by Anne Thomas
jesus casey. ive gone home if u ever feel like explaining ur rudeness. if ur wondering, yes, i also sent this msg to lena.
"Lena! Wake up!" She groans and swears at me. "Lena - we stood up Penelope. Remember? We were supposed to go to breakfast this morning to celebrate Pene's promotion. Get up! Get up!" Lena gets up and races straight to the toilet to throw up.
"Omigod." Lena emerges a few minutes later looking like she's been run over by a truck. "We are so dead. She was looking forward to that bloody breakfast!"
I go home, not without staring at Levi's house and willing him outside to no avail, and call Penelope, begging for forgiveness. She relents eventually after I promise to go out with her the following weekend. I think she's still a little miffed but after I tell her about Sir Smurfalot, Squashed Frogs and Lena throwing up this morning she feels a little happier. She mutters a few things along the lines of 'they got what was coming' but she's not really much of a sadist so I think it's all for show.
I wonder if hanging out in Lena's front yard would be considered weird. Then I realise that Levi wouldn't actually be able to see me. I grab my bag and head out the door, saying hello to my neighbor as I pass - they're watering the two sprigs of lawn in their front yard. Apparently hope springs eternal. I get in my car and drive the ten minutes over to Lena's new abode. I slow a few houses before hers but, upon seeing Levi in front of his house throwing a tennis ball for his dog again, I chicken out and speed off home. I pull into my driveway and glare at my fuel meter. I swear it was on full a few days ago. Someone must be siphoning it off. Bastards.
::an[ph]ony, CaseSpace and Random!Hague have joined the conversation::
CaseSpace says: What's with your name, Handsome?
Random!Hague says: Oh. You know the publisher - Random House? It's my favourite.
CaseSpace says: You have a favourite publisher?
Random!Hague says: Sure, sure. They publish Kathy Reichs' books - the ones the TV show Bones is based on. She's my favourite author.
CaseSpace says: Uhn huh. I read her first one - Déjà Dead - and it was okay, but as a rule I don't normally get excited about books which have the word 'maggots' in the first chapter. Unless, you know, they're talking about new army recruits. Something about men in uniform...
Random!Hague says: Right. Well, she's still my favourite. And I love maggots... okay, that came out wrong but you know what I mean.
an[ph]ony says: Enough already. What's with all the book-speak?
CaseSpace says: Just because you're practically illiterate doesn't mean we all have to be.
Random!Hague says: Damn straight.
an[ph]ony says: Shut up you. At least I don't work at a certain burger chain for a living.
Random!Hague says: Whatever. It's temporary dude. I'm moving onto bigger and better things as soon as I graduate. You're going nowhere.
an[ph]ony says: If you could see me right now, you'd see me not caring.
CaseSpace says: Okay! I get it - you both have big dicks. Now, can we move on?
an[ph]ony says: Yes, mother.
Random!Hague says: Yes, mother.
CaseSpace says: Thanks. Are you guys coming out tonight to Zeke's pre-birthday nightclub hop?
Random!Hague says: What? Why does he need to have a pre-birthday nightclub hop?
an[ph]ony says: Because he's greedy and wants his birthday to drag on as long as possible. And he likes people buying him drinks.
CaseSpace says: Right. So I'll see you both there then. Play nice. xoxoxo
::CaseSpace has left the conversation at 5:59pm::
Random!Hague says: Goodbye to you too, Casey.
an[ph]ony says: She certainly has a way with that damn exit button.
Random!Hague says: Agreed.
