Handcuffs, Kisses and Awkward Situations

by Olivia Harvard

  At first, I thought he was just there to lead me to wherever, but then he opened the passenger side door and waited for me to go inside. So, awkwardly, I made my way over and climbed in. When I shut the door, Mr. Montgomery didn’t even wait for me to buckle up. Instead, he stepped on the pedal and we were on our way.

  Before his arrival, Nora had called and given me some pointers. 1) I should dress formally, and 2) Do not speak of ham so my previous encounter with him will not reoccur. But when Nora said formally, I thought she meant an ironed shirt. But seeing Mr. Montgomery in a business suit made me feel seriously underdressed in my trousers and black jacket. The only thing formal about my choice of clothing was the graphic print of a tie on my T-shirt.

  This was going to be one hell of a date.

  Thirty Six

  The place Mr. Montgomery took me wasn’t too fancy. It wasn’t exactly a five-star place with waiters offering champagne but it was classy enough to make me feel uncomfortable. Nora’s dad was an organised man and had already booked in advanced for a reservation. The table was in one of the far corners of the restaurant and as we made our way over, we received the longest of stares.

  I couldn’t blame them though. I agreed that we were an unlikely couple.

  As soon as we sat down, he got right to business. “Are you dating my daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  He grunted in disapproval. “How long has this been going on for?”

  “Since yesterday,” I answered, then quickly added, “Sir.”

  Mr. Montgomery picked up the laminated menu from the centre of the table and quickly scanned through it before setting it down. He was looking at me like I was about to be dinner, and although I should have taken it seriously – especially when he attacked me with a ham only a few days ago - I couldn’t look past the fact that during his holiday, he spent way too much time under the sun, making his skin look leathery and sun burned.

  “My daughter tells me you defended her after a small incident that occurred on the beach,” he explained, looking at me. “Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  Before he could say anything more, a waiter walked over to take our beverage order. Mr. Montgomery recited his without hesitation and it was obvious he was a regular customer. On the other hand, I struggled to find the cheapest drink, but finally formed a sentence that was understandable and the waiter walked off with his scribbled notepad.

  Mr. Montgomery leaned back in his chair and studied me. “I don’t like you.”

  I blinked. I honestly had no response to it. What else was I supposed to do? Snap back a stupid and immature remark like, “Well, I don’t like your mum” or “I don’t care, dude”? It wasn’t like it was a huge surprise anyway. I suspected the dinner wasn’t going to be a bonding session.

  “But the fact that you protected Nora is enough to get me to warm up to the idea of you getting intimate with my daughter,” he continued as a staff member dropped our drinks onto the table.

  I tried to ignore the use of “intimate” in his sentence and instead, picked up my glass and took a refreshing drink.

  “But if you ever dare to hurt my little girl, I will personally hunt you down and the rest is predictable,” Mr Montgomery warned, giving me threatening glare.

  “Understandable,” I agreed. “But I would never hurt your daughter.”

  He seemed pleased with my reaction and the way I handled the situation. With Mr. Montgomery, I didn’t feel the need to announce my feelings for his daughter. Not only would that be weird and extremely awkward, but I felt like he respected that aspect of my relationship would be better shared with Nora and just Nora.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” he said, picking up his glass and taking a long, generous swig. “I know almost everything about twelve-year-old Ryder, but I’m clueless when it comes to eighteen-year-old Ryder.”

  I hated questions like the one he had asked. I always blanked out and couldn’t remember anything remotely interesting about myself. The only things that came to mind were: Ryder, eighteen, male. And although I had to hesitate and think of something to respond with, I eventually had something to say about myself.

  “I’ve played footy since the start of high school, I was involved in the organisation of a lot of community events and I’m currently studying for my finals,” I answered, hoping three things would suffice.

  With his glass in hand, he stirred the liquid and nodded as he considered my answer. “And after graduation?”

  “University.”

  “Studying?” he pressed.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  “Unprepared,” he replied, scowling in my direction. “You’ve got to toughen up, son. There’s a whole wide world out there filled with mistakes and broken promises.”

  Jesus. That was encouraging.

  “Thanks,” I said bluntly. “But I just want to focus on high school right now.”

  “What could possibly be more important than your future?” Mr. Montgomery challenged as he sat back and looked at me, smugly waiting for my answer.

  “The present,” I retorted. “I have enough on my plate right now. So I could concentrate on today, rather than the rest of my life.”

  Nora’s dad just raised the glass to his lips and drank while he thought. When he lowered the cup, he smiled. It was slight and hardly there at all, but the small twitch of his lips was enough to reassure his approval. But quickly, he sobered and the seriousness on his face returned.

  “What’s ‘on your plate right now’”? he asked, a slight tone of concern creeping into his voice.

  “My dad.”

  I don’t know why I confessed about the family drama, especially to Nora’s dad, who had only shown mixed emotions about me as he challenged me through questions and comebacks. But admittedly, I needed to get some of it off my chest. Nora was great to talk to but there were certain limitations. A quick conversation that could last for ten minutes would expand to double the length. For most times, I just wanted to lift things off my shoulder, have someone listen and comment once in a while, then let it be done. Caine was usually my wingman, but I hadn’t found the opportunity to tell him anything with everything going on, especially with the police.

