by Dale, Lindy
“Do you forgive me?”
He could feel in my body. He knew I’d forgiven him. I’d forgiven him but I could not forget.
“Oh Bella, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I keep hurting you. All I ever wanted was to love you.”
And all I wanted was to be loved.
Lifting my head, I examined his face, looking into his heart, trying to read his mind. I knew he wanted me back but I couldn’t bear to hear him say it. I felt it too, but I couldn’t give any more. The pain inside cut too deep.
Please don’t ask me to love you again Ben, my eyes begged, beseeching him to release the chains that held my heart and let me go free. I can’t do it, it’s too hard.
It was too late. It was over.
***
For days after, I was consumed by an all-encompassing sense of grief, and no matter how I tried I couldn’t shake it. Yet, somehow it seemed a relief that Ben was gone from my life. I’d sent him away again. Now I could have that new beginning I dreamt of. I could learn to live my life.
“I want to move into a flat, Mum,” I stated over dinner a few nights later.
From underneath her perfectly made up face, Mum looked shocked. “Why? Aren’t you happy here at home?”
“Of course I am, but I need some space. If I get a place close to Uni I won’t have to use the car and I qualify for a ‘living away from home’ allowance to supplement my scholarship. Then there’s my job too.”
Mum put the serving spoon slowly down on the table cloth. I’d never seen her do that ever. We had a spoon rest for such things. She looked at me as if I had just announced I had been accepted for the first manned landing on Mars. “You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“How will you pay for rent and food?” Her face was worried. She was thinking that I would never be able to cook for myself and would live on toast and sardines.
“I’ve worked it out Mum; I’ll have enough to get by. Lots of other kids do it.”
“Yes, they do, but they don’t have a perfectly good home ten minutes away.”
“Please Mum?”
“Well, alright but your father and I will have to come and see the place first. I don’t want you living in some hovel with drug addicts and alcoholics.”
As I helped her clear away the dishes, I pondered how it would be to live alone. Ben would never find me, if he cared to look. It would be perfect.
Chapter 15
HARD TO HANDLE
Action speaks louder than words
And I’m a man with great experience
I know you got you another man
But I can love you better than him
Otis Redding
Satisfied that my new life was going according to plan and that I hadn’t starved to death or sold my body to pay the rent, I decided it was time for the next phase. A new man. Enter Dean Hayward (aka groomsman at ill-fated wedding and would be doctor) who wasn’t the type of boy I found attractive but therein was his charm. There was nothing about him that of reminded me of Ben. Polar opposites of the boyfriend spectrum was what they were. Oh, he was divine and somewhere in the dim dark recesses of my mind, I convinced myself that he was perfect. But perfect for what?
Conversation? It took me about a month after we began going out, to deduce that Dean’s conversation skills hadn’t improved since the first night we’d met at Jen’s wedding and even though I liked the sound of my own voice some social chitchat would have been nice.
Intelligence? There was no denying his brain cells exceeded mine ten to one and compared to his my thoughts were about as deep as an episode of Get Smart, but that wasn’t an excuse for his often patronising tone and pretentious behaviour. It was a wonder we made it to the ‘two month’ romantic dinner at all.
Sex maybe? I think not. By the time we reached the epic ‘three month’ anniversary I’d confirmed that sex with Dean was like making love to a sloth. The missionary being his one and only position of choice, I got bored and became adept at faking it just to get him off me. Even with my limited experience of one, I knew there was meant to be more to sex than that. Still, I continued to go out with him because he was safe and dependable and he had a smile that would make any girl throw herself at his feet. He just wasn’t Mr Right.
***
It was late, very late and we were all at Coops’ house. Earlier in the evening, Dean and I had sat on the couch for what seemed like an eternity while he’d outlined my faults and accused me of having some sort of psychological disorder.
“I know what you’re up to,” he said, “You’re using those boys as shield. You’re afraid of intimacy.”
He wasn’t telling me anything new.
“Maybe we should take a break for a while, then?”
“No. I love you and I don’t want to break up. It’s just, sometimes you’re so self-centred.”
I sighed and looked longingly around the room. Everyone was having a great time, except me. I was being case studied. “I’m going to get another drink. Want one?”
The stereo in the kitchen was blaring and Justin, Coops and Phil sat at the table sharing a joint. They paid little attention as I walked over, picked up a bottle and poured a hefty glass. The buzz was almost instant and I let out a satisfied sigh. If I had to listen to Dean’s ranting, I might as well do it drunk. Dean walked up beside me, his eyes nose wrinkling distastefully at the smell clouding the room. “I think I’ll go home. You coming?”
“No.”
He waited for a moment, and then with a shrug, turned for the door.
“Right boys,” I grinned, “Who’s for shots?”
Pouring the drinks, I began slinking around the table, teasingly handing them over.
“Will you quit the lap-dancing, Bella?” Justin said. “Can’t you see we’re trying to get mellow?”
Coops smiled as I swung onto his lap. “Stop it, Bella, or I might be tempted to do something I shouldn’t.”
“Please do, I could do with a little fun.”