::Random!Hague has left the conversation at 6:00pm::
::an[ph]ony has left the conversation at 6:00pm::
I pick Lena before we head out to Zeke's. She bitches and moans about coming and refuses to buy him a present, but she comes because she's got the hots for Hague. Handsome Hague is one of my mates from high school and he gets on with everyone. I don't know why, but he does. We weren't that close in high school but it seemed as soon as we graduated we became best mates. Weird but somehow functional. Lena has her eye on Hague because he's, well, he's hot shit. Like seriously, Andy Whitfield doesn't hold a candle to this guy. Okay, so maybe Andy's got the edge but Hague should definitely be a model. He's tall, blonde and a surfer. He's tanned, got the brightest blue eyes you ever saw and the best body you haven't. It's a big old cliché but it's just so damn true. If I hadn't known him when he was a snot nose, irritating kid, I'd be a little in love with him because, to top things off, the amazing looks namely, he's a really nice guy, despite having an ego the size of the Pacific. Lena doesn't give a crap about his personality though, she just wants to jump him. The girl's a free spirit - doesn't want to be tied down. What she is yet to realise is that Hague is just as bad. If I thought she would listen, I would tell her.
Lena stalks down her front path like it's a catwalk and I've got to say, she looks hot. I don't think her shorts could get any shorter but when you can pull them off, why not?
"What's up, Case?" She asks as she swings her ass into the passenger’s seat.
I shrug, "Not much."
"I hate Zeke," She announces presently, glaring at me as if I bought him into existence, "And I'm not going to be nice to him."
"What are you - twelve? And I don't think he's gonna be nice to you either." At this she looks a bit put out. Apparently acting like a bitch to someone and then getting the same treatment back is not something she enjoys. I pull away from her house and head towards the city. "You know, Zeke's a really nice guy."
She rolls her eyes, "Sure, for an asshole."
I sigh and then have a mini-heart attack. Levi is walking down the street looking absolutely gorgeous. His strides are long and confident. His dog walks beside and a little in front of him and his hand, which I remember as being strong and tan, is holding her harness. I hold my breath as we pass him.
"Nice outfit, buddy." Lena's sarcasm bites the silence I created. I don't mind that he's sporting three different, clashing shades of red. In fact, I think I'm a little in love with him. Or perhaps the idea of him is what has me. All that dignity and pride in one disabled man - it moved me.
"Shut up," I say, "He's blind - how's he supposed to know what he puts on in the morning?"
Lena looks at me as if I had grown a third arm and slapped her with it. "Pipe down, Case, I was just commenting." I blush and change the subject.
"So... Hague is coming tonight."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lena snaps. It feels like she punches me in the head with every word. Sometimes it's a bit of an effort to be around Lena. She can bring the toughest man to his knees with one sentence.
"Just commenting." I shouldn't be such a smartass. Lena looks like she's about ready to stab me in the neck with her lip gloss - an assuredly slow and painful way to die. We drive the rest of the way with the grungy guitar heavy Vasco Era on just loud enough so that we don't have to talk and we exit the car into the midst of a group of Zeke's many and varied friends. I latch onto Penelope and she immediately knows Lena is on a warpath. I always thought Pene should take up bomb disposal as a career; she handles Lena so well.
I hug Zeke and field a call from Handsome, who is lost. "How long have you been living in this city?" I asked in exasperation.
"Clearly not long enough." He says in a far too cheerful voice. I think he's already started drinking. There is a giggle in the background - somehow I think that tonight is not Lena's night. I direct Hague down the correct road and hug him in greeting when he eventually arrives. Okay, so I like any excuse to wrap my arms around that perfect specimen of manhood, what woman wouldn't?
Eventually we make it into Northbridge where various drunkards and louts are parading around in their Saturday finest. I can smell the booze in the air and it makes me feel vaguely ill.
I glance across at Lena and see, quite clearly written on her features, Sir Smurfalot. I'm fairly sure it's not a welcome memory. Penelope is hysterical when I describe the evening to her in great detail. I embellish a bit because there are quite a few blank spots in my memory, but let's face it, making up what happened afterwards is half the fun of getting drunk. In my opinion at least. I glance behind us to see what Anthony is getting up to. Yes, he seems to be harassing another woman, the usual then. Oh gross, Hague and his latest floozy are doing a bit of locomotion tonsil hockey. Now that is talent. Pene and I raise our eyebrows at each other as Hague and attached girl manage to navigate through three traffic lights and a mob of emos without coming up for air.
