Embrace

by Jessica Shirvington

‘Anyway,’ I said quickly, trying to jolt myself away from the images. ‘Another teacher walked in. It was weird, actually. She worked on the other side of the school and could never remember why she came all the way over. She said she just knew something was wrong and felt compelled to check that classroom.’

  ‘Wait. She said she felt compelled?’ Lincoln asked, eyes wide.

  ‘Yeah, something like that.’

  ‘Someone interfered,’ he said, almost to himself, shaking his head as if he couldn’t understand. When he saw the question on my face, he snapped out of it. ‘What happened – I mean…to him?’

  ‘He lost his job, can never work with kids again.’

  ‘That’s why you’d just changed schools when we first met.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Becoming friends with Steph and starting kick-boxing sessions with Lincoln had been my reason to hope again. It was too embarrassing to admit to him that before I had them in my life, a cloud of nothingness surrounded me that I wasn’t sure I would ever escape from.

  He was quiet for a while, but I could hear his breathing deepen the way it does when he’s upset. Then he asked what I knew he would. At least he tried to.

  ‘Vi…did…did he?’

  It’s not easy asking someone outright if they’ve been raped. You would think it’s just a question, but actually saying the words is different. It was a question I’d had the awful experience of watching a lot of people try to dredge up the courage to ask. Even people you’d think would remain completely matter-of-fact, don’t.

  ‘No. I mean, they stopped him in time but…’ I stood. ‘I’ll get more coffees.’

  When I joined him on the couch, Lincoln reached over and put an arm around me, pulling me in close for a moment. I relaxed and let my head rest against his chest, accepting what he was telling me in his own way – I was safe.

  He pushed a strand of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear, and spoke quietly, his warm breath hovering over my neck. It smelled like sugared coffee. ‘I swear to you, he’ll never hurt you again. You’re… I’ll never let him near you,’ he whispered. I believed him. Even if what we had was just friendship, I knew it was true. He knew me, got me. The way no one else had ever bothered to. He had always understood that I needed to be strong, that I couldn’t run from things – even if, until now, he hadn’t completely understood why. He never questioned it or made me feel stupid. Instead, he helped me, made me stronger.

  ‘Linc?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘About the other thing my dad said to you.’ I cringed.

  ‘What else is he supposed to think?’ he asked, a smile in his tone. ‘You’re over here all the time. If not training, we’re hanging out. I’m surprised he hasn’t warned me off sooner. It’s good to see he’s paying attention.’

  And like that, he finished it – simply and cleanly. But it only made me want him all the more and ask the question, What else was I supposed to think?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year’s course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word “happy” would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.’

  Carl Jung

  I loaded a paint tray with primer and set about starting on my wall. As much as I’d wanted to linger on the couch, the control freak in me won out. It was the best place for me to be right now – face to a wall, back to the world. It’s one of the reasons I love painting so much.

  I got into a good rhythm. But even a steady tempo couldn’t push aside the memories. Tears streamed silently down my face. I hated that it could do that to me. Still.

  Struggling to reach the top, I started to lose patience. I could feel it all bubbling up and then a hand was on my arm and my whole body jolted in fear. It was a reaction I could not stop, and one that I hated myself for having. The reaction of a victim.

  Lincoln’s hand didn’t release me. Instead, it moved softly down my arm and pried the paintbrush gently from my rigid hand.

  ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘It’s OK. I can—’

  But he cut me off, moving around to face me. I couldn’t look at him. ‘Let me look after you.’ He stroked my hair and I exhaled shakily, scared to let go. ‘Please. Just tonight. Before…’ he said, in barely more than a whisper. I glanced up and was caught by the intensity in his luminous green eyes. I felt my body melt in response. The last of the memories faded away.

  ‘Before what?’ I murmured.

  He blinked and stepped away. ‘Nothing. Have you decided what you’re going to paint yet?’ He climbed onto the stool.

