“I didn’t have a dream,” I answer my voice low.
Tristan gazes down at me. “No dream?” He asks quite astonished.
“No. Why should I have had one?” I say, frowning back at him.
Tristan chuckles at me. “You’re having me on,” he says. “Come on Coral, we all dream about being something when we’re young. Fireman, policeman, nurse… you know all that kind of stuff.” I shake my head at him and shrug my shoulders – I honestly don’t see what the big deal is.
“What was yours?” I ask swallowing and sipping my wine.
“Well, when I was about four I said Postman Pat, because he had a car, which I thought was really cool.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “My folks never had a car,” he clarifies.
“Really?” I say, astonished.
Tristan shakes his head, frowning deeply. “Always the bus,” he says, a slight edge to his tone.
“I liked Postman Pat too,” I say trying to pull him out of his reverie.
“When I got a little older and the teachers asked again, I said ‘a man in a suit’.” He adds.
I chuckle at Tristan. “Why did you say that?”
“Because when Gran used to take me into town, on the bus, I would watch all these men in suits with nice cars, going about their business. They had shiny shoes, shiny suits and shiny cars. Whatever they were doing, I wanted to do it too,” he says firmly. Wow, he was so determined from such a young age!
“Guess that kind of makes sense, and you certainly reached your goal,” I take a deep breath. “I know we haven’t known each other that long Tristan, but I’m really proud of you, of what you’ve achieved. I imagine it takes a lot of guts and sheer determination to get where you are today. I hope you feel proud too?”
“I do,” he smiles then leans forward and kisses me again. “And thank you, it’s nice to know you feel like that,” he says tenderly stroking my cheek. “But you haven’t answered my question?” he adds. I go for a change of subject. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since this morning.
“Can I drive your car tomorrow?” I ask.
Tristan gazes at me in disbelief. “My car?” he asks swallowing hard.
I don’t think he likes the idea. “Uh-huh,” I take another forkful of food.
“Yes...yes of course you can. I didn’t know you wanted to drive it…I…” Tristan narrows his eyes at me. “Nice change of subject,” he scolds – Crap!
“I tell you what, you answer my question and you can drive it anytime you want. In-fact if you like it I can buy’ – “Stop!” I take a sip of my wine. “You were going to say buy me one, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” Tristan beams, his eyes sparkling. I shake my head at him, not that conversation again! “So why no dream Coral?” he repeats.
“I did have a dream,” I answer quietly, gulping back the rest of my wine. Tristan is watching me, waiting for his answer – Crap! I want to drive that car, so I guess I better tell him.
I sigh heavily, close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “My dream was to have a loving caring family,” I whisper so quietly I wonder if he actually heard me. Opening my eyes I see him staring back at me, his expression torn, he looks nauseous, but now he’s got me going on the subject, so I feel like I should explain it to him. “They were always arguing, fighting, there was always something breaking or being smashed. I lost count of the amount of times I hid under my bed because I was never quite sure if my Dad would lose it one day and hit me, or Kelly would find me. Or I’d hide under the duvet with the pillow over my head to try and drown out the noise, the constant shouting...” I look down and see I’m mimicking my actions, pulling the duvet over my head. “That was before it got really bad. So when the teacher asked me, I would always say I wanted to be a roller skater, because it was the only thing I had that got me out of the house, away from the noise – you finished?” Tristan nods.
In a huff I pick up our plates and storm over to the kitchen sink – I hate remembering the past – and blast the water over the empty plates.
“I’m sorry.” I turn and see Tristan leaning against the breakfast bar, giving me some distance. He looks awful, like he’s riddled with guilt for bringing it up.
“Fuck!” I let the cutlery clatter to the bottom of the sink, walk over to him and wrap my arms around his torso, resting my head on his chest. “I hate talking about the past,” I croak.
“Yeah, I’ve kind of gathered that,” he says his arms enveloping me.
“Then why do you keep bringing it up?” I choke.
