Love to Hate You

by Jo Watson

  “You caught him off guard,” JJ offered. “What would you have done in that situation? What if it was him walking in on you, on some crazy run-of-the-mill Saturday night with your dad being dragged off by the police? You would be the first to pretend you didn’t know the guy and lie about who he was.”

  “I … uh …” I couldn’t defend that. It was totally true.

  “Let’s be honest here, Sera. How many people have you lied to about who your family are, all because you don’t want to be judged?” JJ wasn’t mincing his words, and if anyone else in the world had said something like that to me, I would have been offended. But how could I be offended if he was right. I’d told so many lies about who my parents were and where I was from. I’d even gone as far as telling the girls at my new school, the one I’d tried to make a fresh start at, that my dad was dead when he was actually spending time in jail.

  “I’m kind of on JJ’s side here, I mean, how long did it take for you to tell Schnitzel about your family and why you were always having to rush off in the middle of the night?”

  “His name was Manfred, not Schnitzel!” I looked over at the guys and rolled my eyes. My ex-boyfriend had been German which had automatically landed him with the name “Schnitzel.” “At least it’s not Weiner,” JJ had said when I’d complained about it.

  “So what are you guys trying to say here? That I’m also a bad person because I lied about my family?”

  “Hey!” Bruce held his hand up. “No one is a bad person here, least of all our Sera. Personally, I think Ben’s a nice guy who’s made some terrible mistakes that he’s genuinely sorry for. We’ve all made mistakes. I’m not saying you should forgive him and just go out with him but …” He shrugged. “Well, I can’t tell you what to do. We’ll support you in whatever you decide.”

  I nodded slowly. “And everything at work? How can I go back there when everyone knows and hates me and thinks I’m slutting my way to the top?”

  “They don’t hate you, they are all just jealous bitches.” JJ clicked his fingers.

  “But they know. And they think I fucked that photographer too.”

  “Dolce Delish.” JJ suddenly burst out laughing and Bruce quickly followed.

  “Schnitzel and Dolce Delish … what’s with you and these European men?” Bruce and JJ were still laughing.

  “I think the real question is what’s with you two naming the men in my life after foodstuffs?”

  “That is so totally untrue. We’ve been secretly calling Ben the panty smuggler behind your back!” JJ said and the two then roared with even more laughter.

  I shook my head with an amused smile and waited for the hyenas to taper off. When they finally did, “Now that you’ve stopped laughing at my expense, can we get serious again about work.” They both nodded and tried to wipe the smiles off their faces. “I just don’t think I can go back to work.”

  “Well, don’t then,” Bruce offered.

  “Great idea. I’ll just have to substitute my income by standing on the corner of Oxford Street with all those other girls. JJ, I’ll have to borrow some of your whore heels though.” I threw the wine back. It was a joke. Sort of. Because if I didn’t have that job anymore, then how the hell was I going to make enough money every month? There were only so many burgers and drinks you could serve.

  “The guy next door finally sold his shop. And we bought it.” Bruce sounded triumphant.

  “What?” I gasped. “That’s great.”

  “We were going to tell you tonight and have a bit of a cele,” JJ said.

  “I can’t believe it. That’s amazing.”

  “And there’s going to be a shitload to do. We want to set up a coffee shop asap, capitalize on lunch and breakfast,” Bruce said excitedly.

  “Morroccan inspired. Cushions on the floor, those low tables, intricate mosaic walls, those big brass chandelier lights and crazy strong coffee that will have everyone addicted,” JJ continued as if he already had the whole thing planned in his head.

  “Sounds amazing,” I said.

  “We’ll even hire one of those hot barristers with a big sexy beard who’ll draw all those coffee-loving hipsters in,” JJ added with a naughty smile.

  I laughed. “Aren’t you guys cool.”

  “And you’ll run it and get it all set up,” Bruce added.

  “What?”

  “You know this business inside out and we trust you. Besides, you’ll have the world’s best bosses who you don’t even have to sleep with to get the job.”

  “Ha ha,” I said sarcastically.

  “It’ll be so much fun,” JJ chorused.

  I smiled. “It does sound nice.” But anything other than going into work on Monday sounded nice. Anything to avoid Ben and all those prying eyes.

  I nodded. “When do we get started?” I asked.

  47. Bad Can Be Very Good …

  It was three in the morning and I was still staring at the ceiling. JJ’s words had been playing over and over in my head like a stuck record, and I’d been tossing and turning and getting in and out of bed all night. I even got up and started cleaning my room in a desperate attempt to clear my mind. What would I have done had the roles been reversed?

  I hadn’t told Ben everything about myself either, for the exact same reason he hadn’t told me. We were the same in that way—so how could I be angry at him for something I was doing too? But that still didn’t stop all the intense emotions I was having right now. It was a mixture of a million different feelings that were hard to piece together and understand. I was confused. About him, about the way I felt about him, about everything … that is, except for one thing. I was crystal clear about one thing alone.

  I opened my laptop and started writing a formal resignation letter. Once done, I hovered over the send key for a moment, hesitating. But just for a second. I quickly pressed send and watched as the mail disappeared with a whoosh. I was just about to shut my computer when I heard a ping.

