‘I’m not debating vocabulary with you, Olive. We’re not together. I don’t owe you an explanation.’
‘Neither do I!’
‘But it affects me,’ he says. His voice goes high-pitched. ‘I’ve been making plans … Missing you …’
Making plans? Missing me? Do not cry. Do not! I order myself.
‘I miss you too,’ I squeak.
‘I wish I could see you,’ Tom says. His voice is urgent. ‘Fix this …’
The part of me that will always belong to him cries out, ‘He’s leaving New York tomorrow, Tom. I’m never going to see him again.’
Traitor! another part accuses. I don’t need to justify myself to Tom.
‘Okay.’ Tom has calmed down, his voice is measured. ‘Okay.’
‘You left me, you know,’ I say softly.
‘It doesn’t feel that way to me, Ol. You left me first—you wouldn’t talk to me …’
‘I know I made a mistake—okay, lots of mistakes—but I tried to find you. I called you like a billion times.’
‘I couldn’t handle it. There was no way to fix it, us …’
There still isn’t.
There is nowhere to go with this, especially as we’re both hyper aware that Dillon is waiting, that it’s only a matter of time before I go back to him.
‘Look,’ I say. ‘I’m really happy you called, Tom. It’s great to hear your voice …’
‘But you need to go.’
I swallow. I can’t bring myself to agree.
‘Bad timing,’ he says.
I snort a laugh. ‘The worst.’
He can’t say goodbye. I can’t say goodbye. Talking to him brings back everything I love about him. My body floods with everything I miss.
‘Tom?’
‘What?’
I can’t think of what to say. I just want to hear his voice. ‘You sound good.’
‘I don’t feel good, not after that guy picked up. What is he, Irish? Is that why you like him?’
‘Forget about Dillon.’
‘Dillon.’ It’s a kind of snort.
‘Tom, don’t. It’s really unfair for you to be angry about this.’
‘I know that, damn it.’
‘So?’
‘So. I’ll let you go. Enjoy …’ He stops. ‘Actually, don’t enjoy.’
I’m biting my lip so hard it splits. I feel hot blood spill into my mouth. This is so awkward. I’ve literally got no words.
Tom lets out a breath. ‘Look. I’m just going to hang up, okay?’
‘But are you okay?’
‘I’ll get over it.’
I can’t ask for more than that.
‘Bye, then.’
‘Bye.’
I shut the phone off and cover my face with my hands. That was the worst conversation of my life. I take a few deep breaths before I go over to join Dillon.
‘Ta for the Guinness. Bit of a head on it though.’ He holds it up to show me.
‘Ungrateful turd.’ I blow the froth so it lands on his face. ‘Why did you have to answer my phone?’
Dillon wipes the froth away with the back of his hand and licks it, like a cat grooming its paw. ‘The guy is listed under Adonis. Who wouldn’t pick up?’
‘Any normal person with manners.’
‘Relax,’ Dillon says. He lies back so he’s resting on his elbows. ‘I spoke ten words to the lad. He’ll be all the more keen on ya now.’
‘I don’t care if he’s keen on me.’
Dillon’s eyes go skyward. ‘Sure ya don’t.’
He is very, very frustrating.
He holds the beer towards me. ‘You want some?’
‘I don’t like beer.’
‘Blasphemy.’ He sculls the remaining Guinness and lays down the glass. ‘So Adonis is …?’
‘My ex.’
‘That’s brilliant. He’ll be going dead mad thinking about us now.’ Dillon smacks the ground next to him. ‘Get down here with me.’
I lie down and rest my head on his chest. He runs his fingers through my hair and we stare up at the sky, watching leaves fall loose and dance past on the breeze. I can’t believe Tom called. I can’t believe he said he misses me. It’s wonderful but confusing. Here I was, so caught up in Dillon, then one call from Tom turns me upside down.
‘Sorry,’ I say after a couple of minutes. ‘That totally ruined our anonymous thing.’
‘Forget about it, Ice.’ Dillon rolls us until he’s planted on top of me. ‘Adonis is a myth. I’m reality,’ he says, grinning. Which makes me laugh so hard he kisses my teeth.
