by Liana Key
"Magdala," I said softly, "Magdala?" She shrugged my hand off and shifted over a fraction, trying to create distance from me. I heard Jakey sigh, I imagined him biting his lip, resisting the urge to yell at me again. I felt a throb behind my swollen eye, tried to ignore it, hoping my retina wasn't detaching or something.
"I'm sorry, Magdala, so sorry," I continued, trying to keep my voice calm, controlled. "Forgive me please baby girl," I said, using Jakey's nickname for her. Jakey cleared his throat, obviously not pleased with my choice of words.
"Cash," she said, and I thought, prayed she would give me redemption, but she spoke clearly, concisely, "I told you to go. And I meant it. Just go." There was no misinterpreting her tone, her intention, and Jakey's hand was on my shoulder, indicating for me to get out of there. When I didn't move straight away, his touch became a push. I bent down, kissed her hair and whispered, "I love you Magdala, I'm sorry, so sorry." But there was no reaction, no acknowledgement from her.
Jakey's impatience had him forcing me up and out of the room, sitting back down in my place now, giving me his best haughty expression. Raff followed me out.
"I think it's best if you go home," he said, and surprisingly his look was of disdain for me too. It seemed I'd sunk down in everyone's estimations. "Me or Jakey will stay with her," he added with authority, making me feel like an outsider in my own home. I nodded, went to my room and threw a few clothes into a bag, though really I didn't need to. I still had plenty of clothes at home. I was stalling, delaying, hoping Jakey would come out and say she had changed her mind. I grabbed my backpack, checked for my laptop, some schoolbooks, chargers.
"You be okay to drive?" Raff asked.
I nodded, and the throbbing eye seemed to make itself known again. I picked up my keys, just looked at Raff, who gave me a look of What are you waiting for?
"See you later," he said, trying to nudge me out the door. I supposed he was about to announce with glee that I'd gone.
"Yeah, see you." I reluctantly left.
I stood just inside the front door for a few moments, trying to listen for sounds where Dad and Antonia might be. Not hearing anything, I snuck down to my room, went straight to the bathroom to inspect my face. Fuck. I had so badly messed up that I felt physically and mentally drained, and I went to my bed and just flopped down on it, not knowing how I was going to fix anything.
My door opened, the light switched on and Dad stood there. I sat up in a flash. He stared for a few seconds, surveying my wrecked face and sighed, "What the fuck have you done?"
I didn't answer, just hung my head in shame, obviously Jakey or Raff had phoned him.
"I fucked up big time," I said, eyes looking down. "Magdala hates me."
"Raff said she's hurting," he said, sitting on my bed. "That eye all right?"
I sniffed and nodded, "Yeah." The eye was really the least of my worries. That would heal. Magdala, I wasn't so sure.
"What were you doing with Paola?" he asked, frustration in his voice.
I shrugged, still couldn't look at him. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" Disbelief now.
"I'm a fucking idiot, I know," I said, may as well admit it to him. "I know I fucking deserved it. I don't know what's fucking wrong with me."
"Cash," he said surprisingly gentle, "we all make mistakes."
"She's going to marry him," I said, and realized then that my anguish was two-fold. That I was hurting over Magdala, but also over Paola. She was lost to me. She really was moving on, she really did love him. Reality, truth flooded over me, and if Dad hadn't been there I probably would have started to cry. But around Dad, I had to keep control, and I swallowed hard and said, "It's really over between us."
I half expected Dad to say something like, Good job or There was only ever going to be one outcome or something to insinuate it was a doomed relationship anyway, but he said, "Life sucks sometimes, Cash. You take the good with the bad. You play with the hand you're dealt." He liked a good card analogy. In my head I was thinking of Yoda's quote, "Failed, I have." But I didn't say it out loud.
"I don't want Magdala hating me," I said, "how do I fix it with her?"
Dad patted my back. "Give her time."
"I said some pretty disgusting things," I confessed, though I hoped he wouldn't ask me what.
"She adores you Cash. She'll come around." I wished I had his confidence. He took a closer look at my eye. "You didn't get a concussion?" he asked with concern.
"I don't think so," I replied, shaking my head.
"Well take some Advil," he said and I nodded, and I didn't even bother to shower, I just undressed and hopped into bed. I checked my phone. Raff had texted that Jakey was staying with Magdala. And there was a text from Paola, forty five minutes ago. It said: are u ok? Is your eye ok?
I looked at it, looked at the previous texts.
Me: I'm in the neighborhood.
Her: back door open.
I deleted them. Went into her contact details and deleted her.
PAOLA
I got no reply from my text that night and to be honest that surprised me. I just wanted an acknowledgment, just a Yes, I'm okay. My heart longed to know how he was, felt sick at not knowing, and I tossed and turned with little sleep, ridiculously checking my phone on the hour, even considering texting him at two in the morning. God, when would my obsession diminish, could it diminish?
