Into The Deep

by T A. McKay

  “Well, I’m glad. I think.” I say to him with a smile.

  “I’ll try to take what you just said as a compliment. I didn't know what you prefer to drink so I waited until you got here to order for you.”

  “Yes, it was a compliment so stop fishing and there’s no need to worry about that, I’ll be back in a minute, I’ll just go and grab a coffee.” He winks as he stands up from the table, before walking towards the counter to place his order.

  Seriously? Do these guys take lessons on how to be so God damn charming? He’s as bad as Rocco with his charm … and, there we go again. Back to Rocco. I can't manage to get the guy out of my mind for more than five minutes at a time these days and if I don’t stop soon then it’s going to make me go bloody insane.

  Returning to the table and placing his coffee down in front of him, Mason begins, “I so need this … Rocco has been walking around as though someone kicked his damn puppy. I’ve seen the man in a bad mood before, don’t get me wrong, but not anything as close to this in a very long time.” Well if I was waiting for a way to start a conversation about Rocco, here it is. I look down at the cup in my hand and try to avoid looking directly at Mason when I speak. “Rocco is the reason why I asked you to meet with me. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Okay, well, that sure explains it.” My gaze shoots up to meet his and I see that he’s watching me while a grin forms over his mouth. He looks as though what I just said to him has explained all the questions and the answers of the universe to him.

  “What? What does it explain?”

  “That man has been having a pretty hard time ever since you came into his life. Before he was just going about his life, living it like he has gotten used to things again, but then one day, he arrives at work with a smile. An actual real smile. I don't want to tell you how long it’s been since I’ve seen one of those over Rocco’s face. But, since the day he met you, he’s been tied in knots.” He's been tied in knots? I’m the one who doesn't know what’s happening between us but he’s the one who has been tied up in knots?

  One step forward and two steps back.

  “Then why does he keep pushing me away? I know I shouldn't be asking you and I’m sorry for being unfair, but he won't talk to me. He confuses me with the things he says and then avoids me right afterwards.” A sad look washes over Mason’s features.

  “He doesn't mean to, he just doesn't know what to do or how to cope.” He answers with a softer voice now as he shrugs his shoulders.

  “Ugh! Do you both take classes in talking in riddles?” I know I shouldn't be getting frustrated with Mason, but I’m getting no further forward with him than I would with Rocco. Mason laughs, though it sounds like a sad laugh. I feel my stomach drop, knowing that I’m missing something here. Something big.

  “Like I’ve said before, Mackenzie. This really isn't my story to tell. It needs to come from Rocco, if or when he’s ready to tell you, he will.”

  “Please help me, Mason?” I know I’m beginning to sound desperate now, but at this moment, I really would be willing to get down on my knees and beg if it meant he would help me understand.

  “I like him, Mason. I really like him and I don't want him to keep running away from me all the time. I just … I need to know if he likes me too, or if I’m seeing something between us that isn't really there.”

  “He likes you, Makenzie, like really likes you. But, there is something holding him back. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything for anyone that he isn't sure what to do with his feelings. All I can say is that he’s been hurt in the past. Hurt so badly and to the point where I wasn't so sure if he’d ever find himself again or not.” Masons voice has taken on such a serious tone that all I can do is sit looking at him. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to hear any of this, but I know that I have to listen.

  “Look, he was in an accident … and, well, we almost lost him, but he fought to stay. He’s the strongest guy I know, but while he fought to build his body again, I saw his spirit break. His ex, Elle? She is a complete bitch, but, again, that’s his story. I’ve said too much already. Know it’s not you, and if you really want my advice, then here it is. If I were you, I’d push him to open up before he pushes you away completely.” And with those last few words, I at last feel some hope building inside me. Mason thinks I have a chance so long as I don't let Rocco push me away. I just need to decide if I think he’s worth the fight. With a smile forming on my lips, I already know the answer. Yes. He’s totally worth fighting for.