  I sat on the floor and watched as he finished priming the wall, the muscles in his bronzed forearms flexing with each stroke. Just being around him made things better. It always did. I hadn’t fully decided what I was going to paint, but I wanted it to resemble the way Lincoln’s place always felt to me, and I guess I wanted him to know how he made me feel.

  ‘Kind of. It’s going to be like an…aura, I guess.’

  He looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. ‘Explain?’

  ‘Like even though there are outside forces pushing through the walls, in here it’s like a bubble of goodness. Like coming home.’ I could feel him smiling and it encouraged me to elaborate. ‘When I think of how others would see it, I imagine them seeing a force of goodness overshadowing a force of evil, protecting it.’

  Lincoln almost fell off the stool. He jumped to the floor with a look of shock.

  I tried to reassure him. ‘Don’t worry! It’ll be subtle and soft, but not girly either. You’ll really like it.’ Worried I was about to lose my wall before I even got started, I quickly added, ‘If you don’t like it, I’ll paint it back white for you. Promise!’

  ‘No…no, it sounds great – perfect in fact. I was just surprised. To hear you explain it like that. The good and evil part. Do you…consider it much? Good and…evil?’

  I blew out a breath of relief. I still had my wall.

  ‘Umm…I don’t know. Not really. I don’t really know how I feel about the whole God issue.’ Although in truth I did. ‘You know I’m not religious.’

  How could I believe in God? What kind of bastard would leave me motherless the moment I was born? Would leave me alone in a room with a sicko who would mess with my mind forever? And that’s just me – don’t even get me started on the rest of the world. God? He’s just for the very lost to question and the very found to praise.

  He nodded as if he’d actually heard all the things I hadn’t said. ‘Nor am I. But I believe there are forces of good and evil at work in our world and…beyond. I believe that between us and the “God issue”,’ he wiggled his fingers to indicate quote marks, ‘is another layer, so to speak.’

  ‘Another layer?’ I asked.

  ‘Like…’ He jiggled his hands by his side, as if he was considering whether to go on. ‘Other realms, other…beings.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, a little annoyed. ‘What is it with everyone and otherworldly stuff?’

  ‘Huh? Has someone else being talking to you?’ he asked, taking a sudden step towards me.

  ‘No…well, kind of. My mum believed in spirits too, or something like that.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, exhaling and moving back a little.

  ‘So?’ I prompted, keen to steer him away from the subject of my mother. ‘Do you believe these other beings or whatever are good?’

  ‘Maybe. But with all things there has to be balance. You know, light and dark, sun and moon, yin and yang… So where there are entities that produce good, there must also be those that don’t.’

  ‘You mean, evil?’ I asked, feeling confused.

  ‘Maybe it’s not as clear-cut as that. Maybe it’s the very presence of one thing – light or darkness – that necessitates the existence of the other. Think about it, people couldn’t become legendary heroes if they hadn’t first done something to combat darkness. Doctors could do no good if there weren�
�t diseases for them to treat.’ His eyes focused on me, willing me to understand. When he saw he wasn’t about to be rewarded, he gave a half- laugh and smiled, putting a hand out to pull me up from the floor.

  I stood and took the paintbrush from his hand. ‘Is it OK if I say I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about?’

  ‘You will,’ he said softly, turning towards the kitchen before I could see his face.

  After he helped me clean the brushes and I helped him tidy up the kitchen, I grabbed my bag and he grabbed his keys in unison, pausing to smile at each other briefly as we did. I loved that we had this – whatever it was. We didn’t have to talk about things; we had our own little routine. I knew without asking that he would drive me home and he knew without asking that I would let him.

  When he pulled his four-wheel drive up outside my apartment block, he cut the engine and turned to me.

  ‘I’m OK,’ I said before he could ask.

  He nodded and smiled grimly. ‘Are we going for a run in the morning?’

  ‘I have an early shopping date with Steph.’

  I was glad I had a legitimate excuse to get out of a ten-kilometre run for once.

  Lincoln gave a smooth laugh. ‘Uh-ha, birthday shopping.’

