All That Matters

by Michelle Congdon

  I wasn’t sure what I was still doing with her; it was intended to be a one time thing, but she kept offering and I couldn’t find a good reason for me to turn her down.

  “All I’m saying is, the thing you have with Dina is nothing serious, and by what I’ve heard, your cousin is the type of girl up for anything.”

  I was so close to hitting the back of that thick skull of his. Did he ever stop and think about the words he was going to say before saying them? Luckily, Coach wrapped up on his speech and the team dispersed. I managed to lose Jon and left the stadium without having a shower. I usually cleaned up and was ready to start a new day before I left the place, but I was too tired from the late-night study session, and I was beginning to stress knowing how much I still had to do. I had no one to blame but myself; I had put off studying and now I had to cram in as much information as I could before assessment on Friday.

  When I got home, the house was quiet. Mum and Dad were both at work, Blake and Maddie were at school, and who knew what Harper was up to. It was perfect since I’d been dying for peace and quiet all morning. After dropping my sports bag off at the front door, I headed toward the kitchen for a bite to eat and collected a few snacks to prepare myself for half a day of studying; I planned to stay in my room until it was time to head to class in the evening.

  With a plate of last night’s leftovers already devoured, I armed myself with a bottle of water, a can of soda, a large packet of potato chips, a block of chocolate, and a chicken sandwich, then headed up to my room. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I slowed as I approached the guest room Harper was staying in. I wondered what she was doing in there, if she was even in there, and thought about how boring it must be for her to be stuck in the house all day with nothing to do. It was what she’d wanted, though, she’d told Mum and Dad last night. Perhaps she’d wanted a break from the chaotic life of paparazzi chasing her around and the crazy fans asking for autographs. Or perhaps it was a trick; convince my parents she was at home when all along she had planned on sneaking out.

  “What are you doing?”

  My head shot up and twisted around to see Harper standing a few feet in front of me, giving me a wary look. Shit. With my mind on another planet, I took no notice of the fact I’d stopped right in front of her door. Just so I didn’t look like an idiot, I said the first thing that popped into my head.

  “Er, I was checking to see if you’d like anything to eat.” I raised my arms to show her the snacks I’d collected for my study.

  She glanced at them quickly before looking back up at me. She didn’t seem convinced but she walked over, took half of my sandwich, the chocolate bar and the bottle of water before forcing me to step to the side so she could get inside her room. I remained standing there, stunned, as she closed the door in my face.

  Did Jackson honestly think I’d believe his lame story for even a minute? Despite him being unaware I’d been standing there for more than a few minutes, watching him stare at my door like a dumb, confused animal, he had to know his pathetic story about bringing me food was ridiculous. If it had been Blake, I might have considered the suggestion, but Jackson? The guy who had, so far, nothing nice to say to me? Still, I couldn’t help but find it oddly sweet that he’d bothered to check on me, and then make up an excuse because he didn’t want to admit it. I also found it hilarious that he’d let me take the food he had obviously collected for himself; I bet he hadn’t expected that.

  I bit into the sandwich and put the bottle of water and chocolate bar down on the bedside table. I’d have to give him back the chocolate; I didn’t want it and I’d only taken it for kicks. With a smile on my face, I walked over to the dresser and grabbed my MacBook before jumping on the bed. I had plenty of time to check out what was happening on social media since there was nothing else to do.

  I’d told my aunty and uncle that I’d wanted to spend the day in the house, but I never realized it could get so boring. Back at the mansion, we had a games room with a billiards table, arcade video machines, air hockey, darts, and everything else you could possibly think of. It also had a huge bar, but my dad had it locked most of the time and carried the key around his neck; proof my parents had no trust in me. It probably didn’t help that I had broken into it a number of times beforehand; they’d had to amp up security on the thing with two different locks.

