Lean On Me (Take My Hand) (6 page)

“Well
maybe I think it because I know how you feel. I know what it’s like to worry
about people judging you… about people thinking you’re weak.”

“What
the fuck ever,” I said, dismissing him. “You know being a wanker isn’t classed
as an
actual
disability right?” I
added in a more playful tone. He might have been talking shit but he was only
trying to be nice. Plus, with Emily away Jared is my best friend and I didn’t
like tension between us.

“You
know I’m kinda surprised you haven’t been bitchslapped in your time.”

“Oh
I have. But only once… she didn’t dare do it again once she realised
I
don’t bitchslap – I bitch
punch
.”

“Come
here,” he said, cocking his head and signalling me to take up position on his
chest once again. Supporting my weight on my arm, I hitched myself closer to
him and nuzzled into his bare chest. “I didn’t mean to piss you off,” he
whispered, combing through my hair with his fingers. It felt weird for only a
moment before I settled into how unexpectedly comforting it was. “Forgive me?”

“Forgiven.”

“Go
out with me?”

“Fuck
off.”

Jared
laughed and blew me a kiss. Then I adjusted my cheek on his chest and for the
first time in my life I fell asleep listening to the gentle thrum of another
person’s heart beneath my ear – all the while desperately hoping what
happened between us tonight wouldn’t change anything.

I
love Jared. There I’ve said it. I love him. As a friend or something more… I’m
not too sure yet. Either way, the thought of losing him makes my chest hurt.

Jared

One
week into the new year and I can still
taste Rachel on my lips. I can’t describe what we shared on New Years Eve but
it sure as shit wasn’t just sex. Before that night, sex has always been about
the end goal. Everything I did was to bring me that little bit closer to the
point of no return. All I’ve ever thought about was how good it felt, how good
I
felt…

But
that night the
only
thing I could
think about was how soft Rachel felt, how sweet she tasted and how fucking
beautiful she was. The end goal didn’t even come into it until I was right
there. The second I sunk myself into her I knew I would never want to be
anywhere else. My dick had found its forever home before it’d finished taking
its first thrust. All that mattered was her –
her
end goal was the only thing on my mind and it’s been on it ever
since.

She’s
still insisting we’re ‘just friends’ even though she knows as well as I do we
are so much more than that. But of course Rachel is Rachel – stubborn.
Though I think she’s softening. She’s stopped telling me to ‘fuck off’ whenever
I make suggestive comments or ask her if she’s ready to say yes yet. Instead I
get an eye-roll or a tut. See? That’s an improvement, right?

Me:
Pub?

It
was my night off and I was bored shitless. There must be over two-hundred
channels on cable and yet there wasn’t a single thing to watch.

Rachel:
Can’t. Got a date with Paul Cezanne ;-)

Whoa…
that
got my attention.

Me:
Who the fuck is Paul Cezanne?

Rachel:
Aww u jealous???

Me:
Who is he?

Rachel:
Ur so cute! He’s an artist. A very old, very DEAD artist ;-)

Relief
washed through me and it wasn’t until I read her reply I realised just how
tightly I was holding my phone in my palm.

Me:
Sounds fun in a boring as fuck kinda way. Not even got time for a quick one?

Rachel:
No can do. U will just have to entertain yourself tonight.

Rachel:
By the way… u should change florists. One of the flowers was dead this morning

She
got them then… all twelve of them.

Me:
Maybe it was having sympathy pains for my breaking heart ;-)

Rachel:
ur such a loser

Me:
and ur a heartless bitch with the finest pair of tits I’ve ever seen

Rachel:
I’m going now. Really got to get this assignment finished

Me:
I’m lonely. AND sexually frustrated dammit. How can u be so cold????

Rachel:
God gave you two hands. Pick one and use it

Me:
I thought you were going?

When
she still hadn’t replied ten minutes later I figured she really
had
gone. So, dragging my sorry arse off
the sofa I grabbed my car keys and headed out to the pub by myself. How
pathetic is that? Going for a drink, all alone, to my place of work no less.
Rachel was right… I really
am
a
loser.