  It was from Ben. I opened the mail and there were only five words.

  “I don’t accept your resignation.” My blood boiled and my fingers returned to the keys.

  “I’ve already got a new job. I won’t be coming in on Monday.”

  A message flew back almost instantly. “You signed an employment contract that said you would give three months’ written notice.”

  The mail made me furious and I started typing again. “Sue me,” I wrote and sent the mail back.

  “Maybe I will.” Ben’s response shot into my inbox.

  “Go for it. See if I care.” I blasted it off.

  “You do care.”

  “Trust me, I don’t. And besides, what right do you have to be angry with me??!!!”

  There was a long pause in the messages and I bit down on my nail in anticipation. Why did I feel this way? Why did I care so much, and dislike him so intensely all at the same time?

  Knock. Knock.

  I looked up in panic as I heard the knock on the front door. It was three in the morning, for God’s sake. I marched over to the door and opened it quickly knowing exactly who it was.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss-whispered.

  “Not accepting your resignation.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” I said.

  “What job have you got?”

  “None of your business.” I folded my arms.

  “You’re one of my best people, I don’t want to lose you.” The fiery look in his eye and the tone of his voice changed. “You’re really good at what you do, Sera. Your internship is nearly over and you’re the one who’s getting the permanent job. And then you’ll be able to start growing a real career, and because you’ll be earning more, maybe you won’t need to work at the restaurant as much, you could finally get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’m getting the job?” I asked.

  “You’re way better than Becks, and you’re a harder worker.”

  I shook my head. “But don’t you see, Ben. I could never accept a pro
motion from you, now that everyone knows. They’ll all assume I got it because I fucked you.”

  “Well, you didn’t. You got it because you’re good.”

  “Everyone else won’t see it that way.”

  “Let them think what they like about you.”

  “No!” I looked up. “That’s your thing, not giving a fuck about what people think of you. All those mysterious rumors and urban legends about you. That is not me. I don’t want to be whispered about and gossiped about.”

  “I give a fuck about what you think of me. I give a big fuck,” Ben quickly said.

  I sighed and shook my head. “But that’s not the only reason, and you know that. With everything that’s happened between us, I can’t work for you anymore. You make me crazy. You make me irrational and insane and it’s not good. For either of us.”

  “Insane is good.” Ben took a step closer to me.

  “No! Insane is very, very bad,” I said.

  “And bad can be very good too.”

  “Oh stop it! Just stop it with all your weird contradictory little mysterious statements … love to hate you, fuck you or marry you. They are ridiculous. And make no sense whatsoever. You make no sense. We make no sense. And don’t say something like making no sense makes sense or some crap like that.”

  Ben smiled at me, “There’s my fiery Sera.”

  “My? I’m not yours, and besides, a few hours ago you were telling me what bad news you were and how I shouldn’t date you.”

  “That is still totally true. I would kill a guy like me if my daughter brought him home.”

  “Huh? You see, that makes no sense again.” I re-folded my arms as Ben took another presumptuous step forward.

  “My life is fucked up and I’m totally imperfect. But I also think that we’re perfect for each other.” He took another step forward and I knew I had to stop this immediately.

  “It’s late, Ben. I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

  “Sure.” He nodded slowly. “Can we pick this up in the morning?”

  “Pick what up?”

  “This conversation, there is still so much I want to say to you.”

  “You’ve said enough, Ben. Trust me, you’ve said enough to last you a hundred lifetimes. Goodnight.” I started pushing him out and closing the door, but he blocked me.

  “Ben! Please. Let’s just call it a night.”

  He opened his mouth and looked like he was about to give one last big plea, but stopped himself.

  “Goodnight, Sera.”

  48: Snooping And Sneaking …

  It was seven in the morning, way too early for a normal person to be up and about on a Sunday, but I was. Mainly because I hadn’t slept at all. I’d replayed the conversations we’d had over and over again. The one at the party, the one outside the restaurant and then again at the door.

  God, so much can happen in a week and I bundled all my laundry together, wrapped myself up in extra scarfs and put two warm tops on and waddled down to the laundry room. I hated the fact the laundry room was in the basement parking lot, which was as cold as a morgue in winter. And then to top it off, the washing lines were on the roof—they couldn’t be further away if they tried.

  I walked into the washing room and immediately saw it. A portable CD player. What the hell was it doing here? I walked over to the thing and looked down at it.

  “Press Play.”

  A note written by Ben was stuck to the top of it. I reluctantly reached out and pressed play, nervous of what the hell I was going to hear. Suddenly a cheesy Justin Bieber song filled the room, something about saying sorry and now he was yodeling about her body, or something.

  His voice echoed around the room. I cringed and then I skipped to the next song and more music …

  An eighties power ballad filled the tiny room, like the singer’s massive perm probably would if she was standing here. Her gruff voice warbled about more forgiveness and …

  I quickly skipped and was suddenly confronted with Meatloaf himself, vowing to do all sorts of things for love, except …

  I stopped the CD and stared down at the player. I didn’t really know what to think about this? A CD full of sorry songs wasn’t exactly going to make it all better. I pushed the CD player aside and loaded the washing machine. I sat on top of it waiting for the cycle to be over while munching my way through a bar of “sugar free” chocolate and drinking a cup of coffee which had also been conveniently left for me.

