‘That’s what I don’t understand. Why is it so important that no one knows about me?’ I barge into the conversation; he stares at my eyes, moving down my body. I blush again, feeling embarrassed.
‘After the last changeling, the council decided that we are here to help humans and we cannot let them into our world. However, the changelings mixed genes. We desired to have to some fun in our boring lives. From my childhood I remember that many fairy mothers swapped their children to give them happy human lives. It got out of control and the council stopped it forever.’
Gabriel seems calmer again. His expression is unreadable. I suspect that our date is over. Adam is still staring at me while I think about Rose; she is a Sprite but also a woman and knows that something is wrong.
‘What are you suggesting?’ asks Gabriel, his tone husky. I know he is uncomfortable. Adam touches his shoulder, moving closer to me. He is slightly shorter than Gabriel, but equally as handsome.
‘Just enjoy yourself. I am not here to judge, but be aware that you are playing a very dangerous game,’ he adds, almost whispering. His advice is reasonable, but I can't make out if he is wishing good luck to us, or if he is just pointing out how stupid we are. I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to Gabriel. Both of us are silent. I don't know what to say or how to react.
‘He is right. I am stupid to come here today,’ announces Gabriel. His tone is too high.
‘Don’t be so miserable. Just enjoy while you can. I am jealous, brother,’ says Adam and winks at me. I can't help but smile.
‘I think it would be better if we go,’ says Gabriel, staring at me, his eyes full of regret. I refuse to reveal how disappointed I really am. Adam confirms what I was thinking; this relationship isn’t going to get easier for me. Adam helps me realise that maybe I should stop seeing Gabriel to avoid the pain in the future for both of us. Gabriel kisses my forehead and I know it’s our good-bye. His tone of voice changes but his eyes aren't revealing anything. I drive home, thinking about how uncertain and complicated my life has become since the incident on the beach back in September. I get home in forty minutes. My phone rings half an hour later.
‘Hi, Mum,’ I answer. I was expecting her call.
‘We are just about to leave,’ says Mum. I can sense her stressed tone. I have to move my phone away from my ear because she is shouting and the noise in the background is unbearable.
‘Mum, please don’t scream. I can hear you fine.’
‘I am sorry, Ania. I am just about to get on the plane. Make sure you stay out of trouble.’
I roll my eyes
‘Yes, don’t worry about me. Tell grandma that I miss her. Did the police call you about the burglary?’ I ask, hoping to find out more about my missing diary.
‘Oh yes, they say that they caught someone last night.’
‘Who is it?’
‘I don’t know. They say that he wasn’t at the station for long because he got away,’ she continues.
‘What do you mean got away?’
‘The sergeant called me and said that they were not sure how he escaped. He just vanished. They not sure how; the cell was locked.’
‘Hallo... hallo, Ania, are you there?’ Mum starts shouting again. I stare at the phone, frozen.
‘I can hear you, Mum. What do you mean that he isn't there? How did they find him anyway?’ I continue to question her. My breathing is irregular and a cold sweat runs through me.
‘I don't know, Ania. He just called me to say that they had him; apparently, he was caught trying to sell something illegal.’
‘OK, but what about the part where you said that he escaped from the police station?’ I continue, closing my eyes and trying to calm down. The noise in the background is getting on my nerves and I can’t concentrate.
‘I haven't got the time to talk to you right now. I have to go but I will call you when we get there,’ she says and I think we get disconnected because the line cuts out.
I fall on the bed, looking up the ceiling. My thoughts are slowly dissolving in with the memories from Oxwich Bay in Gower Peninsula. I try and analyse the details of the break in; someone broke into my house and searched for something specific sounds absurd but for some reason, I feel that it might be exactly what happened.
As Gabriel mentioned, Sprites live in their own world and care only about people's decisions, nothing else. Maybe I should stop seeing Gabriel and avoid all the problems that we may need to face in the future. He is already risking his life just because he feels happy with me. His emotions are new to him; he is too arrogant to understand why he is feeling this way. Sometimes we need to make choices in life that make us suffer but are for the greater good.
The rollercoaster of emotions that I experienced today has left me feeling drained; my first lecture doesn’t start until 3pm so I decide to try and go back to bed and forget about everything that’s happened today. The romantic date I was so looking forward to with my lover was interrupted and that's the end of that story now. Adam insinuated that this whole idea was selfish and it shouldn't take place and I’m inclined to believe him.
14
Time flies by and then we’re into March. There are only a few weeks left before the Easter break. Despite the work I have pending from University, I am looking forward to spending some alone time in London; Mum is not going to be back until the middle of April and that means that I’ll have the house to myself.
I am still curious about the burglar that disappeared from the cell. There isn’t any point to talk to mum about this because she doesn’t remember what police told her and I don’t press on. I decided to give up and tackle it when she is back from Russia; she is enjoying herself with Dmitry so much that she doesn't want to think about London.
