Cheeky thing.’
‘Yes,’ replied Zac. ‘As I said, they’re getting serious, I think.’
‘Better take him inside,’ April said, heading towards the deck.
‘When was the last time you looked at stars?’
She turned. ‘Stars? Stars. Um, I don’t remember.’
‘I saw a few stars after my work function last weekend. Spinning ones,’ Zoe said.
Okay, she would have to tell her. She couldn’t make alcohol jokes around Zac. April was used to the odd one and didn’t mind so much when they were lighthearted and not related to her father’s condition, but anything that made Zac think of alcohol was probably not a good idea.
‘Come look at these,’ said Zac. ‘It’s a beautiful, clear night.’ He gestured towards his telescope.
‘Oh, we have to get to Café Lagoon, dinnertime,’ April said.
‘I’d love to!’ Zoe moved towards the fence.
April sighed on the inside. She’d probably get used to Zac again, but things were still a little raw and vulnerable, after the recent dealings with her dad, and having opened up to Zac last week. Actually, he had been right. She was feeling exposed. She wasn’t used to baring her feelings or talking about her past. He was taking her to places inside she wasn’t sure she wanted to visit.
‘There’s a gate around the …’ Zac began, but Zoe had already stepped on the short brick wall surrounding a flower garden near April’s side of the fence, and was lifting herself up onto the fence.
‘Zoe! What are you, eight years old?’ April sounded like Olivia, except Olivia would say to her daughter, ‘Mia, what are you, eighteen years old?’ when she tried on her mother’s clothes and make-up.
Zac was laughing. ‘Sure, come on over!’
April took Romeo back inside and locked him in the laundry early for the night. Then she went back outside. Zoe peered through the telescope as Zac explained things to her, something about the big one next to the smaller one.
‘Cool,’ said Zoe. ‘Come take a look, Ape.’
‘No thanks, I’ll wait for you. Couldn’t be bothered walking around.’ Yeah, she’d just used her leg as an excuse. She wasn’t about to climb over like Zoe had, and anyway, she was wearing a skirt.
Zoe must have sensed April’s discomfort as she moved her face away from the telescope. ‘Was that my stomach? Better go eat,’ she said. ‘Nice to meet you, Zac. Thanks for the astrology lesson.’
‘Astronomy,’ he corrected.
‘Oops!’ She slapped her forehead. ‘You’re a Capricorn, right?’
‘How’d you know?’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘Wild guess.’ She went to climb the fence but must have realised there was no brick wall on his side as she stopped and looked around.
‘Here, I’ll give you a boost.’ Zac intertwined his hands and she placed her foot on it. His hands barely moved under her weight.
‘Or you could walk around the gate like a normal person,’ April joked.
‘I’m not normal,’ she said, heaving herself up and over, landing back in April’s yard.
‘Have fun?’ April asked.
‘Sure did. Thanks, Zac.’ She waved, and he waved back.
‘Have a good night,’ he said.
‘Hey, do you want to come too?’ Zoe asked.
Oh man! Now she’d really have to tell her everything.
Zac and April’s gaze connected and she mouthed ‘sorry’.
‘Thanks ladies, but it’s a quiet night in for me and Juliet.’ He smiled and stepped onto his deck, his cat following him.
How did he do that?
‘Goodnight,’ Zoe said, and April ushered her back inside before she asked him to reveal his life story and declare if he had feelings for her friend.
‘Zoe, God, I thought I’d never get you away from him!’
‘If you don’t want him I’ll have him.’
‘No. Leave him be.’ She grabbed her handbag. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Seriously, why you’re not jumping him at every available opportunity I have no idea, girl.’
‘He’s an alcoholic, alright?’ Oops. Blurt number three thousand and forty seven of her adult life.
Zoe’s mouth gaped. ‘Are you serious?’
She nodded. ‘Sober for eight months.’
‘So he’s recovered.’
‘Recovering,’ she said. ‘He’ll never be “recovered”, he said that himself.’
‘That doesn’t mean he’ll go back to drinking, just that he can never have a drink without risking it, right?’
‘Apparently,’ she said weakly.
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘I know some go on to stay sober for the rest of their lives, but I also know many don’t. And Zac, he’s been through a lot. I mean, a lot. There’s a lot that could trigger him.’
Zoe’s brow furrowed and she linked her arm in April’s. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I think we have a lot to dis
cuss.’
* * *
After an hour of dinnertime discussion at Café Lagoon, in which April had talked further about Zac’s history as well as the latest on her dad, Zoe had advised she had three options: either stay friends and avoid giving into temptation, forget avoiding him and have a one-night or one-month stand, or move elsewhere and try her luck with internet dating once again. ‘What it all boils down to,’ Zoe said, ‘is living in the moment and going with the flow, or being cautious and avoiding getting hurt, which, although safer, could also involve avoiding what could be an amazing experience that could help you move forward in life.’
‘I’m not convinced you’re making this any easier,’ she said.
Zoe called Jonah over to the table. ‘Does the barista have any advice for the candle seller?’ Zoe asked.
‘Advice on what?’ he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. He’d had a haircut, April noticed. Most shaved off, number three, like Zac. He looked somewhat older now.
‘Should April live in the moment and take a few risks, or live with caution and stay safe?’
‘You’re not talking about climbing Everest or anything are you? Or backpacking around the Australian outback?’
‘Um, no, definitely not,’ she said.
‘In that case, live cautiously in the moment.’ He grinned. ‘No really, live in the moment, otherwise, you’re always scared something bad’s gonna happen. Who wants to live in fear like that?’
April allowed his words to absorb into her mind. But bad things did happen.
‘When I was travelling around Europe,’ he said, ‘some of the best times I had were the unplanned ones. The risky ones, too. I had a plan for some things, but plans often change, and you just have to go with it. Trust life.’
She didn’t know if she could do that.
‘You’re very smart and insightful for a young dude,’ Zoe said.
‘It’s the coffee,’ he said. ‘It’s magic.’ He winked, walking back to behind the counter, singing some song she didn’t recognise because she hadn’t listened to any songs for so long.
Truth Chicken and now Magic Coffee. If the coffee could tell her the future, she’d drink bucket loads of it.
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