  Suddenly the sound of a little girl’s voice could be heard echoing through the room. I knew exactly who it was.

  I climbed off the machine and stuck my head around the corner, just in time to see Ben and Li climbing out of his car. She was giggling and so was he. I stayed there and watched him interact with his daughter. I wanted to watch him, as if inspecting him might give me some of the answers to the questions I had about him. I also wanted to watch him because despite everything that had happened, I just couldn’t help myself from being drawn to him.

  I studied every little thing about it. The way he held her hand softly as they walked, the way his eyes lit up when he looked down at her, the way her entire face lit up when she looked up at him. Suddenly the machine stopped and a bell started going off. I saw Ben’s head lift and look in my direction. He caught my eyes briefly and smiled. I jumped back behind the wall.

  Half an hour later I was standing on the freezing cold roof, trying to hang my delicates in the only beam of sunlight penetrating the gloomy winter’s day. I had just finished and was almost frozen from the wind when I heard that familiar laugh again. I moved over to the side railing and looked down. Ben and Li were playing in the garden together. He was chasing her around and she was giggling. I sighed. I wanted to turn away and stop watching, but couldn’t. In fact, I wanted to see more.

  So I took the lift down to the bottom floor again and then tried to creep silently into the garden. There was a small path running against the wall at the back of the rose bushes. If I crept against the wall, I would pop out by the tree and I could see properly. So I put my back to the wall and started sliding across it.

  Oh scarf. Oh long, woolen, fluffy scarf that is not conducive to creeping through thorny bushes. I felt it tug as it got caught behind me on some devilish-looking thorns. I turned to undo it and the other side swung out and straight into another bunch of thorns. Both ends of my scarf were now trapped, and every time I leaned over to deal with one side, I pulled the other side even tighter. The more I moved, the worse it got. Maybe if I bent down and lifted it over my head? But as I pulled—hard—the one side yanked against the rose bush, snapping the branch and causing the scarf to slap me in the face.

  “Fuck!” I quickly ducked in anticipation of the thorny branch plummeting into my eye. Luckily it didn’t.

  “That’s not a very nice word,” the little singsong voice said. My hands were still over my face to protect against the thorns. I pulled them down and there she was, and he too for that matter. Both staring at me.

  “My dad says that you should never say that word.”

  I looked up at Ben and he had an awkward smile on his face.

  “Well, your dad is right.”

  “Dad is right about all things,” Li said with an adoring tone in her voice.

  “Well, maybe not all things,” I said gently, “but he is right about that bad word.”

  “No, I’m right about all things,” Ben said teasingly.

  “No, I don’t think you are.” I forced a little laugh. “No one can be right about all things.”

  “No! My dad is right about everything.” Li spoke loudly and sounded wildly protective.

  “Hahah, yes, you’re probably right,” I conceded. I wasn’t going to argue with a six-year-old who adored her father more than pink tutus and shiny things.

  “So, what brings you to the rose bushes so early on a Sunday morning?” Ben folded his arms and looked at me, his brow furrowing in a curious questioning manner.

  “I was going to prune them,” I
said as fast as possible. It was the first thing that had come to mind—the fact that I was without garden shears was merely an irrelevant detail that hopefully Ben was going to overlook … not likely.

  “I didn’t know you were into gardening.”

  I nodded. “Yup. I love pruning roses.”

  “Like you love running ten miles in the morning.” Ben smiled. My heart skipped a beat as I watched his whole face change as that naughty, skew smile lit up his eyes once more.

  “Ben!” I suddenly declared for no reason whatsoever.

  “Sera. Sera De La Haye.”

  “Mmmm. Ben. Ben White.”

  “So we meet again,” he said.

  I looked at him, shook my head slightly in disapproval and shrugged. “It would seem so.”

  “You know, it’s rather apt that you’re lurking in the rose bushes, because did you know that your surname comes from the old French word ‘haye’, meaning ‘hedge?’”

  “Really?” I was unconvinced.

  “I Googled it,” he said. “If you don’t believe me you can check.”

  “That’s okay, I believe you,” I quickly replied.

  “By the way, weren’t you also down in the laundry room earlier?” he asked.

  I nodded. “That was me. Doing the laundry.”

  “Very diligent of you.”

  “I try.” I folded my arms trying to look casual and not look like a person that had just been busted for snooping and sneaking and general creepy stalker behavior.

  “Happen to listen to any good music latterly?”

  “Mmmm, not that I can recall,” I said quickly. “But thanks for asking.”

  “Pleasure.” He smiled at me and I couldn’t help my tiny smile in response.

  “And now?” He looked at my scarf.

  “I seem to be a bit stuck,” I said.

  “Why don’t you just take the pruning shears and cut that other branch it’s hooked on.”

  “The pruning shears,” I repeated.

  “You do have some, I presume?” He was gleefully toying with me once more. He knew it and I knew it.

  “I wish!” I pursed my lips together and glared at him in a way that implied that if I did, I might be forced to use them on him.