CHAPTER
20
Dillon informs me he’s starving, so reluctantly I agree to eat, even though eating in public is difficult when you’re trying to pretend you’re not invisible.
‘Somewhere busy then, but quiet,’ I insist. Dillon laughs, so I say, ‘I know that sounds stupid.’
‘Aye, but I understand. Ya want it lively like, but private enough to get the shift.’
‘I have no idea what you just said.’
‘It will be my pleasure to show ya.’
We find a place down a flight of stairs, a dark cellar type of establishment with burgundy leather seats and a dark wood bar. Sport plays on big screen TVs. I sprint for a booth before a hostess comes our way—booths I can do. Chairs are problematic. I also don’t want Dillon requesting a table for two.
‘I guess we’ll be sitting here, then,’ Dillon says, chuckling as he takes the seat opposite. I scoot over to sit beside him so we can look at the same menu.
‘Can we just share a couple of things?’ I say, knowing it will look more normal than two big dinner plates arriving.
We agree on some dishes and the waitress comes around. She doesn’t raise an eyebrow when Dillon orders a few dishes, she doesn’t seem to care that he says ‘we’d like’. But she does question his drink order.
‘Two Cokes?’ she says. ‘You want them coming out one after the other?’
Dillon looks perplexed. ‘No, love. Together.’
The waitress raises her eyebrows as she writes on her pad. ‘You got it.’
‘Daft cow,’ Dillon says, settling back against me. ‘I wish I could order a pint. Such a mad legal drinking age here.’ I scoot away from him to the opposite side of the booth.
Dillon complains. ‘Hey, where ya going?’
‘I want to look at you.’
To be honest, I want him to look at me. It’s so rare to be seen, I want to cherish it before he disappears.
There is a candle between us and the flame dancing in his pupils makes me glad I moved. He is beautiful in every space but in this light his pale skin turns golden and the dim light forces his dark blue eyes wider. His hair is wild from where my fingers have been pushing through it.
I’m split in half with confusion. One part of me wants to do the normal thing: drink with him, laugh with him, have fun. The other half wants to pull him close and demand, ‘Don’t you know what you are to me? What we could be?’ But I don’t do either. Instead I look down at his hands which lie facedown on the table.
‘I love your hands,’ I say, taking them in mine. I turn them over. ‘They were the first things I loved about you.’
I’m cursing myself for using the L word but Dillon looks amused.
‘My hands? Kinky.’
‘No, they’re beautiful. They’re so …’ There is no other word for it. ‘Dillon.’
Dillon moves his fingers so that he catches mine. He brings them to his lips. ‘Lolly. Yer killing me. How am I going to recover from ya?’
I pull my hands away. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll find someone else soon enough.’
‘Aye. But they won’t be you. I’ll be writing songs about ya till I die.’
‘Ah.’ Play on falls into place. ‘Not literary, musical.’
It calms me, knowing this about him. I understand him just a little bit more. But I still can’t figure out why he would travel all this way for me. Does he feel the curse
connection?
‘Why did you come here, Dill?’ I ask him, seriously.
‘To see ya. I told ya that.’
‘It’s a long way for three days.’
The waitress sets down both drinks in front of Dillon. He pushes one over to me. ‘What can I say? I couldn’t get ya out of my head.’
My heart hammers. True love, true love. But I don’t know.
I wait for the waitress to leave so I can speak, but when she leaves I don’t know what to say.
Dillon reaches for me under the table, his fingers scooping up under my dress to caress my knees. ‘Do ya mind me coming?’
I shiver from his touch. ‘But coming here, just for me. I can’t believe it.’
Dillon shakes his head. ‘If I could lie, love, I …’
He stops abruptly, pulls his hands away from me and grabs his Coke. He starts to drink, staring at the ceiling as if I’m not there. It’s pretty shady behaviour. I am very suspicious.
‘What did you just say?’ I ask him.
Dillon lurches to his feet, gulping at the Coke so manically bits dribble down his chin as he walks away. I watch him go to the flatscreen TV where an American football game is playing. He spends an inordinate amount of time studying the screen, drinking his Coke. What is he doing?
