Cold Water

  I don’t want to, but I drop it, knowing that what he says is true. “Fine. But can you do one more thing for me?”

  “Demanding tonight, aren’t you?”

  “I’m being serious, Ash.”

  “Fine. What is it?”

  “Keep being you.” I smile faintly at him. “I don’t want you to change, no matter how many kitchens have to suffer for it.”

  He chuckles. “Don’t worry, I can definitely handle that.”

  A little while later he asks me to play the game ‘Smash’ with him on his Playstation and I agree to it. He somehow digs the controllers out and proceeds to show me the basic controls. “You’ll pick it up easily,” he promises as the opening screen flashes on the small TV. I play the character of Smash, a rather dangerous looking penguin with a purple beak twice the size of any normal penguin. Ash tells me that his secret ability is ‘substitution’ whatever that is. He plays the opposing character Bash, an equally large and oddly coloured turtle that stands on its hind legs with a menacing expression. His secret ability is apparently ‘Iron defence’. Of course, Ash still manages to defeat me in combat. He beats me every time. I start to wonder if he’s bored playing against someone who is obviously no match for him.

  We play until its dark outside and I can barely see the controllers anymore. By the time we stop, switch the TV off and consume some of the chocolate that he had secretly stashed in one of his draws, it’s already ten. He dismisses this fact and lazily throws himself onto his bed, shifting over and patting the spot beside him. I accept the silent gesture and carefully lie down. The room is nearly pitch black but neither of us move to switch on a light. I like the dark. I always have. And I like where I am right now, lying beside him on his bed, feeling the warmth of his body beside me. I snuggle closer to him and clutch his sleeve in my hand.

  “You’re warm,” I mumble into his shirt. He laughs. In the darkness, I feel him gently take my hand, running his thumb over it.

  “Thank you, I guess.” I don’t reply, only burrow my head further into the folds of his shirt and inhale the smell of shampoo that still lingers on him.

  “You know, you remind me of someone,” I start after a while.

  “Who?”

  “My ex-counsellor. He always was a bit strange.”

  “You had a counsellor?” he asks in surprise. “What was his name?”

  “I only knew him as Mr. Scott. He was odd, but also very wise. I think he still lives in my town, but he stopped counselling a while ago.”

  There’s a small intake of breath from somewhere above me. I feel him tense slightly. “Mr. Scott?” he repeats. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “He’s my father.”

  There’s stunned silence for a moment. I turn to peer at him in the dark, but he stares up at the ceiling resolutely. “Are you serious?” I ask.

  “Yeah. You live in Sunderland, right? Well, mum said that’s where he was last. And, he’s worked as a school counsellor for his whole life.”

  It’s funny, how life decides to throw things in your face like that and how sometimes, coincidence seems inferior compared to fate. Mr. Scott, my old counsellor and friend who I had looked up to and trusted, turns out to be the father of the one person who has saved me. “I can’t believe it,” I mutter after a long time. “It’s so coincidental.”

  “I know, I’m surprised too.” He pauses for a moment. “What was he like?”

  I think back to my old friend, with the forever-tired bark eyes, greying hair and the strangest imagination. I finally see the similarities between the two of them and remember a time when Mr. Scott had told me himself about his teenage son. “He was eccentric,” I admit. “Eccentric, but wise and also kind. From what I remember, he was a good counsellor.” I squeeze his hand, adding: “I’m sorry, that I got to know him for a little while when he was your father and that should have been your privilege.”

  He sighs quietly, almost mournfully. “I don’t mind,” he says. “It’s only a label, anyway. I never got to know him properly. He might as well be a stranger to me.”

  “Are you going to go looking for him, now that you know where he is?”

  “I’ve always known where he is, Hope. I could have found him before if I wanted to. I just…think my life would be less complicated if I didn’t bother.”

  “Are you sad then, about never knowing him properly?”

  “Why would I be sad?” he whispers into the dark. “You’ve been through far worse. And besides, I’ve got everything I want right here.” We stay like that, peaceful, for a few minutes. I’m not sure how many, maybe it is five or maybe it is twenty. I don’t care. I only wish it could last longer. Suddenly I feel him sit up. The absence of his warmth makes me cold. I sit up as well and peer at him in confusion.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask. A hand breezes softly over my cheek.

  “Tell me,” he murmurs. “After tomorrow, do you think things will still be the same?”

  “I don’t know,” I shake my head. “We can try to keep in touch, maybe even meet up sometimes. It’s only about a half hour drive away.”

  “Do you think your sisters will let you?”

  “I doubt it. I’m going to have to get a job to help make money. We’ll have exams to study for. At this rate, I probably won’t have any free time.”

  “Same for me,” he says. “I’m going to have to get a tutor. I need to work extra hard just to pass, unlike you.”

  “There’s just so many things that could happen. What if we find other people?” I ask quietly.

