David was all too happy to fill the void, and comforted me in my misery.
So on that early morning in September, we said our bittersweet goodbyes with the promise that Johnny and Sadie would be safe, together. As we said goodbye to beautiful Texas, I braced myself for the adventure that awaited us in Australia.
The Aussie sun had tanned his skin a deep golden brown. “A Virgin Colada?” David asked, suddenly interrupting my thoughts and standing a little too close to me. He’d been in the surf, and I could nearly taste the salt on his skin.
“Sure,” I replied, dropping my pen. What was meant to be resisted was becoming irresistible. He caught my gaze in that moment and gave me a wink, knowingly.
“I called it first,” he said smugly. “You’ll be mine one day and I’ll be yours.”
“Incorrigible,” I stated for want of a better word.
“I find it hard to believe you’ve been celibate all these years.”
“I know how to keep myself happy,” he interjected, giving me a left eye wink. “Don’t need nobody but me,” he said, a little too proudly.
“I didn’t need to know that,” I replied.
“Oh yes you did!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes you did,” he stated. “Hopefully it will increase the amount of empathy you feel for me, and cause you to not even think of letting me suffer any longer.”
“David, you’re incorrigible!” I told him again.
“Hm, got a nice ring to it. David Incorrigible Davenport.”
I rolled my eyes in response. “You don’t know when to stop, do you.”
“Oh yes I do.”
“No you don’t”
“Yes I do.”
“No…David!” I exclaimed. “Give it a rest will you?“
He laughed. “Glad I can make you smile. I’ll stop annoying you now,” he promised.
We lived in a quaint workers cottage in Nambour, on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast. I fell in love with the place the first moment I saw it, the time I had left Texas for Australia with David. The same cottage where I’d birthed the twins.
Daniel’s presence was still there. I remembered him there, the punch up David and he had gotten into at the front, and the few short weeks we’d spent there waiting for the babies to mature enough to travel back to Texas.
David stressed all the work he could do to the place, while I envisioned restoring the house to its original glory. A browse through the archives at the Nambour Library revealed the house had been constructed in 1840.
“Guess what I found out today,” David said, smugly. “Peter from down the road said this place had been a “House of Love”,” he said. “Used to be purple.”
“You serious?” I asked, a little shocked.
“When am I ever serious,” he joked. “Yes, I’m serious.”
We both laughed heartily. For a moment I forgot to miss Daniel.
Those moments became days, and those days became eventually became weeks. Still, I thought of him daily, with each day remembering him in light.
We spent our sunny days at the beach.
“Check this out,” David beckoned. “Am I or am I not awesome!” he exclaimed, stepping back to admire his workmanship - a castle made of sand that he’d carefully constructed with the kids.
“You are awesome,” I confirmed. Just a little vain too,” I added.
“Vain, no, not me. I just love myself,” he claimed.
“Same thing, isn’t it?”
“No ma’am. Not the same thing. I need to love myself so you can learn to love me,” he philosophised. “Deeply.”
“You could have been a philosopher,” I noted.
“Could have been? I AM.” He posed akimbo, then turned to me, hand under chin in a plato-esque pose.
I laughed helplessly in response to his behaviour.
“So, is it working?” he asked suddenly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Me loving me more so you can learn to love me,” he stated.
“David you’re incorrigible,” I responded, averting eye contact.
He caught my eyes. “It is working,” he suggested. “Can’t even answer my question,” he noted. “Your eyes betray you.”
“Oh David, must you must continue to insist…”
“Yes, I will continue to insist,” he confirmed. “You will learn to love me one day, and we will be one.”
I did love him, I just was not prepared to admit it fully yet, for fear of where it might lead. Despite the kisses we shared here and there, loving someone else fully meant leaving the memory of Daniel. I wasn’t prepared to do that.
He snapped his fingers in front of me, startling me slightly. “You went somewhere, just then, didn’t you. Thinking of me I hope.”
“David, you are too much.”
He smiled deeply and laughed lightly. “One day you’re gonna love me,” he declared. “So deeply.”
My heart skipped a beat at the thought. Loving him was easy. Getting over Daniel was hard.
Changing topic, he said, “Surf’s up. Good time to head into the water, catch some waves,” he suggested. “The babies, all slipped, slopped and slapped?”
“What?”
A pregnant pause ensued before he clarified. “Do the babies have sunscreen on?”
“Why couldn’t you just say that initially?” I asked.
“Why couldn’t you just understand me initially?” he teased.
I rolled my eyes at him. “No, they don’t, not yet,” I told him, envisioning Adalia trying to escape. She hated putting sunscreen on, but the Queensland sun was unforgiving.
David seemingly read my mind. “I’ll get to it then,” he said, planting a kiss on my forehead before tending to the babies.
Fun in the surf only lasted so long. It was uncomfortably hot. I sat under the beach umbrella, watching David carry each child close enough to the shore to feel the water lapping against their little feet then retreat back as the waves encroached further. His energy and zest for life warmed me and filled me with passion for living, but I missed Daniel. Had he been here, he would’ve complained about the weather, complained about the heat. He would’ve wanted to be on the water instead, in his boat. I missed him.