Gabriel keeps coming back but it isn't as often as I wish it would be. I feel lucky if I see him twice a week. It’s harder to press him to talk about his emotions that are infused inside his heart. In a few weeks’ time, we will be in London, further away from the problems and worries. He took Adam's advice about Rose more seriously and spends a lot more time with her, which drives me crazy, but I have to make a compromise.
One afternoon during my French lecture, Adam shows up. I try to concentrate on what the lecturer is saying, but it is difficult to not stare at him. I have tried not to acknowledge him. Gabriel looked busy with Rose; I noticed them near the building when I walked walking by. I pretended that they were the air. They were kissing. He knew that I would be passing by, but still he let her kiss him. A sharp pain is stabbing in my heart and my mind is blank but I don't show any emotions. I walk home quickly as soon as the class ends.
Gabriel and Adam follow me home, and I hold my tears until I am in my room. I feel as if I can never change what has happened even if I would like to. Gabriel doesn't come to see me that night, or the night after. I haven't seen him for about a week. Richard and Amy are still playing the happy couple and are spending every opportunity together.
The term ends at the beginning of April and within a few days I will be on my way back to London for the Easter break. My frustration isn't dissolving but grows day by day; I feel unwanted and erratic. On the way to London, I cry, trying to wash away everything that I have seen in the last few days, Gabriel and Rose happy together. After spending four hours in heavy London traffic, I finally reach home. It stops raining as I pull up outside my house. My tears subside but I am left with a splitting headache. It feels weird entering my own house without the scent of Russian cooking in the air; it almost feels as if I am coming back to an unknown place. The house is immersed in silence as I walk in. I switch on all the lights and hope to have a long, relaxing bath.
‘Are you OK?’ asks Gabriel, appearing in the corner of the kitchen. I look at him and say harshly:
‘You’ve finally showed up, then?’
‘Are you upset that I have been covering my tracks?’
He doesn't understand what I am trying to say. His strong posture shifts while his eyes ar
e following me; I take my bag and walk upstairs. He follows me there.
‘I am pissed off because you made a decision that affected me and haven't even consulted me,’ I continue, my stomach tightening.
‘I am trying to protect both of us.’ He comes closer to wrap his arms around mine. He is wearing a navy T-shirt with white linen trousers. His eyes are darker than usual.
‘Well then, stop protecting me. I hate it when you do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Treat me as if I don’t get anything!’
‘There is no need for you to shout,’ he snaps, narrowing his eyes and shifts his weight to the right.
I press my lips together and walk towards Mum's bedroom, slamming the door. My breathing quickens, and I know that I have to calm down. I hide my head between my legs, wondering if he even understands what I am going through.
‘Don't come in. I want to be alone,’ I say.
He is still out in the hall; I get up and jump on the bed staring at the wall for a minute. I lift my T-shirt and examine the scar from my stab wound. It feels strange to run my fingers along the jagged skin. I hear the knock, but I ignore it.
‘You do know that the door won’t stop me if I want to come in?’ he says through the door. I sigh.
‘Go and make yourself busy, Gabriel. Leave me alone for a bit,’ I say, trying to sound calm
‘I don’t understand your drama.’
I hear him going down the stairs. Mum's bedroom is spotless. She changed the sheets and cleared out her cabinet. I am certain that she has a whole litre of vodka somewhere in the room that she keeps for special occasions, though they never normally occur. After a week of hell, I have to have a drink. I know that I would not be able to sleep well, despite having Gabriel near. I get up and walk to the cupboard where she normally keeps her bills. I push aside a guilty feeling that it isn't right to be going through my Mother's personal belongings but I’m in a dire need of a drink. The drawer is unlocked and I have to go through a few piles of notebooks, but the bottle isn't there. I stand up and put my hands on my hips, wondering where else I could look. I spot a wardrobe. I bite my lip in hesitation but then I fling open the doors.
After searching through the pile of clothes, I find what I was looking for, and more. Next to the bottle, there is a small box; I open it without hesitation. It contains a small silver key. One of the drawers in the cupboard is locked and curiosity takes over my common sense. I walk back to the cupboard and open it. I never noticed this drawer being locked before, and somehow I know that the key will fit. In the drawer, there is only one thick plain white envelope. It's already open, so I start taking the papers out and read through it. After the first few sentences, my heart sinks and I swallow hard. The blood drains from my face.
'The adoption certificate of Ania Petrova, previously Ania Jones, on the 1st of May 1989'.
This is my own adoption certificate. My breathing slows down as I sit on the floor, trying to understand what I am looking at. I would never have expected that Mum had adopted me. ‘Jones’ sounded so odd; my real surname didn’t suit me. My whole life is a lie that my mother has created for me; I am staring at the adoption certificate while my whole body is shaking. I scan the rest of the paper, trying to locate the name of my real parents. I take the longer birth certificate and straightaway spot Patricia and Larry Jones. How could I not have known that I was adopted; the room starts to spin around, making me dizzy. Slowly, I put it all together. Everyone around me was always pointing out that I never had my parents’ features but I never actually acknowledged it, not until today.
