Love to Hate You

by Jo Watson

  My dad had gotten fired shortly after we’d been evicted. He’d worked in the City Council accounts department. “Suspected fraud,” they’d said. That little tit-bit even managed to make the local papers, so, not only did we have nothing, but everyone knew about it too. It’s amazing how people look at you differently when they learn your father is a criminal. It’s amazing how friends suddenly disappear. And it’s amazing how quickly you get taunted and teased in the schoolyard by all the cool girls who start looking at you as if you’re nothing.

  But my mother stuck by him, and, with the little savings she had, she threw all of it into lawyers for my dad when it was blatantly obvious to everyone he was guilty. At the time I hoped he would go to jail, so that we could get on with our lives without him, but he got off on some kind of technicality that I’m yet to understand.

  I’d also naively hoped that my mother would finally leave him, especially when the court case started and she’d caught him gambling again and sleeping with another hooker. But she hadn’t. When we were kicked out of our house, the few relatives we did have offered us a place to stay. On one condition, though: that my father didn’t stay with us—he’d stolen things and “borrowed” money from just about everyone we knew. But she’d turned down all the offers because she wanted to “stick by her man.” That’s how we’d landed in that trailer park.

  A part of me hated my mother for that, even though JJ kept reminding me that she was just as sick as him, but I still couldn’t help it. If I had a child, they would come first. I wouldn’t choose some drunken, stealing, lying, cheating, gambling addict, criminal over the safety and welfare of my own children. My children would always come first. I bet Li-Hau’s father put her first, and I bet that was the reason she was such a smart, savvy little girl without a care in the world. I bet she wouldn’t have to grow up ashamed and embarrassed by her family—let down by the parents who were supposed to protect her from hurt.

  When I arrived home, I immediately saw an envelope with my name on it stuck to my front door. I smiled because I knew exactly who it was from. Ben had a very distinctive handwriting: it was big, bold and curly. I looked in the direction of his door. The light outside was off and I wondered if he was still awake. If the rumors were true, maybe he didn’t sleep. I opened the envelope and a strange card fell out.

  “Tap Code,” it read. I glanced over the chart of numbers and letters quickly.

  What the hell was that? I was still trying to figure out what it meant when I got to my bedroom and turned on the shower. All I wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep, but, when I did, I heard a tap on the wall.

  I jumped, suddenly realizing what “Tap Code” meant. I smiled to myself—Ben, Ben, Ben—he had to be the most unique person I’d ever met. I studied the card and counted the taps.

  “Hi,” he had tapped.

  “Hi,” I tapped back. It was a slow, laborious process.

  “How U?” I heard the tap come back.

  “Tired,” I responded.

  There was a pause before I heard the next one.

  “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”

  I swooned, a proper melting swoon that made all my limbs and face feel like jelly.

  “X,” he tapped again. The swooning increased to critical levels. I was contemplating sending him an X back, but it seemed like a big deal. So I didn’t.

  “Y.” I tapped.

  There was a pause, and I knew Ben well enough by then to know he was probably amused by this.

  “Z,” he tapped back, before the tapping went silent.

  I stared at the dark ceiling with a smile plastered across my face. He was good at this. He was a pro-flirter. If flirting and wooing were an Olympic sport, he would win the gold. I just hoped he was being serious; that this wasn’t some kind of sport for him—because I was seriously starting to feel a little giddy and intoxicated by it all.

  20. SNOW WHITE …

  I woke up early the next day and contemplated tapping on the wall again, but thought better of it. At nine on a Saturday morning, most normal people were still asleep. So I took my coffee, bundled myself up in a knitted hat and scarf and went to the tree. I was secretly hoping to bump into Li-Hau again, and I wasn’t disappointed. She was picking flowers this time and she turned and flashed me a big grin. She wasn’t alone this time, though.

  “Hi,” I said as I moved to sit on the bench. I turned to the woman that was with her and greeted her, but Li-Hau jumped in.

  “This is my nanny Lerato, her name means love.”

  “Hi, Lerato,” I said.

  “And you’re the Snow White I’ve heard about?” Lerato asked with a smile on her face.

  “I believe so.”

  “Lerato came to help me cut flowers, my dad says that an adult should always help you with scissors and that you should never run with them.”

  Dad of the year strikes again. She was dressed head to toe in pink. A bright pink tracksuit, pink Adidas sneakers and a large pink scarf. She also had her tutu over her pants.

  “I like your outfit.” JJ would kill for a tracksuit like that.

  “Here,” she said as she stepped forward to give me a white daisy. I felt a tiny lump develop in my throat. This little girl had such an effect on me.

  “Thanks, it’s beautiful.”

  “My dad says I’m not allowed to cut too many flowers because I must be environmental to the earth.”

  And at that, I actually burst out laughing. Who was this man? Did he also rescue stray puppies in his spare time? Feed the homeless, read to the blind?

  “Your dad’s right!”

  “I know. He’s always right,” she said holding up a mixture of white and yellow daisies in her hand.

  “You should come to my birthday party,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s very sweet of you. But I could only come if your mom and dad invited me.”