The night seems to drag on and every time I see someone wearing red my breath catches in my throat. Eventually, when I realise that Lena is not going to need a lift home, I plead exhaustion and bail. Zeke, I am sure, would be upset at my early departure were he not practically comatose and attached to one of his other female friends by the lips. Nope, hold up, that's Penelope. Oh goody. This should be fun in the morning. I hotfoot it out of there before anyone can insist on another demonstration of the sprinkler - I am quite fabulous at it after all.
I go home and lie awake for ages. Okay, half an hour, thinking about the only person I seem to think about these days with any remote enthusiasm. Even deliberate thoughts of Hague conjure nothing more than a vague sense of happiness and then a complete circular pattern back to Levi's wiry arms and strong hands. For some reason I can't get past his forearms and hands. It's weird, I've never been attracted to that in a man before but suddenly those veins sticking up is the sexiest thing on the planet. I think I need a therapist. The only thing Levi has ever been to me is an asshole, admittedly I began that tradition, and now I am obsessing over him. I don't know anything about him. At all. I fall asleep with Can you see me? scrawled across my eyelids.
Chapter 3
In the morning I wake and field Lena's drunken messages which detail what an idiot Zeke is and how gorgeous Hague is. I agree with the latter and hedge over Zeke; he's a good friend to me. I get up and shower, washing the make-up from last night off my skin. Penelope tells me I should never go to bed with make-up on but I don't really care. I kind of go in for the panda look... Kidding. I hate it but my inherently lazy nature wins out when I get home late at night or, as it is so often, early in the morning.
I exit the shower banging my head on the door and almost slice my foot open on my abandoned razor. I wrap up in my towel and make it to my room relatively unscathed. The picture of a little boy at the beach catches my eye where it's lying on my cluttered desk, half hidden by a magazine and an abandoned uni textbook I think I opened once - what a waste of good drinking money. There are white lines through the photo from being folded and unfolded so many times but it's still one of the loveliest pictures I've seen. I sit and pick it up, turning it over to stare at the dark, desperate writing on the back. How do I get to see him again? I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. Seeing him again will be easy - I just need to return the picture.
::CaseSpace and penELOPE have joined the conversation::
CaseSpace says: If you had to talk to someone who you don't know really at all but who doesn't like what he knows of you, what would you say to them?
penELOPE says: Wow. That's a confusing sentence. Let me get this straight - you need to talk to a guy, who you don't know that well.
CaseSpace says: Yes.
penELOPE says: But he doesn't really like you much.
CaseSpace says: Yeah. I just... umm...
penELOPE says: Okay, well, I'd play it cool. Maybe ignore the fact that he doesn't like you. Why do you have to speak to him again?
CaseSpace says: I need to give something to him.
penELOPE says: Right. You can't post it, I'm assuming.
CaseSpace says: Correct. I have to go. Bye! xoxoxoo
::CaseSpace has left the conversation at 5:02pm::
::penELOPE has left the conversation at 5:02pm::
I go to his house and stand on the front stoop staring at his pale blue door and its bronze gargoyle door knocker. It's an ugly door knocker. This makes it more intimidating for me. I normally like gargoyles - they have a little something, but this one surpasses ugly, from its bulbous little nose to the tip of its fat little gargoyle toes. I climb the three steps and knock. My nerves hum like a police siren and the photo is burning a hole in my pocket. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come here.
The door opens and he's standing there in a t-shirt that's a size too small and shorts which are a size to big. I think his dog must dress as well as lead him. Although, with a body like his I'm not complaining about the tightness of his shirt. Also it shows off his veiny arms. In one hand he holds one of those blind person sticks with the rubber knob on the end and the strap around the wrist. I guess he doesn't use the dog around the house.
"Hi." I say.
He frowns behind his mirrored glasses. "What are you doing here?"
"How do you know who I am?" I burst out. There is a moment of silence and then he shrugs,
"I have a good ear for voices."
"Oh, okay." So he's not telepathic then. I don't really know what I was expecting. Something more dramatic than that, I guess.
"Yeah. So... why are you here?" He shifted from foot to foot. I see his dog lurking behind him, her tongue is hanging out. She looks like a happy sort of dog.