  ‘Yes, and don’t start. I’m relying on you to let tomorrow go by without paying me any attention at all.’

  ‘I promise I won’t even be nice to you.’

  He was lying.

  ‘Good.’

  So was I.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘Are you up to your destiny?’

  William Shakespeare

  ‘It is time for you to know.’ The words floated through the air, almost surrounding me before reaching me.

  ‘To know what?’ I asked disjointedly.

  ‘Who you are.’

  The man in my dream stepped towards me. I didn’t recognise him, even though he seemed so familiar. His face was structured around a chiselled jawline. I would have said he was handsome, but for his eyes. They were so distant. They made him look separate, disconnected.

  ‘And who am I?’

  I was wearing sweats and a once white T-shirt that now resembled more of a paint palette. A canvas sat on an easel in front of me. A paintbrush was in my hand.

  ‘You are you and you are me. You are the Keshet.’

  He was standing by the window in my art studio, looking out at a clouded, grey sky. He seemed disappointed with what he saw. It was normal for me. The weather always seemed a little gloomy in my dreams.

  ‘I’m you?’ My voice rang with an echo like bells. My words, like his, seemed to float invisibly and effortlessly between us.

  ‘Partly. You are part human as well.’

  My hand moved absently over the canvas.

  ‘You’re not human?’ I could smell flowers. I knew the smell well. I loved lilies, especially white lilies. They were strong and beautiful. I’d always been drawn to them.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What are you?’

  He glided towards me. It didn’t occur to me to move away.

  ‘The question is not what are we? Rather, what are we to become?’ He extended his hand, index finger pointed.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Waking you up!’ His finger morphed into a claw, lion-like, and lashed out at me. I stumbled back.

  He was gone. My hand still held the paintbrush. Before me, a smear of colours. Red at the top, followed by orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. It reminded me of…a rainbow.

  I woke up, disoriented for a few moments. I rolled over to look at my alarm clock – it was 1.00 am. I was officially seventeen. Apparently, my first gift was a walk in the world of weird dreams. I rolled back over and sandwiched my head between two pillows. ‘Happy birthday, Violet.’

  When I woke again it was morning, and my shoulder ached. I instinctively grabbed at it, then sucked in a breath and bolted upright. I prodded the angry red scratch with a finger. It was no more than an inch long, but it was raw and weeping and it hurt like hell. Images of my dream kept replaying in my mind. It couldn’t be. I must have done it in my sleep somehow.

  After a quick shower I headed straight for the coffee machine. It was no surprise to see that at 6.00 am Dad had already left for the day. ‘Happy Birthday’ written on a Post-it was the only evidence he had been home at all.

  I sat down with my first cup of coffee and that’s when I saw them. The veins on the inside of my forearms looked different. I peered closer. They seemed darker than usual and there were more of them – if that was even possible. I’d never recalled the pattern being that intricate; it was almost as if they were interwoven. I shook my head. First my dream, and now this. Maybe I was getting sick? Perfect. I could totally imagine spending the whole day shopping with Steph while feeling tragic.

  With my second cup of coffee, I headed to my art studio in the spare room. I tried to start a new canvas, but I kept stopping to look at my veins. In the end, I found myself back in bed, reading my mother’s letter one more time before packing it away again and storing the box under my bed.

  Out of sight. Out of mind.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are immorality, impurity, sensuality.’

  Galatians 5:19

  I pressed number twelve and looked over at Steph as the doors closed. She bounced up and down, making the lift bounce with her. My stomach dropped. I hated that feeling.

  ‘I am so excited about tonight!’

  Why Steph was so excited about my birthday was beyond me. I closed my eyes and leaned against the mirrored wall, wishing it were tomorrow and my birthday were a thing of the past. I’d let Steph drag me around looking at dresses the whole afternoon when all I really wanted was the day to be done.

  ‘I’m glad someone is,’ I replied.

