I’ve been seeing Anya for years. I want to be other people’s Anya.
“I couldn’t be prouder of you, Indie. You did all of that by yourself.”
“Thank you. Did you decide if you want to say something at Dad’s funeral?”
“It will only be you and I there,” she says.
All of their old friends were lost to alcohol. Neither of them has any family left. It was just the three of us, until it was just the two of them.
“It still might be nice.”
“I’ll think about it. I’m not sure what I would say. I love your father, but I hate what we both became.”
“You sound resentful.”
“I am, I suppose.” She blows out a breath. “I take responsibly for my part in it. It was my choice to follow him to Hell. He didn’t think about me or you after the accident, not once. I can’t help feeling angry about that. I told him in the early days to get some help, but he told me he was dealing with it in his own way.”
“He was in a bad place.”
She nods, her eyes vacant like she’s back in the past now. “That’s true. I was so scared of what he might do. I remember the first day I drank with him. He was already on eight cans a day. I drank so that he wouldn’t be able to finish the pack. But it was the first time since the accident, about two months prior, that I felt like I had my husband back. He laughed, opened me can after can, and we talked.”
I didn’t know this. I was probably at school. All I remember is that, after she started drinking with him, I was left to get my own meals and wash my own clothes.
“Alcohol quickly took hold. I needed it. It was more important than you,” she says, her voice breaking. “And I hate your dad and myself for that.”
“Mum.” I get up and sit on the arm of her chair. She lays her head against my side and cries.
“You’re my little girl.”
That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.
I bow my head and cry with her, my heart shattering.
Forty
Spencer
Three days until Christmas, and Indie has turned into Elf. It’s quite a change to when I first arrived. After the sickness incident, there were moments when she was with me but her mind was clearly elsewhere. I asked. She used the tired and stressed over uni excuse she’s so fond of.
After Christmas, I’ll be asking more direct questions about her parents.
We have group date number two with her friends, wreath making. What have I turned into?
There were an initial few minutes where a couple of people in the class recognised me. They seemed satisfied to leave us in peace after a quick selfie. It took Indie about ten minutes to switch back to her usual flirty self with me. She’s not jealous or annoyed, just worried that they will see us together.
For the most part, though, being home is chilled. People in town know me and don’t really care what I do for a living. I forgot how much I like being able to go out like a regular person. I mean, I love all the screaming and free stuff, too.
Brody and Wren are sitting opposite Indie and me.
Indie’s arm is pressed against mine and it reminds me of waking up beside her. I feel her warm skin on a morning and know she’s there before I open my eyes.
Mila is scowling at the end of the table.
“If you just tone down your personality, I’m sure you’ll find someone soon,” I tease.
Indie nudges me. She knows that Mila and I have talked. She doesn’t know how often. I like Mila. She gives as good as she gets, and she loves Indie.
Mila’s death glare finds me. “Well, movie star, if you would just agree to introduce me to Ethan, maybe I wouldn’t be here alone. I would be living it up on one of LA’s beautiful beaches.”
“Introduce her,” Indie says. “She’s made for that life.”
Mila points to Indie. “See!”
“This is fucking pointless!” Brody snaps. His wreath is a mess of twigs and holly. “Whose idea was this?”
Mila grins. “Mine.”
“It’s not that bad,” Wren tells him. “We’ll just tell everyone a small child made it for you.”
I don’t hear his reply because he growls it under his breath. Whatever he said, it makes Wren laugh, and he shakes his head, failing to hide a smile. He leans over and kisses her neck, making her squeal.
Indie, Mila, and Wren have been taking it very seriously, threading ivy and holly around the circle and adding pinecones and fucking glitter.
Mine is full of autumn leaves. I think Brody and I would have rather waited in the pub nearby for them.
“Are you even trying?” she teases me, biting her lip and giving her take me now eyes.
I lean over and whisper in her ear, “No, I’m still thinking about this morning and what I want to do to you later.”
Her cheeks turn pink at the thought of my head between her legs in the shower earlier. She tried very hard to be quiet because my parents were home. I don’t think she was very successful.
“If you finish the wreath, we’ll reverse it tomorrow morning.”
My dick hardens in my jeans at the thought of her hot, wet mouth around my cock.
I gulp and turn my focus back to the wreath. I’m going to make it look like the woman holding the class has made it.
Mila smirks. “You’re suddenly taking a keen interest in this.”
Indie laughs to herself.
“We have fifteen minutes left. I thought I’d make the most of it.”
Brody chuckles. “Oh, come on. He’s on a promise. Right, Indie?”
Wren wiggles her eyebrows, but Indie shakes her head, averting her eyes. I wonder if she would blush if it was the girls and her talking about it.
Brody adds, “Nice.”
“That’s it, I’m calling Liam back,” Mila exclaims.
“No!” Wren and Indie say in unison.
“Who is Liam?” I ask. I’m sure I’ve heard his name come up.