“I don’t think so. If I give you what you want, I’ll never get rid of you.”
“And wouldn’t you love it.”
Silent, he raised a dark eyebrow and pushed me off. I didn’t care. It was only a game anyway.
“I’m going outside.”
Wandering into the night, I found a spot on the back steps, and gazed into the sooty darkness. It was just like the night in the rotunda, except Ben wasn’t there. He would never be there again. I was alone with nothing but my tequila. The ache was growing inside me. I was lost and alone.
Standing up, I stepped down into the garden, my fingers trailing the bushes as I pondered. Why had I sent him away? Why had he broken his promise? I could feel the hurt churning in my stomach like it did so often then, the sick rising in my throat. Fifteen tequilas had sounded like a super idea when I’d only had ten, but any minute those poor pansies in the garden were going to be swimming for their lives. Treading through the grass, I found the garden bed next to the fence. Heaving my guts into the garden, I put an arm out to steady myself as I began to cry, not for the poor little flowers but for my sad new life, the one without Ben. Even in my tequila haze, the image of his face would not be banished. I missed him so much.
A gentle hand rested on my shoulder, pulling my hair aside as I redecorated the garden beds, Technicolor style.
“Still want to do shooters?” Coops joked, “You’re going to kill my plants if you keep this up.”
He handed me his hanky. “This isn’t my first choice in end of evening entertainment. How many times are you gonna write yourself off before you’ll learn?”
I stopped. Was that the pot calling the kettle black or was I dreaming? Holding my hair was the man I’d watched chugging back crates of beer and vodka every weekend while scoffing at the imminent hangover. Who was he to judge?
Leaning against his chest, I used him to regain my balance, feeling the warmth of his arms around me. It was peaceful there.
“Thanks, Co
ops, you’re a real friend.”
“You stink,” he said, chasing a lash from my cheek with his finger.
“I love you, too.”
‘Don’t say that, it’s not fair.”
“But I do.”
“Yeah. Are you ready to go inside?”
I shivered. His voice was deep and sexy, his smile so Richard Gere in Breathless. Suddenly, I didn’t feel sick anymore. I wanted to be alone with Coops. I wanted to live without the ghost of Ben.
“No. Just cuddle me.”
We snuggled in silence. He gazed at the stars, pretending he couldn’t feel my hand inside the back pocket of his jeans. The flannelette of his shirt was soothing against my cheek.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, at last.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“I don’t think you can. You’re going to get yourself into trouble if you keep this up.”
I snuggled closer. He was reading my mind. “But I want to get into trouble…..I want to get into trouble, with you.”
I licked my lips, waiting for his reply. His eyes were on them, and he hesitated but only for a second. Just one kiss, one kiss couldn’t hurt.
His lips were cold and surprisingly soft. I tingled. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone. The night’s all scary when I’m alone.”
“No. You have to go home.”
I pulled his head down to mine. I kissed him hard. He wanted to say yes, I could feel it and his lips were making me quiver like I hadn’t in months. His voice was making the ghosts recede.
“Please?”
“What about Dean?”
I pressed myself against him. “I don’t want to go out with him anymore. You could be my boy; you’re a much better dancer than he is, anyway.”
I slid my tongue tantalizingly into his mouth. “Nobody will ever know. Come on,” I pleaded, as I swayed against him, pleading with him to take the ghost away.
“What about our friends inside the house? Don’t you think they’ll know?”
“Send them home. Take me to bed, fuck me. I want you to.”
He released his hold on me. “Jesus, Bella. No girl could so blatantly ask to be fucked and make it sound ladylike. Go home. You’re drunk and we’d both regret it tomorrow.”
Looking into his eyes, I could see he was regretting it already. I tilted my chin. “Please?”
“No. Now get inside.”
He watched as I climbed the back stairs, my bottom sashaying from side to side. I hope he cursed his luck. Maybe he did, for I heard him say behind me “A guy needs the willpower of a saint to be your friend, Bella.”
***
Having determined that flirting with my friends was not the best thing for my dignity or theirs, and in the cruel light of day realising what a total fool I’d made of myself, I set my sights on the greater male population of the city, with little concern for my so-called boyfriend or the fact that he may have had feelings other than those of superiority. I’d sent out the hint loud and clear that I wanted a break. The fact that he’d chosen to ignore it, ostrich-like, wasn’t my fault.
“This is awesome,” I stated, as we sat crowded around a small table in the bar of the Sterling Arms one night a few weeks later. “How come you’ve never bought me here before?”
“We didn’t think the world was ready for you,” Justin said.
“What’s that meant to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means,” Coops laughed. “You’re a flirt, Bella. The average Australian bloke doesn’t know what to do with a girl like you.”
“So I like my coffee with cream, what can I say?”
“How come you’re here early tonight, anyway?” Prue asked. She was the only one of my school friends I saw these days. Sometimes it was nice to have her around. Sometimes.
“It was dead as. I left early.”
I pushed back the chair and stood up, collecting the empties. Capably avoiding spillage of even the minutest level on my new red Mary Jane’s, I went to the bar to order. A dark haired guy was standing on the other side of the bar. His foot was tapping to Otis Redding as he pulled a beer and stared quite openly at me. He winked.
