by Rina Kent
She’s not supposed to be my calm. And yet, when her head falls on my back and her warmth mingles with mine, I realise she’s the only calm I’ve ever had in my life. Even books don’t compare — and that says something.
Silver is the beauty and the ugliness.
The calm and the chaos.
“How did you get in?” I don’t attempt to face her.
“I asked Helen for the code. I figured you’d come back home for the anniversary.” Her voice catches. “I wanted to tell you this at the funeral, but you were being mean, so I didn’t.”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Cole. You were too young to lose a parent.”
“Or maybe I was old enough to realise it’s better I lost that parent.”
She lifts her head from my back but doesn’t release me. “What do you mean?”
“My father was abusive. He hit me and Mum, especially Mum, whenever he was drunk.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“No one did. Mum and I are great actors.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this — her, of all people. It must be because it’s a wrong fucking day. I get weird on wrong days.
“I don’t think you wanted him dead, though.” Her voice softens.
“Maybe I did.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t come to stand here on every anniversary.”
“How do you know that?”
Silence. Her hands tighten around me, but she doesn’t answer.
I untangle them and spin around to face her. “You’ve been watching me?”
She’s staring at the ground, kicking imaginary pebbles. “Maybe.”
I lift her chin with two fingers until her huge blue eyes are trapped with mine. “What makes you think I come here to pay tribute? Maybe it’s because I feel guilty.”
“It doesn’t look like guilt.” Her voice is gentle, emotional. “It looks like you want to grieve but can’t. It was the same at the funeral, right?”
I have no words to say, so I remain quiet, letting her interpretation soak in. How could she know me so well?
“It’s a black day to me, too, Cole. My parents decided to split up on this day ten years ago. People say it gets better, but it never has. I still feel that loss and it hurts, but I grieved. Why don’t you try it?”
How can you try something you’ve never felt? I don’t even know what grief means.
A crazy idea hits me and I voice it before thinking about it. “Jump with me, Butterfly.”
“Jump with you where?”
“In the pool.”
“Now?” She stares between me and the water. “But it’s freezing.”
“Are you a coward?”
“No.”
“Then do it.”
“Fine —”
Before she can finish her reply, I grab her by the arm and we both jump. The splash of the water mixes with Silver’s gasp before we go under.
Down…
In blood.
The water is blood.
Red engulfs me in his clutches. A black hand pulls at my ankle, yanking me to the bottom. I don’t fight it. I can’t. If I do, he won’t let me go. If I do, he’ll just grab me tighter. He’ll tell me I’m a monster and that I should —
Two hands touch my cheeks — soft, tender hands — and guide me to the surface.
Silver.
Her golden hair is wet, sticking to her temples, and her frantic, bright eyes search mine. Her palms are still around my cheeks as her body moulds to mine under the water. Only our heads are on the surface level.
The water’s still bloody, but it’s slowly returning to that blue colour. There’s no hand pulling me under into nowhere.
“What is wrong with you? You scared the shit out of me, Cole.” She pants. “Are you okay?”
I wrap my hand around her nape and take claim of her lips. I kiss her in gratefulness. I consume her as my form of thanks.
Silver wrenched me from the water, not only now, but also ten years ago.
My chaos.
My damnation.
27
Silver
“I’m off!” I run down the steps, juggling my bag and the containers.
“Darling,” Helen calls after me, carrying my thermos. “You forgot the tea you made.”
“Oh, right. Thanks, Helen. You’re the best.” I hug her and slap a loud kiss on her cheek.
I feel like a cheater whenever I’m with Helen or with Mum. Why can’t I have both mothers?
She waves at me as I step out of the house. “Be careful, darling.”
“And you go write.” I usher her inside. “Deadlines, Helen. Deadlines.”
She smiles, joy sparkling in her eyes. “I’m going, I’m going. You’re worse than my agent.”
I wave at her again, grinning as I place my overnight bag, the thermos, and the food I spent the entire morning making — or rather, helping Helen make — in the passenger seat of my car.
When I’m about to head to the driver side, Papa’s car comes to a slow halt near mine. Derek gets out to open the back door, but Papa beats him to it.
Running to him, I wrap my arms around his waist. “Papa, have you had a successful party meeting?”
“Aside from Cynthia challenging every point I suggested?” He strokes my hair. “Sure.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s just her and she’ll never change. I’m starting to think she’s double-crossing us using the Labour Party.”
“You know she’d never do that. Your principles run in her veins.”
“Only when I don’t voice them.” He watches me. “Are you going over to hers?”
I nod slowly. “I’m spending the weekend.”
“Do you have to? You can always stay. There are no custody laws that we need to obey now that you’re an adult.”
“She’ll just end up coming here.”
“Let her,” he says in a dispassionate tone. “We can continue the debate.”
“Papa.” I stroke his jacket. “I want to spend time with her. She’s my mum.”
