by Max Henry
“John—”
“You,” Dad growls, whirling on Zeus with his finger jabbed angrily in his direction, “can shut the fuck up and let her go without this having to get physical again. I gave you one shot, one last chance to make things right, and you’ve just fucked them up all over again.”
My focus stays on the man I love as my father pulls me through the gathering crowd. I expect to find my pain mirrored back at me, regret tainting his features.
What I don’t expect is blank resignation.
He holds my gaze as I stumble along beside Dad, and then turns away, quickly blending into the crowd and taking the last working piece of my heart with him.
Never settle. All I’ll do from here on out is settle, because there isn’t a man in this world that will ever compare to him.
I’ll damn well prove it.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Belle
“Are you going to talk to me like you said you would?” I lean against my door, wiping away what remains of my tears with the backs of my hands.
“I’m trying to decide what exactly to say.”
Awesome. This should be good then.
“Do you think that helped?” he finally asks. “After how you’ve been the past few weeks?”
“You’re giving me the third degree like I’m ten.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” he snaps. “But unlike some people, I still look at you as my daughter.”
“Nice,” I deadpan. “Going for the low blow there, Dad.”
“Fucker promised he’d keep it civil,” he mutters as he stares out the side window.
“I heard that.”
“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.” He sighs, squeezing his hands around the wheel. “I just…. He surprised me, you know? We’ve been friends for such a long time, but put you between us and he’s a completely different guy.”
“You don’t exactly help in the whole ‘staying friends’ department, you know.”
“It’s difficult.” Silence ensues as he navigates an intersection. “I went to see him the other week and the two of us put a bit of a thing into action for you; something to cheer you up.”
“Right.” About the only thing that could supercharge me with any emotion other than melancholy right now would be the news I’m moving in with Zeus.
Somehow, I don’t think that’s it.
“Zeus showed me how to use Instagram,” Dad announces as though he’s proud his Generation X arse managed to tackle a new platform. “I found your profile and did some digging.”
My heart seizes in my chest before smashing itself against the confines of my ribcage. What the hell did he find? I mentally catalogue all of the shit I post on there, trying to pre-empt what he’ll say next.
“I looked at who you follow, and found this Chris Ellerhope guy.”
“Okay?” I’m lost. So damn lost I can’t remember how we started out on this topic anymore. “And?” Chris is one of the best tattooists alive in my opinion. His work is epic.
“I sent him a D… what is it is?”
“DM?”
“Yeah.” Dad snaps his fingers. “That’s it.”
“I can’t believe how technologically challenged you are,” I say with a chuckle. “You’re not that old.”
“Maybe.” He smiles. “But I’ve never been into that whole scene.”
“Anyway. What did you say to him?” I press the side of my finger under my eyes, frustrated they’ll be a puffy mess tomorrow.
“Told him I had a daughter who needs an apprenticeship.”
I want to die. My father has officially shamed me with an ink god. I purposefully didn’t contact him myself because there’s no way my talent could ever measure up to his.
“He asked to see your art.”
“Really?” What the hell would I send him? Which pictures would I choose?
“So I sent him a shot of those sketches you have above the desk in your room.”
“They’re not finished,” I cry. “Oh my God, Dad, no.”
He laughs, reaching across to pat my knee. “It’s okay. He liked them.”
“He did?” This isn’t my life.
“He doesn’t have space to work under him, but he got you a position with a friend of his at a shop nearby so he could still oversee your learning.”
“Are you fucking with me?” I can’t believe how far the spectrum of emotion has gone for me in the past half hour. From feeling at absolute rock bottom when he dragged me away from Zeus, to being on a high at this unreal news.
“I’m not pranking you, Belle. I’m being real here.”
“So why involve Zeus?” I ask the question that burns as hot as the searing pain in my bones the further and further away we drive from the man I want.
My legs itch to jump from the truck and run back to him, yet this revelation from Dad keeps me rooted to the seat as we wait at a red light.
“Well,” Dad says, lifting his eyebrows. “When I sent the message to the guy, I didn’t realise he’s in Colorado.”
“Dad….”
“You know I can’t afford that.”
“Cerise can.”
“I’m not asking her for help,” he snaps.
“Why?”
He swallows hard, glancing across at me as we start to move again. “She hasn’t wanted to do a damn thing to help you this far, I’m not letting her have this. We’ll figure it out on our own, like we always have.” He hesitates, his thoughts clearly elsewhere as he gazes out the window. “I thought I could make a go of things with her for your sake, fix the problems from before, but….” He seems to choke on the next words, a frown pulling his brow down. “She hasn’t changed, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I sigh. “She hates me. Always has.”
He looks across at me, the concern clear in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’ve made peace with it.” And I have. I didn’t need her for the last ten years. Didn’t need her for the milestone moments in my life. She can take a long jump off a tall cliff for all I care. “Why Zeus?” I ask again.