  I spent the day painting my nails, catching up on TV shows on my computer and exploring the house. There wasn’t much to see, other than what Aunt Juliana had shown me the day before, but there was a large, rooftop balcony with a spectacular one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the ‘harbor city’. That’s where I had been before I’d spotted Jackson standing in front of my bedroom. It really was beautiful up there, and I had planned on going up there often. I just hoped no one else had the same idea.

  I typed a few replies to fans, posted a bored selfie, and wrote a short email to my brother Hawke telling him to visit me soon before tossing my Mac to the other side of the bed.

  Almost immediately, my cell buzzed. I sat up and reached for my phone resting on the bedside table beside the bottle of water and chocolate bar; the message was from my brother.

  Got your email. Miss you, too, baby sis. Soon, I promise. I’ll check flights tonight. Be good! Xx

  I found myself giggling at his ‘be good’ comment, imagining the way he’d be saying it, in his voice, if he were here. I texted him a quick response back.

  I am bored out of my brain. If you don’t hurry, I’ll have to create my own fun. I hear the legal age to hit the clubs here is 18? Xx

  Very funny. Write me a list of anything you need, and I’ll bring them over. Love you. Xx

  You’re the best! Love you, too. Xx

  My brother really was the best. Except if he knew what I really needed him to bring over, all I’d get was a long lecture about why hadn’t I told anyone I was still taking medication.

  My prescription pills were running low. I hadn’t had the time to go to my source for a refill before leaving Miami. I took everything I had in my room—in case my parents decided on going through it while I was away. It was something I was going to have to try to solve and fast; I didn’t have much left. Problem was, I had no hook-ups in Sydney, nor did I have a prescription for the types of medication I was after.

  It was Friday night, the night of our home game, and it had turned into one of the worst nights of my life. Not only did we lose to a team we’d beaten numerous times, but also poor Ricko broke his fucking leg, and I was to blame. If I’d only had my head in the game, that illegal tackle wouldn’t have happened, and Ricko wouldn’t be currently sitting in a hospital bed awaiting surgery. It was entirely my fault he was out for the rest of the season.

  I slammed my fist into the brick wall, ripping skin off my knuckles. Shit, it fucking hurt, but I deserved it. Had I not spent the last two weeks fucking around, I’d have gotten my assessment done sooner and wouldn’t have had to spend the last few nights up until stupid hours of the morning studying. It left me tired, run-down, and in no position to play tonight’s game.

  I scooped up the bottle of Jack I’d grabbed out of Dad’s liquor cabinet and took a huge mouthful. The dark liquid burned all the way down my throat, but it was a welcome distraction to the anger rumbling inside my chest.

  I slammed the bottle down forcefully and swiped the back of my hand across my mouth. Walking over to the edge of the balcony, I peered into the horizon. Darkness blended in with the bright lights of the Sydney CBD, and its perfect reflection in the water surrounded me. I hadn’t been up to the place in ages. I hadn’t needed to because we hadn’t lost a game in so long.

  The rooftop balcony had been my favorite place to go to get away; it gave me time to think and blow off steam. My family knew to give me space whenever we’d lost a game, but I wasn’t sure what they’d do after something like tonight. Surely, they’d give me at least a few hours alone.

  I took a deep breath to try to calm myself before walking back over to the
table, grabbing the bottle, and taking another swig. I was starting to feel the effects of it, which was exactly what I wanted; I needed to be completely numb, completely free of all emotion.

  After two more large swigs, I realized I was pacing back and forth. Damn it! This wasn’t working. The only other thing I could think of that helped calm me down was playing my guitar.

  I had another mouthful of Jack, and then quickly ran inside into my bedroom, grabbed my guitar and then raced back out again.

  I pushed one of the chairs up near the ledge; close enough so I could use the ledge as a footrest. Placing the now-half bottle of Jack Daniels on the ground, I began to play. The familiar sound calmed me almost instantly. It was strange how something such as that had such an effect; it was the perfect release.

