Authors: Kirsty Dallas
Once at the airport I was put on standby for the first available flight back to the Gold Coast. I shifted nervously in front of the airport shops unable to sit and relax. I was scared that Harper would come running through the big wide doors any moment in a last ditched effort to save our relationship. Like something from a romance movie, only this wasn’t a movie. This was real life and it hurt so much I wished it were a movie. Harper had been ringing my phone non-stop so I had silenced it.
I only had to wait an hour before my name was thankfully called. As I sat in a narrow window seat on the plane, I almost willed that big metal beast to leave before Harper came rushing on board. I was starting to wonder if I was disappointed that he hadn’t shown up yet. I reached for my phone, which I had been easily ignoring for the last two hours, and quickly found George’s number. I knew I would have to turn my phone off shortly so it was now or never. He answered immediately.
“Hey, Bree girl, bored yet?” George joked casually about my Seal Rocks’ oasis. My heart throbbed in pain at just the thought.
“Can you pick me up from Coolangatta Airport in an hour and a half?”
“Bree, what’s going on?” George was suddenly all business and I really didn’t need to here that concern in his voice, it would send me into hysterics.
“I have to hang up, George, I’m on a plane, if you can’t pick me up I’ll just get a taxi…”
“I’ll be there, sweetheart,” he interrupted me. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” I whispered hanging up. I rested my head against the cool glass of the little window at my side and closed my eyes. Images of Naomi answering that door wearing Harper’s shirt flashed before my eyes. How could he do this? How could I have been so foolish? Why would he do this to me, his best friend? I was filled with such fury, but also such broken despair. Why had he done it, why had she been there? I drew deep long steady breaths, forcing my tears away for now. They would most definitely fall, later, not here. I had enough dignity left to not turn into a blubbering mess in the middle of a plane full of strangers.
That one hour and twenty minutes was the longest in my life and when we finally landed back on the Gold Coast, I felt all kinds of messed up. Both relief and agony pierced my heart as I stepped off the tarmac and into the terminal. Having no bags to collect meant a quick stroll through luggage and I wandered in a confused stupor directly out of the terminal gates. George stood tall among the small crowd and as soon as his eyes locked on me, the tears came. Slow and steady at first but soon after they became a furious and embarrassing display. George held me close, his strong sturdy frame holding me up, supporting me both physically and emotionally.
“You gotta talk to Harp, sweetheart, this was a total misunderstanding,” he whispered in my ear. I shook my head, I was not ready to hear excuses; I just wanted to go home and wash all traces of Harper from my body.
“I want to go home,” I sobbed. George nodded and quickly guided me out of the airport and to his car. He looked nervous and wary as he kept glancing over at me. My eyes were focused on the road ahead, not willing to take in the familiar sights of home, not willing to speak. Right now I felt fragile and bone weary tired.
“Bree, honey, this can be fixed,” George tried again.
“Not now!” I snapped. The betrayal, the hurt, and the anger all bubbled to the surface. “I just want to go home and have a damn shower! I want one night without him in my head, George, just one damn minute. He’s been in my head for thirteen years and I want a break! I deserve a break. After the year I have had, don’t you think I deserve a break?” George didn’t flinch, he didn’t even bat an eyelash as I screamed manically. “No Harper, not tonight, not tomorrow I want a break, George, and you can tell him that. He owes me that! I’ll contact him when I’m ready.” Silence embraced me for a moment before a sob broke free from my chest.
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll let him know you’re here and you are alright.” He gave me a small knowing smile. Yeah, I was far from alright. “I’ll tell him you just need a break right now and to give you some space. You can call him when you’re ready, but Bree,” I glanced at him through blurry tears, “you need to talk to Harper soon. He can explain everything.” I didn’t want an explanation, I certainly didn’t want to talk to Harper, not right now, perhaps not ever. Maybe I was being stubborn but George wasn’t there to see Naomi in nothing but Harper’s shirt. He wasn’t there in March when I watched Harper screw her on our couch and he wasn’t there when Danny had been screwing her on his couch. Damn, I wished I had the audacity to knock that skank out when I had the chance. George didn’t say anything else about Harper, he didn’t say another word. He carried my backpack upstairs and let me into the apartment as I had no key, Harper had it. He made me some soup even though I said I wasn’t hungry and stayed right there and watched me eat every drop. When he offered to stay until I fell asleep, I put my foot down.