I start checking the rest of the papers, but I can't find anything relevant. It is just a few notes from the hospital, which informs me that I was born in Bangor. Within a space of a day, I am not Russian anymore; I am actually from Wales. I put the papers back into the envelope and lock the cupboard, trying to imagine my real parents but the new thoughts make me feel sick. My head is a complete mess; I grab my vodka and walk downstairs. Gabriel is looking at me with his arms crossed. I ignore him, and take a glass out of the cupboard and splash a generous amount of vodka into it.
‘So, I’m assuming that you’re not hungry?’ he asks. The sarcasm in his tone is obvious.
‘You’re assuming right,’ I snap and close my eyes.
The alcohol burns my throat, but I need more to dissolve my emotions even further away. Gabriel moves closer to me and is standing by me, resting his blue eyes on my body.
‘What's wrong with you?’
‘Just leave me alone, will you?’ I say, giving him a sharp look while taking another sip from the glass. He is getting on my nerves.
‘Just remember how you will feel tomorrow,’ he says and walks off.
I take the bottle and go to the living room, feeling more miserable than before I started drinking. I switch the TV on and start watching some documentary. I take the bottle and drink straight through. A few minutes later, the tears are streaming down my cheeks; the vodka isn’t helping to numb the pain I feel, but I don't want to get Gabriel involved. He wouldn't understand me. I want to call my Mother and tell her how angry I am but it would be too easy for her. I need to see her face to face while shouting that I discovered her little secret that she’s has been hiding from me for all these years. I look at the bottle; it’s half-empty already. The problem is that I am not drunk enough because I am still feeling like crap. I keep crying while I drink more and more until I am unable to get up. My mind is going through a cycle where I am trying to understand if I am dreaming or if this is really happening. I pass out soon enough.
Someone is stroking my hair. My eyes are heavy and when I finally manage to open them, a sharp pain flows through my head. My whole body is aching and I need a drink of water. After a few seconds, I realise that I am in my own bed, naked and Gabriel is next to me.
‘Hi,’ I say, trying not to move, knowing that the pain won't go away.
‘How are you feeling right now?’
‘Like crap.’
He smiles lightly and moves closer to me.
‘I should let you suffer so you will never touch alcohol again,’ he says, observing my reaction. ‘But then you will complain that we don't spend enough time together. I will ease your pain so you can make love to me,’ he answers and moves his fingers to my forehead. Within seconds, the pain is fading and a few minutes later, I am able to move again.
‘Thank you,’ I say. Then I remembered what happened yesterday; the brutal reality of my life hits me. Gabriel looks at me, breathing calmly. His smoky hair is in a mess.
‘You drank the whole bottle yesterday.’
‘I know. I had a bad day,’ I explain, staring at the window. ‘Seeing you with Rose and then you didn't show up for a whole week…’
‘I’m sorry. I am learning to be considerate. I am not human.’
‘It's not an excuse,’ I snap, feeling angry.
‘Get in the shower and I’ll make you some tea,’ he says, standing up.
There’s no point in arguing with him, but still he upsets me. I nod and look in the mirror. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sleeping, but it is dark outside and I look terrible. I am pale and have massive dark circles under my eyes, but at least my head has stopped hurting.
‘Yes, of course, your highness.’
He underlines the word highness while he leaves the bedroom, staring at me. His expression is once again unreadable. After a refreshing shower, I feel better, but I am still annoyed. My mind is hollow when I think about my adoption papers. The guilt fills my heart, but at the same time I am furious. Mum is just a manipulative liar, trying to control me all these years. I sit down on the sofa, wishing I could reverse everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours. I can't believe that I was so naive. I never cared about my father; he left my mother when I was little and I never remembered him, but Mum was always there. Gabriel will have to wait; I don't think I am ready to share the reality I have learnt in the past few hours with him just y
et. Mum needs to explain to me why she never told me the truth. Gabriel is with me, and I need to try to enjoy his company. He emerges from the kitchen and hands me a cup of hot tea. It’s green and smells strange.
‘So, what happened yesterday?’ he asks, sitting in the chair opposite. I avoid looking at him.
‘I was pissed off and I had a bad day, so I needed a drink,’ I say. He strokes his hair, staring at me and I know he doesn't believe me.
‘I have to apologise for what I am just about to say, but I had to spend time with Rose yesterday. She is behaving suspiciously.’
Thinking about Rose right now is irrelevant, even though talking about her is making me uneasy; I feel I have enough going on inside my head without filling my head with Rose.
‘What time is it?’ I ask.
‘After 6pm, you slept all night and throughout the day.’ He points out on the clock behind me.
The Whispers of the Sprite (The Whispers Series #1) Page 16