When he finally sits back down his glass is empty. ‘Food’s not here yet?’
Does he really think I’ll drop this? I raise one eyebrow. ‘Are you avoiding the question?’
‘Aye.’ He slaps the table. ‘Bugger.’
I cannot stop the smile spreading across my face as it dawns on me. ‘Do you have a problem with—lying?’
Dillon puts his elbows on the table and covers his eyes. ‘Aye,’ he mutters.
‘Did you say yes?’
‘Aye,’ he replies between clenched teeth.
I laugh and laugh and laugh, thankful that it’s a loud enough place I can get away with it. I can’t believe this.
‘It’s not funny,’ Dillon says. ‘It’s shite not being able to lie.’
‘You actually cannot lie?’
‘I find it very hard, all right? Especially direct questions.’
‘So I can exploit you!’ I say.
Dillon glares at me. ‘If ya exploit me, I will leave.’
I crumple up my nose. ‘Not very nice.’
‘Neither is exploiting me.’
‘Wow.’ I’m shaking my head. This is wild. ‘And I thought you had OCD and luck issues … but no, you’re a full bread basket of crazy.’
Dillon’s lips pinch. ‘Can we talk about something else?’
‘I’m not sure I can. It’s pretty bloody interesting.’
‘Please, Lolly.’ The boy is literally pleading with me.
I blow out air through my lips. It’s frustrating coming across such a bizarre phenomenon and not being able to discuss it. But I understand how powerless it must make him feel, being compelled to speak the truth. It must truly suck. I wouldn’t last an hour.
‘Okay. But can I ask one question?’
Dillon shuts his eyes and rolls his head back like a condemned man. ‘If ya must.’
I feel the control I have over him. The fact that I could demand the truth about anything right now. It’s inexplicable. I’m starting to think Dillon could be more screwed up than me. I watch his Adam’s apple gulp as he waits in dread. I desperately want to know how this happened to him but I can’t force him. I want him to choose to tell me.
‘My question is—what do you want to do after dinner?’
Dillon’s eyes flash open with surprise. He beams. ‘I don’t give a toss. But right now I want to kiss ya.’
I lean across the table. ‘Get on with it then.’
Out on the street, the sky is as black as it can be in a city that never sleeps. I reach for Dillon’s hand but he’s holding a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
‘Where did you get that?’
He looks bashful. ‘Stole it.’
Blimey. He really can’t lie. At least I’ll always know where I stand with him.
There is music playing somewhere in Central Park so we follow it, tracking the melodies through the air until we find a jazz band playing under a canopy of evergreens. Fairy lights are strung between the branches, people dance and laze on picnic blankets on the grass.
‘You should put your underwear on inside out every day,’ I say to Dillon, as I lead him to a spot in the shadows.
He pours the wine and we clink glasses. ‘To underpants!’
When a new song starts up Dillon pulls me to my feet. ‘C’mere.’
‘But it’s like real dancing,’ I fret.
Dillon glances around looking afraid. ‘Spooky eh? I’ve an inkling the people could be real too.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ I say, suddenly glad that people are going to see him looking like a fool, dancing by himself.
Dillon holds me in the correct dance position but I’m useless, I only know enough to drape my spare hand on his shoulder.
‘You can do this properly!’ I accuse as he turns me on the spot.
‘Had lessons and everything.’
I’m not sure if he’s joking but he’s good. Much better than me. He hums along as we move, yelping when I step on his feet. ‘Jaysus.’
‘Sorry. I haven’t done this before,’ I say. ‘I mean my sister and I have joked around in the living room …’
‘I take it you do the kangaroo hop down under.’
‘You know I’m Australian?’
He laughs and mimics me. ‘You know I’m Orstraayleean?’
‘Oh my god. Please don’t start up with the antipodean cac.’
Dillon nestles his cheek against my hair. ‘I love yer Aussie Oirish. Do it baby. Tell this gammy eegit to bugger off and throw a shrimp on the barbie.’