“George, I’m fine. I’m not going to do anything stupid, probably just cry, a lot. And to be honest I would prefer to do it without an audience.” He kissed my forehead and left me alone. Now I stood alone in our apartment, his apartment. The smells, the pictures, the furniture, everything reminded me of him and right now I hated it. I showered, scrubbing my body and used every deflection tactic depression had taught me not to think of Harper. I tried hard not to think of his hands on my body, the words he had whispered that lifted me to a place of hope. And then he had broken my heart. In a few moments of unexplained ridicule, he had destroyed everything—not only my heart, but our friendship. Those thoughts were like ice to the embers he had stoked, destroying every piece of happiness he had painstakingly restored in me. Once in my own bed where I had nursed my broken soul and hurting body for so many months, I cried myself into a bleak and restless sleep.
Chapter 22
Sick of Being Locked In
Locked in – when the wave crashes and the surfer is still inside
When I woke the next morning, my first thought was to resume crying but the rattling and banging in the kitchen dragged me from my sadness, apprehension quick to replace it. Had Harper flown back during the night? I wanted to dress and sneak right out, run and hide. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Instead my body demanded I go to the bathroom. Standing before the mirror I stared at the solemn reflection. The girl looked different than the last time I had stood here—she wasn’t as thin, not as pale, her shoulders stood taller, and her head was held higher. No matter how heartbroken I was at this moment, I wasn’t the same girl that had walked out of this apartment ten days ago. This girl was stronger, healthier, and determined. Taking a few deep breaths, I prepared myself to face Harper. When I stumbled into the kitchen, my body literally sagged with relief to find George there, humming away as he prepared banana pancakes. I didn’t feel like crying any more, I felt like eating everything in sight.
“Have a seat,” George said. He hadn’t even turned around to see me standing there. How did he do that? His voice was a little too bossy, a little too fatherly. I didn’t feel like arguing though, my head throbbed, my eyes felt puffy and sore, so I sat and sulked. When a steaming pile of pancakes appeared before me, my pout was lost to a small smile and George gave me a wink. “Eat,” he grumbled. I did. I ate the whole damn lot and then some. When I was finished I finally glanced in George’s direction. He stood watching me from the other side of the kitchen, an outraged look on his face.
“Oh God, George, I’m so sorry I didn’t leave you anything,” I gasped. George’s face broke into a smug grin as he stepped aside to reveal two banana pancakes sitting on a plate.
“I’ve learnt the hard way to hide a couple.” He ate, I cleaned. The calendar on the inside of the pantry door caught my eye, the third circled with a big black marker, “DR” scribbled in the center. Three days away, I thought as I stood and stared. Death had taken a back seat ride to my current problems. I didn’t even fear it any more, in fact, my inner woman sat quietly beside the Grim Reaper with a determined, arrogant look on her face. She didn’t hesitate to flip him off. Damn I loved my inner woman. “So,” said George as I wiped down the kitchen bench. I glared at him. If he so much as said the ‘H’ word, I would throw the damn dish rag at him. He raised his hands. “What, I was just going to ask you what you wanted to do today?” I shook my head, he was a bad liar.
“First, I’m going to call Mia.”
“The little sister of Harp’s friend?” I grimaced when Harper’s name was mentioned and George gave me an apologetic look. I nodded.
“I booked a cabin at Seal Rocks for us to stay in next year.” My heart lurched and my stomach recoiled at just the thought. I took a few long deep breaths. No tears today, I was stronger than this. George gave me the time he obviously thought I needed.
“How about we get ice cream, we’ll hit Hard Rock for lunch instead of some stupid healthy sandwich bar?” No, Hard Rock was a place that reminded me of Harper. I needed to get out of the apartment and cleanse Harper from my soul. Right now I felt an urgent need to stand on my own two feet. I had been leaning on Harper for far too long. Even during the last eight months, when he wasn’t by my side, he was all I thought about. I was terrified that my own identity had been lost to him.
“How about we go down to the Juice Bar and see if they have any work going?” I suggested. George raised a brow at that.
“You want to get a job?”
