“And you should put a Band-Aid on that finger,” he added, not turning back to look at me. “Soil contamination has one of the highest potentials for harbouring pathogens.”
Nodding at him, but more at myself, because the nodding helped keep the tears at bay, I turned on my heel and headed for my car. I had a first aid kit under the driver’s seat. I also needed a moment of privacy to calm my racing heart.
Elliot didn’t so much as say a word to me for the rest of the day. Mum did, though, and she was on her third attempt of asking what was wrong.
“Nothing, Mum,” I replied while biting into my sandwich.
“You’re barely talking to each other. Did you have a fight?”
“Mum, we’re fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.” She poured herself a cup of tea from her flask. “Communication is the key to every relationship. You should go talk to him.”
“REALLY? You’re gonna give me advice on relationships?”
The moment those words left my mouth I wanted to pull them back in again, to tether them to a bottomless pit inside myself so they could never resurface. Mum’s non-existent love life wasn’t through any fault of her own. Dad had up and left when I was a baby. No phone calls. No birthday cards. No nothing. So it had just been Mum and I for as long as I could recall. She’d remarried when I was just two, but Ken died of a brain aneurysm less than a year later.
I don’t remember him, but I do have photos. Sadly, she never really recovered from losing Ken. Sure, she’d dated a couple of times, but it never went anywhere. She was happy on her own, and with me, and with her poodle, Jackson, and three cats.
Shuffling along the tattered wooden park bench we were seated on underneath the big gum tree, I rested my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“I know, dear.” She patted my leg and stood up. “Lover’s quarrels bring the worst out of us. They’re necessary. Inevitable. But don’t let them last for long.”
Mum took a few steps then knelt on the ground beside a nearby garden bed to continue her weeding, and that’s when it hit me. Although she was happy, she was also lonely, and I knew what that felt like, to be grateful and content with all you had while knowing there was more you could have and not wanting it — not seeking it.
To be content not to love was safe … and lonely.
Swallowing the last of the Milo Chris had poured into a thermos for me early that morning, I was about to return to my patch of weeding when Elliot unfolded a chair for Helen to sit on not even a metre away. They were laughing and smiling, as if one of them had just told a ridiculous joke. It was sweet and made me smile — they didn’t look lonely.
“There you go, Mum. Now, don’t break this one as well, okay?” Elliot’s eyes were gleaming at her, their brilliance even more brilliant due to him wearing all black. He looked delicious, and, annoyingly so, I desperately wanted another taste.
“I didn’t break the last one, young man. It broke itself.”
“Chairs can’t break themselves. That’s impossible.”
I laughed at his typical matter of factness and finished my last bite of sandwich, which was when Elliot’s eyes bounced off of mine like a pinball, their disappointment and anger stamping me all over. It hurt, the way they gleamed at Helen but disdainfully seared me. I didn’t like it. I wanted their glow. I liked their glow.
My chest tightened and my throat constricted. Why am I feeling so horrible and guilty, and sorry for myself?
It was pissing me off. Frustrating me to hell. I wasn’t weak and helpless, yet helplessness was what I always felt when I’d upset those closest to me, because I felt what they felt one hundred times over. And although Elliot and I hadn’t been close for quite some time, we’d been as close as two young people ever could be, and that tattooed your soul. His pain was my pain. His sadness was my sadness.
It always had been.
Searching his face, I noticed the moment it changed from joyous to acquiesced, from cheerful to accepting — his smile fell, his eyes dulled.
“Mum, Jeanette,” he announced, nodding toward me before standing behind Helen and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Danielle and I have something to tell you.”
I squinted my eyes at him but then opened them wide with recognition. Oh, yes, we do! The truth. My stomach dropped, and I wasn’t sure in that moment that I wanted them to know the truth. If we did confess, I would lose Elliot again, and I wasn’t ready for that.
A feeling of pending loss crashed into me like a wave into the shore, and I did the first thing I could think that would draw it away. I shot up from my seat like a jack in the box, moved closer, and touched his arm. “Yes, we do.”
He narrowed his gaze on my tightly pressed fingers, but I continued, staring at our mums. “We … we just want you to understand that we wish to take things slow.”
From out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Elliot’s head jerk toward mine, kinda comical-like, and the fear of losing him started to lift, so I continued. “Nothing ever good comes from rushing, does it, Elliot?” I asked, batting my eyelids and snuggling into his side. “Unless you’re in a race, of course, and we’re not.”
The ‘what the fuck?’ expression on his face and his statue-like posture was priceless. It near had me bursting into laughter and high-fiving myself over my very convincing performance. But, at the same time, I’d just inadvertently dug us a deeper hole, which was really fucking frustrating. Damn it! What am I doing?
Pulling away just slightly to rethink the monumental fuck-up I’d just instigated, I was instantly reeled back in with a thud to his rock hard, toasty warm chest.
“No, we’re not,” he announced, proudly. “A race must be won, and we’ve already won ours, haven’t we, honey?” Honey? No! I don’t want to be a ‘honey’. It’s sticky and sweet, and practically bee vomit.
I faked laughed. “Oh, schnookums, yes, we have. The best race of our life.”