I stomp on his foot, hard.
‘Ouch! That kangaroo hop hurts!’
‘Fair dinkum, I’ll puck you in the gob if you don’t stop.’
We both laugh and I rest my head against Dillon’s shoulder. It’s getting easier with him guiding me. By the second song I’m feeling comfortable. Relaxed even.
‘I’ve never been to Australia,’ Dillon tells me. ‘I thought it was shite, all that stuff about it being wild and dangerous—until I met you.’
I snort. ‘You haven’t seen me dangerous.’
‘Oh I can imagine.’ We dance a bit more. ‘Are they all as good-looking as Adonis, then?’
Huh. Is he jealous?
‘You haven’t seen Adonis,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
‘That picture on your phone. He’s naked.’
I remember taking that photo of Tom, he’s holding out his hand trying to grab the phone, laughing.
‘He’s not naked, he’s wearing boardies.’
‘Boardies. Right. Well the lad is built.’
‘True,’ I say, enjoying how it makes Dillon bristle. ‘But he can’t dance like this.’
Dillon pulls me closer. ‘Then he’s a muppet.’
CHAPTER
21
When the concert wraps up, Dillon and I don’t want to leave the park so we decide to sleep under the stars. I make my invisibility useful and position Dillon under a window of the closest hotel. Then I duck inside, steal two beautifully laundered white quilts and pillows and open the window.
‘Heads up!’ I call and drop them.
I hear Dillon’s involuntary ‘Oof!’ as they hit him. Then he’s streaking across the road into Central Park, his arms laden with linens. It makes me laugh like crazy.
We’re both laughing when we meet up a few minutes later.
‘Ya stole these!’ Dillon accuses me.
‘You stole the wine!’ I accuse back. ‘At least we can return these tomorrow.’
Dillon narrows his eyes at me. ‘Yer good at stealing things aren’t ya?’
I grab a pillow off him. ‘Hello? Anonymous?’
Then I realise I can’t carry something as big as a pillow, so I smac
k him with it and put it back on top of the enormous pile he’s already carrying.
‘Yer not going to help?’
‘I’m the brains not the brawn. All my friends know that.’
Dillon smiles. ‘So we’re friends?’
There’s not a chance in the world that Dillon and I could just be friends but fortunately I’m not as compelled as some to tell the truth. ‘Come on, let’s find a place we can be more than friends.’
Dillon doesn’t need further encouragement. ‘Aye.’
We find a tiny hamlet of long grass surrounded by a grove of magnolias. We spread out the quilts and pillows, making a little nest for ourselves, then we kick off our shoes and climb inside.
‘The scent would be sublime here in spring,’ I say, looking up at the trees.
‘Trees are magic.’ Dillon settles his arm around me. ‘Did ya know the Celts believed the first man was an Alder, and the first woman was a Rowan tree?’
‘I love that.’
‘Aye.’ His voice is far away. He’s dreamy when he’s dreaming. It makes me suddenly sad.
‘Promise you won’t forget this.’
His gaze strays to the moon. ‘Hasn’t your granny told you that a promise by moonlight can never be kept?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Bloody Paddies.’
Dillon chuckles. ‘You know I won’t forget ya.’ He strokes my face.
‘I’m not used to someone appreciating my prickles.’
‘I love yer prickles! They’re not even prickly. They’re like yer freckles—character.’
I don’t reply. I can’t. Dillon gets me. He truly gets me. Tom and I never had this. I look up into his ocean blue eyes trying to understand how this is happening.
‘Ya all right?’ he asks me.
‘Happy.’
Dillon grins. ‘He shoots—he scores!’
‘You think you’re going to get lucky do you?’
‘Aye,’ he says, moving his hands to my waist. ‘Plain as day the girl wants the shift.’
He kisses me, then lifts me, rolling under me so I’m on top of him. I kiss him more, loosening his shirt. I sit up, straddling his hips to start working on the buttons.
Dillon lies there watching me. ‘The girl wants more than the shift.’
‘Shift is just kiss?’ I’m surprised.
The Implausible Story of Olive Far Far Away Page 14