  With the mentioning of my father, Mr. Montgomery placed his glass down and looked me over with genuine worry. I didn’t have to elaborate on the two words because news travelled fast and the story of my dad’s scandalous affair had been the talk of town for years.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked.

  I shrugged and peered into my glass.

  From the corner of my eye, I could see him scrub a hand down his face. “Listen, Ryder, I’m sorry I’ve been rough on you. Just looking out for my little girl, you know? Seems like yesterday my oldest was just a baby and now she has her own baby. Being a dad isn’t easy. But that’s not an excuse for what yours did. You’re in that time of your life where you need fatherly guidance and I confess I’m not the best in the world, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

  I looked up from the fizzy contents of my glass. I wasn’t sure I heard right. “What?”

  He smiled. “I’ll look out for you.”

  Then he sat back and for the rest of dinner, there was minimum talk. It was uncomfortable and comfortable all at once. Mr. Montgomery had no hesitation to insult me, but it was more teasing rather than hurtful. For my first and hopefully only man-date with Nora’s dad…it was surprisingly okay.

  ~♥♥♥~

  When Mr. Montgomery dropped me off, I was glad to see that Jack’s car wasn’t parked out front. It would have an awkward situation, especially because I would have found out what Nora’s dad’s definition of ‘looking out’ for me consisted of. I mean, he was a plumber for crap’s sake. Bum cracks and all.

  The light outside was still on, a weak light illuminating from the bulb, suggesting a replacement. It took the normal sixty seconds of fumbling through my keys, thinking crap-I-have-way-too-many-of-thes
e-things before I finally got the door opened.

  Mum was sitting at the counter, dressing gown on with a mug of something between her palms. Steam gently drifted up from the cup, suggesting it to be freshly made and hot but she seemed oblivious to any burning sensation. Instead, she looked down at the table. At first, I thought she was just doing more of her absentminded staring, but when I neared, I saw what she was looking at.

  Her wedding ring.

  “I thought you threw it,” I said, as I entered.

  “I did.” She laughed humourlessly. “I threw it at him when I confronted him about the affair.”

  “Why is it out?” I leaned across the table to look at her.

  She kept her gaze down. “I found it… I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I had thrown it that night. Since I didn’t go to work, I did some cleaning and found it.”

  I gently slid it away from sight and put it in my back pocket. She seemed to stare at the place where the ring had been, as if she were still trying to picture it there. A twisting sensation formed in my stomach as I watched her slowly crumble. But before she could break out the waterworks, I placed my arms around her and she sunk into the hug.

  Ever since she had mastered the mask of emotionless, we rarely ever hugged. She used to tell me that carelessness expressed strength. But it was times where my mother was at her weakest, that I thought she was at her strongest. That it took a crap load of guts to show how really damaged she felt.

  “Thank you, Ryder,” she whispered against my shoulder. “You were always the better half of both your father and I.”

  Then after a few shaky breaths, she leaned back and smiled, getting up from her chair. “I’m exhausted, but I need to take out the rubbish.”

  As she started heading towards the bin, I stopped her and placed my hands against hers. “I’ll do it. Go to bed.” She seemed to consider, a moment of hesitation lingered but she finally let her shoulders sag and sighed. “Remember to double lock the doors.”

  I nodded.

  Before she reached the stairs, she turned. “Thank you.”

  From the look in her eyes, I could tell she was thanking me for more than just taking out the rubbish. As I tied up the bag, I walked out the front door towards the bins, threw them in and wheeled them towards the front of the house for emptying the following morning.

  The night was cold, causing my breath to materialise in front of me. I shoved my numb fingers into my pockets and made my way over back into the house. But before I made it to the door, a pair of headlights blared from behind me, followed by the screech of tires and the crash of a collision.

  When I turned to see what the hell was going on, I saw the bins on their sides, rubbish scattered across the lawn and the road. As I looked towards the vehicle, I was blinded by the headlights. Placing a hand to shield the brightness, I tried to make out the figure behind the wheel. But I didn’t have to guess for very long. The lights were switched off and as my vision cleared, I could see who the driver was.

  Chris Baker.

  Thirty Seven

  “Oi, Collins!” Chris leaned out and smirked.

  “Having trouble keeping your car on the road, aye, mate,” I said, nodding towards the rubbish scattered across my lawn.

  I was pissed, there was no doubt about that. But I’d rather eat dog food than admit that to Chris. Although I could keep a calm expression, my fists balled up by my sides, ready to take a swing. That animalistic instinct washed over me again and knew that if it came down to a fight, I’d have no mercy.

  “You seem tense,” he noted. “But your bitch, Montgomery, isn’t handcuffed to your wrist anymore, huh? Guess she can’t calm you down.”

  Chris could insult me however much he wanted. I could handle anything he threw at me. But when he added Nora in, I completely snapped. With my fists clenched by my sides, I stalked up to his car, flung back my fist and threw it through his opened window, aiming for his jaw.