Mila is the one to reply. “He’s my ex.”
“And you want to call him because…?”
“He’s nice.”
“Really, Mila? He’s nice, sure, but you’re awesome.”
Mila beams. “I don’t want to be alone at Christmas. You guys are sickening, and I want that.”
“You won’t get that from your ex,” Indie says before she frowns. Technically, I have been her ex. “Just… trust us when we tell you there is someone better out there for you.”
“Where is he?”
Wren and Indie look at each other, like they know something the rest of us don’t.
“He’s not in LA,” I tell her. “You’d get bored of Ethan.”
“You have other friends.”
“I do.”
She points at me. “And you haven’t introduced me because…?”
“They’re in America.”
“Indie, I’m so coming with you next time.”
We finish the class and take our pitiful wreaths home. The girls have made decent ones, but mine is shit.
I have no desire to take a second one.
“Where now?” Indie asks as we step outside.
“Bye, Spencer!” two women on the next table cry out. They took quite a few photos when I first arrived.
“See you later,” I reply with a wide smile.
I turn back just in time to see Indie roll her eyes and grin.
“Really?” I ask, pulling her into my arms.
She presses her chest to mine. “It’s weird.”
“Can we go home? I think I need a shower.” Running my hands up and down her arms, I add, “I’ve been hard since you mentioned switching places.”
“I can tell.” She can feel it because she’s pressed up against me.
“Maybe we should do something about that,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “I can’t wait to taste you, Spence.”
My nostrils flare. “Let’s go.”
If people weren’t around, I would have chucked her over my shoulder and run
back to my car.
Once home, we start to strip each other halfway up the stairs.
Forty-One
Indie
This is the first Christmas Eve I’ve actually looked forward to since I was a little kid.
I let us into the house, out of the bitter cold. Mum looks around with her mouth open wide. I’ve worked hard in the few free afternoons I’ve had to add the finishing touches and arrange the furniture after every room was painted.
I was desperate to get it done before Mum came home.
The house looks modern with new wooden floors, pale greens and light greys on the walls, a refreshed kitchen, and not to mention the new tables and sofas. I have put all of our old photos back on the walls in new white frames.
Mum and I will have to add some new pictures.
“Indie, this is beautiful. It looks like a new house! And you’ve decorated for Christmas.”
“I put the new tree and decorations up last night. There’s a little one in the kitchen, too.”
“It’s amazing,” she says, peeking into the living room. “So different.”
I still haven’t spent much time in there. Only to decorate. The room might not look the same but it’s still where Dad died. I have years of bad memories and they’re not going away anytime soon. I hope that as Mum and I spend time here, new memories will overshadow the old ones.
Still, I’m grateful when she moves to the kitchen. All I’ve done in here is paint the cupboards cream, add a new backsplash, and refresh the paintwork on the walls.
“I love this. It’s the perfect new start for us both.”
God, I hope so.
She walks back into the living room.
No time like the present to get used to it, I guess.
I follow her and watch as she takes a small box out of her bag. It’s wrapped in red and gold paper with a little bow on the top. She places it under the tree besides the two gifts I already have for her there.
The ones I have for Spencer, his parents, Wren, and Mila are under a little tree in my bedroom. I don’t know why I want to keep them separate, but I do. The two halves of my life don’t fit together yet.
This morning, I woke up at Spencer’s and had breakfast with his family. We helped Jodie decorate a traditional Christmas cake, and then I left after lunch to pick Mum up.
I could see the question in his eyes as I told him I had to go home. Can I come, too, and meet your parents?
When Mum is settled at home, I’ll deal with it.
They will have to meet. Mum has already asked when will I bring him over. We both agreed that it’s best to sort that once she’s further along in her recovery.
I’m still trying to figure out how much I want to tell him.
“Okay,” I say, turning on the TV. “You choose a Christmas movie, and I’ll make the hot chocolate.”
“Do you have squirty cream and marshmallows?”
“Of course, I do.”
A favourite of my limited good memories is drinking hot chocolate and watching a movie with my parents on Christmas Eve.
Mum picks Santa Clause: The Movie, and we sit down on the new sofas. No part of this room looks the way it did before. My pulse is skittish but it’s not unbearable. I can’t see Dad on the new furniture.
“This has to be one of the best Christmas movies,” Mum says.
“Didn’t Dad hate this one?”
“He said it was boring.” She takes a deep breath. “What did he know?”
“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing sideways.
She takes a long breath. “I’m happy and sad. It makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense to me. Missing Dad is awful, but knowing I still have you makes everything easier.”
“Yesterday, I wanted a drink,” she admits, still staring at the TV. “If I’m being honest, I’ve thought about it a lot.”
I swallow and place my hot chocolate on the coffee table. “Isn’t that normal?”
Wanting what you’re addicted to doesn’t sound unusual to me.