"I am here because, well, I have something to give you." I pause, "Give back to you, really." There is some more silence and I take the photo out of my pocket. I look down at it, at the little boy's brilliant hazel eyes, then I refold it and reach out to take Levi's hand. He flinches slightly at the contact but let's me lift up his and press the picture into his palm. I let go and stand there uncomfortably. He runs his fingers over it and then unfolds it slowly. Fingertips brush softly along his writing which was pressed deeply into the back,
"How did you get this?" His voice is low and unsure.
"You dropped it in Northbridge when we met that second time. I found it."
"Right. And how do you know where I live?" Now he sounds angry. What a sad, bitter man.
"My friend Lena is housesitting for her friend over the road. I saw you here last week, thought that I'd return your picture."
He props his hand on the door frame and I get a look at his paler inner arm. The writing is still there -
Can you see me?
I realise it's a tattoo. I want to trace my fingers over it. Tell him I do. That I see him. The words never make it past my mind, though.
"What's your name?" He asks abruptly.
I blink, taken by surprise by such a mundane question, "Casey. Casey Butler."
"Well, Casey Butler, thanks for bringing back my picture, as you may guess I have a lot of use for photos. Now, please leave me alone. I don't want your help and I certainly don't want your pity." I stand rooted to the spot in shock as he turns and goes back inside. As he slams the door I can hear him mutter quite distinctly, "Like every other frigging do-gooder."
Well. I wasn't expecting that. Not even a thanks - this guy sure has a big chip on his shoulder. Sure he's blind but that doesn't mean he can be an ass to everybody. I might have deserved it after that first time but now, now I'm trying to make amends and he keeps flinging it back in my face. Plus, it doesn't look like he has so many friends that he can afford to act like this to everyone. I mean, he's been alone every time I've seen him - well, alone or running away from agitated family members. I scowl at the door,
"You know what?" I call through it, feeling grumpy and put out, "Just because you're blind it doesn't mean you have the right to be a rude prick to everyone!" I stand there, my eyes locked with the mocking gargoyle and my fists clenched at my sides. I am not prepared when he reopens the door with such force the whole porch seems to shudder. I take a step back.
"I am not a rude prick," He hisses, "I know why you're here and I don't want anything to do with you.
Leave."
Now I'm angry. "Who died and made you king? You have no idea why I'm here. You have no idea who I am!"
"Oh yes I do," He takes a step forward and he's looking at me with such viciousness suddenly I think maybe he isn't blind. "You're one of those idiotic people who try to validate themselves by being charitable to people like me. I don't need it! I don't need your problems - in case you hadn't noticed, I have enough of my own!" I'm silenced by that for a moment, but then he smiles in victory and it's a savage smile. It upsetting and it looks to me like his face isn't used to smiling. Like he's out of practice.
"When's the last time you smiled?" I ask, somewhat out of the blue. He looks startled and doesn't answer. "You just look like you don't smile much." I say in explanation, trailing off and feeling like a bit of an idiot for asking and then providing that crappy explanation.
"So?" He spits the word and I feel like he's just slapped me on the face. He and Lena should meet.
I let my breath out in a huff of irritation, "Maybe I am here out of pity. But you know? I don't see anyone else here so maybe you should suck it up and invite me in for a cup of tea."
"Why should I?" He snaps, but he sounds a little chastised.
"Because you don't have anyone else." As I say it, I know it's true. "Because you moved to Australia to escape everyone you used to know because you hated the way they treated you when you went blind, right?" Silence is my answer; I take it as a yes. "You ran away from all your old friends and family and now you're here and completely alone because you're too bitter and angry to go and meet anyone or let anyone near you."
"I am not." He says hesitantly.
"Really? My friend she's never seen anyone come near this house except for Silver Chain, and they don't count because it's their job to come see how you're doing."
"They're not the only ones." He says it but I know it's a lie. Or perhaps his cousin checks up on him from time to time. Begrudgingly.
I sigh and turn away, "Whatever man, I'm off. Obviously you don't want the company."
I head off down the footpath and am almost at my car, parked on the verge when he calls out. "Don't you pull that reverse psychology bullshit on me!"