Elliot near choked so I figured ‘what the hell … I’ve already dived right in’, and grabbed his arse, wrenched him to me, and stuck my tongue right down his stupid, annoying, tasty throat.
Game on!
Operation Crack the Case of Danielle Cunningham was in full effect, but what was also in full effect was her attack on my mouth.
Danielle’s lips were forcefully pressed to mine, her hand on my arse, her other hand in my hair, and her tongue somewhere between my teeth and my tonsils. It took me a second or two to adjust to the new addition to my body, but once I did, I planned on making that new addition want to take up residence and never leave.
Threading my hand through her hair, the subtle waft of apple shampoo added to the sweet taste of her lips. I groaned, hungrily, adrenaline coursing through my body, setting my nerve endings alight and sprinkling my arms with goosebumps. I’d been cold as fuck all morning, but in mere seconds, Danielle had managed to near incinerate me on the spot.
Placing my hand on her cheek, I held her firmer. If she wanted to kiss me for whatever reason she was kissing me, then I was going to hold her to it. Literally.
She mumbled something into my mouth but I chose to ignore it; now was not the time for talking.
“Et ee o,” she mumbled again.
“Ot?” I let her go just enough to breathe; that was all she was getting.
“Let me go,” she mumble-whispered.
“Soon,” I mumble-whispered back.
She replied with, “Now.”
I didn’t respond. I just loosened my hand. She could be the one to stop what she’d started because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. And she did, seconds later, slowly, leisurely, as if she was somewhat sedated after aesthetic.
Seeing her heavy-lidded, heavy-limbed and kiss-drugged made me smile, big time, and, apparently, I was not the only one.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that’s taking it slow,” Jeanette said, her smile obvious in her tone.
“He gets his kissing ability from me, you know.”
&nb
sp; I removed my stare from Danielle’s face and shot my mother an, are-you-serious?’ look.
“Whaaat?” she drawled, defensively, furrowing her brow and then dismissing my concern with the flick of her hand. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
Shaking my head, I looked back down at Danielle, who still hadn’t turned to face our mothers. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be silently talking to herself.
It was quite amusing.
I leaned forward, my nose centimetres from hers. “What are you saying?” I whispered.
Her eyelids sprung open. “I’m saying, ‘what the fuck am I doing?’” she whispered back.
“Oh, right.”
She repeated her silent chant.
“So … what the fuck are you doing? Not that I’m complaining.”
Her head shook from side to side at a rapid speed, as if to say ‘I don’t know’. She was adorably red-faced, stunned, sated and confused.
I continued to whisper. “Are you going to turn around?”
She nodded with as much enthusiasm and energy as a sloth.
“When?” I added.
“I don’t know, now, I guess.”
“Good work. You can do this.”
Helping her swivel around, I placed my hands on her shoulders and held her against my chest. “So, there you have it,” I announced. “We’re in love, engaged … and taking things slow. We haven’t set a date and there’s no baby on the way.”
“If any of this changes,” Danielle chimed in, her voice still quiet, “you’ll both be the first to know, okay?”
Mum and Jeanette nodded.
“Good. Right,” she continued, more sprightly. “Let’s get back to work shall we?” She nodded to herself then turned to face me, giving me a friendly and encouraging double-pat on the chest.
I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress my laugh. I also slid my hands into my jean pockets, grinned from ear-to-ear, and rocked back on my heels. “Yes, let’s do that.”
“We need to talk,” Danielle demanded, right before yanking me behind the gum tree by the collar.
I corrected my footing and leaned against the trunk, my arms crossed over my chest, my legs crossed at the ankles. It had been roughly two hours since she kissed me, and I’d been eagerly waiting for her to pull me aside and do it again.
“Don’t give me that cocky attitude.”
I laughed. “What cocky attitude?”
“That!” She pointed at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You’re acting smug because I kissed you.”
“And why’d you do that exactly?” I asked … tapping my chin with added smugness.
“Because I didn’t want you confessing and ruining the happy vibe we have here at the site. We have a job to do, and I want to get it done in the best way possible.”
My eyebrow rose suspiciously. “That’s it? It wasn’t because you wanted another taste?”
She growled. “No, Elliot, it wasn’t.”
“More lies.”
“I’m not lying.” Danielle gritted her teeth, her eyes boring into mine.
Fed up with her bullshit, I secured her arm, spun her around, and caged her in against the tree trunk with my arms. “Enough of the lies. This isn’t what we do.”
Her eyes searched mine but seemed to want to search anywhere else instead.
“I don’t get it. I don’t understand why you’re continuing to feed me bullshit.”
She swallowed, arched her head back, and looked toward the sky, taking a moment to answer. “I don’t know either.”
“Then stop,” I pleaded, my voice low.
Sighing, she closed her eyes. “Fine.”
“Good. Let’s start with the bullshit that is Chris?”
She shook her head.
“Danielle …” I warned.
“Okay, he’s not my boyfriend.”
A smile formed on my face, and I traced my finger down the side of her cheek. “There. Was that so hard?”