  Chapter Nine

  The past few days have flown by so quickly. Work has been busier than usual where the schools have broken up for the holidays. I’ve finally been paid, and after I did a little happy dance, I decided to paint my bedroom when I wasn’t in work. It is taking a while to get done around my work hours but I don’t care, I am having fun and that's all I care about. The only thing that I’m not so happy with is that I haven't seen Rocco since our chat, but Josh did mention that he is away on a business trip. While painting I have had plenty of time to think how I am going to deal with this thing between us and I have decided I am going to pursue him, take the role of chaser for a change. I refuse to let him slip away without seeing if it will go anywhere.

  I had sent Mason a text to thank him for his chat and to ask for Rocco's cell number. He was more than happy to give me it. I think he just wants to see Rocco happy and he thinks he will be with me, and so started my plan to get the man I want. I sent him a message this morning asking him how he was. I haven't heard anything back but to be honest I didn't expect him to reply just yet, I just wanted him to know I was thinking about him.

  So at this moment I am wearing tracksuit bottoms that I have turned into painting shorts by cutting the legs off, a T-shirt I found that must have belonged to Carl since it’s far too big and I have had to tie it in the back. While looking like a hot mess, I’m dancing around my room to cheesy 80s music and I think I am wearing more of the hot pink paint that I have chosen, than I have on the walls. I never claimed to be a good painter, but I'm having fun and to me that’s the most important thing. For the first time in a very long time I feel happy, I feel like my life may be going in the right direction. I have my own place, a job that I really enjoy and a guy I like...I just need to get him now. As I am singing at the top of my voice I hear a knock on my door. I really hope it’s not my neighbours coming to complain, let’s just say that my singing is worse than my painting. I open the door and I nearly drop my paintbrush when I see who is standing there, looking so sexy in jeans and a simple black T-shirt. Rocco.

  “Hi.” I manage, even though my mouth has suddenly gone very dry. I see his eyes move down my body. I suddenly remember what I’m wearing, or should that be how little I’m wearing, and I feel a blush move up my face.

  “Hi.” He says as his eyes work their way up my body and I swear I can see the heat in them, or at least I hope I do. I’m not even sure how long we stand there and just look at each other, it could have been minutes or it could have been days.

  “You’re dripping on the floor.” He says and I watch as a smile creeps up at the sides of that sexy mouth of his.

  “What? Oh God!” I scream and notice that I’m dripping paint all over the floor from the paintbrush that’s still in my hand. I turn around and hurry back towards my bedroom practically covered in paint. I can hear Rocco letting out a bellowing laugh from behind me.

  “Come in!” I shout, while trying to clean up as much of the paint from my hand as possible.

  “I’ll be right out, I’m just going to try and clean myself up a little bit.”

  “Do you have any cloths, and something to clean with? I will get this paint before it dries.”

  “Yes. Under the sink in the kitchen, there are old cloths and detergent. Thank you.” I make my way over to the bathroom to wash my hands, and to try and compose myself from the shock of him being here. Calm down, you wrote him a message. You wanted him to think about you, wel
l he’s definitely thinking about you, he’s just thinking about you as he cleans the paint from your hall floor. I dry my hands while checking myself out in the mirror, I cringe when I see my reflection. I look horrible, I have paint in my hair and on my face but short of having a shower there isn’t much that can be done about it. I make my way back out towards the living room to find him on his knees cleaning the spots of paint I left as I ran.

  “I’ll get the rest. Be careful not to get any on you, I can't afford to replace your jeans.” I meant it as a joke but it came out sounding very serious. I would have been subtler if I had just told him I couldn’t afford expensive clothes like he can.

  “Don't worry. That’s it all finished now.” He stands up and brushes his hands down the front of his jeans.

  “And look, no paint.” He gives me that smile that I love, the one that scrunches his eyes up and makes me melt just a little. Ok it makes me melt a lot. I take the cloth from him and walk towards the kitchen to rinse it in the sink. He follows behind me and leans against the doorframe.