  Before I knew it, my fingers were automatically strumming away to one of my favorite songs: Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here”. I played the entire song, singing along to the words I knew so well. When it ended, I took a swig of Jack and started the song again. Soon, I’d forgotten all about the game; it was just me, singing into the clear, cool autumn night.

  As I strummed the last chords the second time round, my entire body started to tingle. My heartbeat picked up and my stomach whirled around with a strange sensation causing the little guy downstairs to slightly twitch. Even in my drunken state, I could feel her; it was how my body reacted whenever she was near, ever since the first day she came into our house. I always felt her presence before I saw her, which made no sense at all. I wasn’t attracted to her, was I? She was hot, yes, but she was a downright bitch and also my cousin. It was disturbing that I even thought of her in any other way.

  I didn’t turn around; I simply sat there, silent and unmoving, waiting to see if she would have the guts to come over and talk to me. She didn’t. After about ten minutes, I felt her presence leave. Half of me was thankful; I wasn’t sure I was ready to be around anyone, especially her. But the rest of me wished she had the courage to come over; it would have been nice to know what she was doing hiding in the darkness and watching me.

  Determined to forget about Harper, I put down my guitar and relaxed into the chair, looking up to the dark, night sky. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I finally reached down to grab the bottle and found it was completely empty. Shit. I’d polished off an entire bottle of Jack Daniels without realizing.

  Completely buzzed and numbed by the alcohol, I stood up and stumbled my way into my bedroom. Funnily enough, the last thing I remember before passing out was the smell of Harper’s light, floral perfume lingering in the hallway. Had she watched me for longer without me being aware?

  A nineteen-something-hour flight from Florida to Sydney meant jetlag and my body’s internal clock running on a completely different time zone. Even after a few days, I still woke up late and struggled to sleep at night. The pills I took seemed to ease some of the jetlag, but because I had been taking them on a regular basis, it seemed even my body craved them at the wrong times. On this particular night, I decided against taking them and convinced myself to fall asleep on my own. I hadn’t had the courage to try to do so before, but with a low supply, I needed to keep them for desperate times. Feeling myself drift off to sleep, I caught the sounds of a guitar. I slowly sat up and strained my ears to listen. It seemed to be coming from the roof.

  Curious, and knowing I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep until I knew for sure, I tiptoed out of bed and headed toward the roof-top balcony, thankful I knew my way around the entire house by now. After the first time I visited the rooftop, I asked Aunt Juliana about it. She said it didn’t get used much, only sometimes when the boys had friends over and they went up there to barbeque. Other than that, it was pretty much left abandoned. That was when I decided it would make the perfect getaway; a private place, other than my bedroom, that I could use to escape. Like my bedroom, it had a nice view of the harbor, but it had fresh air and the salty smell of the ocean which reminded me a little of home. I’d been up there a few times already, mostly late at night, when I struggled to sleep. No one had come up to annoy me, so I found it quite strange to hear noises coming from the balcony this evening.

  When I reached the doorway that backed out onto the balcony, I froze mid-step when I recognized the person behind the smooth, rich, calming voice and the song he was singing; it was none other than Jackson. I was surprised by the fact he could sing, and sing well, but what had shocked me more than anything was that the song he was singing, “Wish You Were Here”, was the song I listened to whenever I missed Quinn. It was the lyrics I’d decided to get tattooed on my ribcage; one of many tattoos I’d gotten to honor my twin, and one of my favorites.