Her eyes shot open, and I swear that for a split second she morphed into the Terminator — her eyes red, beady, and murderous — right before her hands found my chest and she shoved me with the force of a boxing kangaroo. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I wasn’t,” I protested, stumbling back and nearly falling on my arse.
“Yes, you were.” She took a step closer, pointing at me. “Listen, I’m only keeping up this engagement charade for the duration of the garden rebuild, okay? After that, we will end ‘us’ amicably so that no one is hurt and our mothers are none the wiser. Agreed?”
More lies, although I decided to let this one go. I’d successfully cracked her shell, and now all I had to do was watch as those cracks spread. Eventually, her shell would fall away and my Danielle, the one I’d fallen in love with the first and second time, would be standing there waiting for me to fall in love with her again.
I shrugged and smiled. “Agreed.” And just like when we were kids, I crossed my fingers behind my back. Agreed my arse.
After she’d shrugged the Terminator persona, I’d agreed to play we-are-getting-married — in the presence of our mothers — for the next few weeks, which was how long we anticipated it would take to rebuild the garden. Her suggested false pretense was better than nothing, but I planned on playing with Danielle for longer than the next few weeks. My plan was to play inevitably, with my hands, tongue, mind and body. I wanted her in my bed — in my life — more than I’d ever wanted anyone, and that would require more cracking of her shell — more unveiling of what she seemed too afraid to admit. It was obvious that something wasn’t adding up; she was lying and holding back for no good reason, or a reason she didn’t want me to know about. Fortunately for us both, I was a human calculator with the intent to tally her up. I was going to add together every number she possessed until our problem was solved.
I was going to figure this shit out.
It was now Wednesday, and I had another problem currently placed on hold by my secretary.
“Mr Parker, your mother is on line three. She says it’s urgent.”
“Thanks, Rebecca, but my mother thinks everything is urgent, including a fifteen percent off lamb sale at Coles.” I huffed and closed my current case file, glad to remove from my head the horrific images of a battered woman who my client was accused of assaulting.
Rebecca giggled. “Oh. Do you want me to tell her you’re in a meeting?”
“No. It’s fine. I’ll take her call.” I pressed line three and answered. “Good afternoon, Mum, how can I help you today?”
“Good afternoon, Elliot. Firstly, you can help me by reassessing the audio advertisement that plays when you put callers on hold. It’s awful. The woman sounds as if she’s speaking with a mouthful of marbles.”
I chuckled. “She does not.”
“Have you ever been put on hold long enough to hear her?”
I thought about it for a moment and realised I hadn’t. “No. But the firm’s multimedia liaison knows what she’s doing, Mum. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
Leaning back in my chair, I rubbed my forehead. “What else did you ring for?”
“Oh, yes. I wanted to remind you about Laura’s appreciation gala dinner this coming Friday. You’ve been so busy lately and I didn’t want you to forget.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be there.”
“But what about Danielle? You forgot to add her as your plus one.”
Shit!
I hadn’t forgotten to add her at all. I’d forgotten that I’d be expected to add her, considering she was my non-fake fiancée now.
“Um …” Stalling, I needed to come up with an excuse as to why Danielle would be absent. “That’s … because … she can’t make it.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s busy.”
“No, she’s not.”
How the hell would you know?
“Yeah, she is,” I co
rrected her.
She corrected me right back. “No, she’s not. Not according to Jeanette.”
Fuck! Mothers. It was moments like these that I wished my mother were more like a harp seal. Those furry fuckers were AWOL only twelve days after giving birth, abandoning their pups in search of a new mate.
“Well, when Danielle and I last spoke about it (which was never), she’d had a work function on.”
“Oh. Welllllllll,” Mum drawled, all gossipy-like, “according to Jeanette, Danielle was due to spend the evening with her to discuss landscaping designs for the garden.”
Scrunching my eyes together, I pressed my palm against my head. “Maybe her function was recently cancelled. I don’t know.”
“You should know, Elliot. It’s important to talk about these things with one another, to keep each other in the loop. Anyway, I’ve added her to our table, and Jeanette was going to call her now and let her know.”
“Right. Thanks.” Fuck! Danielle was definitely going to kill me this time. Then again, if we were to properly keep this engagement ruse going, technically, she should accompany me to the gala.
“Don’t be sad, dear. She probably just assumed there were no spaces left and that’s why she never told you she was available to go,” Mum added.
“Um … yeah, probably. Okay. I better get going. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Anytime.” She blew a couple of kisses down the phone. “Love you. See you both on Friday night.”
“You too.”
Just as I ended the call, Rebecca’s voice filled the room once again “Err, Mr Parker, there’s a woman on the phone claiming to be your fiancée? She’s quite aggressive.”
“Ahhhh, yes,” I sighed, preparing myself to go to war. “That would be Danielle. Thanks, Rebecca, patch her through.”
“Oh. Sure. Okay. I’ll do it now.”
I sucked in a deep breath before answering. “Mr Splinter-Removalist, King of Kissing, Lots Parker speaking, how may I assist you today?”
There was silence for a second before she replied.
“This is Ms Danielle What the Fuck is a Hume GoSafe Gala and What the Fuck am I Supposed to Wear Cunningham. May I speak to Lots of Pain in my Arse Parker please?”
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