  “Not that I’m not happy that you are here, but can I ask why you are here?” I busy myself with rinsing the cloth so I don't have to look at him. I am still trying to calm my nerves, he makes my body go out of control when he is near, and being inside my apartment is very near.

  “Honestly? I don't know why I’m here. I got your message this morning on the way home from a meeting and I just wanted to see you. So when I got in my car to drive home I just kinda found myself parked outside your door.” I don't think he realises how much he just made my heart stutter, he wanted to see me? That has to be good. Drying my hands I turn to face him again, but I still can't bring myself to look at his face, to show him the hope in my eyes.

  “Do you want a coffee? Or a tea with no sugar?” I can't help but tease him and I know he is knows I am just teasing when he laughs.

  “Yeah, a tea with no sugar would be great.”

  We have moved and we are both now sitting on the couch in the living room, me with my coffee and as I guessed, Rocco with his tea. I have my feet tucked under me sitting sideways so I can look at him as we speak. He is sitting right next to me, almost close enough to touch, he has one leg crossed over the other knee. I have never really paid much attention to his legs, or anything below his butt if I’m totally honest, but his thighs look powerful with his muscles bunched up. They make his jeans stretch tight over them, and it makes my mind wander a little about how much power he actually has in them. He is looking down at his cup and the silence is stretching between us, I know I need to make the first move here, make him feel comfortable around me.

  “So, how did you get onto the swimming team?” This topic seemed like a safe place to start but going by the look that has appeared on his face I can see that I have made a mistake. He keeps his head down avoiding my eyes as he answers me.

  “I was in a pretty bad motorbike accident a few years back, I needed something to help with rehab and it was the thing that was easiest on my body at the time.” He turns to look at me and I am sure the look of pain in his eyes must match the look of shock in mine. I reach my hand over and place it on his thigh; I just can't help but try to give him comfort. He looks down at my hand, I wonder if I should move it but I decide not to. I am so surprised with his answer I don't even notice the muscles of his leg clenching under my hand...ok I noticed just a little.

  “Oh my God Rocco. I’m sorry I had no idea. Was it bad? No sorry…look you don't need to answer that.” I shake my head, I can't believe that I actually just asked him that. I mean I can see he is feeling awkward by the question and the best I can come up with is to ask him more about it.

  “No its ok. I don't mind telling you about it, it’s just been a long time since someone hasn't known the story. It was pretty big news around here. You know, motorbike accident leaves young man fighting for life in a coma.” He gives a little snort and then turns back to look at me. I’m not sure what emotion is showing on my face but I know what I’m feeling inside. Coma? Fighting for life? Shock and horror are my two main emotions at the moment.

  “Oh no, Makenzie. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have just blurted it out like that. Look you can see I’m fine now, it all turned out ok.” He uses his hands to indicate to his body, but I just stare at him, I will the words in my head to come out my mouth in some sort of coherent order.

  “A coma? Seriously Rocco...a coma?” Ok, that was a pretty good attempt at a sentence. I just need to try and calm all the emotions that are running through me, if I can get myself to calm down slightly. He’s right, I am getting worked up and he is sitting in front of me, proof that he survived.

  “Yeah, a coma. I was on a coma for 8 days.” The more he tells me about it the more my heart races. I know he’s fine, the proof is sitting on my couch right now, but knowing this had happened to him is breaking my heart. He has been through so much but you would never know.

  “What happened?”

  “I really don't remember much of the accident. I remember being out on my motorbike, I loved that thing,” He actually has a smile on his face as he mentions his bike, even after everything he has been through he is still like a big kid talking about his toy.

  “It was a nice dry day and I was out for what I called ‘a head clearing ride’. I had just had an argument with Elle, that was my girlfriend at the time, and I needed to get away. I had just hit the freeway and I was opening the bike up a bit, I needed to just let go. That was the last thing I remember until I woke up in the hospital 8 days later.”

