by E. S. Carter
G.
I’m still sat smiling goofily at the note and the withered plant when Dad knocks once and enters my bedroom.
“Someone seems more herself today,” he says, and I don’t even bother to hide my joy. “Secret admirer?” he asks, nodding towards the note I hold in one hand, and lifeless little flowers on the other.
“Uh, w—what?” I stammer.
“The love letter, the smile on your face,” he says as if it’s obvious. “From a boyfriend perhaps?”
Nausea pools thick and acrid and in my stomach, and I can feel the blood drain from my face. With my father stood in my doorway looking at me like I’m trying to shyly hide the first bud of young love, I can see why Galen left.
Because of this.
Right here.
What feels right when it’s just him and me, feels so very wrong when confronted by others. By our family.
“He’s just a friend,” I manage to whisper, the lie sticking in my throat.
A beat of silence before Dad says, “Ah, I get it.”
My eyes flash to his.
No, no you don’t.
“He’s got a crush on you, but you’re playing the friend card? Don’t feel bad, Fflur. You can’t help who you fall in love with, and you’ve plenty of time to find the one. Trust me on that. Just let him down gently, okay?”
When he smiles at me, it’s laden with a confused variety of emotions—sadness, hope, regret. He shakes it off and tilts his head to encourage me downstairs.
“Kate’s cooked a full roast dinner. We’ve got some good news to share with you. Well, we hope you think it’s good news. She’s dishing up in ten minutes, okay?”
It turns out the good news is that Kate is moving in. They wanted to wait until Rhys was home for Christmas to tell us, but were both excited to get the move out of the way so they could spend their first festive season together under the same roof, plus Kate’s lease was up on her flat. It seemed silly to renew for only a few weeks.
I smile. I offer congratulations, and I’m happy for them both. I am. But it’s another thing that has changed. Another way I’m getting left behind.
Everyone is moving on, and I’m stuck.
Stuck with no resolution.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Christmas comes in a blur of holly, tinsel, presents and snow. Lots and lots of snow. More than we’ve had for many winters.
As a country, we aren’t cut out to deal with it. The occasional winter flurries are enough to bring everything to a standstill. Which means this winter storm has everywhere practically shut down and snowed in.
Rhys comes home.
Galen doesn’t.
Not because of the snow, but because the promoter offered him extra gigs on both Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Although only a minor support act on the tour, the buzz around Galen has steadily built, and these shows will see him as the main headliner. They may be only small gigs, but it’s something he couldn’t turn down, and something I knew was inevitable. Galen was born to be a star. He’s got that thing that transcends talent and raises him up way above others.
The last time I talked to him on the phone, he was bubbling over with an infectious mixture of excitement, disbelief and sheer joy. He promised to call on Christmas Day, and despite me overhearing Max on the landline to him earlier in the morning, evening comes, and my phone doesn’t ring.
It’s only nine, but I make my excuses, kiss everyone goodnight and tell them I need to sleep off the ridiculous amount of food we’ve been eating all day.
Mum hugs me tight, something in her smile not buying my story, but she doesn’t call me on it.
“Sweet dreams, Fflur,” she says instead. “Hey, if the roads clear enough tomorrow, do you fancy coming to check out the Boxing Day sales with me?”
No. I really don’t. But what I say is, “Yeah, I’d like that.”
And she rewards me with a beaming smile, a smile that should warm me from the inside out. But, I’m hollow and cold. And no matter how much I know I’ve made Mum happy, that happiness cannot permeate the cold inside me.
I climb the stairs, intending to curl up in my bed and read, but when I pass Galen’s closed door, it beckons me.
I don’t know if it’s because he hasn’t called or if it’s just an attempt to blanket out the coldness creeping through my veins, but before I know I’ve done it, I’m curled up in his bed under the covers, unable to keep the tears at bay.
I cry until the pillow is wet with my hurt, and snot runs out of my nose. I cry pathetically, like the weak girl I am. And that’s probably why I don’t hear Max coming into the room.
“Hey, it’s Christmas. Why are you crying?” he asks concerned. “It’s the law. No crying at Christmas or an elf drops dead and poufs out of existence.”
I burrow into myself, tugging the covers closer to hide my face. I know he means well, but I wish he’d go away.
“Oh, Fflur,” he sighs, all the lightness from his previous comment gone. “I miss him too. It feels like he’s left us all behind, doesn’t it?”
At that, a sob escapes my mouth, and I tug the covers over my head to try and contain everything. I don’t want Max to know why I’m hurting. I don’t want him of all people, Galen’s father, to know I’m crying because his son isn’t home where he belongs. With me.
I feel the end of the bed dip, and Max doesn’t say anything for a long enough time that I forget that he’s there.
I startle when he speaks again.
“I was probably just like you are now when I first left your mother behind. We’d been best friends forever, and at the time, neither of us could drive, so my university felt very far away.” He shifts on the bed and continues, “I think Jenny’s mother disapproved of our friendship and meddled a little, too—the old bat.” He huffs out a laugh. “Of course, I dealt with it in a manly, I’m completely unaffected and my heart is not breaking way, but I felt it just as hard all the same.”