“I say we take the kids out to the park after,” David said. “Want to come with us, or would you rather be home?” he asked.
I didn’t feel like doing much of anything else, so I shook my head to the negative. The loss of losing Daniel still weighed heavily within me.
“I understand,” he said. “We’ll go home,” he suggested.
Josiah flashed a toothless grin, his cheeks edible. “Dadda,” he said.
David responded by kissing him on the forehead. “It’s complicated little man,” he stated, seemingly unfazed.
“He just called you Dad!” I exclaimed excitedly, before the sadness hit again. Daniel was gone.
“He’s just sounding out a few words,” David said in an attempt to ease my sadness.
Adalia kicked in the pram.
“He doesn’t need to call me Dad when he’s older.”
“Daniel would’ve wanted him to,” I reminded him.
“It’s whatever really,” David said. “I know what he means to me, and he knows what I mean to him. We can sort it out in time,” he said. “He can call me whatever,” he confirmed.
“Daniel should’ve been here,” I said, tears threatening to fall. “I really miss him,” I stated.
“I know. You and me both,” David said softly. “Temwani, just know, I’ll be whatever you want me to be for these kids. I’ll be whatever you want me to be for you. You know how I feel about you. I worship the ground you walk on.”
“You shouldn’t,” I cautioned. “I am but a mere mortal.”
“You’re a goddess to me,” he replied.
That he loved me so much was endearing. Yet I felt conflicted. Despite the fact th
at it had been over two years since Daniel had left us, I couldn’t bring myself to even imagine seriously being with someone other than him, even if that person was David.
We got home, and I couldn’t wait to get to bed, for most nights, I saw Daniel in dreams. He was usually wearing white, and was surrounded by a yellow aura.
I woke from my dream that night my face wet from tears. In the dream I was walking towards him. As I got closer, he walked further away. I got closer he went further. I desperately tried to keep up with him. In desperation I called out his name. He then stopped and turned to face me. “Life is for the living,” he said. Arms outstretched, he beckoned an embrace. I melted in his arms, the warmth of his glow all consuming. “Live,” he whispered. “Live again,” he stated, before turning to walk away from me again.
I followed him, and saw he was walking towards a pond. His face turned from me, he threw rocks into the pond. The water rippled in effect. “You promised me you’d find happiness,” he said.
I tried to speak but no words came.
“You promised,” he said, suddenly turning towards me. His hair was a burnt auburn from the sun that seemed to glow within him, his skin a golden brown. “Find happiness. You promised,” he repeated.
I awoke up with a start. David stood at the doorway, and for a moment I mistook him for Daniel. Without a word, he sat on the edge of my bed and held me. “It’ll get better,” he promised.
I felt deep sadness within as I recalled that Daniel had said similar words when we’d first met, and when I was in so much pain. More than two years on, I still found it hard to envision things getting better without him.
25
A COURTING
I still missed Daniel. I would always miss him. The notion that our love would transcend space and time was real. I could feel it within. There would never be a time that I did not recall the memories we had and the love we shared. My reality was also real. David was a living breathing being who had professed his love for me decades ago. Being Daniel’s twin, he was a living replica of the man I loved and would continue to love, eternally.
It was hard being around David at times. Most times. Many times he reminded me of Daniel, other times he showed me how different they were. In the beginning, I hated myself for entertaining the notion of loving David one day. I resisted any move by David to bring us closer, hoping he would distance himself from me. Instead, being who he was and had always been, he came closer to me and used every opportunity to discover me and uncover my weaknesses. I wondered how long it would last before his patience in waiting for me wore thin.
I didn’t have to wonder long. One evening he came to me, visibly agitated. The kids were asleep, he had just returned from a shift at the hospital.
“Bad day?” I questioned.
“More like bad days,” he said, throwing his bag into a corner of the living room.
“Tell me about it?”
“It’s been a while since Daniel left us. I can’t pretend any more. I’ll be straight with you. I need to get this off my chest,” he said. “Daniel said a lot to me while he was still around. I’ve tried my best to be a better man. Brigades, I’m a youth pastor now, who would have thought,” he said. “I love the kids. I consider them to be my own.” He paused for a moment. “And I love you. I’ve always loved you. We share a kiss here and there, but you won’t be mine,” he said. “You’d think I’d know by now that there will never be a place for us,” he said sadly. “I still believe…” he broke off, his voice wavering.
“My brother had one final request,” he said after a momentary pause. “There’s something I need to show you,” he said.
He sat next to me, opened up a well-worn letter from Daniel. Apparently it had been given to him as part of the reading of Daniel’s Last Will and Testament.
Please ensure that she finds happiness, preferably with you, the note read.
“I’ve had this letter checked for authenticity…” David confirmed.
