Crave

by Margaret McHeyzer

  I do what he asks and taste myself on my finger. “Mmm,” I moan as I lick my finger clean. “I taste sweet, but I also have a slightly salty flavour too.”

  “Yes, you do.” I can tell Pierre is pleasuring himself too, because his voice has darkened and his French accent is almost so thick I can’t understand it. “Move your hips, Holly. Fuck me hard, sweetheart. I need to hear you come.”

  Fuel has just been thrown on my fire, an eruption so close. My entire body tightens as I move the vibrator to hit the one spot I know will guarantee I come.

  “I’m coming, Pierre,” I moan.

  “So am I, mon chéri. Keep going. I need to hear you; I need the sound of your voice.”

  I explode with a breathy cry then follow in a whisper, “Pierre.”

  “Oui, I enjoyed that very much, but next time I want my mouth there to lick all the tasty cum your body produces.”

  I lay back in bed and turn the vibrator off. “Pierre, you can’t say things like that to me after I’ve come, because I’m going to want to do that all over again.”

  He starts to laugh and I hear him intake a large breath. “That is good for me to know. Now I am going to clean this mess up, and go to bed dreaming of you.”

  “So will I. Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Non, I will see you in my dreams tonight.”

  Aww – how corny, but so cute.

  “’Night,” I say.

  “’Night, sweet dreams.”

  I have a quick shower and fall into bed completely wrecked. I’m fairly certain I have a dream, and I’m even surer the dream was about a happy family of four. A mum, dad and two kids.

  Chef Pierre: Chapter 28

  Holly

  “Emma,” I shout again from the kitchen as I prepare her breakfast. “Come on, get your bottom out of bed.”

  “I don’t wanna go to school today. I’m tired,” she whines from in her room.

  “Okay. No school.”

  “Yay!”

  “But no more going to Pierre’s house on a school night either.” I smile because I know she had fun last night, and I know she can’t wait to go back there so he can teach her how to make French toast.

  “Muuuuuuuum,” she mumbles, unhappily.

  “Those are your choices. If you stay home, no more Pierre’s house. Or you get up and start getting ready and we can go back to Pierre’s.” I finish making her a ham and cheese sandwich, then flip the switch on the electric jug to make my coffee.

  “Morning, Mummy.” Little arms hug me from behind, and I feel her head resting against my lower back.

  “Morning, Peanut. You need to have breakfast, then a shower and brush your teeth.”

  She grumbles and tightens her embrace. “Where’s Nanna?”

  “I think she’s still in bed. C’mon, let’s go, lazy bones.”

  Emma giggles as she grabs the cereal I’ve already prepared and takes it to the kitchen table, sits, and begins eating.

  “Can we have pizza tonight?” she mumbles around a mouth full of cereal.

  “Pardon?” I stir the hot water into my prepared coffee cup.

  I turn to see Emma swallowing the spoonful, “Can we make pizza tonight?”

  “No, we had it last night. I think tonight we’ll make spaghetti bolognaise.”

  She huffs and shovels more cereal into her mouth.

  As I sit opposite her, Bronwyn appears in the kitchen, hair ruffled from a night of sleep, eyes tired and her skin is pasty white.

  “Are you all right?” I ask as I take in her dishevelled, haggard appearance.

  “I’m not feeling too well. I’ve had a headache since last night and no amount of pain killers is helping.” She gets a glass from the cupboard and gets some water from the fridge.

  I stand and walk to her, seizing the glass from her and pointing for her to sit so I can take care of her. , she shuffles over to sit beside Emma, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

  “I’ll make an appointment for you with the doctor,” I say as I give her the water and go to get some ibuprofen from the medicine box.

  “It’s only a headache. It’ll shift when it wants.” She kisses Emma again, then lays her head on the table.

  “I’ll make you some toast so you don’t have an empty stomach.”

  “Thank you,” she murmurs, but doesn’t lift her head.

