I Do, Maybe: A Novella

by Jay, Libby

  The Woods boarding school was on 1000 acres. A river ran through the south end, and the running track followed the river for a short distance. From my dorm to the river and back was just short of 6 km’s. I ran the distance twice some mornings. I ran it three times that morning, as I tried my hardest to completely exhaust myself so I’d stop feeling and thinking. I was thinking about running a fourth time, but as I approached my dorms, a tall figure standing at the entrance made me slow to a standstill.

  I held my ground, so did he.

  I refused to move, instead I stood, hands on my hips and I tried to slow my breathing. Fraser eventually moved toward me. I could tell by his walk that I was meeting with business Fraser.

  “You can’t hide from me,” he said as he stood as close to me as he could without touching me. His voice was stern and his eyes steely cold. I felt a cold chill run through my body. I shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, his voice softening.

  I shook my head as he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around me. His hands stayed on my shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You should never have seen that.”

  I stepped away from him and walked toward my dorm.

  “Emily, don’t ignore me.”

  I did ignore him, and as he followed me into my dorm building and into my room, I kept on ignoring him.

  “I want you to talk to me,” he said.

  I rifled through my drawers for clean underwear and made my way to the bathrooms to shower.

  I didn’t think he’d follow me in to the showers but he did. I went into a shower cubicle and shut the door.

  Knowing he was waiting for me made my shower less than enjoyable so I quickly washed and dried myself, pulling on my underwear and wrapping one towel around my wet hair and one towel around my body, I stepped out of the cubicle. He sat on the bench in the middle of the bathrooms. I went to the basin and started to brush my teeth. In the reflection of the mirror I saw him watching me.

  I pulled the towel off my hair and ran a comb through my curls. I roughly plaited it and picked up my things before I made my way back to my room. I dropped my wet towel to the floor, pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of track pants and climbed into bed, all while Fraser stood and watched me from inside the door. I pulled the covers up over me completely and waited.

  A few minutes later I felt the bed dip beside me and then the covers slowly move away from me. I wriggled further down the bed, pulling my pillow over my head, giving Fraser a little lesson in just how stubborn teenage girls could be.

  “You can’t ignore me forever,” he laughed. “We’re going to get married one day.”

  “Well maybe I won’t talk to you until we’re married.”

  “Huh, I didn’t catch that.” He lifted the pillow off my head and hit me with it.

  “I said, go away.” I tried to grab at my pillow again but Fraser threw it across the room. I grunted. “You’re so childish.”

  “I’m childish? I’m the one trying to have an adult conversation and…”

  “I’m not an adult!” I yelled. “I’m sixteen years old, I should be out meeting boys and shopping and getting piercings in strange places and getting into trouble but I’m not because I can’t because a stupid bloody contract says I have to be smart and well behaved and that I have to learn how to serve the perfect cup of tea when all I really want to do is throw all that fine china at the wall…”

  “Now we’re talking,” Fraser said, smiling.

  “..And I don’t want to think about my future husband having sex with other girls. I want to have sex. Everyone else in the whole world is having sex but me…”

  Fraser’s eyes widened in humour.

  “…And I want to get a tattoo and I want to get stupid blind drunk and make out with a cute boy.” I screamed and rolled over onto my tummy, burying my face in my mattress.

  I felt Fraser move on the bed next to me. He ran one finger up and down the length of my spine. “Feel better now?”

  I shook my head from side to side. “Not really, I’m really tired,” I said into the mattress.

  “Piglet, I can’t understand you?” His finger kept moving.

  I moved my head to the side. He was lying down next to me. “I’m tired.”

  “And I’m really sorry,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” I said as my eyes slowly started to close. “I don’t even like you, anyway. I’m just doing this for the money.” I smiled and opened my eyes again.

  He laughed quietly and kissed my cheek. “Go to sleep.”

  I fell asleep feeling Fraser’s finger gently move up and down my back.