  “Then we do whatever makes either one of us happiest.” He leans forward and presses his lips softly against mine, but this time his kiss is different. It’s not hesitant and experimental like the first time. This time it is more passionate, fervent; almost desperate. We pull away for air and I gaze at the outline of his face in the dark.

  “What was that for?”

  “I’m stocking up on good memories.”

  Although the rest of his face is unclear, the pair of bright, chocolate eyes stand out. I look away and a slightly uncomfortable silence ensues. I feel his eyes on me. My gaze drifts to the clock in the corner of the room. It is almost ten thirty. “Ash, it’s late. We should go to bed.” I get up and start to walk towards his door, but then I feel his hand close around my wrist.

  “Don’t go,” he pleads quietly. “I don’t want to sleep.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a whole summer to sleep. You’re only here for one more night, and there’s still so much I want to ask you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, we can talk about world politics if you want. You know, have a nice mature conversation.”

  I laugh. “Or we could discuss cheese. I don’t mind, either way.”

  He grins. “So you’re staying?”

  “Ok,” I relent. “I’ll stay.”

  We stay up all night, lying together on his bed in the darkness and just talking. He tells me about his school, about how I made him realise that there’s more to life than he thought. Then I tell him about Mr.Scott – stories, quotes, random opinions and anything I can think of. He smiles and says that he’s glad to finally know a little bit more about his father. We talk about nothing and everything – recent movies we’ve watched, the man in the moon, our birthstones, the perks of skimmed milk. By the time I start to feel tired I have already found out that Tobi the infamous potted cactus had been a birthday present, that his favourite drink is soya milk, that he is currently reading ‘Harry Potter’ in Latin and that he used to think Alaska was in Scotland. I don’t think I will ever become bored of talking to him. But in the end, when our voices are nearly hoarse and our eyes droop, we fall silent and I rest my head on his chest. I try in vain to keep my eyes open. I don’t want to sleep, to waste the precious amount of time I have left with him. But I do anyway.

  That night, my dreams are empty.

  I wake up to the sound of the radio the next mornin
g, playing some old pop song which I haven’t heard for years. When I open my eyes and blink blearily, I hear a small chuckle from above me and look up to see his warm eyes dancing in amusement. I seem to be using his arm as a pillow. I stare up at him groggily. “What’s the time?”

  “Ten to eight.”

  Tiredness gone, I immediately bolt up into a sitting position, eyes widening as they swivel to the luminous numbers of the alarm clock. “Damn!” I hiss. I jump off the bed, feeling momentarily dizzy.

  “What’s the rush?” He looks alarmed, catching my arm and helping me sit down again as I try to find my bearings. I feel a twinge of irritation with myself. I couldn’t even stay up one full night. I had wasted those precious hours I had left with him for something as trivial as sleep.

  “They’re coming in two hours,” I say bluntly through the beginnings of a headache. I grit my teeth and the world finally stops spinning. I let out a quiet sigh and stand up again, making sure to do it slowly this time.

  “I know,” he nods, his voice a little solemn. “It’s kinda anticlimactic, really.”

  I force a small laugh. “Breakfast?”

  “Sure. I’ll cook.”

  “I’ll go and get a fire extinguisher ready.

  Chapter 20: Pandora’s box syndrome

  I hear the car long before I see them. I almost managed to lose track of time before I hear that familiar, quiet purr from outside and I just know that it’s them. My heart beat quickens and I try to control the urge to run to the window and press my face against it to prove myself wrong, to prove that it isn’t them come to take me away. But when I hear the rough purr grow steadily louder as the car nears and then cut off abruptly, I have mixed feelings. ‘Nearly home’ one part of my conscience whispers, while the others screams ‘what if you never see him again?’ in a desperate plea to be heard, drowning out any other voices.

  His expression is oddly apathetic as he walks with me to the door, Jenny leading the way. I hear the slams of car doors before suddenly we are standing outside and I can see them. My breath hitches. All three of them have come, Faith in the front with her blonde-streaked hair, Lily sporting her usual bored expression and finally Dawn, small and timid compared to the other two but still just as beautiful. And then there is me: the odd one out.

  Claire, Tia and surprisingly Daniel are waiting outside as well, murmuring to each other in quiet tones. I briefly notice both Dawn and Lily shooting Claire curious looks, no doubt because of her strange attire which consists of a hand-knitted cardigan, indigo tights and fluorescent yellow shorts. I smile slightly at the sight. I guess some things just don’t change.

  Ash, who had been clutching my hand tightly, squeezes it for reassurance. I look up at him momentarily to see him glaring at the three girls, obviously not trying to hide his disdain for them. They seem to notice and avoid his eyes. Dawn shoots me a worried look. It is stalemate for a moment. I feel like we are in a hostage situation.

  “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you Faith, Lily and Dawn,” Jenny breaks the tense silence first and the others smile politely.

  “You too, Jenny.”