  “Okay. I will give you an official invitation then.” She flashed me another grin. “I need to put these in water,” she said again before skipping off. I smiled and looked up at Lerato.

  “Bundle of energy!” she said with a smile.

  “I can see,”—time for some intelligence gathering—“So are you just visiting?” I asked.

  She nodded. “We live in Rosebank.”

  “Okay.” I said, slightly disappointed that I wouldn’t be bumping into hot Super-Dad. She was obviously visiting relatives, or family friends.

  Lerato got up and followed after Li-Hau.

  “See you around,” I said and waved at them as they went.

  I sat sipping my coffee and looking at the flowers. Strange, I’d never noticed them before. Kids always have that effect on you. They make you see the world slightly differently. I finished my coffee and went over and picked an orange one.

  Of course when I went upstairs I had to regale JJ with the latest pink princess story.

  “We need to find out more about this father,” JJ said. “I think I’m in love.”

  “Stop it. You’re incorrigible,” Bruce snapped and shot him a look.

  I laughed. “I must say I’m curious myself. If I get an invite to her party, I’ll definitely go, even if it’s just to lay eyes on this legend. I wonder what her mom is like? She hardly mentions her.”

  “Maybe she’s just a daddy’s girl. Like me,” JJ cooed.

  It was true, JJ was a full-blown “daddy’s girl.” His father was the one who’d encouraged him to come leaping out of the closet. Apparently he’d known his son was gay since the age of twelve. His father, at the age of sixty-seven, had even come to Gay Pride last year wearing a shirt that said, “Gay sons are fun!” It had garnered so much attention that a photographer had taken a photo of them that ended up in the Gay Times. The article was framed and hanging on the wall. Bruce’s deeply religious dad had not been so accepting though, and they barely spoke. Parents! They really have the power to shape you. Make you, or break you.

  21. LOVE TO HATE IT …

  I was grateful my day had star
ted with Li-Hau and the guys because it was the crappiest Saturday I’d had in a while. My mother was not to be reasoned with, at all. Dad had promised not to gamble again and—surprise fucking surprise—she was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

  Fortunately I got to spend some time with my sister.

  Katie had one year left at school before she went off to University—Medical School being the goal. After shopping for her books, we stopped to grab a cup of coffee.

  “So, I printed out the bursary forms for Med school,” she said, sliding them across the table. “I want to apply as soon as possible. They only award fifty scholarships a year. Competition is tough.”

  I read over the papers knowing that if anyone was going to get her through Med School, that responsibility lay solely on my shoulders. The papers indicated that they didn’t pay the full amount. They contributed one third of the fee, meaning you had to fork out the other third. Not to mention all the additional costs too. I felt a stab of panic in my chest, but tried hard not to show it. Katie already felt awful enough about taking money from me.

  “Obviously I’ll get a job too,” she offered.

  “No. You must focus on your studies. Med school will be too hectic for you to work on the side. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

  I had no idea how the hell that was going to happen. To rustle up that kind of money was going to be hard—near impossible. There was only so much work I could do at the restaurant. When the reality of this set in, it made me realize just how dangerous something like dating the boss could be. What was the thing they always say about work relationships?

  I just wasn’t sure I could take that risk, now that I realized just how insane my responsibilities were going to become moving forward. The only way I would be able to pay for my sister is if I was offered a permanent job at the agency and my salary increased and I worked full time at the restaurant. I had been hoping to move out of JJ and Bruce’s at some stage. I couldn’t live there forever.

  But Ben was going to be the one deciding who got the job, and the idea of being promoted by him … well, something about that felt strange. And if Becks found out we’d been together, or worse, were dating, I’m sure she’d have grounds for some kind of sexual discrimination in the workplace case. Not to mention the fact that if everyone found out about us, they’d forever be looking at me wondering why I got the job. Was it because I deserved it, or was it because I’d slept with the boss? Maybe Ben wouldn’t hire me at all, for fear that it would look bad if anyone found out? Shit!

  I took a deep breath. The anxiety crushing down on my chest right now was so intense and I felt like I was about to crumble under it. “Let me take these papers home and read over them, okay?” I took the forms and slipped them into my bag, and it felt instantly heavier.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to get a job?” Katie asked.

  “Katie, listen, the best thing you can do is get the best marks possible, that’s what’s going to get you this bursary. Just focus on your studies and let me take care of the rest.”

  My sister hugged me. It was little things like this that kept me going.

  The financial forms weighed heavily in my bag and on my mind, along with the constant conflicting thoughts about Ben, as I ran around the restaurant feeling more exhausted than I’d felt in a while. I also noticed the extra hundred bucks that “someone” had slipped into my wallet that morning. Under normal circumstances I would have marched the money back into the house and back into the wallet from whence it came, but circumstances were not normal right now and I accepted it graciously.

  By the end of my shift I had worn myself out with vacillating thoughts about Ben, and because JJ had told ALL the regular patrons about him and his relentless asking me out, every table had a suggestion.

  “Babe, you have to go for it.”

  “If you don’t go out with him I will.”

  “Don’t be a Nancy and just say yes.”