At six thirty I texted again: Cassian, plz are u ok? Need to know.
I waited, and waited. Maybe he was still asleep, maybe he'd taken medication, strong medication and was out like a light. I made up all sorts of excuses. Maybe his phone wasn't charged, maybe he was out of credit. There was no point in staying in bed, my mind, my life in such a muddle. I showered, put on some coffee, allowed myself the luxury of making scrambled eggs. Sat down and turned on Good Morning America. I knew I had done these things because I was awaiting a call from Marcus. So that when he asked, What are you doing or What have you done I would have a reasonable answer. Oh I cooked some eggs for breakfast, or I'm just watching the tv news.
Sure enough his call came at eight thirty, so I assumed he'd just got to work.
"Good morning babe," he said and I took that as a positive, even though his tone wasn't matching the words. It sounded like he'd slept as poorly as me.
"Good morning," I injected a degree of brightness into my voice, "how did you sleep?"
"Not the greatest," he admitted, "and you?"
"Not bad," I lied.
"What are you doing?"
"I've just made some scrambled eggs and I'm just watching tv," I said, smirking at my own cleverness.
"Can we meet for lunch babe?" he asked.
"I'd like that," I said, and we arranged a time and place. I fluttered around for the rest of the morning, mundane chores such as laundry, dusting, scrubbing the shower box. I straightened my hair, knowing Marcus liked it that way, though so did Cassian. I dressed in some skinny jeans and a cute top with a low neckline, accentuating my best features and then slipped on some heels. I knew I had to dress to impress.
I was already sitting at the cafe when he arrived. I didn't stand, he bent down to kiss my cheek, almost as if our fight had been forgotten. But he sat and sighed and continued to flex his right hand as if it still hurt. I daren't mention it though, didn't want to bring up Cassian, wanted to pretend I hadn't given him a thought.
"Oh my God Paola," he said and I couldn't detect his tone.
"Marcus?" I tried to look unconcerned, even though I suddenly felt desperate.
He grabbed at my hands, enclasping them within his. "Paola," and his eyes penetrated mine, his voice becoming a mere whisper. "I don't want to lose you babe. I can't lose you." His grip tightened and his voice was now normal. "Let's get married babe, like soon, like let's not wait a year. Let's just do it." My eyes blinked as if a bug had just flown into them. I was thrown, it was most unexpected. "I don't want to wait," he continued, "please let's just do it."
"Anyone
would think you worked for Nike," I said, trying to lighten the mood with humor. I was trying to grasp his sudden change of plan. From being nearly unengaged to being nearly married in a heartbeat.
He was looking at me anxiously, I felt flummoxed and a thousand thoughts of wedding gowns and bridesmaid dresses, florists, caterers and marriage licenses floated through my head.
"There's so much to organize," I stammered, "these things usually take time."
His head tilted, his grin crooked. "We haven't even decided on a cake flavor," I blurted.
"Chocolate," he said, his tongue running over his lips.
"Flowers need to be organized," I said.
"Roses," he said, his dimples deepening, "red and white."
"A venue? A date?" I threw questions at him. "Invitations! Numbers!" There was a silliness in my voice, a silly excitement.
"We could knuckle it out in an afternoon," he purred, "and it just happened that I took the afternoon off." His eyebrows raised suggestively. His fingers moved to my jaw, stroking my chin, his touch a tease. "What do you say?"
"It's lucky I'm not busy then," I said huskily and he leaned forward, his lips seductively brushing mine.
"I want you all to myself," he whispered as his lips burrowed into the side of my neck. "I missed you so much last night." His lips met mine powerfully, as if he was staking his claim, owning me. "I need you Paola, I need you all to myself."
I thought of my unanswered texts, of a boy who would always be a boy to me, a boy who could never share my life, nor me share his. A boy who had stolen my heart and who had completely given me his. A boy who I had to let go, a boy who I presumed had already let me go.
Marcus' eyes met mine, those brown eyes that had captivated me when I first met him, his smile reminding me of why I had fallen in love with him.
"Then you shall have me," I smiled back.
But inside my heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.
About the Author
Thank you for reading All that Matters
and I hope you are inspired to continue
reading Magdala and Cassian's story.
All that Matters is the second book in the Family Matters series,
the story of Magdala and Cassian.
#1 Nothing Matters
#2 All that Matters
Coming soon…
#3. The Things that Matter – the continuation of Magdala's story
#4 What Matters Most - the continuation of Cassian's story
Writing makes you vulnerable, you expose yourself to criticism, embarrassment, ridicule even.
You reveal your innermost thoughts, your mind,
what's in your heart and soul.
But without you, the reader, the journey wouldn't be made.
For that, I thank you…
I made the journey!
I'd love to hear your feedback, so do connect with me:
[email protected]
www.facebook.com/liana.key.39
lianakeyblog.wordpress.com