by Kendra Riley
His sisters had joked, saying now that he wanted to work, he couldn’t. Such bad timing, they said with a laugh. He only needed one more surgery and perhaps another one six months after, for aesthetic reasons.
Yet, he hadn’t seen her in a week—seven days. He had meant every word he said when he spoke to her. Don’t be so needy, he told himself. She might not want the attention. Not all people wanted attention, and he had a feeling she didn’t. It was why he didn’t want to watch the news last week, knowing his family name would be dragged into it, along with the widely circulated, yet inaccurate exploits under his account.
“Miranda was featured,” one of his sisters said, wryly. “I guess that’s the bad thing about having dated her.”
Currently, he was busy trying to make a meal without household help. He quite enjoyed the silence in their family villa, while everyone was at work. His hands had cuts and bruises, but they didn’t hurt much. He did hobble about the kitchen, standing awkwardly as he took out bread and some jam from the refrigerator. He had dropped Sara a message, but there was no response from her, yet. He had asked Danny about her, and Danny had said she was well-cared for by the other interns and the zoo staff. Was she busy? Or was she ignoring him? Did he say something wrong?
His father’s old English mastiff came in, wagging his tail.
“Hey there, Whistler,” he said, “wanna join me for a snack?”
Just as Whistler barked, the doorbell rang. He hoped someone would get the door. He was in the second kitchen, which was quite a good limp away. Moments later, their butler came by the kitchen.
“Sir, Miss Sweeting for you. I made her wait in the study.”
Miranda? What was she doing here? Ready to gloat on his ineptitude with wilderness survival? To gawk at his current state?
“Shall I make that sandwich for you, sir?” the butler continued.
“Nah, just, just bring her in,” he lamely said. He couldn’t find it in himself to turn her away, especially without knowing the reason why she was here. That would be unfair now, even if they had parted ways unpleasantly.
“Zac?” her honeyed voice came into the room. Zac looked up, and she still had that perfect wavy hair, and she still wore the designer clothes she had always loved. She dressed casually, today, as if ready for a shoot.
“How are you?” she asked, taking a step closer.
He took a breath. “I’m great. Body parts complete.”
She laughed a little. “You’re still the same old Zac.”
“Is that why you’re here?” he asked her. “To see if that croc brought out something new in me? Or cut up something?”
Whistler wagged around Miranda, clearly happy he was seeing her again.
“Whistler!” she gasped, “I haven’t seen you in so long.” She bent down to scratch his ears. “You’re still a good boy, aren’t you?”
He cleared his throat, and she stood up straight. “I came here to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” he said, wary. “And you’ve never checked on me, ever.”
“Well, we had broken up and…”
“That was what? Two years ago? Since? And you decided to see me now?”
“Because nothing bad happened to you,” she told him, “until I saw the news a few days ago. They said you almost died.”
“I survived with slim chances, but I survived. Media makes a circus out of everything.”
“You almost died,” she said.
“Almost.” He tried hard to fight a frown. “Can I offer you anything? Tea? Juice?” he took a deep breath and concentrated on opening the jam on the wooden table. Damn it. His grip was too weak.
“Let me open that for you—” she began.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Do you want something?”
She shook her head. “I have a show tomorrow.”
“Starving yourself again, huh?”
“Work,” she shrugged. Then she grabbed the jar of jam from his hand with ease. “Here, let me.”
He sighed. A minute passed by, and she was now making toast and jam, like she used to do when she wasn’t busy, when she used to sleep over.
“Here,” she said with a smile.
“Thanks,” he said, unsure of what was going on. It was as if they had never broken up, it was as if they were the same old lovebirds the tabloids enjoyed. He stood beside the counter, eating his sandwich. “I can’t sit down, unless I wanna have a hard time standing up again.”
“I figured you’d need help, and you’d be here.”
“Does it speak volumes for my level of independence?” he said to her.
“Zac, I mean well, coming here.”
“Thanks, I’ve had enough well-wishers, though. It has been a week.”
“Don’t go sarcastic on me,” she frowned.
“I don’t even get why you’re here.”
“To see you, is that so hard?”
“It’s not hard, it’s more of, is this even necessary?”
He could see her cheery expression change. She was souring up, gone was the honey. Miranda took a deep breath.
“Alright, I know you’re still in pain.”
“I am,” he quickly said. He reached for the intercom to call their butler.
“No need for that,” she said, giving an icy smile. “I know my way out. I’ll see you soon, yes?”
Zac said nothing, he could barely even nod. He watched as she sauntered away, that catwalk he knew so well. He still couldn’t believe she was in front of him again, still couldn’t believe she chose to appear in front of him, while he looked like he needed some desperate TLC or salon services. He looked like crap, something she never was comfortable with. She needed a presentable partner. He hadn’t shaved properly, since the day before that incident at Kakadu.
Partner? They were no longer together. He hadn’t heard of her except in the occasional news, that often-times published tabloid about who was dating who, and who broke up with whomever. He had been part of that, and he hoped that Sara would never experience it.