“I’m sorry baby, I had no idea you were going to say that, at all! I thought you would say you wanted to be a princess or a nurse, you know stuff kids say. Really baby, I was not expecting that.” Tristan rocks me gently, soothing the pain away.
“Christ!” I squeeze my eyes shut trying to push the demons away that are lurking in the forefront of my mind, just waiting to come and get me again.
I can't wait for more Hypnotherapy!
“You’re scared?” Tristan guesses.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“What of?” he asks his voice low and husky.
“Let’s just call him the boogie man.” I say by way of explanation.
“The boogie man?” he says, his voice deep.
“Yeah…nightmares.” I twist my head and lean my chin against his firm, muscular chest. “Did you really just say I can drive your car tomorrow?” I ask, beaming up at him.
“You really do jump ship don’t you?” I frown back at him. “What I mean is you can go from one emotion to another, instantly; it’s quite fascinating,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Oh well, I’m glad I...fascinate you,” I answer sulkily.
“Hey now, that’s not how I meant it.” He says his tone soft.
I pull out of his arms. “I know you didn’t,” I say, but I still don’t like the fact that he said it. I frown at myself as I place the plates and cutlery in the dishwasher and switch it on. “Incidentally how did you get this place so quickly?” I add, trying to change the subject.
“Gave them an offer they couldn’t refuse?” he answers smugly.
“Which was?” I question.
“Six months worth of rent, so they could look for another place.”
“You’re kidding?” I choke.
“No.” He looks so proud of himself.
“Do you always get what you want? When you want it?”
“Yes, well most of the time,” he says, shrugging his shoulders at me.
“Except me,” I retort.
Tristan’s face falls, his features grimacing. “I thought’ - “No one ever really owns anyone Tristan, not really.” I stare back at him feeling pissed and moody and I know exactly why.
I shake my head at myself, feeling guilty I just said that out-loud. “Tristan, please just ignore what I just said, I’m feeling a little…off,” I tell him bluntly.
“So the car?” he says a little unwillingly.
“Yeah...the car,” I sigh and walk over to the kitchen table. “More?” I ask.
“Please.” I pour more wine into both our glasses and hand one to Tristan. I know I need to make amends, I don’t like hurting him, and I don’t like feeling like this. I want it to go back to how it was half an hour ago.
“I am so sorry, that was out of line. When I get upset or scared about something, I blurt things out I don’t really mean. It’s something I’m working on it with George. So yes, I would love to drive your car tomorrow if you don’t mind me taking it for a spin, and no, I didn’t dream like all the other boys and girls.”
“Apology accepted, not that you need to apologise,” he says leaning down to kiss me.
“Yes I do,” I murmur against his lips. “I’m not blind Tristan I could see you were hurt,” I add, swallowing hard.
“Coral, you didn’t hurt me, what upset me was that I knew you were upset. So don’t beat yourself up so much, everybody says things they don’t mean when they’re scared.” I nod once.
How can he be so...so forgiving?
“If I put the fire on will you curl up on the sofa with me?” he asks, stroking my cheek.
“Yes.” I smile gazing up at him. Picking up our wine glasses, I walk into the living room and as I get myself comfortable on the over-large, very squidgy sofa, I watch Tristan turn on the fire.
“Hey sexy,” I say handing his wine to him, as he sits next to me.
“Hey yourself,” he says taking a sip and gazing adoringly at me. “Your bruises have almost gone,” he says, tracing his forefinger under my right eye.
“I know, at least I won’t have to cake my face in tons of make-up on Monday,” I chuckle, thinking back to how dreadful I must have looked.
“Coral, I want to ask you something?” Oh boy here goes!
“Ok,” I sigh.
“If you could go away tomorrow, anywhere in the world, where would you go?” That’s easy!
“The Hawaiian Islands,” I answer a little too eagerly.
“Why?” Tristan asks his head cocked to the side.