  The pleasantries continue for a few minutes. I tune them out. I want to savour what little time I have before I leave. A part of me is still trying to believe that this isn’t the end, that maybe I can somehow reverse this. My sisters aren’t important right now. I have a lifetime later to explain to them, but I only have a few moments left with him. His wistful smile tells me that he knows this too.

  “So, you still want me to introduce you to Faith?” I tease quietly, so that only he can hear.

  He smirks, reminiscent. “Nah, turns out she’s not my type.”

  “Oh? So what is your type?”

  “Brunette, pretty green eyes, rather short. Ridiculously stubborn.”

  “Who are you calling stubborn?” I pout. “And short, for that matter?”

  He laughs. “I’m stubborn too, dear. No wonder we argue about everything.”

  “Mmm. But I still don’t appreciate being called short.”

  “It’s only the truth.”

  “And stop calling me dear. It makes you sound old.”

  “Yes mam.”

  Soon Claire floats over, Tia standing a safe distance away. “Your sisters are pretty,” she notes in an airy voice. “You never mentioned them to me.”

  “Sorry,” I say half-heartedly.

  The time goes too quickly. Once Faith has thanked Jenny for looking after me for the third time, once everyone knows that everyone else is ‘fine thank you very much,’ my oldest sister turns to me. “So, Hope?” she asks quietly. “Are you coming back, or staying?”

  It’s silent; a proper silence where tension shrouds us all, stifling us. I decidedly keep my gaze from straying to him, because I don’t want a reason to back out now. This is it, I guess. No looking back. It’s going to be the result of everything that I have come to realise over the past few days and everything I’ve learnt. “I’m going back home, with you, all of you.”

  “I’m glad, Hope.” There’s relief in her expression, relief I can’t feel for myself. She offers me a small smile and I know she’s giving me a chance to say goodbye. The painful twinge inside me accompanying that thought causes me to wince. I turn to Jenny first.

  “Thank you,” I say sincerely. “Thank you for everything.” Jenny just smiles and hugs me, unshed tears in her eyes. I’ll miss the kind woman, her cooking, her pretty garden, her cheerful smile.

  “Look after yourself, dear,” she bides me. “It’s been a pleasure having you.”

  I turn to Claire next. She gives me that crinkle-eyed smile that I never quite managed to master. “I’ll miss you,” she says. “You’ll have to email sometime.”

  “Of course,” I say. “And when you open that shop of yours some day, I expect free samples.”

  She chuckles. “No problem. All the chocolate you can eat, promise.”

  “And you,” I say, looking past Claire to her disgruntled looking brother. “Don’t kill anything while I’m gone. Please.”

  “Can’t make any promises there,” he croaks, but just for a moment I see the touch of humour that enters his dark eyes.

  I turn to the blonde haired girl who stands a little away from the rest of the group, watching us cautiously. “Tia,” I greet, walking up to her. She’s the hardest out of the three of them to fathom. I’m not sure what to say to her.

  “I guess you finally figured it out then,” she says, a knowing look in her eyes. “I hope you’re doing the right thing.”

  “So do I.”

  “I’m sorry,” she adds, looking a little embarrassed as she scuffs her shoe across the ground. “For all the trouble my brother caused you.” She fishes around in her bag, before pulling out what looks like a CD. “Here,” she gives it to me. “I burned that CD for you.”

  I accept it with a smile. “Thanks.” It’s a pity, because I think I could have been good friends with her if I had the chance. We’re similar in some ways and yet so different in others. Despite her appearance though, she’s nothing like her brother. I’m glad for that fact.

  And then finally, unable to put it off any longer, I turn to face Ash. I suck in a deep breath and meet his eyes. They are oddly calm, accepting, resigned. He sticks his hand out awkwardly. “Good luck,” he says softly. I know it’s because the others are watching, so I fight down the urge to wrap my arms around him and instead just take his hand and shake it. He lets go too quickly. And I realise that this is it: the end.

  “Bye, guys.” I wave mechanically with a forced smile that takes all the energy I have left to keep up. The others return the gesture, but not him. He only stares, stares straight through me with an unfathomable expression on his face. I turn away. My sisters are there, standing beside the pale blue car with neutral expressions as they wait for me to say my goodbyes. I’ve got my little red backpack, the one that’s been with me throughout all of this, slung casually over one shoulder. I walk. One step, two steps,
three steps, every step bringing me closer to home. I’m halfway across the short distance to the car when he cracks.

  “Wait!”

  I spin around just in time to see a blur of blue and brown come bounding towards me before he’s right there in front of me. It’s just like that night. I can see every freckle, every blemish and every shade of brown in his eyes in vivid detail. It’s that special moment, where the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I would say there’s butterflies in my stomach, but that sounds too cheesy and it’s an overused phrase. So instead I’ll say that it feels like the watermelon seed I accidentally swallowed two days ago has finally sprouted.