  As I make her toast, Emma happily describes in every small detail how she and Pierre made pizzas from scratch. Bronwyn’s saying “right,” and “that’s great,” at all the right times, but her lacklustre affect is worrying me. Usually she’s so energetic and happy.

  “Lfpornkla ralpejky,” she says and I immediately go to her.

  “Bronwyn.” I shake her shoulders and automatically notice how limp her left shoulder is. “Bronwyn,” I say again, my voice has turned icy and urgent.

  “What’s wrong with Nanna?” Emma says, alarmed, her eyes pooling with tears. Emma’s clutching Teddy close to her chest and looking ghostly white.

  “Poashipol,” Bronwyn slurs.

  “Emma, get the home phone for Mummy right now,” I say as I try and move Bronwyn so she’s laying on the floor.

  Emma runs to my room and gets the phone. I hear her running like a thousand elephants trampling down the hallway to me.

  She gives me the phone and I dial Australia’s emergency number, 000.

  “000, do your require police, fire or ambulance?” the calm woman on the other end of the phone asks.

  “Ambulance,” I answer. I’m freaking out, the left side of Bronwyn’s mouth has drooped and she’s saying things that aren’t comprehendible, babbling jumbled-up words.

  I’m connected almost instantly to another woman who begins by confirming my address and the nearest cross street. She goes on to ask what’s happening, and I explain to her how Bronwyn’s speech is slurred, and her body is slumping on the one side.

  “How old is she?”

  “Sixty-eight.”

  “Is she conscious?”

  “Um, yeah, no, shit I don’t know. She’s lying on the kitchen floor, mumbling shit I don’t understand.”

  “That’s okay, just help us know what we’re dealing with.”

  She goes on to ask a few more questions, but I’m just getting more stressed by the second. Why are they taking so long? It feel like it’s been an hour since I called for help.

  “Holly, it sounds like she’s having a stroke. Keep calm, talk to her calmly. I’ve dispatched an ambulance, the ETA is three minutes. Can they come through the front door?”

  “Ummm.” I’m flustered and panicking.

  “Listen to me, Holly. Can the ambulance officers come through your front door? Are they any obstructions stopping them from coming into your house?”

  “I – um – what?” Bile quickly rises in my throat.

  “Mummy, Mummy, I’m scared,” cries Emma.

  My heart is pounding in my chest, my breathing is accelerated, and I’m trying to stay calm for everyone’s sake.

  “Is Bronwyn in a safe position?” the voice over the phone asks.

  “Yes, she’s lying on the kitchen floor.”

  “Okay, do we come in through your front door or is there better access through the back?”

  “Front.”

  “I need you to go to your front door and unlock it. Open any security door you may have locked too. But I need you to keep an eye on her and tell me if anything changes.”

  “Okay, I can do that.” I get up and run as fast as my legs will take me to open the door and unlock the front security door. “Emma,” I call.

  “Here, Mummy.”

  “Can you go to my room and put a movie on please? I’ll be in as soon as the ambulance comes.”

  “I’m scared, Mummy.” She hugs Teddy closer to her chest.

  I quickly open the doors then turn to Emma. “I know, Peanut, I’m scared too. But I need to look after Nanna right now. She needs my help until the ambulance gets here.”

  “T
he ambulance should be there within the minute,” the lady on the phone says.

  “Okay, Mummy, I’ll go watch a movie,” Emma hugs me tightly before she goes into my room. I run back to Bronwyn, and she’s in exactly the same position she was in only a moment ago.

  “There’s no change, she’s still mumbling and her mouth is droopy on the left side.”

  “Great job, Holly. They should be turning onto your street now.”

  “I hear them,” I say, relieved at the familiar sound of the siren.

  They’re already in the driveway, the back of the ambulance is open and they’re bringing in a stretcher bed by the time I reach the front door.

  “What’s happening?” one of the two ambulance officers says as he comes through with a medicine bag.

  “Thank you for everything, they’re here now,” I say to the 000 operator then hang up. I tell the ambulance officers everything that’s happened this morning, and they go over to Bronwyn. Within minutes they have Bronwyn on the stretcher and are moving her out the door.