“Are you kidding me, the scenery, the amazing beaches, need I say more?” I squeak.
Tristan chuckles at me. “Ok, I’ll give you that, it is beautiful,” he nods in agreement. “But?” he adds. How does he know there’s more?
I glance shyly at him. “Tell me,” he croons.
I take a deep breath. “Ok, I picked Hawaii because every since I was about eight years old, I’ve wanted to go watch the big surfing competition they hold there each winter.”
“Why?” I can see Tristan is finding this quite amusing.
“Ok, don’t laugh at me, but I kind of find the big waves fascinating, and the mad surfers who ride them even more fascinating. I mean, who does that? Who risks their life for the ultimate wave? I know it’s kind of stupid, but it doesn’t mean I'm not in awe when I watch them on T.V. I’ve always wanted to see it in real life you know, hear the roar of those gigantic waves, the wind in my face.” I shrug my shoulders and stare at my glass of wine, Tristan thinks it’s stupid I know he does. “Plus, they have a really amazing cuisine over there, I’d love to try the food and wine,” I add.
“They do, do they?” he grins. I nod feeling excited. Maybe that can be our first holiday together?
“Yes, they do,” I answer smartly, trying not to laugh.
“I should have known you’d pick a place with great food,” he chortles.
“Why would you say that?” I question.
“Because you have a passion for food and cooking,” he simply says.
“Yeah, I guess I have a thing for it, but it’s just a hobby.”
“You said you never had a dream when you were a kid so I’m curious, if you could do or be anything you wanted, wake up tomorrow and you’re living that life, what would it be?”
“Jesus Tristan I don’t know!” I say, feeling exasperated. How did this change from places to visit to life affirming questions?
“Haven’t you ever thought about it?” He asks his voice low.
“Well...no I haven’t,” I answer wondering where all this is going.
“Ok, well I want to set you a challenge,” he tells me.
I shake my head at him. “No, I have enough of those,” I answer darkly.
“You do?” He says, his head cocked to the side in amusement.
“Yes, George is forever setting me new challenges,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Like what?” He asks, evidently intrigued.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know the answer to that one.” Tristan frowns and is quiet and contemplative for a moment then continues.
“Ok, well not a challenge, but something I’d like you to think about.”
“What do you want?” I ask gloomily.
“It’s not bad Coral, relax.” He soothes.
I feel my shoulders come back down from my ears. I take a deep breath. “Ok, shoot,” I blurt.
Tristan chortles. “Ok, I’d like you to think about the question I asked. What would you do if you could, no questions asked and no excuses either? Money doesn’t matter so don’t think about that part of it.”
“Um, ok, that sounds easy enough,” I answer, but I’m curious as to why he wants to know, then I realise – Crap! This has something to do with my job.
“You...why do you want to know that?” I ask my voice wobbling slightly.
“This has nothing to do with your job Coral,” he admonishes in a deep and powerful voice, freakily reading my mind again. “And I’m not going to keep repeating myself on that one, it’s a given. But I suppose the question I’m asking is to do with it, and whether you would choose to stay, or go for a different career?” He looks a little pissed at me.
“Why are you so interested in what I do for a living?” I ask questioningly.
“Because I think you’re wasting your talents.” He states.
“You do?” I frown then snort sarcastically. “And what talent is that, may I ask?”
“You’re a chef, a cook, a natural. I’m surprised you’ve hung onto your job for so long, and you haven’t left out of sheer boredom.” He says sarcastically.
“What?” I scrutinise his face.
“Most people who are creative, have creative talents like chefs, artists, writers, actors, dancers and so on. They are all artistic, creative personalities that are living their lives as they are meant to. You, on the other hand, are definitely creative, yet you sit at a desk everyday typing out what must seem like very mundane letters,” he says, gazing down at me.
“I don’t just type letters,” I spit back at him.