“I saw him in a dream the other night,” I interjected. I explained how Daniel had seemed sad and troubled that I had not found happiness in his absence.
“I see,” David stated, stoically. We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. David broke the silence. “I don’t want to be pushy, he said. “I only want what’s best for you. You know how I feel. You know how I’ve always felt. But I feel that if there is absolutely no chance for us to ever be, I should probably allow you to find someone else who would make you happy. After all, I have a duty to help you find happiness.”
“What makes you think I want to find someone else right now? Daniel was it for me,” I said.
Something like pain flashed across his face. “Alright then,” he said.
“I’m sorry, David.”
“I’m running on empty here,” he declared. “My love tank’s running dry and I need to fill it up.”
“David you keep on asking me to give. I feel I have nothing left to give right now. I gave Daniel my all. You can’t expect me to offer you what I gave him.”
He stood motionless, clearly shocked. “There are a lot of things I deserve. I don’t deserve that,” he said abruptly. “I’m not asking you to give me anything I wouldn’t give you myself. I’ll put it to you bluntly. He’s not here anymore, I am.”
Sorry I’d said what I did, I replied, “Look, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Well you did, and you meant every word,” he said. “Apart from my help here, would you rather I be gone?” he asked. “I’ll do whatever you prefer, whatever you want of me. I’ll honour your wishes, if it’ll make you happy.”
“I don’t want you gone, David.”
“Then what is it?” he questioned. Not waiting for my response, he mentioned under his breath, “Stupid of me to think there’d ever be anything between us,” he said, head between his hands.
“I’m sorry David. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I said, placing a hand on his. He squeezed my hand back, and turned to face me directly.
“You’ll always be forgiven,” he promised. “I love these kids as though they were my own. I truly do,” he confessed. “I love work. I love this home we’ve made together, and the things we do together to forget. And I love you. I always have and always will. But this isn’t enough for me.” He struggled to find words for a moment, then got up and paced. “You might see this as pretty bold. It is what it is. I can’t make you forget him. I don’t want you to forget him. But I want you to try to be present here with me. I’m trying to keep my head above water. I’m smiling to keep from crying. I…” he broke off.
I didn’t know what to say. I can hardly save you from drowning if I’m drowning myself, I thought. “David, I’m here for you. I might not be here in the ways you want me to be, but I’m here for you, and I’m here with you. Isn’t that enough?”
He stared at me blankly for a moment, lost in thought. It was clear that my words had appeased him. Momentarily at least. “It is, for now,” he managed. “Thank you. You always did know what to say.” He sat down again and leaned back into the sofa, his exhaustion apparent.
“Tough day?”
“It was a dog’s breakfast.”
I made him a cup of almond hot chocolate while I plated up dinner.
“What’s for dinner, chef?” he asked, in a lighthearted way.
“Basmati rice and stewed vegetables,” I replied. “I also made your favorite. Cornbread.”
“Awesome,” he replied, scoffing down the food immediately I set it in front of him. In that moment, he reminded me of Daniel. I smiled to myself.
Dinner finished, he lingered at the table for a while instead of getting up as he usually did to help with the dishes. Reaching for my hand across the table, beckoned me to place both my hands in his. I did.
“Let me love you,” he requested. “I’ll show you how good we could be together.”
“David…”
He held me silent with a raised hand. “Darlin’ I’ve told you how I feel. You know
how I feel. I feel I can’t do this anymore. With every day that passes I live with the hope that you will one day love me the way I love you. I’m taking this here friendship and making the best of it. With every day that goes by I find myself lusting after you, wanting more of you. I’m effectively living in sin. I can’t do this any more. I feel I will just explode from the pressure of keeping a lid on my emotions. Prayer has helped, but I’m only human.”
“David you’re asking me for more than I can give.”
“I’m asking you to give what you can. To find it in you to love me as more than just a friend. Three words for you lady, gimme your love. Da me tu amor.”
“That’s actually seven words, David.”
“That’s just being pedantic right there,” he joked.
“Well I’m right and you’re wrong. I guess you fell asleep when the class learnt to count to ten,” I joked.
“Ha ha, very funny. My maths is pretty advanced if I must say so myself.”
“If you say so, genius,” I replied.
“We have so much fun, don’t we?” he noted. “I don’t want this to end. I want more but I’m afraid of losing this. I’m afraid of losing what we already have.”
“You’ll find someone else someday, David.”
“Please don’t start this again - I can’t just forget about you. I can move on, try to love someone else but it’s only you. It will always be you,” he insisted.
I said nothing in reply, but later consoled him with a kiss. At that moment I wasn’t ready, but would need to get ready to be with him.
Craig was in town a few days later, and he used the chance to give me a piece of his mind on the state of affairs as it stood between David and I.
“You need to face facts,” Craig advised. “Do you know how hard it is for a man to stay committed to someone who doesn’t return his affection? How long has he been into you - twelve years now?”
“I’m pretty sure he hasn’t just been waiting on me all these years.”
My Dusk My Dawn Page 42