  When I woke up I was alone, but Fraser had left me a hand written note:

  Piglet,

  I would’ve stayed but you snore like a freight train. Please call me when you wake up.

  Eeyore.

  We spoke on the phone for a little while, he reassured me again that things with Amelia were nothing but business and that she could never make him laugh or burn with fury the way I did.

  I was happy with that.

  I knew he cared for me and our friendship; his seven voice messages, three texts and four emails, all sent within an hour of each other while I slept, each one asking me to call him and that he was worried about me, reassured me of that.

  Chapter Seven

  From: Emily Watkins

  To: Fraser Lewis

  Sent: Monday 18th September, 2017 20:22

  RE: Going to Melbourne

  Hello Eeyore

  I was wanting to surprise my parents this weekend with a visit. Can I trust you not to tell them?

  Piglet

  From: Fraser Lewis

  To: Emily Watkins

  Sent: Monday 18th September, 2017 20:27

  RE: Going to Melbourne

  Sorry, I’ve already told them. :)

  I laughed.

  From: Fraser Lewis

  To: Emily Watkins

  Sent: Monday 18th September, 2017 20:28

  RE: Going to Melbourne

  I’ll email you once I know which plane is free.

  From: Emily Watkins

  To: Fraser Lewis

  Sent: Monday 18th September, 2017 20:32

  RE: Going to Melbourne

  It must be a damn nuisance only having three personal planes at your disposal.

  From: Fraser Lewis

  To: Emily Watkins

  Sent: Monday 18th September, 2017 20:35

  RE: Going to Melbourne

  Sarcasm noted.

  The following morning, when I got to my desk in English class, three pictures were stuck to my desk, all of Fraser and his latest beauty, Angelica West hugging and kissing and laughing as they lay on a blanket in a park. I ripped them off my desk and screwed them into tiny balls.

  Ever since the first photos were published with me and the Lewis’ at the picnic in the park, talk around the school regarding my relationship with Fraser escalated. I stood my ground saying his family were friends, but the girls liked to test that theory and every chance they got, they liked to rub it in my face that Fraser was with other girls.

  This latest “girlfriend” was a lingerie model. She was tall and skinny and looked stunning when she walked the catwalk in a tiny barely there bra and knickers ensemble.

  Fraser had spoken to me a few times, reassuring me again that she meant nothing to him but it was hard to believe that when you saw pictures of them everywhere looking beautiful and sexy, their hands always on each other.

  Not being able to face the looks on anyone’s faces, I skipped lunch that day, opting to go back to my dorm alone to catch up on some study.

  *****

  I was so excited to see Mum and Dad’s face when I walked in the front door. It was just after 8:30 on Friday night. I quietly put my key in the front door and slowly opened it.

  The house was eerily cold and empty when I entered.

  “Typical,” I said to myself. The one night I decide to surprise them and they’re not h
ome.

  I walked next door to John’s house. No one was home there either. I pulled out my phone and dialled Mum’s number as I walked back home.

  Greg was still sitting at the front of my house, waiting for me to give him the all clear. I shook my head at him.

  “Hi honey,” she said.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “At home, why?”

  Mum was lying to me. Why would she lie to me? “Because I’m at home and you’re not here.”

  There was a moments silence before Mum sobbed down the phone. “Honey, why…”

  “Mum what’s wrong?”

  “I wanted to tell you.”

  “Tell me what, mum? Where are you?”

  “We’re at the hospital, your father’s not well.”

  While Greg drove me to the hospital Mum told me that Dad had prostate cancer. I broke down. That’s why he’d been tired so much and that’s why he had decided to keep his hair short after his “charity shave.” As soon as I walked into the hospital room I knew my father had been sick for a long time. He was thin and pale. He was asleep, but even asleep I could sense he was uncomfortable by the way he twitched and mumbled.

  I broke down, falling against my father’s hospital bed for support. “Why didn’t you tell me Mum?”