  I walked away shaking my head. It was all just too much for one person to deal with. Just as I was wrapping up and feeling totally grateful that I was leaving the peanut gallery behind, my phone vibrated in my pocket …

  Unknown number: How’s the thinking going?

  Sera: Ben?

  Unknown number: WHO ELSE ARE U THINKING OF GOING OUT WITH?!?

  I smiled to myself. This was too fun and suddenly all those reasons I had earlier for not going out with Ben, seemed to melt away.

  Sera: Actually, there are several other prospects I am currently considering.

  Unknown number: WHO?

  I paused for a while thinking about a clever retort, but before I could …

  Unknown number: They can’t be as terribly good-looking and funny and charming as me.

  Sera: Definitely not as arrogant.

  Unknown number: You secretly love it.

  Sera: Nope. Hate it.

  Unknown Number: Please … You love to hate it.

  My face broke out into a smile … what did that even mean?

  Sera: So how did you get my number you sick psycho stalker.

  Unknown number: One of the many perks of being the boss man and having access to employee’s private files.

  Sera: And how many other employees are you sexually harassing?

  Unknown number: Just you.

  God, I wanted to believe that so badly. But at the same time I remembered the conclusions that I’d come up with earlier today. Dating the boss was a very bad idea, leading to potential financial ruin and no Med school for my sister. I took a deep breath, shook my head and tried to snap myself out it.

  Sera: I don’t know, Ben. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.

  Unknown number: Wrong answer, Sera.

  Sera: Wow. Bossy!

  Unknown number: Sera, you have no idea how bossy I can be …

  Sera: Maybe I’m not as easily pushed around as all the other girls.

  Unknown number: I know. And that’s why I’m in love with you.

  Sera: You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that.

  Unknown number: Who said I’m joking?

  Sera: You’re not in love with me. You hardly know me.

  Unknown number: I know everything I need to know about you.

  Sera: Like what?

  There was a pause, a long one, as I watched my phone and saw that he was typing. The tension grew and grew as the typing seemed to go on forever. Finally, when I was just about to explode like a champagne cork out of a bottle, the message came through …

  Unknown number: I know what it feels like to be inside you. I know what it feels like to hold you. I know what it feels like to eat breakfast with you. What it feels like to stare at you from my desk. I know what it feels like knowing that you’re sleeping so close to me.

  Holy Shit! I felt like I had just had the wind knocked out of me. I gasped, trying to get air into my lungs. That might actually have just been the most inappropriate, but simultaneously sexiest, thing anyone had ever said about me.

  Unknown number: Just give me one date, Sera.

  Sera: One?

  Unknown number: One is all I need.

  I sighed. Every time I thought I had my mind vaguely made up about him, he seemed to change it with his magical charms.

  Sera: I’ll think about it.

  Unknown number: That’s still the wrong answer, Sera.

  Sera: Sorry. That’s the only answer I can give you right now. Besides, give me one good reason why I should go out with you?

  There was another long pause as I watched him typing, and then stopping. Typing, stopping. Finally the message came through.

  Unknown number: Okay. Enjoy the rest of your night.

  I looked at my phone and blinked. That wasn’t the response I’d been expecting and I wondered what reasons he’d typed, and then deleted.

  22. THE GLOW OF LUSTY-NESS

  I was in full, mundane Sunday morning swing when I passed Ben in the underground parking garage. Typical! I was dressed in my Sunday wor
st, hair piled up under an old cap that read, “Cobra Exhaust pipes,” some ridiculous thing our clients had sent us all. They thought it was a stroke of creative genius, though, the way the picture of the exhaust pipe reared up and morphed into a snake. I was carrying a basket of my dirty laundry, undergarments included, and in the other hand I had a black bag full of bottles for recycling.

  “Well, hello there.” His voice had this ability to stop my world. It was utter madness, but every time I heard it, I felt transported out of myself, de-atomized, scrambled and then reassembled like a sci-fi transporter beam. I turned and found him standing only a few feet away from me, how had he managed to get so close to me?

  He, on the other hand, was not dressed in his Sunday worst. He was sporting some full dapper suited look that was enough to turn ordinary woman into blithering idiots.

  “Ben!” I said.

  “Sera. Sera De La Haye.” He looked me up and down and smiled and I suddenly became very aware of what I was wearing.

  “Laundry Sunday,” I said defensively, tugging on my oversized shirt.

  “It’s a good look for you.” He took a step closer, reached out and stuck a finger through the hole in my shirt. (The classy one that I’d gotten free with that box of washing detergent about ten years ago.) His finger grazed my stomach and my skin pebbled in response to it.

  “They’re not pink, though, but they’re just as sexy.” His voice dripped with sex and filth and danger.

  “Huh?” I followed his eyes down to where they were currently fixated and saw the white cotton panties on top of the laundry pile. I quickly shoved them into my pocket, which only caused his smile to grow.

  “You’re such a pervert,” I said, trying to avert my eyes from that deadly, quicksand smile that you could get stuck in if you didn’t have your wits about you.

  “So, have you done much thinking overnight?”

  I tried to stop my smile, “Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t spend all my spare time thinking about you, Ben.”

  “Really?” he asked. “That little smile on our face seems to suggest otherwise.”