  I took a step back, positioning myself against the wall so I was amongst the shadows in case he decided to turn around and then spotted me. I stood there silently and listened to each chord he strummed and took in each beautiful word that came out of his mouth. A strange feeling washed over me as unwelcomed memories of my sister and myself in happier times flashed inside my mind. I felt my throat constrict and gritted my teeth to stop the emotional wave from threatening to take over. Tilting my neck back until the back of my head rested against the wall, I fought hard to stop the unwanted tears from escaping. Emotions weren’t my thing. Showing vulnerability only allowed people to take advantage of you; I had learned that the hard way. If I hadn’t… argh, I couldn’t let myself think about that. I was afraid of what would happen if I ever let those dark memories loose again. Last time, I’d tried to end my life by swallowing a cocktail of pills. I knew I didn’t take enough with me on this trip to try and repeat that again, which frightened me more, because without that option, I wasn’t sure at what length I’d go to stop the painful memories from taking over.

  The song ending brought me back into the moment. I thought Jackson would start playing a new one, but when he didn’t; I tilted my head to the side to see what he was doing. He was just sitting there with his back to me, holding on to the guitar in silence as if he knew I was standing somewhere in the shadows watching, as if he was waiting for me to approach him.

  The feeling unnerved me. I quickly took another step back just in case. I couldn’t see him anymore; the edge of the doorway blocked my view, but I could still feel his presence causing a strange sensation to my body.

  I stood there for a few more minutes before deciding to turn away and cautiously make my way back to my bedroom.

  Once I was back, and the door to the room locked, I rubbed absently at the goose bumps that had formed on my arms. Heading to my bed, I slipped a hand between the edge of the mattress and bed frame, feeling around for the stash of prescription pills I’d hidden there. After the memories that Jackson’s choice of song conjured up, I knew there was no chance of having a dreamless sleep tonight without them.

  I didn’t bother asking Harper why she had watched me up on the roof the next morning, or even after the next two nights that followed when she did it again. I knew she wouldn’t confess to doing something like that, not when she still scowled every time she caught me looking over at her. I was beginning to find the situation amusing, not that I’d ever admit that to her; she’d tear shreds into me if I did. If I hadn’t been busy with football training and my head in medical textbooks the past two days, I’d have questioned her about it already. But with half a day free and knowing Harper was somewhere upstairs, most likely in her room or on the rooftop, I now had a chance.

  I decided to check the roof first; if she wasn’t there, then I’d contemplate knocking on her bedroom door. But by going to the roof first, I’d give myself a chance to think of an excuse to say to her to get me into her room. Smiling, I made my way up, thinking about how Harper reminded me in so many ways of a cat. The ones that acted as though they hated being touched and would swipe at you if you’d try to get close, but then they’d hang around waiting for you to coax them over with a sweet voice… yeah, only to swipe at you again if you pat them too much.

  Mum and Dad we
ren’t due to arrive home for another two hours, and Blake and Maddie were still at school. How on Earth Mum trusted Harper to stay at home, alone, was beyond me. Even though, every time I’d come home, Harper had been upstairs somewhere or locked away in her room. According to her reputation in the media, she did whatever the hell she liked, so why hadn’t she snuck out or something? Or maybe she had? But it still didn’t answer why my mother hadn’t been worried of that happening in the first place.

  I found Harper barefoot and leaning on the balcony, staring out into the horizon; her long, faded-red hair, which looked pinker nowadays, blew against the afternoon breeze. Her short, singlet dress, which looked two sizes too big for her, gaped under her arms, revealing a black strapless bra and plenty of her tattoos. I reminded myself to ask her how many tattoos she had in total—that’s if she ever decided to have a decent conversation with me, of course.

  I felt my skin tingle as I approached her slowly and my mind churned with what to say. Jeez, why was I so nervous? She was just a girl, an attractive girl, but still a girl and also my cousin.

  Harper turned around before I reached her and it didn’t take long for her surprised expression to turn into: great, what the hell are you doing here?

  “Err, hey,” I said, sounding unbelievably awkward. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never been uncomfortable talking to women before.

  “Hey back,” she replied in a flat tone before turning back to watch the setting sun in the horizon.

  I didn’t let her unfriendly response deter me from my mission, to ask why she had been watching me. “So how are you enjoying Sydney so far?” What sort of question is that? I inwardly laughed at myself.