  “Did you find out what happened? I mean, do you know what caused the accident?” My voice comes out as barely a whisper but he obviously hears me as he answers.

  “I was told after I woke up, they had done some big investigation into what had happened. They told me I was overtaking a truck when one of its tires blew out, it lost control and hit me. In that fight I came of worst. The truck driver walked away, and it took me over a month to walk again.”

  “You couldn't walk?” I almost screech. I hadn't seen the conversation going this way. I think I would have been less surprised if he had told me he used to be a woman. I feel like all I am doing is sitting dumbly listening then repeating things he is saying. I just don’t know what to say to him. What do you say to someone who has been to hell and survived?

  “When I woke up, they had already done three operations on my spine and one on my brain. The one on my brain was just to relieve pressure, thankfully I had been wearing a helmet or I probably wouldn't be sitting here now. The pressure had affected my brain though and I found it hard to speak and it was very slow for a long time. I remember Mason saying he loved it, he finally got the last word in an argument.” This time his words make me smile, I could totally picture Mason making light of the situation, needing to make Rocco feel better. I know they had been friends for a long time and I know it would have hurt him to watch Rocco go through everything he did.

  “Did it happen often, even then?” I ask making him laugh.

  “Not really. I still won the arguments; they just took a bit longer. The feeling in my legs took longer to come back than my speech. They weren't sure if it ever would but I was determined I wasn't going to be stuck in a chair for the rest of my life. If there was even a small chance that I would walk again I was going to fight. After a while I got some feeling back, and after another few weeks of rehab I managed to finally stand. I needed something to build up my strength without putting too much pressure on my spine…so that's how the swimming came about. I didn't expect to fall in love with it so much though, and I suppose you know the rest of the story.” I just can believe what he has just told me, the story is like something from an afternoon special. What his body has been through and there is no evidence of it, he has no scars that I can see, no limps, nothing to show the journey he has been on.

  “Oh my god Rocco. I just don’t know what to say to you. What you have been through. You are the bravest person I know.” His face clouds over and h
e looks away from me.

  “I’m not brave. I put a lot of people through hell with my accident, I mean no one should have had to deal with that.” I’m sitting looking at him in complete confusion. I'm not sure where he got the idea that he isn’t brave. I don’t think I could have gone through what he did and still have the energy to fight to get better. He is the poster child for brave.

  “Rocco what are you talking about? You must have been brave to work so hard and overcome everything you did. Why don’t you see that?”

  “No! The people around me were brave. They had no option but to help me and it was all my fault. All I was a burden to them. ” Now I’m even more confused and I’m getting lost in this conversation. The words that are coming our his mouth don’t connect to the story that he has just told me, and I have no idea why he would think any of these things. Someone has put some really strange ideas into his head about his accident and the impact it had on people. His head is dropped onto his chest and he is obviously trying to avoid looking at me. I reach over and gently lift his chin up until he is looking me in the eyes.

  “I don't know who told you that you were a burden Rocco, but I can tell you sitting here listening to your story that I admire you. You came back fighting from something that you didn't ask for and it could have ended your life.” His eyes have started to look glassy with a build-up of tears that he’s trying not to let fall and I know if he starts crying I’m going to follow with own tears. Something is tearing Rocco up inside and I want to know what, there is a darkness there that doesn't need to be. He needs someone to build him up after being torn down, and I want to be the person to help him.

  “Who told you these things? Who made you feel like this?” He is still staring into my eyes and I can see the indecision flash across his face, he is trying to decide if he is going to let me in. I move closer to him on the couch, I place one foot on the floor and my bent leg is now tight against his thigh. I can't get any closer to him without sitting on his lap. I feel the heat of his leg against my bare skin but I can't let it affect me. This isn’t the time to let my racing hormones take control, this is the time for me to give my support to the man that I want to know more about. I need to know who has caused this pain that is haunting him. I know he isn't going to answer me, so I gently place my hand on his chest as I ask again,