**********

“She
let you out?” I asked jokily, though genuinely surprised when I saw my old mate
Ben sitting at the bar. We met in our first year of Uni. He dropped out after
one year, I held out for two. It’s been so long since I got to hang out with
any ‘guy friends’. They’re all too busy being grown ups. How boring is that,
eh? Ah, who am I kidding… the past couple of weeks have left me thinking maybe
I’m
ready to give this being an adult
thing a bash.

“Not
exactly,” he replied, looking more exhausted than I thought humanly possible.
“I’ve been sent out for nappies.”

“Well
you won’t find any in here,” I teased, pulling up a stool. We may have drifted
apart over the last couple of years, life taking us in different directions,
but I still consider Ben my very best friend.

“I
just needed to get out. I’ll regret it when I get back and she smells beer on
my breath but for now… fuck it.”

“Problems
at home?” I asked after ordering myself a beer from Tracey – the new bar
girl.

“Kerry’s
pregnant,” he announced mournfully before taking a huge gulp of his beer.

“Holy
shit.” That makes four! Jesus! “Um…
congratulations?
”

Suddenly
this whole ‘adult’ thing wasn’t looking so appealing. I barely recognised Ben.
Just a few years ago he was our ringleader. He was the beefed up player all the
girls wanted, leaving me and the rest of the guys to go after his sloppy
seconds. Now? His clothes had stains that no doubt came out of a baby, his hair
hadn’t seen a brush in days and he had bags so heavy under his eyes it looked
like someone had sewn a pair of testicles onto his lower lids while he was
sleeping.

“Don’t
get me wrong I know I’ll love it and all that when it gets here. I’m just so
fucking tired. The house stinks.
I
stink.
I can’t remember the last time I watched something that didn’t have a talking
fucking pig in it and we literally only started having sex again a month ago
and now it’s back to sneaky wanks in the fucking shower for another year.”

“And
how does Kerry feel about it?”

“Oh
she’s thrilled. Which makes me feel like an even bigger dickhead because I just
can’t seem to feel it too. I just miss her, you know. I miss talking to her,
touching her, kissing her… these days I don’t get a look in because there’s
always a kid attached to some part of her body.”

“You
sure that’s a good idea?” I piped up when Ben raised his empty glass to Tracey.

“She’s
already going to be pissed off with me. Might as well give her a good reason.
Anyway let’s change the subject. You still on course to be a terminal
bachelor?”

“I’m
working on changing that plan. That girl I’ve been hanging out with… she’s
going to be mine. She just doesn’t know it yet,” I said with a wink and a proud
grin splayed across my face.

“The
chick in the wheelchair?” Ben asked - sounding almost bewildered. My back
involuntarily stiffened while I pondered where this conversation would go.

“Her
name’s Rachel” I replied with a protective gruffness lacing my voice.

“Aren’t
you worried about people staring at you and shit?” I felt my hand ball into a
fist by my side, but then relaxed it when I remembered I’d once thought a
similar thing.

The
first night I took Emily out on a date (I can’t help smiling whenever I think
of me and Emily. We were never meant to be anything other than friends and the
idea I once thought we could go further makes me want to laugh out of the sheer
ridiculousness of it), I made some dumbarse comment about Rachel’s bright hair
and tattoos drawing even
more
attention
to her. Yet now I look at Rachel and I’m so bloody proud of her. Sometimes I
just stare at her, completely in awe of her no bullshit attitude to life.

When
I made that comment, I realise now I was projecting my own insecurities onto
her. I wouldn’t be able to handle the looks Rachel gets on a daily basis, but
she’s
so
much stronger than me.

“Besides,
how would that even work? Aren’t there laws about
interfering
with spastics and shit?”

There
are two reason why I didn’t floor the stupid fucker there and then. One, I was
certain if I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. And two, he’s my friend and
he’d been drinking and I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt that he
wouldn’t have said something so fucking disgusting if he’d been sober.

“Ben…
think
very
fucking carefully before
you say anything else,” I growled, standing from my stool.

“Whoa…
calm down, mate. I just thought… you know… isn’t it taking advantage or
something?”

“It’s
her legs that don’t work. Not her mind. Now drop it.”

“But
wouldn’t it be boring? She wouldn’t even be able to ride-” Ben was lying in a
crumpled heap, clutching at his bloody nose before he could finish his
sentence. “What the FUCK, mate?”