There might have been times in the past when I disliked her choices and her decisions and what she turned me into, but as I grew up, and after I saw her in that tub, I realised just how fragile Mum actually is. Deep down, she’s being this strict with me because she doesn’t want me to end up as a shell like her, no matter how proud she is that I look like her.
“I understand.” Papa kisses my temple. “Do you know why she’s been grumpier than usual lately?”
“I don’t know.” Mum would kill me if I said something to him about her personal life.
That day she slit her wrist, she made me swear not to humiliate her and said that she’d do it again if I disrupted our oath. I cried as I begged her to go to the hospital. She didn’t, because that would have humiliated her and put her name in the headlines.
I watched her suture herself by following online tutorials. I’m pretty sure she had an infection, but she self-medicated with antibiotics and tranquilisers. She did everything herself and refused to have any medical staff take a look at her.
Since then, she wears thick watches to hide the scar.
“Is it because of that French businessman she’s seeing?” Papa raises an eyebrow. “Poor bastard. Maybe I should warn him that she’ll challenge him every step of the way and eventually suck the life out of him.”
“Papa, no. Lucien is great. They actually get along.”
“They do, huh?”
“Yeah.” I stop myself before saying, ‘They don’t fight like you two’, and instead I tell him, “You just take care of Helen, okay? She’s on a deadline.”
“Fine.” He kisses my temple again. “Have fun. Though I doubt Cynthia will let you in the midst of nagging about everything.”
Shaking my head, I kiss him on the cheek and wave at Derek before I get in my car.
On my way out, I watch the entrance to the house, searching for that familiar black car. Not that Cole c
omes home this soon.
He has late practice before the game tonight.
Ever since the day of his dad’s anniversary a few weeks ago, something has changed between us.
I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel it in the way he watches me, the way he seizes every chance to kidnap me somewhere out of view, yank my skirt up, and fuck me.
It’s as if he can’t get enough of me. And the more he does that, I can’t seem to get enough of him either. It’s like I’m caught in a maze with no way out.
He still sneaks into my room every night, no exceptions. He still takes me to that club. My favourite part about it isn’t the watching — though I love that — it’s the fact that we wear masks where no one can tell who we are.
At first, I looked over my shoulder, expecting someone to recognise us, but that anxiety withered away with time.
In La Débauche, I get to touch Cole and even let him kiss me in front of other people without worrying that we’ll be on the headlines the following day.
If anything, Cole recognises most of the people we watch. Even though they wear masks, he sometimes plays a quiz with me to guess that politician’s/influential figure’s/CEO’s name.
The game is simple — with every wrong guess, he gets something from me. Since I always lose, I usually end up against one of the sofas as he eats me out or fucks me until my voice turns hoarse.
Needless to say, all of Cole’s games lead back to sex. Seriously. He comes up with all sorts of schemes that result in me naked and splayed out or tied up.
If he’s sick and I secretly love the devious ways he takes me, what does that make me?
I guess we’ll never know, because I would never tell him I enjoy what he’s doing to me. It’s not about him and me; it’s about Papa, Mum, Helen, Frederic — who would kill me if Papa doesn’t — and the world, basically.
Cole and I are in a particular category and we simply can’t jump to another one.
As much as I’m careful so no one picks up on our relationship in public, I always feel like maybe someone will. Maybe someone will notice the way I absentmindedly watch him when he’s practising, or when he’s reading alone in the school’s garden.
Maybe someone will know I don’t shoo all those girls away because of the family image, but because the idea of him touching anyone else makes me a red bull.
It’s hard for me to show a facet of myself when, on the inside, I’m scratching at it, wanting to rip it away and be set free. That part of me wants to let Cole kiss me in public, to call him mine in front of the world while giving them the middle finger.
But that part is an idiot.
That’s not how the world works — especially not the one we live in.
This won’t only ruin our future, but also our parents,’ and for that reason alone, I know whatever Cole and I have will never last.
It’s a fling.
An adventure.
And like any adventure, there will come a day when it’ll eventually end.
Something in my chest constricts at that thought, but I shake my head, pushing it away.
He’ll get passive-aggressive today. He always is whenever I spend nights with Mum.
She hasn’t been doing that well lately, so I’m visiting, even if it’s not the weekend.
Truth is, I’m not really that selfless. While I do it to make sure she’s fine, I also do it to take time out from Cole.
Sometimes, it gets too raw and too…much. Sometimes, when I wake up and don’t find him beside me, tears come out of nowhere.
And that’s not okay. That’s not how flings are supposed to work.
So I detox at Mum’s.
It’s useless, though. The moment I go back and he takes out all the lost nights on my body, it’s like I’ve never been away.
My phone dings. I smile at Mum’s impatience. She must be asking if I’m there yet. For the third time in the past half an hour.
My smile falls when I read the text.
Unknown Number: You look so enticing in that short pink dress.
I swallow, my heartbeat picking up speed as the silence — and the emptiness — of the underground car park registers.