  I go to Emma who’s sitting on the bed, under the covers hugging Teddy with a deadly tight grip. “Come here, Peanut.”

  “Is Nanna going to be okay?” she asks while big, fat tears roll down her cheeks.

  “I hope so, baby. The ambulance people are just going to take her to the hospital.”

  “Is Nanna going to die?”

  She climbs up on me, her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck and she sniffles and cries into my hair.

  I can’t answer her question, because I don’t know, but I don’t want her frightened either. “They’re taking her to the hospital. It’s the best place for her to be.” I walk out and see they are buckling her in.

  They tell me which hospital they are taking her to, and leave as quickly as they came.

  Emma and I go back into the house, and I sit us down on my bed.

  Emma’s sobs are uncontrollable, and all I can do is soothe her hair and promise her the hospital is the best place for her nanna to be.

  I look at the bedside clock and it’s after nine a.m. now, so I won’t send Emma to school. “Come on, have a shower and we’ll go to the hospital to see Nanna.”

  “Okay, Mummy,” Emma says in her sad little voice.

  She goes to her room to get changed, and my phone starts ringing. I pick it up, and see Pierre’s name on the screen.

  “Hey,” I say as I take a deep breath.

  “What is wrong?” He hears my shaky voice and automatically goes into his overprotective alpha state.

  “My mother-in-law was just taken to the hospital. They think she might have had a stroke.”

  “Are you alright? Is Emma okay? Did she see it? Is she scared? What is your address? I’m coming there now. Is Emma alright?” I can hear him scurrying around frantically, matching the pitch and tone of his voice.

  “We’re alright, just getting ready to head up to the hospital.”

  “I will meet you there.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Pierre.”

  “Oui, I know. But Emma and you need me, so I want to be there for you.”

  I bring my hand up to rake it through my hair, and I can’t help it. I simply start crying. I’m sobbing into the phone and can’t believe what a fiasco the day’s turned out to be.

  “Mon chéri, it is normal to cry and let the emotions out. I just wish to be near you so I can hold and kiss your tears away.”

  “What happens if…” I can’t even finish. I can’t think about ‘what if’ may mean.

  “We will get through this together. Please come to the hospital, I will be waiting for you in emergency.”

  With the palm of my hand, I wipe the tears away and catch my breath. “We’ll be there soon.”

  I hang up and get changed into jeans and a t-shirt. Emma comes into my room, still clutching Teddy to her chest.

  “You ready to go?” I ask her.

  She nods her head, and holds her hand out to me.

  Chef Pierre: Chapter 29

  Pierre

  Nervously, I pace inside the hospital’s waiting room. Every time I hear the automatic entry door slide open, I turn to see if it’s Holly and Emma.

  It feels like hours, although I know it’s only been less than twenty minutes.

  “Pierre!” I hear as the doors open, and Emma runs into my outstretched, waiting arms.

  “Ma petite.” I kiss her on the forehead as I hug and scoop her up in my arms.

  “Nanna is really sick. She’s here and I’m really scared, Pierre,” she says as her chocolate brown eyes fill with tears and her lips pout in sadness.

  Holly is only a few steps behind her and as I lift Emma into my arms, I also invite her into my embrace. She falls into me, and I take both their weights in sorrow.

  “It will be okay,” I say as I sooth Holly’s hair and kiss her while holding Emma. “Come, sit. Tell me what happened.”

  We walk over to the seats and Emma takes position on my knee as Holly leans on the back of the chair in front of me. She’s got a few tissues in her grasp, and when I look at her, I notice her eyes are puffy and she’s pale.

  She recounts what happened this morning, as Emma lays her head on my chest holding on to a well-used, off-coloured teddy bear.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Holly says as her tears keep falling.

  “Is Nanna going to die, Pierre?”

  “I do not know, but this is the best place she can be to get the help she needs.”