I use the edge of Galen’s bedcovers to wipe my eyes and peak over the top of the quilt to acknowledge Max’s words.
“It was hard to leave my best friend behind; one I always knew was more than just my best friend.”
My voice croaks when I reply with a simple, “Yeah.”
Max turns to me then, and his smile is sad, but there’s a lot of pride in it too. Pride for his son.
“I miss Galen too. One day he needed me for everything, the next he’s gone. It was just the two of us for such a long time that I guess I didn’t expect him ever to leave. He’s not just my son, he’s my wingman, you know?”
I nod. I do know. Gal and Max are close—two peas in a pod.
“Are you sad he didn’t come back for Christmas?”
His reply is immediate. “Sad, yes. Upset about it, no. How can I be when he’s making his life a success and chasing his dreams? I’m proud of him. So bloody proud, but that doesn’t change the fact that feeling him slip further away is painful. I just tell myself that this is his home and he’ll always find his way back, one way or another.”
Watching Max, as he smiles away what he’s feeling inside, I feel somewhat closer to Galen, and not because they look so alike, but because I’m here with someone who wants the best for him and misses him just as much as I do.
“I’m okay now,” I whisper. “I was upset with Gal… well, angry with him is a better word, but I’m not now.”
“Angry at him for not coming home?”
I shake my head.
“He promised to call.”
Max smiles at me then, and it’s the smile that Galen gives me to cheer me up.
“He will, Fflur. I have no doubt he’ll call. And anyway, we can mope together until he finally decides to come home.”
“When will that be do you think?”
Something flickers behind Max’s eyes, but he tells me the truth anyway. “End of February. But that isn’t so far away.”
It feels like it.
“Yeah,” I offer in reply, fresh tear
s threatening to fall. “Not long at all.”
Galen calls the following day.
He apologises for not having the time to call yesterday and says he spent the day with a friend’s family that lives in London. Someone he met on the tour from another band.
I want to push him to tell me more, but I’m so content just to hear his voice that I let it pass, not wanting anything to eat up the time we get to spend just talking.
He’s telling me all about his solo gig on Christmas Eve, and how the New Year one is going to be even bigger when a male voice in the background calls out for him to hurry up.
Galen pulls his phone away from his mouth and calls back, “Give me five, let me say goodbye to my sister.”
There’s that title again. Sister.
It’s like a sharp knife to my belly.
“Sorry,” I rush out before he can be the one to dismiss me. Again. “Mum is calling me. I gotta go. I promised to go to the sales with her today.”
“Buy something nice,” he says in reply. And before he can say any more I stop him with, “Talk soon, bye Gal.”
I can hear him say goodbye as I disconnect, and I want nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep this all away. But I don’t. I dress warmly and find Mum and Max outside clearing a path in the snow from our driveway.
“We can go tomorrow if it’s easier,” I call out, noticing the exertion on Max’s face.
“Hell, no,” Mum calls back, climbing in the driver’s side and waving her arm out the window for me to hurry up.
Max bends through the open window and kisses her cold lips as I slide into the passenger seat.
“Get back inside,” she chastises him. “You can’t afford to get a cold. We’ll be fine.”
“Yes, boss,” he mumbles feigning annoyance but ruins it with a big smile. “Your wish is my command. Now, don’t go spending all my hard-earned cash.”
Mum harrumphs, and presses the button on the door to close the window, blowing him a kiss once it seals shut.
“I might buy you something, I might not,” she yells with a grin at the closed glass. “But if you don’t get your arse back inside that house right now, the chances of it being something you’ll like will diminish.”
Max salutes her and walks back towards the house.
His smiling face and goodbye wave is the last thing I see as Mum puts the car into gear and pulls out onto the icy, one track road.
“It’s good to see you guys happy,” I say as Mum crawls at five miles an hour towards the clearer main road.
She rests her hand on my knee, gives it a brief squeeze and replies, “Even during the worst part of last year, we were happy, Fflur. You couldn’t see it because we had a hell of a fight on our hands. But even during the darkest days, we were happy.”
“Why?”
“Because we were together, and that’s all either one of us needs.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mum and Max are away when I get the call that Galen is coming home a week earlier than expected.
“You’re really coming home tomorrow?”
It’s impossible for me to keep the excitement from my voice even if Galen seems subdued by the prospect of finally coming back.
“Yeah, the last few dates were cancelled. The lead singer of the headlining band has lost his voice. Well, that’s the official line, but he’s been sent to rehab. This tour was a bit much for an addiction that he hadn’t quite kicked.”
“Wow. That’s crazy and a little sad. So, what time do you get home? I was supposed to be going to a party with Erin, but I can cancel.”
“No,” he hurriedly replies with a little too much force before smoothing his voice out. “Don’t cancel for me. We can catch up soon enough. You should go and have fun with your friends.”