Does this mean he’s here? Or did he follow me from home?
Since I became almost sure it’s Adam, I blocked the number. A few days later, I had a text from another unknown number saying I can’t escape him.
So I asked Frederic to change my number a week ago, pretending some reporters have it and are bothering me.
I could’ve done it myself, but that would mean I’d have to register the new number with my personal details. Papa’s campaign team have special security measures to keep all our personal information classified.
Frederic immediately got it for me, and I thought I’d be done with Adam’s stalking habits.
The text in front of me is proof that it’s not over.
How the hell did he get my number? Sure, his father is a member of the party, but he wouldn’t possibly ask Papa for it, right?
Deep breaths. You can do this, Silver.
I can keep it to myself until after Papa wins the elections. Then I’ll tell Frederic all about Adam.
It’s not only the creepy, stalkerish texts but also the way he keeps watching me at school. I pretend I don’t notice how he follows me around, or how he glares at anyone who gets in my way.
When he greets me good morning, I greet him back because his type can’t and shouldn’t be provoked.
Grabbing my bag, I open the car door, only for it to hit something – or rather, someone. I gasp as Adam appears right in front of me. He’s wearing jeans and a simple black T-shirt, a smile grazing his lips.
My first thought is that I need to run.
Right now.
I pull on the door’s handle, but my rapidity and strength fail against his.
He grabs the door and leans in so he’s blocking my exit and caging me within the confines of my own car.
“Hey, Silver.” He smiles, showing me his teeth.
I plaster on my own fake smile. “Hey, Adam. What are you doing here?”
“My uncle lives here. Such a small world, huh?”
“Yeah.” I pretend to gather my things.
“Who are you visiting?”
I can’t tell him I’m here for my mum. I don’t want this psycho to know where my mother lives, but at the same time, I need to get myself out of this situation without being suspicious. “I’m meeting with friends.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Just Aiden and the guys.”
“I see.”
Still smiling, I motion at the way he’s blocking me. “Uh, excuse me?”
He doesn’t move. Not even an inch.
My heart is about to stop beating. What if he has other plans instead of letting me go?
Maybe I should call for help or Cole?
“Sure.” Adam moves away, still holding the door open.
I release a breath as I step out, carrying my bag and the food containers. “Thank you.”
He closes the door for me, his smile sinister at best. “No, thank you, Silver.”
I offer him a nod and walk as fast as I can down the car park without actually running. I keep peeking over my shoulder, expecting Adam to be following me.
My only relief is when one of Mum’s neighbours exits his car and uses the lift with me.
On the way up, I can’t erase the disturbing look on Adam’s face from my brain. Or the fact that the first person I thought about when it came to getting help was Cole.
I would’ve hit my head if my hands weren’t full.
Then I recall Adam’s reason for being here. He said he was visiting his uncle, but he didn’t come up.
In Mum’s building, you can’t go up unless you have the floor’s code.
Besides, I know all the residents in this building from when Frederic was screening them prior to Papa’s campaign. There’s no one with the last name Herran in the tenants’ list.
Of course, Adam could’ve meant an uncle from his mother’s side, but there’s only a slim chance of that.
I throw him and that thought at the back of my mind as I step out of the lift and go into Mum’s flat.
She squeezes me in a hug as soon as I’m inside, and I close my eyes, breathing her scent in.
Safe.
It feels safe to be here.
She pushes away, staring at what I’ve brought. “What are those?”
“Food and my special tea.”
Mum scowls, folding her arms. She’s wearing a blue satin gown and a robe. Her hair is wet, which means she recently came out of the shower. “Helen made them?”
“She just gave me pointers.”
“Yeah, right. You’re as hopeless as me when it comes to cooking.” She scoffs. “Sebastian must be delighted to have a wife who can cook. Good for him.”
“Come on, Mum. It’s just food.”
“Helen must think I’m a charity case that she can make food for.”
“That’s not true. She only helped when she saw me struggling.”
“Saint Helen.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m telling you, she’s a snake underneath it all.”
“Mum!”
“Whatever.” She hugs me again. “Don’t let her take you away from me, too, Babydoll.”
“You’re my mum. No one will take me away from you.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Does that mean you’ll eat it?” I ask hopefully.
“I’m only drinking the tea you made.” She strolls to the living area. “I’m on a diet, anyway.”
I place the containers in the refrigerator for when she gets hungry. Mum has so much pride, it’s insane.
Papa, too, I guess. That’s why they’re always at each other’s throats.
I pour us each a cup of tea and join her on the sofa. She’s watching The Notebook. Again.
“Mum, seriously?”
“What?” She takes the mug from me. “Romance in films and fiction is much better than real life.”
“You’re the one who told me it’s all lies.” I settle beside her.
“That’s why it’s better than real life.”
I run my finger over the hem of the cup. “How’s it going with Lucien?”
“Fine,” she says in a dispassionate tone.
“Mum, are you even trying?”