Authors: Nicola Haken
Wow.
“Can I use the MacBook in your study this afternoon please?” I asked, looking up at him in bed as I worked my fingers through the fine auburn hair on his bare chest.
“Of course.”
Helloooo bemused eyebrow!
“You know you don’t need to ask. What are you planning?” he asked dubiously.
“I’m going to look for a job. I might type up a few applications… maybe a resume too.” He sighed heavily, purposely. “Don’t start, Richard.”
“I wasn’t going to,” he protested and now I was the one raising an eyebrow.
Liar!
“Just promise me you won’t degrade yourself.”
Here we go…
I rolled my eyes at him.
“I read through your notebook.”
Oh.
Embarrassment set my cheeks alight and my heart started to pound with nerves.
“You’re very talented,” he declared with what sounded like genuine admiration in his voice. My eyes dropped down. My stomach followed. Regardless of whether my ability to write was good or not, I’d screwed my chances of a career in that field the minute I decided to fail my senior year.
“There’s nothing to say I can’t work my way up in whatever job I get,” I retorted, shamming optimism.
“But it won’t be doing what you love.” He raised my chin with his finger and then palmed the side of my face with his hand.
“Well, you can’t always get what you want,” I muttered with an onerous sigh.
“Yes you can. I’ll make sure of it,” he stated, steadfast. Just as I was about to ask him what the hell
that
was supposed to mean, we were interrupted by the sound of his cell vibrating against the wooden side table by the bed. Releasing me, he rolled himself over and grabbed his phone.
“I need to take this,” he addressed me formally, as if I were one of his colleagues. Then in an instant, he was off the bed, and gone.
Lying alone in the giant bed I dug deep into my subconscious, trying to find just a trace of the optimism I felt when I woke up this morning. It didn’t work. I had resigned myself – even managed to feel happy about – becoming something as menial as an office clerk, or a waitress like Julie. But now, after witnessing the disappointment, the
judgement
bursting out of Richard’s emerald eyes, I suddenly felt… worthless. I’d let him down. I couldn’t be the ‘trophy’ he deserved to have hanging from his arm… The thought twisted around my heart, squeezing it until it became painful to breathe.
It was late in the afternoon when I snapped Richard’s MacBook closed a little too firmly in temper and hoped he didn’t hear it from the next room.
“Everything okay?” he asked, appearing from nowhere.
Shit.
“Fine,” I lied unconvincingly. He cocked that irresistible eyebrow of his. “It’s just a little frustrating. There isn’t as much choice as I’d hoped.”
“Leave it for today. You need a break.” He extended his hand for me to take and then fervently pulled me from the chair and into his arms. I briefly inhaled the intoxicating smell of Armani cologne mixed with pure Richard emanating from his crisp white shirt which he wore with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, before pulling back and putting on my serious face.
“I will, because I’m tired. But don’t go thinking you’ve won.”
“I always win, baby” he replied with an unsettling level of seriousness. Then a foreboding grin illuminated his entire face. He was up to something. I was certain of it.
But what?
I figured there was no point in probing him. If whatever it was were something I was supposed to know about he’d have told me. Plus, there was always the possibility it was the workings of my overactive imagination reading too much into things as usual.
“I want to take you somewhere,” Richard said nervously, as if he were expecting me to say no.
“Where?” I asked, mirroring his apprehension. Curiosity surged through me, making my heart stutter.
“I’d like you to visit Kate’s grave with me. But of course you don’t have to. I mean
,
I’d completely understand if-” I silenced him, tracing the firmness of his stuttering lips with my finger.
“I’d like that.” His eyes widened.
“
Really?
” he said, almost in disbelief. “Come with me.”
Now?
Richard took hold of my hand and led me to the tall silver coat rack by the half-moon table in the hall. Yep, it seemed we
were
going right now. I selfishly remembered that we hadn’t had lunch yet and hunger pangs twisted deep, knotting around my stomach when I bent to pull my white sneakers on. Hopefully, he planned to stop somewhere along the way.
We were heading north towards Medina in Richard’s red Lamborghini Merciélago (yeah, I couldn’t pronounce it either) – the smallest, sportiest and most penis-enhancing car in his collection.
I stole a glance at his face. Heavy guilt usually radiated from him – visibly greying his troubled face, pursing his eyebrows together and flushing his cheeks – whenever he talked or thought about Kate. Not now though. Staring out onto the country roads approaching in the distance he looked… content, peaceful. I’d possibly even go as far as to say he looked happy.
Beautiful.
The car slowed as we veered onto a long winding road that gave the illusion of night under the dense canopy of trees trimming the outskirts. I counted the colours of fall around us – burnt-orange leaves, yellowing grass, brown shrubs… anything to try and distract my mind from lunch – or lack of it. My attempts proved unsuccessful however and my stomach let rip a fierce, demanding growl.
“There’s a burger van not far from here. I’ll pull over when we reach it,” Richard said, nodding his head towards my angry belly. Maybe I should’ve been embarrassed but I was too hungry to care.
“Thanks,” I said with a grateful smile, my mouth already salivating.
Venturing down a dirt track between the trees, Richard pulled up beside a rusting white van with what I think was supposed to say ‘Barbara’s Burgers’ printed tackily on the side but half the letters had worn away. It was very un-Richard-like and I was surprised he even knew it existed. I was surprised
anyone
knew it existed in fact, hidden amongst the dark trees.
“I’ll get these,” I offered, putting my hand over his to stop him unclipping his seatbelt. Then I tutted out loud to myself, realising
I
had nothing to ‘get these’ with. Richard shifted in his seat and pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket. Removing a twenty-dollar bill, he handed it to me and I took it with a sigh.