  “I wanted to, but your father didn’t want you to worry.”

  “For how long has he been sick?”

  “It’s been a few years, the first round of chemo worked, but…” She shook her head and wiped her nose. “It’s come back and it’s spread.”

  “Were you ever going to tell me, or were you going to let him die without giving me the chance to say good bye?”

  “Honey we didn’t want you to worry.”

  Then it dawned on me. “Wait, you knew he was sick before I went away. That’s why you sent me to Sydney isn’t it? That’s why he arranged… for me and…everything…because he’s sick.”

  Mum didn’t answer, she just cried into her hands.

  “Mum, I am so sick and tired of the lies. I don’t know who to trust anymore.” A heavy feeling hit my stomach. “Fraser knows, doesn’t he?”

  Mum looked at me and nodded her head. “Everyone knows.” She reached out for my hand but I stood up straight and stepped away from her.

  “But you chose to lie to me, your only child. I can’t be here anymore.” I turned and ran. I ran through the city streets until I found myself at the gardens where I collapsed down on my knees at the edge of a lake. I cried and cried. My phone rang loudly from my back pocket, but I lacked the desire to answer it. I didn’t want to hear anymore lies. I didn’t want to hear any more apologies. I was done with it all.

  I pulled my phone from my back pocket and lifted it to throw it into the lake. Someone grabbed my hand from behind, causing me to drop my phone. I quickly turned around ready to hit my attacker, but his hand was quicker than mine. Good thing too, otherwise I would’ve clocked Greg right in the jaw.

  “Emily,” he said sternly. “I’ve been instructed to take you to Mr. Lewis immediately.”

  “I don’t want to see Fraser,” I said, pulling my hands free from him.

  “It’s not Fraser who you’ll be seeing.”

  The home of Mr. and Mrs. Lewis was not like anything I’d expected. It wasn’t grand and palatial. There was no sweeping staircase or drawing rooms. It was a fairly average looking home, big, but not overly rich. As soon as I walked into the house, I felt like I’d walked into a family home. There were photos of the boys from their childhood right up to more recent photos with their wives and kids. There were small knick knacks and furnishings that gave a very homely feel.

  Greg showed me to a lounge room and told me to wait while he got me a hot drink.

  Mr. Lewis entered a few minutes later. I was expecting him to be angry, I had after all run away and tried to hit one of his staff, but he wasn’t. He came to me and hugged me with all his strength.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie. We should’ve told you.”

  “Well, maybe you can tell me everything now.”

  He nodded his head and began talking.

  He had met my father about a year before I was offered the scholarship. Dad had attended one of Mr. Lewis’ free seminars on how to grow a small business. After the seminar, Dad approached Mr. Lewis to ask a few questions about the best way to set up a trust for Mum and I. They got talking and eventually Dad told Mr. Lewis that he’d recently been diagnosed with cancer and he wanted to ensure the financial security of his family before it was too late.

  Dad didn’t earn a lot of money. We lived comfortably, but we were hardly rich. He didn’t really have enough money to set up a trust, but Mr. Lewis advised him as to what he could realistically do; investments, superannuation, life insurance.

  Mr. Lewis was surprised by how greatly Dad praised me. He said that most fathers don’t say a lot about their daughters, unless they’re something well worthy of commendation. The way Dad spoke about me assured Mr. Lewis that I was deserving of more than an average education at a state school.

  I was only twelve years old at that stage, too young to qualify for the scholarship. But that didn’t stop Mr. Lewis from suggesting it to my father. And one day, when they were meeting together for a “business” lunch, Mr. Lewis casually mentioned that his three eldest sons had all been contractually married and that each of the girls, whether or not the marriage lasted, would be financially secure for the remainder of their lives.

  That piqued Dad’s interest and that is when my Dad first began to consider the arrangement.

  He had his reservations, as any good father would, but he was so desperate to secure my happiness, both financially and emotionally, he gave it more than just a good thinking.