“Zeus is going to pay for you to fly there.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“He knows as well as I do that if we wait until you’ve got a job, saved enough, too much time will pass. He wants you to go there and grab the opportunity with both hands. So do I.” Dad smiles across at me. “This guy is talented, Belle. Not just in his artwork, but as a businessman; you could learn a lot from him.” He reaches out and takes my hand in his. “Spend a few years there. Chris will help you do the paperwork to get in on a work visa. He seems excited to take you on. Do the work and come back with the base you need to start your own shop.”
I can’t comprehend. I can’t deal.
I hang on to Dad’s hand and stare out the window at the world as it passes us by, oblivious to the emotional torment being in the cab of this truck brings.
I’d be leaving Zeus, but he’s paying for me to go. What’s his end game? Does he want this for me so I can come back to him and start the shop out of his studio like we talked about? Would he wait for me?
He’s made no indication he would, but a girl has to hope.
“I’m speechless, Dad. I really don’t know what to say.”
“How about, ‘Thanks, Dad’?” he teases.
“Thanks, Dad.” I lean across and place a kiss to his cheek.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now go knock the world on its arse.”
***
My hand shakes as I hold my phone over my head, laid out on my bed while I debate whether I should send a thank you message to Zeus or not. It would be the polite thing to do, but Dad seemed pretty adamant when he reminded me as we got out of the truck that he doesn’t want me to deal with Zeus; he would do it all.
Fuck it. You only live once.
B: Thank you. I’m still thinking about it, but the offer is generous.
His dots dance immediately, making my heart skip a beat.
<
br /> Z: What is there to think about? Take the opportunity, Belle.
B: Are you sure you can afford this? You sunk all your money into the house.
I ignore his obvious neglect of my nickname.
Z: Not your concern.
B: You aren’t jacking cars again to pay for it, are you?
Z: Ha ha. Close, but no.
B: What have you done? *taps foot*
Z: Sold the GTO.
B: What? You’re pulling my leg.
Z: I had it there tonight to meet the guy and go through the paperwork. He wanted one last look at it before he signed. I had plans, but I can spare some cash for you.
B: Zeus…
Fuck my tears. Fuck him and his ability to make me all mushy.
Z: Goodnight, Belle. And good luck.
I give up trying to reply when I lose focus of my phone. He signed off with the damn heart and the dove.
Damn him. Damn everyone and everything.
I throw my arms over my eyes and sob as my heart is tugged in multiple directions. Why does life have to be so hard? Is this what people talk about when they say teenagers have no idea what it’s like to be an adult? Because if this is adulting, I quit.
“Everything okay?” Dad asks, breaking me out of my pity party for one.
I throw a thumb in the air, my other arm still over my eyes.
“Can I do anything?” he asks from the relative safety of my doorway.
“Message Chris, and Zeus,” I say, taking a moment to regain myself after choking on his name, “and let them know I’ll do it. I’ll go to the States.”
Colorado, here I come.
THIRTY-NINE
Belle
I’ve lived in a constant state of anxiety the past six months. Life has been turned on its head since I walked out the school gates and entered my new life as a so-called adult. In such a short space of time, I’ve managed to love, lose, and learn.
Each achievement as painful as the other.
Dad delivered an ultimatum to Cerise the week after I saw Zeus at the car show: on New Year’s Eve. He made me proud, standing up to her like he should have done years ago, and telling her that if she didn’t put in real effort when it came to fitting in to what is his life, then she could move out.
In true Cerise style, she stormed out declaring that she wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted, and holed up in a motel for a few days before returning with her tail between her legs. He told her she either puts in a real effort to change her ways, or the next time she’ll find the door locked.
Standing up for himself was the best resolution Dad ever made.
I don’t understand the woman; I don’t think I ever will. But we’ve come to a kind of truce: I’ve stopped expecting her to act like my mother, and she’s stopped trying to be one. It’s better that way—at least, for now.
Kate and Scott still date, making it Facebook official on New Year’s Day. I keep track of their progress on social media, as much as I know I shouldn’t. It’s like watching a car travel down the highway with a buckled wheel, waiting to see if it’ll fall off and cause an accident or somehow manage to reach its destination without creating carnage for everyone around it. She seems content though, so I have to give her that.
It’s more than I can say for myself.
My American work visa came through seventy days after I applied and after two rounds of interviews. Dad seems to think they wanted to be thorough given my age, and I guess I have to agree. How many nineteen-year-olds travel overseas for work rather than play?
My sketchbook is filled with ideas I can’t wait to present to Chris after he meets me in Colorado. The idea that I’m to travel to another country to work in the same city as one of my idols… yeah, I still can’t get over that. How does this even happen?
Simple: Zeus.
He’s stayed silent since saying goodbye to me the night of the car show. I managed a week before I wanted to cave and send him a message, but to my initial shock I discovered he’s blocked me on Facebook. I guess we all deal with our heartache in different ways. All I hope is that wherever he is, whoever he may be with—as much as the thought makes me nauseous—he’s happy.
Dad doesn’t mention anything about him. I don’t even know if they still talk after everything that happened. To be honest, I don’t think Cerise would allow it. I should feel bad, but I regret nothing. I love Zeus—that hasn’t changed. I’ll always love Zeus, and I know that I’ll never meet anybody who makes me feel complete like he did.