Miranda didn’t even ask about Sara. Maybe that was what she was here for, to pry into his life. Would he have to shield Sara from that, too? He was thinking too far off. They hadn’t even had their first date yet. He looked at his phone, his hands itching to call her.
*
Sara was startled by a call at just past nine in the evening. She was already in bed, her back hurting, as it had hurt in the last two weeks. She hadn’t had heard from Zac since she visited his hospital room. From the first ring, she had wanted it to be Zac, and yet, she didn’t want to answer it.
She looked at her phone screen. It was strange to see his name flashing on it. She hesitated for a moment, and then she picked up.
“I didn’t wake you up now, did I?” his happy sounding voice said from the other end.
“No,” she immediately said. “You didn’t.”
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing much,” she admitted. Actually, I just wanted to sleep, but I did hope you’d text or something.
“Great, I’m on my way.”
“What?”
“I’m on my way to see you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, when people say they’re on their way to see you, it just means they’ll be in front of you in a few.”
“It’s late.”
“It’s nine.”
“That’s what I meant. It’s nine.”
“Well, there’s this thing called a late night dinner or snacks, or a movie, or a stroll—”
“You can’t even drive yet right,” she blurted out.
“I have Vincenzo with me,” he told her. “He’s been driving us around for fifteen years now.”
“You have a driver?” Well, duh, what the hell did she expect? He was a Turner, after all.
“Wouldn’t that be a weird date?”
He laughed. “He drives me around, but he isn’t my nanny. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”
The call
ended, and Sara found herself bolting out of bed and rummaging through her closet, with what little nice clothes she had to wear. In the end, she chose a burnt orange A-line dress and cork wedges. Her hair was a tangled mess, but she could tie it up. As for her face, oh boy, this was going to need makeup superpowers. Why would she need makeup?
She went to work without it, and Zac had seen her at her worst, bloody and bruised and in panic. This was going to be their first date, right? He had been true to his word. It took a matter of two weeks for it to materialize, but it was happening now, wasn’t it?
Funny how she was nervous about this, but she had barely hesitated sleeping with him back in Darwin. She got another call, just as she finished putting on cherry-colored lip balm.
“Hi.”
“Sorry, I wish I could get you at the door, but I don’t agree with stairs at the moment.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.”
She looked at her open closet and saw a pair of lacy, see through boy shorts hanging a bit. What in the hell am I thinking? Of course this wasn’t happening now—first date, first proper date. Prioritize, Sara.
Sara ran down the steps, wrapping her thin cardigan around her tightly. There was a sleek black Rolls Royce waiting outside, a classic car, she knew. Her father loved collecting car magazines, but had stuck to the same Honda sedan for a little over eight years now. He would’ve been happy to see this. A Rolls Royce—Zac had never displayed his wealth, but this car said it all.
He was standing in front of the passenger side, his one leg heavily bandaged, and he had a crutch under his armpit. “You look great,” he said, smiling at her broadly.
“You look… like you shouldn’t even be out.”
He laughed. “A little exercise never hurt anybody. Shall we?”
“Shouldn’t I come in last?”
“Nah, this is as gentlemanly as it gets for now.”
She smiled at him, before she got in. “So where to?”
He got in the car. “The old theatre, Vince. Please.”
The driver tipped his hat off to her, and she nodded with a shy smile. “What’s the old theatre?”
“I hope you like classic movies,” he told her. “They randomly show vintage films.”
She nodded. “That sounds nice.”
“I hope you like hotdogs and popcorn, or fries.”
“I like those.”
“Junkie,” he grinned.
Zac was being his normal self, chatty and easy-going, and the ride from her apartment to the theatre was enjoyable. Twenty-minutes later, they arrived, just in time for the last movie screening. The words “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” were emblazoned in red on the old-school style marquee.
He got hotdogs, iced tea, and a large bucket of fries. “This isn’t exactly the kind of date I’d imagined, but I was waiting for you to reply to my text from last, last week.”
“I didn’t get any,” her voice faltered.
“Oh.” Then he laughed nervously. “My bad. I should’ve called, huh?”
“You were in the hospital.”
“I was discharged after a week, he said. “That’s when I texted. So… have you seen ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner’?”
She shook her head. “My vintage reel is kinda limited.”
“It’s one of those greats,” he said, “I saw this one back in high school.”
“No spoilers?”
“Nah. I figured you might not want it,” he grinned. “Shall we?”
The movie was an enjoyable one, and he wasn’t talkative in the movies, thank god. They had ice cream after the movie, and she found herself adoring it immensely, much more than she expected. She didn’t even tell herself to be careful this time. She just went with it. Was this going to last? If it didn’t, how long were they going to do this?
I don’t care, she suddenly thought. This is my happiness. I’ll enjoy it. I’ll take it all in. It was just so easy to fall in love with Zachary Turner.