Barbara, I assumed, was short and round with coarse red hair scraped back into a bun. She wiped her hands on her grease-stained apron as she took my order and then scuttled towards the back of the van to flip our quarter-pounders with extra cheese. When they were ready she piled them on to huge seeded buns, ladened them with cheese and mayonnaise and then tossed some wilted lettuce on for good measure. If I was honest, they looked pretty disgusting, so I asked for two Cokes to wash them down with.
Back in the car I passed Richard his lunch, almost certain he wouldn’t approve.
“They were all out of Pinot Noir I’m afraid,” I quipped, handing him his Coke. He choked on a laugh, inadvertently exposing a mouth full of grease-squelching burger.
“Sorry,” he muttered when he finally swallowed, wiping the grease from the corners of his glistening lips with his fingers.
The burger tasted as slimy and stodgy as expected, but it did the job and my stomach felt content again. Bringing the car back to life with a purr, Richard carried on down the ever-curving road for just over a mile. Eventually the trees broke and sunlight flooded the car, startling my eyes as he pulled onto a long gravelled path. I’d almost forgotten it was the afternoon, trapped under the heavy shelter of the trees for so long.
We were almost there I assumed. Gravestones of every size and shade clouded my vision whichever way I looked and something inside me felt astray. At first I couldn’t quite place it, but then I realised it was because, looking down towards the earth, imagining the bodies underneath and the people they’d left behind, filled me with sadness.
It was then that it hit me – I felt like I was
supposed
to feel, instead of being consumed by the jealousy that used to tear through my heart as I wished
I
too was buried beneath the moss covered stones. My lips unintentionally turned up into a smile as I inwardly thanked whoever might be listening for my new life. Then I literally rubbed it away with my hand, praying Richard didn’t notice and deem me disrespectful.
Richard slowed the car to a graceful halt as he claimed a space on the edge of the dirt track.
“Here we are,” he said, killing the engine. He sounded nervous again – as if he was still waiting for me to change my mind.
“Richard…” I leaned across the stick shift and took his hand in mine. “I feel really privileged that you asked me here today. Thank you,” I said, hoping to quash the doubts he was so obviously feeling. He squeezed my hand and I physically felt his anxiousness melt away from his body.
After vacating the car I followed him along a stony path and then onto the grass. The earth was sodden and muddy and I quickly started cursing myself for choosing my
white
sneakers today as they squelched their way through it. We weaved our way through a maze of
headstones which
, to me, all looked the same. Richard ploughed ahead however, appearing to know where he was going so, head down to avoid the puddles, I followed his lead.
My eyes were so focused on the task of puddle spotting I didn’t notice Richard had stopped and I stumbled straight into him.
“Here she is,” he breathed desolately as he gazed longingly towards a burnished black headstone in the shape of a heart, with two magnificent stone cherubs perched either side. His hand instinctively started to rub at his forearm slowly, achingly… I reached out and took it in mine, squeezing all the love my body held into him.
I eyed up the grave, focusing on the photograph of Kate etched onto the stone – the same picture that resided in Richard’s living room – and tried to imagine what she was like.
Here lies Kate Annabel Lewis.
Born February 1
st
1983
Died September 6
th
2002
Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend. Taken too soon.
Rest in Peace Sweet Angel
My heart panged painfully in my chest and I squeezed Richard’s hand a little tighter.
“Do you visit her often?” I asked gently, hoping to discover a glimpse of what was happening behind those troubled eyes.
“Very. At least once a week,” he replied solemnly, his eyes never leaving the image of Kate’s face which was now shimmering with diamond-like raindrops that had just started to fall. I idly wondered when he found the time and decided he must fit it into his workday – that was the only time we spent apart.
“I clean her stone, bring her flowers…” He nodded his head towards the extravagant bouquet of red roses and white lilies arranged charmingly in a silver vase embedded into the ground.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, acknowledging the fine spray. He half-smiled.
“I come here to talk to her mainly. I like to think she can hear me.”
“What about?” I blurted without thinking and then instantly regretted it. Something so personal was none of my business.
“Life, work…
you.
” His gaze caught mine and I felt the warmth of his hypnotic smile all the way through my body. Unwelcome heat worked its way into my cheeks and I felt bizarrely nervous about what he may have told her about me. Would she approve? My mood began to slip when I decided she probably wouldn’t – not if he’d told her
everything.
“What’s wrong?” Richard asked, cupping my chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Nothing,” I lied, a little too high-pitched to be convincing. Then I mentally slapped myself for being so goddam selfish. He’d brought me here to share such a personal, integral part of himself and I thanked him by getting all self-absorbent and paranoid about whether his
dead
sister thinks I’m worthy of her brother.
“You’re lying. I know you too well,” he pressed questioningly. “Tell me,” he breathed, all Bossy Doctory, and as usual I was rendered unable to ignore him.
“I guess I’m just nervous about you discussing me with her.” His inquiring eyes pierced into mine. “Ridiculous, I know.”
“Baby, if she was here, she would
love
you.” I eyed him up sardonically. “I know that because
I
love you, and we shared very similar tastes.” His shoulders literally shuddered at his last words and I suspected his choice of phrasing had made the guilt resurface.
The rain, which had been spitting teasingly for the past ten minutes, started to fall faster. The glistening droplets of water turned heavy and less graceful, bouncing and splattering into giant splodges as it smacked into us.
“We should get going,” Richard suggested, removing his grey military jacket and canopying it above us both. I huddled into him, mouthed a silent ‘nice to meet you’ towards Kate’s headstone and matched Richard’s sprint – just about – back to the car.