  ‘Cheer up! Your dad is taking us to one of the coolest bars in town. It’s the absolute place to go. God knows how he managed to get a booking,’ she said, batting her eyelids.

  Of course, I knew Steph had helped arrange the booking. Her brother, Jase, was a DJ. He could usually get us in anywhere.

  ‘Plus,’ she added deviously, ‘I’m sure Lincoln will be there to give you a birthday kiss!’

  I sighed. Even though I’d invited Lincoln to meet us for a drink after dinner, I wasn’t sure he’d come. He wasn’t that keen on social gatherings, and I’d told Steph a million times he wasn’t interested in me like that. But she persisted anyway.

  ‘S-t-e-p-h,’ I dragged out her name in warning.

  She ignored me. ‘I know you’re crazy about him. And I’ve seen the way he watches you when you’re not looking. There is definitely something there.’

  If only she were right.

  ‘If you want him, you have to, you know…make a move. You need to let him know what he’s missing out on. Use your…assets.’

  She meant my boobs. Steph was always telling me that I had it, so I should flaunt it. But I preferred to focus on other things, like my high cheekbones, full lips and creamy complexion. And, of course, my long hair, which I could hide behind when I needed refuge.

  The lift doors opened in time for my escape. I wasn’t about to start wearing super-low-cut tops just to get Lincoln’s attention. Steph had her style, I had mine. Admittedly, my ‘style’ meant that I was now suspended in a whopping chasm of nothing-but-friends.

  Inside the apartment, I dropped the shopping bags in my room and headed for the kitchen. It was white with stainless-steel appliances that sparkled from lack of use – all except for the coffee machine, which was always switched on and running hot. I set about making us coffees while Steph shadowed me.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ I said, throwing my hands in the air. ‘He just wants to be friends!’

  It was becoming irritating having to explain to people that Lincoln wasn’t interested in me. And apart from the obvious reason why there was no way I was going to make a move, I didn’t w
ant to risk losing what we already had. If I didn’t have Steph and Lincoln, I had no one.

  ‘Well, now that you mention it, I might have had an idea,’ Steph said, smiling a smile I knew all too well. It usually meant disaster.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Dare I ask?’

  Steph made herself comfortable on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. I stared at her, waiting for an answer. She blew on her coffee, stalling.

  ‘Ever heard the phrase, “candy is dandy but liquor is quicker?”’

  Great, she wanted me to get drunk. ‘Ah…ever heard of underage!’

  ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way,’ she said, matter-of-factly.

  ‘That’s your great plan?’

  She put down her cup, shook her head at me and gave an exaggerated sigh, as if to say, What am I going to do with you?

  ‘Just a couple of drinks and you can ask him outright. If he says he just wants to be friends, then sure, it’s embarrassing, but you can pass it off as having had a few too many and pretend it never happened and you guys can go back to your weird adventure-sports friendship. But, if he says something else then…’ She threw her arms wide. ‘Voila!’

  I had to admit, it had possibilities.

  When the doormen opened the black glossy doors for us on our arrival at Hades, I had to confess that despite all my complaining I was feeling pretty good in my new little black dress. It was the back – or rather, the lack of one – that was the feature. It started from just above my bum, daringly low, my entire back bare except for two thin straps. Steph had taken care of everything, even giving me a pair of stick-on boob cups as a birthday gift. At first I didn’t believe they’d work, but after a few attempts at positioning that left us both crying with laughter, they actually stayed put and even I was amazed when I looked in the mirror. To top off the outfit, my dark hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail that fell in a straight line down my back.

  We walked in to find the place already packed with people. I spotted Dad on the far side of the restaurant, waving like an idiot. Steph eyed off our hot waiter as he escorted us to the table, which was nestled beneath countless stunning chandeliers in a section that was rimmed with lashings of long luxurious scarlet drapes. As we followed, the waiter spun around to catch Steph gawking at his backside. He gave her a wink – obviously well-practised in the art of keeping the customer happy while gunning for big tips. Steph, of course, lapped it up.