“Nice shoes, very decadent.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what they say about girls who wear red shoes, don’t you?”
“Yep. I also know what they say about men with big hands,” I replied, taking the drinks and leaving.
Back at the table, I leant over to Prue. “I saw the cutest guy behind the bar.”
“Do you have no shame? You have a boyfriend. Remember? My cousin? Dean?”
I sat down beside her. “When did you become the relationship police? Besides, we’re on a break.”
“Since when?”
“Since he told me that ‘excellent’ is not the only descriptive word in the English language and I told him that I knew lots of other words like ‘condescending’ and ‘arrogant’.” Dean’s face had pinched, a bit cat’s bummish, at that. He didn’t like sarcasm.
“That’s not an excuse to treat him badly.”
“I didn’t treat him like anything. We’re on a break.”
I glanced at the bar; the cute dark haired guy was still there. His biceps were flexing as he pulled on the beer tap and mouthed Otis in my general direction. I could see his lips telling me that he knew what I needed, that he could give it to me. How did he even know I’d been watching?
“That guy is singing to me, Prue. Look.”
Prue turned on her stool. The barman was looking the other way. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“He just mouthed ‘I want to fuck you.’”
Justin shook his head. “You’re priceless, Bella. Drink your drink.”
“But he did! He winked at me, too.”
“In your dreams.”
Prue looked around the table, “She was never like this at school, you know. She was a quiet little mouse. I don’t know what’s happened.”
I did. I was one of the boys and they loved me for who I was not what I could pretend to be.
***
At midnight, a low moan erupted around the room as the lights flickered to life and people began to realise the end was upon them. Boys at the bar tipped their glasses trying to squeeze out every last drop and a group of girls could be seen tottering on their high heels down the hall towards the eternal queue outside the toilet, one last pee before they headed out into the cold. Justin and I had finished our drinks and waited impatiently for the other three, so that we could move on to the next venue, an underground nightclub that stayed open until the early hours. It was the type of place one only frequented when desperate for alcohol, being a hangout for leather and stud emblazoned men who worshipped Boy George as their hero but at that time, on a Thursday, the alternatives around the city could be counted on one finger.
As we stood to leave, a barmaid arrived at our table with a tray of drinks. “This is for you guys. Compliments of the management.”
“Who are they from?”
“Our new bar manager, Nick. He’s out the back for the moment but he said you’re welcome to stay after closing. He’d love to have a drink with you.”
I watched her place the drinks on the table. Technically speaking, Dean and I were on a break, so if I were to find out how to mix a few cocktails it wouldn’t be cheating. I grinned.
“Thanks.”
“Have a nice evening.”
***
3am came and the bar was in darkness. The staff had long since gone home and Nick had locked the doors and turned the music down to a muted background noise. The room felt spooky without the mass of people and dark corners that had been inviting looked eerie and cold. I didn’t care. I was trying to figure out how I could get Nick’s attention without the others noticing. It hadn’t been my imagination that he’d been singing to me.
I’d pressed my thigh against his under the table. I’d graz
ed my hand over his knee without so much as an eyebrow raise on his part. I’d leant over for him to light my menthol and I’d even thrown some innuendos into the mix but had been tragically ignored. My curiosity and failure to attract attention, getting the better of me, I tried to listen semi-interested as Nick explained that he’d been backpacking around Europe for two years before returning home.
“And you like managing the pub?” Justin asked.
“Yeah, it’s a great job. I want my own pub one day.”
I nodded. Ambition was good. It was very sexy and commanding to know what you wanted from life. I looked at his wide shoulders… yes, sexy and commanding was very nice, indeed.
As the boys continued talking, I studied Nick over my glass. His skin was tanned or maybe naturally olive, his hair dark and wavy but not black and his eyes hazel flecked with hints of gold. He was very Mediterranean in an international I’ve-had-sex-with-loads-of-girls-and-loved-them-all way. I focused on his lips as thoughts of Dean sank further and further into the background. How would it feel to have those lips on my body, I wondered.
“Anyone for another drink?” Nick asked.
He walked into the black behind the bar and peered into the fridge. I swallowed, as indecent thoughts about him peering into my top took over my brain.
“I’ll have to go out to the public bar for wine if you want one, Bella. Won’t be long.”
I jumped up from the table, adjusting my jeans and walking around the bar to join him. “Can I come too? I need to go to the toilet and it’s all spooky in the dark.”
“Watch out she’s doing the flirty walk,” muttered Phil.
“That walk could be used by ASIO,” Coops groaned. “It’s an instrument of pleasure torture.”
“She only uses it when she wants something.”
“I don’t think Nick knows what he’s up against.”
“I think it’s disgusting,” snorted Prue. “What about Dean?”
“What about him?” the boys chorused.
I heard some shuffling of chairs as Justin and Prue stood, the first to make a move, and realising that it was later than he thought, Phil followed suit.
“Hey, look, I don’t think I want any more, it’s getting late,” he said. “You coming, Bella?”