I snort, “It’s a stupid Valentine’s party, Gal. I’m hardly missing out.”
“Honestly, all the travelling will have worn me out. I’ll probably just crash in bed for twenty-four hours. You should go.”
“But Mum and Max are in Devon. There won’t be anyone there to welcome you home.” I know I sound a bit ridiculous and even a touch whiny, but I can’t believe Gal is coming home and doesn’t want me to be there.
“I’m looking forward to the peace, Fflur. This tour has been pretty hectic, and you get very little time to yourself. I swear, I’m just gonna sleep like the dead. Don’t stay home when you already have plans.”
I open my mouth to object once more, and as if senses it, he adds, “We’ll do breakfast the morning after. You can fill me in on everything I missed. I’ll even cook. What do you say?”
And because it’s Galen, there’s only one thing I can say.
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”
The day of the Valentine’s party and, more importantly, the day Galen comes home, I spend the morning with Erin. At lunchtime, I drop the news on her that I’m not going to the party, and I can’t help the pinch of guilt that hits me when her face falls.
“But we’ve planned this for weeks?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s just—”
“Galen.”
My mouth opens to deny it, but I snap it shut not wanting to try and lie to my friend.
She sighs heavily and flops down on the futon she uses as a spare bed when I sleep over on occasion.
“I know you’ve missed him, Fflur, but can’t you see him tomorrow? It’s not like he’s going anywhere. He’s back for good now, isn’t he?”
“I know but—”
“But you’ve missed him. I know, I get that, and I’m sorry that I’m making this awkward for you. I was just looking forward to tonight. We never do stuff like this, and I thought it might be fun for a change.”
“You could still go,” I offer weakly, knowing that she won’t go without me.
“Yeah, maybe,” she replies quietly.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I grab all my stuff and cram it into my overnight bag. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
I leave Erin’s house feeling like the worst friend ever, but it doesn’t stop me. The urge to see Galen is overwhelming, and I know I’ll need to apologise again to Erin for my selfishness and abandoning her, but right now, I can’t think about it. There’s no space inside my head for all that. I’ve spent too many months without him, and our infrequent phone chats only served to wedge us further apart.
The daffodils Mum planted in the borders to the front of the house are in full bloom. They beckon me up the path with sure feet. I don’t need to pick one today. I have a far greater need, and I know Galen is home because when I look up, I can see his bedroom curtains are closed, and Mum has kept them open the whole time he’s been away.
I nervously run a hand through my hair, gathering the long, glossy strands to one side and draping them over my shoulder—Galen once told me I look pretty when I did that—and I tug at the hem of my plain white t-shirt, before sliding my key in the lock and letting myself in.
I take a deep breath of the air, hoping it will smell different now he’s home, and I scan the hallway and living room for any signs of him, but I’m met with nothing but silence.
Maybe he’s gone out? Maybe I have time to shower and change before he gets back. I could try out some of that make up Mum helped me pick.
A dull thud comes from the kitchen, barely a sound at all, and I tilt my head, straining my ears for any further noise.
There it is again.
He is home. I knew it when I saw his curtains were shut. Why did I doubt it?
My feet carry me closer before my mind can catch up. I know things have been different between us the last couple of weeks, no, I guess months, but I don’t care. I want, need to see him.
Will he wrap his arms around me in a hug?
Will his eyes find mine while the air around us crackles and urges him to come closer for a kiss?
Will he beg forgiveness for pushing me away?
I pause and take a deep breath outside the kitchen door, i
t’s cracked open slightly—like always—but I don’t hear any further sounds. My heart is pounding in my chest and almost blocking the air from my lungs, and my hand trembles as I push the door open fully and step inside.
The room is empty.
Maybe he’s upstairs? Should I go up and find him?
He could be sleeping.
Not wanting to disturb him if he is, my eyes land on the hob, and I get the bright idea that he’d appreciate his favourite food when he wakes up. Who can say no to pasta and meat—
I take three steps into the room, and stop.
There it is again.
Thud.
And another.
Thud.
I tilt my head towards the laundry room. The door is closed, but not fully and another muffled sound tells me he’s in there.
I bet he has a heap of stuff that needs washing, and it’s just like Gal not to want to give Mum any extra to do.
A devious smile tips at the corner of my mouth and I creep silently across the kitchen, determined to scare the life out of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is home. This can be payback for all the times he’s jumped out at me in the past and made me scream like a banshee.
I still my breathing, brace my hand on the doorframe and peek through the crack.
The first thing I see is the pile of dirty laundry dumped on the floor. I angle my gaze slightly to the right and I can see someone kneeling in front of the open washing machine door.
Thud. The door bangs softly against the side wall.
I blink.
That can’t be right. Two sets of legs, not one.
I shift my feet and lean my head against the door to lengthen my viewpoint through the narrow crack.
The legs kneeling on the floor do not belong to Galen.
I following them up to a waist, then a slim back and shoulders, and finally a head of thick, short auburn hair, that’s bobbing rhythmically.
Thud. Thud. Thud.