“Yes,” she replies. “That will always be there, and I struggle with it so much. How could I want it? Alcohol ruined my little girl’s childhood and stole my husband. I shouldn’t ever want another drop. So how does it still feel like the answer?”
“Isn’t that what all recovering alcoholics face?”
“I just hate it. It makes me feel weak.”
“The fact that you’re still battling through and haven’t touched a drop in a month proves you’re anything but weak.”
She pats my hand. “Thank you. The thing that scares me the most is that I don’t know how to make it up to you.”
“There is no grand gesture that will ever do that, and there’s no way of turning back the clock. All you can do is be my mum. That’s what I want.”
“I will fight every day to be the mum you deserve.”
Although this isn’t a very merry moment, the conversation is needed.
“You’re looking really good—healthy.”
She’s gained a little weight. Her cheeks have more colour and her eyes are no longer ringed with dark circles.
“I feel so much better, both physically and mentally. There’s a long road ahead but I’m confident that I won’t relapse.”
I want to share her confidence. I have more faith than ever that she can stay sober, and that’s the best I can do right now. “Have you thought about what you’ll do when you leave rehab? You have enough money to last a while.”
“I know I’m going to study, and I’d like to get a part-time job somewhere. The less time I’m rattling around the house alone, the better.”
I know the feeling. I have taken classes in almost every musical instrument, dance, gymnastics, karate, and Spanish after hours at school. Anything to keep me out of the house and safe.
“There’s no alcohol here,” I tell her. “I won’t bring any in, ever.”
“I know. I want to remove all temptation. If I keep myself busy by building a good life, I’ll never want to turn to alcohol. My focus is you, but I have to be happy on my own, too.”
“I agree. Hey, what about accounting? You did some at college, right?”
She laughs. “That was about a hundred years ago. Although I do like numbers.”
“I think you’d be good at it.”
“Tell me about this boy,” she says, narrowing her eyes playfully.
My stomach flutters at the thought of Spencer. “He’s amazing. Gorgeous.”
“I’m going to need more than that.”
“His name is Spencer, he’s my age, and we’ve been friends since we were eleven. He makes me happy.”
“Good,” she breathes, smiling. “I can’t wait to meet him. Will you consider that in the new year? Does he know about Dad?”
“He doesn’t know anything yet, but yes, I’ll think about you two meeting.”
Spencer will leave for LA in January so I can put her off again until his next visit. I’ll have to tell her who he is eventually. I need a bit more time. Everything has been crazy busy. We have to settle into our new lives before we make more changes.
Tonight, I have my mum. Tomorrow, I’ll have Christmas with Spence.
Forty-Two
Indie
Christmas morning with Mum and the afternoon with Spencer flew by in a whirl of cheer and stretched stomachs. It was the best day ever. That sounds heartless since it’s my first Christmas without Dad, but I sat around the tree with a cup of tea, laughing and opening gifts with my mum. I got her two new outfits and she made me earrings in a class at rehab.
She was present, she was focused on me, and she even made me breakfast. We had fun.
The afternoon was perfect, kissing Spencer under the mistletoe that he had strategically placed all over the house… particularly above his bed. We ate so much food and watched movies in the evening. Then we had lazy sex in bed—seriously, neither of us could move much after that huge turkey—until the early hours.
It ju
st happened to be some of the best sex of my life.
Now I’m in a bar with Wren and Mila. It’s a fresh new year, and it’s going to be a good one.
“I’m about to start another year of relationship uncertainty,” Mila grumbles, stirring her Woo Woo cocktail with a tiny, neon pink stick.
Wren rolls her eyes. “Things would be a whole lot more certain if you’d just admit defeat.”
“Wren!” I elbow her, and she shrugs.
“What she means to say is that you have to make a decision about Liam, once and for all, and you need to make it soon.”
She shrinks. “I do love him.”
“Of course, you do. This would be easy if you didn’t.”
No one is doubting she cares for the guy, but we all know they don’t love each other fiercely. It’s not that love that consumes you. He’s not all she thinks about. I can’t even study without thinking about Spencer. Everything comes back to him. I even burned my toast the same colour as his hair the other day.
“We just never seem to be on the same page. I mean, we have fun and all that, but there’s no planning the future. All I see when I look ahead is myself. Except, do I? Am I really me?”
I sip my drink. “What?”
“Who is Mila Thomas? Is she destined to be the girlfriend of Liam Frost?”
“Are you drunk, babe?” Wren asks.
She sighs. “Probably.”
“Mila, have an honest conversation with him,” I say.
“Yeah, yeah. I will.”
Wren cuts a look to me. Mila’s talking shit. She’s too scared to talk to Liam, and that kind of sounds familiar.
Mila glares. “I don’t like the look on your face, Wren.”
“If I was in your situation, what would you tell me?” she asks.
We all know that Mila would tell her to run.
“That’s not the point,” Mila says, straightening her back. She lifts her drink and almost drains the whole thing. “Anyway, things are good.”
Just Like the Movies Page 22