  “Emotionally. What do you mean?” I asked.

  “He was worried that if and when he did die, you might sell yourself short. You might fall into a romance where you would neither be happy or secure. He said if you couldn’t have one, you should have at least the other.” Mr. Lewis smiled and continued. “I mentioned you to Fraser. We sent your father the application for the scholarship, and he returned it to us within days. When Fraser read your application, he instantly agreed that you should be given the scholarship.”

  “So when was it decided that I should marry Fraser?”

  Mr. Lewis laughed. “You can blame Fraser entirely for that part.” He leaned forward, lessening the distance between us and explained. “Normally…well how it happened with our three eldest sons is we watched the girls going through the scholarship program with interest. Once they finished school and had matured, we approached the one we thought would fit in best with the offer for marriage. We aren’t just looking for pretty young girls. We look for girls who show an interest in business, who are smart and business minded. Waiting until they’re a legal adult makes the process a lot less complicated.

  “But when Fraser read your portfolio, he insisted that you be the one he marry. I tried to talk him out of it. You were both so young. But he was insistent. He said he had a good feeling about you. And then the day he met you…” Mr. Lewis laughed. “There was no way I was going to be able to talk him out of it. If he could’ve, he would’ve married you right there and then.”

  “Why? What does he see in me?”

  “Your father constantly told us that you had a very wise head on your shoulders and that you had a maturity beyond your years. Fraser saw that immediately. He also sees a smart young woman who is going to challenge him every day. Fraser loves a challenge.” Mr Lewis laughed. “Fraser managed to convince your father to give permission for the marriage, swearing that he would provide the financial and emotional happiness your father sought for you.”

  I relaxed back into the large leather sofa. I wasn’t aware just how tense I’d been.

  Mr. Lewis reached across and put his hand on my knee ever so gently. “Your father really does have your best interests at heart. And so does Fraser. He considers you to be his very best friend.
”

  “I know,” I said.

  “And all these other girls, they’re just…empty headed bimbo’s. You shouldn’t feel intimidated by them.”

  “I’m not intimidated by them. It’s just that sometimes I feel so alone and the pressure to be perfect is all a bit too much.”

  “We don’t expect perfection. We don’t want you to change who you are. We love you. We adore you. Don’t change for anyone.”

  “But all that etiquette training,” I started.

  “Forget about that. It’s a compulsory component of that school’s curriculum. We don’t expect you to behave like that when you’re around us. We want you to be you.”

  “Warts and all?”

  He smiled. “Warts and all.” He squeezed my knee. “I don’t want you to feel that you can’t talk to us. We promised your father we would look after you. If you need to talk to me or Mrs. Lewis, feel free to call us at any time. And we’ll endeavour to be honest with you from now on, no more secrets.”

  “Okay.”

  “From now on we’ll do what we can to make it easier. More weekends at home.”

  “Thank you, I’d really like that.”

  “And don’t be angry at your dad.”

  “I’m not angry at my dad, Mr. Lewis. I’m not really angry at anyone, except Fraser.”

  Mr. Lewis laughed a quiet laugh.

  “What’s funny?”

  He shook his head. “Fraser told me about your little break down a few months ago. You mentioned how you wanted to get a tattoo and body piercings.”

  “Yes, are you going to take me to get a tattoo?”

  “No, I can’t consent to that. But I’ll get one if you get your belly button pierced.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes really, now let’s go before I change my mind.”

  Mr. Lewis held my hand while my naval was pierced. With a silver stud and 2 blue stars hanging beautifully from my tummy, I watched as Mr. Lewis had his wife’s name tattooed in script across his chest, over his heart.

  “Are you going to be in trouble?” I asked.

  “No, if I’d had it done on my butt I’d be in trouble.”

  With our fresh jewellery and ink, Mr. Lewis dropped me back at the hospital. He spoke to my mum briefly while I sat at Dad’s bedside, watching him sleep.