  “Holly Walker?” we hear someone call from over my shoulder.

  “Yes,” Holly answers as she stands and walks over to the woman dressed in hospital scrubs.

  “Can you come with me please?” She indicates for Holly to follow her into a private room. Holly looks at me and I nod my head while I softly rub Emma on the back.

  “Pierre?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you love my Mummy?”

  Merde. That’s kind of stumped me. “I like your Mummy a lot.”

  “That’s not really an answer.”

  “It’s something your mummy and I need to talk about.”

  “Is it hard for you to love someone else after that woman died?”

  I feel my pulse quicken and my body shudder once, because talking to a child about my wife is going to be hard. “Her name was Eva.”

  “Mummy told me she was sick and she died.”

  “Oui, that is right.”

  “I know when Daddy died, Mummy cried for a long time. Was it hard for you to stop crying?”

  “Very much so. Until recently I cried often, but then something very magical happened and now I’m happy.”

  “What happened? Did Santa come and visit you? Because it’s not Christmas yet.”

  I feel a smile tugging at my lips. “Non. I met two very amazing people. One of whom I know I love with all my heart.”

  “Who?” Emma turns her head to look at me. Her eyes see right through me; her innocence is endearing and makes me want to protect her even more.

  “You. I love you, ma petite. You are very special to me and I will spend my life protecting you from any harm in the world.”

  “You will?”

  “Why of course.”

  “That’s good, Pierre. Because even though you talk funny, I love you too.” And I know her words are real, they come from her heart. She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me on the cheek.

  “You are going to be in my life for a very long time.”

  Silence closes around us, and Emma hugs me tighter.

  The quiet is broken by a very cheeky little girl. “I think you love Mummy too.”

  “And why do you say that?” I tangle my fingers in her long hair and slowly draw them through.

  “Because if you love me, then that means you must love Mummy too.”

  I smile as I kiss her hair. “You are a very smart little girl.”

  “I’m so smart I can spell ‘shopping’. Do you want me to spell it for you?”
<
br />   “Of course I would love to hear you spell such a difficult word.”

  She hops off my knee and stands in front of me, but gives me her teddy.

  “Shopping. S-H-O-P-P-I-N-G, shopping!” she says with the hugest smile on her face.

  “Very good, you spelled ‘shopping’ perfectly.”

  “I can also spell ‘catch’, can I spell that for you, too?”

  “Oui.” I sit back in the uncomfortable hospital chair and cross my leg over my knee.

  “Catch, C-A-T-C-H. That word’s tricky ‘cause of the ‘TCH’ sound, but we learneded that at school.”

  “Learned,” I correct her.

  “Oh, yeah, learned. I’m hungry. Do you have anything to eat?”

  “I did not bring food. We will wait a little longer for your mummy to come back and then I will take both of my beautiful women out for lunch.”

  “I’m a girl, not a woman.” She puts a hand to her hip, tilts her head and her eyes pop open.

  “I am very sorry for that mistake. My gorgeous woman and my cute little girl.”

  “I don’t like being cute. Can you call me something else?”

  “What would you like me to call you?”

  “Um.” She taps a finger to her lips as she stares past me and scrunches her mouth. “I know. You can say I’m your pretty ma petite. I like that.”

  “In French, we say ma belle petite. It means my pretty petite. Well then, we’ll wait for mummy to come out and I’ll take my gorgeous woman, and ma belle petite out for something to eat.”

  “Yay!” Emma exclaims in excitement. But as quickly as the spark came to her, it extinguished even faster. “I hope Nanna is okay.” Her face drops and she seeks comfort from me again by climbing up on my lap and resting her head against my chest.

  All I can do is hold her, and kiss her when the tears start again.

  I watch the seconds hand tick on the large, sterile, white clock hanging over the triage desk. It appears the hands are not moving. There’s the chatter of people coming and going, the television is turned on to a channel showing children’s shows. Emma sits on my lap, burrows herself into me and watches the television as her grip on Teddy does not loosen.