Chapter 17
He had been nervous about their first date, even if he had been casual about it. He saw it in her eyes though, the appreciation that went with his efforts (and his limping). He didn’t want to show that he was in a bit of pain. Thank goodness for the painkillers.
Sara liked her junk food. Sure it was unhealthy, but then Miranda denied him of it during dates, even movie dates. Was it so wrong to compare the two of them? It was all in his head, anyway.
“How long have you not dated?” she suddenly asked him.
“A while now.”
Did Danny tell her anything? Anything at all? Like his dating life? How his world revolved around fun, and giving fun to Miranda…
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because…” her voice trailed off. “Well, I meant like a real proper date. Like this.”
“This is the first in a long, long time.”
She looked at him, and then she gave a shy smile. “So, I guess, you were true to your word.”
“About what?”
“Asking me out on a date, even with a mangled leg.”
“They fixed it, and I promised I would. It’s only right,” he said. They were outside of the apartment complex, with his car idling few feet away. “I don’t think it’s proper if I ask for a first kiss here, huh?”
She laughed a little. “We had more than that.”
“I’m trying to do this right,” he said sheepishly. “I sucked at it the first time—dirty joke not intended.”
She laughed. “You don’t need to ask permission.” She leaned in closer and gave him a peck on the cheek, and then she quickly pulled away. “I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, yeah of course,” he said, unable to shake off the sheer fortune of his circumstance. She was being cool about it, but she was voluntarily displaying some semblance of affection.
“When are you visiting the zoo again?”
Yes, he had told her he was getting reassigned, reassigned to a stable, growing company, to a desk job, a paper and pen pushing job. He was a Turner, after all. “Soon, I do have a backlog of stuff in the office.”
“I thought you weren’t assigned an office.”
“We have more than one,” he said. “Looking forward to our next date.”
She nodded, gave a shy smile, and left.
Zac lingered there for a while, taking his sweet time, breathing in that cool air, a scene that would have looked nothing but ordinary to just about anyone, but to him, to him it felt like heaven, a glimpse of it. The mere fact that she was opening up to him, being spontaneous—the mere fact that she gave him that simple kiss on the cheek—he smiled, and then he hobbled back into the car.
“Home, sir?”
He nodded. “Thanks for being a great sport, Vince.”
“Anything for a change in scenery, sir,” his faithful chauffer replied.
The rest of the ride home was spent in silence. His mind was strangely uncluttered, and he replayed the night’s events, knowing he had done something right. Sure, it was no Michelin star restaurant; they didn’t even have a cheap bottle of wine, but he felt tipsy. Drunk on love, he thought, almost laughing.
It was easy to accept that he was falling for her. He had known since the first time he saw her, that there was something special about her, something worthwhile, something that he knew he needed to take care of, and that it was something that would last. He didn’t want to make mistakes. He didn’t want to ruin what they had.
He would take it slow with her; he would adjust to her. He realized he had begrudgingly adjusted to his previous relationship. It was still love, he knew, but he had been juvenile, and his reasons had been juvenile. He had grown up now, grown up enough to even make his mother proud of what he had become.
As soon as he arrived back at the family home, he saw his father in the study.
“Where have you been?” his father asked, looking up from his newspaper.
“On a date,” he replied, grinning from ear to ear.
“Best be careful,” his father said, going back to his newspaper.
Careful with what? A brief frown crossed his face, and then he shrugged it off. His father had always been cryptic like that. Then it dawned on him that his father must’ve known that Miranda had dropped by. Miranda had always been liked by their father. She had this certain charm to her, a siren-call that worked on men. His sisters, and most women, however weren’t drawn to it.
He hoped that Sara would never get to meet Miranda, ever.
*
She was buying groceries, still sporting a bandage on her arm, a fresh one, a grim reminder that she had survived the outback and a large crocodile. Her antibiotics were ending soon, thank god. The media frenzy had died down, but once in a while, a reporter would pop up. Today was just that day.
Sara had been minding her own business, picking out cereal, when a man approached her.
“Miss Wright?”
She looked to her right, wary. “Yes?”
“I’m Gary Rogers, from the Melbourne Times.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can give you what you want,” she quickly replied, turning on her heels to avoid him.
“Just a few questions!” he said, stepping in her way.
“Please, I’m not in the mood for this.”
“Well, you don’t have to be.”
“Leave me alone, please,” she said, her heart hammering. She was desperately looking for a way out, and she didn’t want to make a scene, but the reporter was doing it for her.
“Miss Wright, if you can just give me a short description of how you survived the attack and of how Mr. Turner saved you from the jaws of death, nearly losing his whole leg.”
She shook her head. “Please, please leave me alone.”
“Just a short sentence or two,” Gary Rogers insisted.
She shook her head again, leaving her cart of groceries. People were beginning to ogle at her, and she knew she was bad at this kind of attention. She was wildly looking for a way out, as she had been cornered against a chocolate display.