  But he knew he had flicked a switch and was obviously waiting for my aggressive response, so he easily caught my punch with his hand and laughed. He shook his head at me, like any attempt to hurt him was already thought out and he knew exactly how to avoid my moves.

  “Collins, if you want to start a punch-up, then don’t hit like a girl.”

  I scowled and ripped my fist from his grip, giving him an explicit response and flipping him the finger. Retaliating with violence was what he wanted, especially right there at the front of my house, where people could witness and report back to the police. It would only be more evidence to support what crap I had already gotten in with the law.

  “You really want a fight? Harrison Oval, midnight,” he suggested, then, with a smug look, gave me a look over. “And I’d recommend brushing up on your moves if you want the slightest chance.”

  Then he pressed the pedal, his car roaring back to life, wheels squealing against the grass and kicking up mud as he drove away. I glared in the direction the vehicle had disappeared for a solid ten minutes since it had departed as I tried to regain my composure. My heart was racing with adrenaline, thinking of all kinds of torment I could give to Chris Baker. But with each violent philosophy, my head throbbed harder until I could hardly comprehend, nor hardly remember what the hell I was doing outside.

  Eventually, my fingers uncurled and I turned, marching back into the house. I took the stairs two at a time and found myself in the bathroom, rummaging through the medical cabinet for a Panadol. When I finally found the little box of pills, I took two, swallowed them and washed my face with cold water.

  When I looked up into the mirror, the face that stared back at me looked different. Obviously the same person, but significant changes had happened within the past twenty-four hours. I found myself backtracking to the previous day with my biggest worries being my stalker father and asking out Nora.

  I found myself scowling in the mirror, suddenly regretting how I didn’t savour those few hours with her. How all troubles seemed to drain and I finally felt in control. So, staring at the guy with tired eyes and an unshaven face, I promised myself that I would now appreciate the good times.

  Exhausted, I exited the bathroom and headed to bed. With the lights off, I threw myself down and closed my eyes. But it was one of those nights where I was so tired that I couldn’t sleep, so I stayed as still as a statue, concentrating so hard on falling into unconsciousness, that I couldn’t.

  So, instead, I placed my hands behind my head and looked up at the dark ceiling. The painkiller was starting to take effect and the drumming in my temples was slowing to a steady, tolerable pulse. While I had some time to sort out the crap in my head, I took the time to organise my thoughts.

  1)My dad was a jerk and I hoped he’d just go to hell. It was stressing me out, not to mention that Mum was completely distraught about it. Soon she’d be dressing in tracksuits, eating beef jerky and quitting her job. The organised, determined June Collins would be no more.

  2)Nora’s dad was better than I had anticipated. Although there were insults, they weren’t meant to offend. Or were they?

  3)The police were tracking my every move and it really pissed me off because I felt like it had gotten to a point where I couldn’t even use the bathroom without someone just bursting through and telling me I was violating the law.

  4)Chris Baker was a dick who needed his ass kicked. His proposition was starting to sound really great and through all the other crap I was going through, I couldn’t expect things to get worse.

  5)Caine and I hadn’t seen much of each other. At school, we disappeared, doing our separate things and after school, the only reason we would meet up is for our questioning sessions with the police. For some reason, I felt like I was betraying him, because my girlfriend – of twenty-four freaking hours - seemed to know more than my best friend. And it felt really weird because Caine was like my blood brother. He still didn’t know about my dad returning to town, nor about the encounter with Chris.

  Although I should have cal
led Caine for back up, I didn’t. This was between Chris and I and I didn’t want to drag him into any more crap. Instead, I promised to catch him so I could explain everything. Switching my position, I caught a glimpse of the glowing orange numbers on my clock. It was quarter to twelve.

  I should have just forgotten about the fight. I should have just admitted I was too tired to make rational decisions. I should have just had a good night’s sleep.

  But, of course, I didn’t.

  ~♥♥♥~

  Harrison Oval was located on the outskirts of town. It was where a lot of footy tournaments were held and after-parties were hosted - mostly because of its remote location, and also because it was situated near the hospital, just in case any accidents happened. From my house, the oval was a fifteen-minute drive away, so by the time I arrived, it was already twelve.

  Pulling into the car park, I kept my headlights on and searched the area for Chris. It was mostly dark and majority of the shadows belonged to the night. Just when I thought Chris was being an asshole and making crap up, an inky movement stirred in the distance. As the shape approached, I realised it was him. He was squinting because of the lights, but a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.

  “Didn’t think you’d show,” he said, from a few metres away.

  I got out of my car and slammed the doors, keeping the lights on so that I could see him. “I’m glad I disappointed you.”

  As I approached, we circled each other. It was nonchalant, both of us not making any moves to attack, but keeping careful eyes on each other. Chris kept his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, a devious grin plastered on his face.

  “Why did you frame us?” I asked, since we were just dancing around the field. Might as well get some answers before the attack. “What benefit did you get out of it?”