Maybe that sets me up for a life of disappointment? I don’t know. All I do know is that I wouldn’t trade the time we had for anything. I only wish for more.
Two years in another country, and then I’ll come back and do whatever it takes to fulfil my dream. I’ll have a shop, even if it’s only me in it to begin with, and I’ll make him proud.
I only hope that by then he’s ready to talk, ready to see me. It’s all that keeps me hanging on as I stand in the middle of the international lounge at the airport, my sketchbook under my arm, and my heart in my throat.
This is it. Today is the day.
“Got your passport handy?” Dad asks, checking the zipper on my carry-on for the millionth time.
“Yep.”
“And you have water and snacks for the flight? That airline food is sketchy at times.”
“Yes, Dad.” I frown, frustrated to admit that I feel let down. “Why didn’t Cerise come?”
He chews his bottom lip as he grimaces. “She’s busy moving her shit out of the house.”
“What?” My jaw hangs slack.
“Mmm.” He shrugs. “I guess it’s a new beginning for both of us.”
“I’m so proud of you.” He deserves better than her—always has.
Dad smiles, patting his hands on his thighs as he looks me over. “You’ve grown, sweetheart, and I don’t mean in height.”
“I know.”
I look back at pictures of myself six months ago in my final weeks at school, and I wonder how I ever could have expected the world to take me seriously when I so obviously reflected my age. I’ve changed since then, and I think it was all a part of the process of finding myself.
Shit things happened to me: I was bullied, taken advantage of sexually by Scott, and I had my heart broken by the one person I truly want in this world.
But each of those experiences taught me something about myself. Love, relationships, heartache, and suffering: they’re all facets of who we are. If you don’t love deeply, then you don’t feel deeply. And if you don’t feel deeply, then how can you expect to truly understand the complexity of the world in such a way that it shows in your art, your actions, and your values?
I learnt acceptance. I learnt sacrifice. And I learnt that sometimes we give up the things we love the most for the people we love the most. And we do it without a second thought, because those people are what we live for.
“I better go through security and board, Dad.” I check the time on my phone. “They opened it five minutes ago.”
“Yes.” If I didn’t know better, I would think they’re tears in his eyes.
“Are you going to cry?”
“No.” He chuckles. “I’m going to leak happiness.”
“You dork.” I throw my arms around him, my sketchbook slapping his back. “I’ll call when I arrive, okay?”
“I’ll be waiting.” He gives me a tight squeeze and then releases me. “Now get.”
I push down my own emotions at leaving the man who’s given tirelessly to make sure I had the best start in life, and grip my carry-on with white knuckles as I head up the escalator.
The security personnel let me through without issue—after I’m asked to remove my studded boots. I slip them back on and gather my things, my quickened pulse vibrating throughout my entire body as I head for the gate.
I’ve never been on a plane before. Never left the country. This is huge for a homebody like me, but the opportunity at the other end is more than I�
�ll ever get again in my lifetime. Too much for me to pass up because of an irrational fear of flying, that’s for sure.
The hostess scans my boarding pass and welcomes me with a wide smile. If she can recognise my fear, she doesn’t show it. But then again, she probably sees people like me a hundred times a week. My skin burns as I stow my luggage in the overhead compartment, my panic rising the more it dawns on me I’m going to be trapped in this metal tube for almost an entire day.
“First time to the US?” A friendly voice asks from beneath me.
I glance down as I give my bag the last shove and see my row-mate stow a book in the seat pocket before him. Kind eyes meet mine, and he smiles as he waits on an answer.
“First time flying.”
“Wow. Quite a way to break the ice, isn’t it?”
Something about the man draws me in, something that makes me want to scoot closer and pick him apart to find out what’s so unique inside.
“I’m known for causing a bit of drama,” I tease, “so I apologise now if I’m an anxious heap the whole way there.”
He chuckles, dimples showing as he runs a hand through his blond hair to push it back. “Well, I’m known for my patience. So, you’re in luck.”
I take my seat on the aisle, and reach across the empty middle one to offer my hand. “Belle.”
“Damien.” He takes my hand and pumps it firmly in his.
I gesture to the empty seat between us. “Do you have a companion?”
His lips curl up on one side as he cocks an eyebrow. “I take it you don’t then?”
“Nope. Completely solo over here.” I’m pretty sure I just broke some safe-travelling rule by sharing that, but it’s not exactly a secret when I’m going to spend the next twenty-two hours not uttering a word to anyone.
Except maybe Damien.
“What are you reading?” I jerk my chin at the book before him.
“A thriller,” he says, touching the top of the cover. “Murder, mystery, shady characters doing even shadier things. You know the sort.”
“Sounds interesting.”
He shrugs, eye on the book as he states, “I can read it anytime.” Damien turns his head and smiles. “You, however, I only get to discover your story right here, right now. So tell me, Belle, what makes you such a troublemaker?”