Tristan narrows his eyes at me. “I know you don’t,” he barks and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I want the best for you, which means I want you to be truly happy in what you do. I want you to wake up every morning with a big smile on your face knowing that what you’re doing day in day out is what you truly love to do.” He says, sounding frustrated.
“Oh!” I hadn’t thought of it like that - Too quick to jump the gun Coral! I mentally castigate myself.
“Oh!” Tristan repeats my words back to me, when I look up, I see he’s smiling at me. “So you think you can do that?” He adds dryly.
“Think about what I want to do?” I squeak.
“Yes.” He states firmly.
I frown back t him. I’m trying to work out if he’s right? I thought I would always be at Chester House right until I retired, but now Tristan’s said that, I don’t know what to think. Maybe that kind of stuff just isn’t for me?
“I don’t know Tristan,” I say biting my lip, feeling the nerves creeping in.
“What don’t you know?” He says, with a slight sigh.
“I just…I just think some things are best left alone,” I answer begrudgingly.
“Like what?” he asks.
I sigh inwardly. “Like...look, I never...” I look away from Tristan for a moment trying to gauge it right, what I’m trying to say, it’s very difficult to have any kind of coherent thought when he’s gazing at me like that. “Ok, so I’m in school and I’m a nightmare. My grades are terrible and none of the teachers like me. I have no future, no prospects and no dream. I have no goal of going into further education like college or University, because as far as I’m concerned school sucks, big time. Like you’re supposed to know what you want to do with your life at fourteen years of age,” I blurt out as dryly as I can, then I continue.
“So I finish school at home, my exam results were just...well tragic, I was so nervous about letting Gladys down if I didn’t get high scores that I built myself up into a frenzy, and failed most of them. I knew there was no way I was going to do it all over again. I guess I just figured I’d go out into the world and just get a job, just like everyone else does. I suppose, if I’m truthful, I was more concerned with keeping myself on the straight and narrow. I didn’t want to go down the same path as my mother. So for me, staying straight and holding down a job was, and still is a big achievement for me. I’m not walking her
path.” I take a deep breath then a big glug of wine.
Tristan’s eyes darken. “When you say straight and narrow?”
“Tristan I swear to god if you mention a word of this to anyone, especially Gladys – “Coral,” Tristan barks in frustration, interrupting me. “You should already know you have my complete trust, whatever you tell me stays with me, I give you my word for god’s sake!”
“Fine!” I huff back. “I was drinking alcohol and smoking pot at school, I was heading down the same path.” I say, turning away from him.
“Ah, I see,” Tristan turns away from me and stares out the window.
“Running for the hills yet?” I ask observing his reaction out the corner of my eye.
“No, just thinking how bad you must have been feeling to resort to those measures.”
“Anything to block out the pain,” I bite, my brain to mouth filter failing on me again. I see Tristan’s demeanour change to shock and squeeze my eyes shut – Coral you idiot, keep it zipped or he’s going to find out!
“Damn it!” I hear Tristan hiss, I feel him rising from the sofa. Opening my eyes I watch him walk into the kitchen, then disappear from view. For a split second I feel like that’s it, he’s ending it all, and I don’t blame him. I’m yo-yoing from one emotion to the other, it’s tiring and I’m feeling constantly on edge in case I blurt something out that I don’t want him to know, then it gets all uncomfortable, well it does for me, and I’m left hanging just like now – God damn it, where is he?
“Tristan?” I call out for him but there’s no reply. I go to stand but see him re-appear with his mobile to his ear. “What are you doing?” I question.
He holds his forefinger up to me. I can see he’s deep in conversation. As I look up at the new clock on the wall, I see it’s ten past ten in the evening. I can't help wondering who he’s speaking to at this time on a Saturday night?
“Sorry about that,” he says joining me on the sofa again.
“Late night bootie call,” I chuckle but really I’m checking on him.
“No, a meeting I’d forgotten to move, so I left a message for Susannah.” I grit my teeth, her.
CORAL - Fallen (A Romance Trilogy, Book 2) Page 10