“Sure, I don’t have endless vaults of cash like Harp…” I stopped myself. It was ridiculous, I couldn’t even say his name, I didn’t want to say his name. “I need a job,” I grumbled. George surprisingly agreed and happily chauffeured me to the Juice Bar, then walked with me along the beach front checking out each café we came across for work. Apparently nobody was hiring just now. It was the coming into the busiest time of year and most people were already prepared for it. Nevertheless, I left my name and number with several different places. That nasty voice in my head was trying to tell me that no one would want to hire a girl like me, a girl riddled with illness whose appearance screamed cancer. I hated that voice and I screamed at it to take a damned flying leap and curiously it did. Once back at the apartment, the sun had begun to set and I still had to call Mia. George snuck away to his own unit to give me some privacy.
“Howdy, girlfriend,” Mia chirped.
“Hey, Miss Mia,” I sighed.
“What’s with the long face?” Mia asked. What the hell? How on earth did she garner my sorrow from those three little words? “I can hear it in your voice, Bree, you sound like crap, are you okay?” I snorted.
“Yes…No…I have no idea,” I finally conceded, and then I told Mia everything. This very tiny, very sick little fifteen year old girl had somehow become my most trusted confidant. After I finished the story with me arriving back on the Gold Coast last night, Mia sucked in a deep breath.
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
“Mia!” I said outraged.
“Well, you wanna know what I think?” I cringed. Not really, Mia was far too wise for her own good. I knew she would say something completely reasonable and I would feel guilty. Guilty for running out on Harper when there was most likely a perfectly good explanation for what happened—how Naomi ended up in his hotel room wearing nothing but his shirt. Nope, there was absolutely nothing that could make me feel guilty for bailing on Harper under those circumstances. “Well, I can hear the enthusiasm in your voice,” Mia said dryly. “So I’m going to tell you what I think. I think Harper owes you an explanation and it better be damn good. But how the hell is he going to give it to you when you refuse to speak to him?” I went to say something and stopped. I tried again. Bloody voice of reason! “You need to speak to him, Bree. You’re stronger than this girl hiding out in her apartment. You know what? You and I, we are made of something different, that’s how we deal with the stuff we’ve had to deal with. We’re made stronger, braver. You beat cancer, Bree, so you can deal with anything now. Don’t tell me some boy is going to turn you into a weak little jelly fish?” And there we had it. A fifteen year old totally shaming me. I rubbed me aching head.
“I know, I’m being an idiot,” I groaned. Mia giggled.
“Yes, you are. So, did you book Seal Rocks?” she asked, the conversation flipping just like that.
“I did. We’ve got the big ocean front cabin. There are a few extra beds if you want anyone else to come…like Sam,” I said, with a grin now on my face.
“Ohhhhh, do you think Mum will let me?” she asked with excitement in her voice.
“I’m sure your mum and I can keep two teenagers in check, but it’s up to her. I have no doubt you can spin anything to your mum and she will buy it. Mia, you could sell ice to Eskimos.” She was quiet a moment until finally she started laughing, loudly.
“I get it, ice to Eskimos, cause they don’t really need it!” She continued to laugh and it was contagious. Soon she had me laughing with her and I didn’t even think it was that funny.
After finishing my conversation with Mia, I took a long hot shower. As I dried off I glanced at the washing basket and there, laying on top was one of Harper’s shirts. Just like the night before he came back from Portugal it taunted me from across the room. Woodenly I walked forward and picked it up. I couldn’t stop myself from raising it to my nose and inhaling the familiar scent that pierced all my defenses and those dreaded tears began to fall once more. I pulled the shirt on and slid down the wall, big, loud, ugly sobs racking my body. Oh God I missed him.
“Bree?” The sound from outside the door was barely audible over my tears. “I’m coming in, sweetheart.” George slowly opened the door, obviously giving me time to cover up or slam the door shut on his face. When he saw me sitting there, utterly defeated and broken yet again, he came in and sat down beside me. He wrapped his arm around my neck and I wept on his shoulder.
“I miss him,” I quietly sobbed. “It hurts so much, George.” He rubbed my back and whispered kind words that a father might. Or I assumed a father might since I had never had one. Finally, when I found some likeness of control, he pulled away from me and stared straight into my red puffy eyes.