“If
you
ever
talk about Rachel like that
again I won’t be your fucking mate. Got it?”

“Jesus,
I think you broke my nose!”

I
pulled my fist up to my chest. It was still vibrating from making such harsh
contact with Ben’s face.

“Take
it outside!” I heard Mick’s voice at the exact same time I felt his firm hand
on my shoulder. I shrugged away from him and turned for the door without
looking back to see if Ben made it to his feet.

Sliding
back into my car, I headed for the only place I feel at home lately –
Rachel’s.

**********

“For
fuck’s sake, Jared! I could’ve been naked!” Rachel scolded when I let myself
into her ground-floor flat with the key Emily gave me before she left for the States.

“Seriously?
You think telling me you could’ve been
naked
is the way to stop me letting myself into your flat?”

“I’m
sure she gave you that key for emergencies,” she grumbled… but the small smile
tugging at the corners of her lips didn’t go unnoticed. The lip ring gives her
away. I don’t think she knows it moves when she smiles. “So? What are you doing
here?”

“I’ve
come to make sure this Cezanne dude really isn’t someone I need to kick in the
bollocks.”

“Nope.
Still an artist. Still dead,” she confirmed. I walked over to where she was
sitting on the middle of the sofa in front of the coffee table. There were
textbooks, replicas of paintings and sheets of paper filled with Rachel’s
writing strewn all over the place.

“So
what’ve you got to do?” I asked curiously, sitting beside her and picking up a
reprint of a pretty crappy looking painting.

“Describe
it,” she answered simply.

“So
like ‘this is a picture of a jug and some apples on a scrunched up tablecloth’?
That seems easy.”

“Um,
not quite. You need to look further than just the items he painted. See how he
used rougher brushwork and an impasto technique?” she said, hovering her finger
over an apple. “And how the way he shaded just here tells us the light source
is filtering in from the top left?”

“Yeah,
I’ll um… take your word for that.” My head hurt just
looking
at the damn picture. “Does this stuff not bore the shit out
of you?”

“God
no!” Rachel enthused like I’d just said something completely ridiculous. “How
can art be boring? It’s all around us… everywhere we go there is music and
colour. It’s beautiful. And not just to look at, but to create…” She couldn’t
have talked about a duller subject, yet my ears honed in on her every word.
Every so often the tip of tongue would brush across her lower lip and images of
it brushing across a whole host of other places hijacked my mind.

“You
can create it out of
anything
. With
stories you’re restricted to words, but with art…” She sighed dreamily as if
she was getting actual pleasure from explaining this to me. “If I’m feeling
happy, I draw. I paint. I create things with precision and detail. But if I’m in
a raging bad mood I’ll be rougher. I might use materials found around the house
or in the bin…”

“The
bin
?”

“One
man’s waste is another man’s treasure, Jaz,” she said playfully. “Besides, I
clean it first.”

“I
never knew you were so passionate about it,” I admitted, feeling proud of the
fact I’d discovered another little piece of her. “Hey, you should draw me,” I
suggested.

“Seriously?”
She sounded dubious. And… rightly so.

“Sure.
I’ll get naked like the chick on Titanic and sprawl across your sofa and you-”
Cushion to the face. That’s what
that
got
me.

“I
really
need to finish this,” Rachel began.
“So either leave or shut the fuck up while I concentrate.”

“Shutting
up,” I declared before sinking back into the sofa.

“How
long are you going to be?” I couldn’t help asking. It’d only been five minutes
and I was bored out of my mind.

“All
bloody night if you keep interrupting me.”

“Fine.
I’ll be quiet I promise.”

“Seriously,
you must be nearly done now,” I groaned after what felt like three hours. “It’s
been,” I looked at the clock.
Oh.
“Okay
so it’s been fifteen minutes but this is torture!”

“I
told you I was busy. You didn’t have to come.” Sensing I was irritating her, I
gave her something to feel irritated about.

I
poked her.

Clearly
being the more mature one of the two of us, she ignored me.

So
I poked her again.

“FINE!”
she yelled, slapping her textbook closed. “You win. Jesus Christ you are
such
an annoying ARSEHOLE!”