The Complete Memories Series (46 page)

University isn’t always bad, but when it is, it’s a pile of shit. That pile of shit would be the four assignments I have due in. I guess that’s what I guess for putting the “pro” in “procrastinator.”

Emotion – it
’s a funny thing to put down onto paper. Sure, I could grab a pencil and start sketching an image of a girl in an old run down house with her head in her hands, her body curled up, and it would be clear – sadness, devastation.

Or I could grab my pastels and smooth out an image of children playing in a park, laughing and joking. Again, it
’s clear.

But art is the more than the obvious. It
’s a combination of the obvious and the discreet, all mixed in together in a breath-taking pattern. It’s not what you draw, it’s how you draw it. It’s in the stroke of the brush, the hardness of the pencil, the smudge of the pastel. It’s in the shade of the colour, the frequency of its use, and the blend of several together.

Art is the true reflection of everything inside of us, put out there for the world to see.

I run my fingers along the pastel box, to my paint box, and back again to the pastels. I pick one out at random, not caring to look. Whatever I pick… That is how I feel.

The warm pink tone is soft across the canvas, and the red that follows it is anything but. It
’s hot, bright, and tears straight through the pinker sections. The white smudges in the areas where the two colours cross, blending them together seamlessly. The pattern repeats itself, over and over, and I watch it happen without really seeing it.

I put the pastels down and step back from the now coloured canvas, eyeing it critically.
The curved lines are gentle, all coming together in a point like the eye of a storm in the corner of the image. I could have very well been sitting on top of a tornado as I drew this – it has the same shape, the same smooth lines. And I know exactly what it means.

It
’s the journey of falling in love. The left side, the gentle side, is the first feelings, and as your eyes travel across the canvas, the colours strengthen, becoming more concentrated. The right side, the eye of the storm – that is love. The red is the passion, the pink your heart, and the white the calm it brings you, all mixing together.

I stroke my thumb down the side of the canvas, my eyes gliding over the image for the thousandth time. It
’s not just the journey of falling in love.

It
’s my journey.

This image is the journey of how I fell in love with Samuel Edwards.

~

Big blue eyes, chubby cheeks and a rosebud mouth surrounded by blonde curls stare at me on the laptop screen.

“An Jen!” Daisy screeches. “An Jen!”

“Hey, Daisy Duck!” I grin at her over Skype. “Are you being good for Mummy?” She bobs her little head, nodding.

“Mama mama mama mama,” she babbles, clapping her hands. Hannah smiles next to her, kissing her cheek.

“Daisy, go and find Daddy. He has a pie cakey for you,” she says and puts her down.

“Bye bye bye bye,” Daisy shouts, toddling off in the direction of her kitchen. I smile as I watch her go, dragging her blanket behind her, and almost falling over her own feet.

“She
’s daft,” I say to my sister.

“She learnt that from you,” she says dryly. “Some of her words right now are kinda… suspect.”

“Sis, she’s almost one, and I’m sure she means fork when she says fuck.” I laugh.

“Oh, she does, but when you
’re in public and she starts yelling for one…” She shakes her head, a smile touching her lips. “Anyway, how are you? How’s uni?”

“Same old. Starting to pick up on work because the exams are coming up… But hey. Other than that I
’m good.”

“And Samuel?” she smirks.

“You heard about that, huh?”

“Jen, it was always gonna happen. When you first met him, you talked for two weeks afterwards about “the big mean boy” whose head you chucked a lobster at,” she says with a raise of her eyebrows.

“I did not!” I protest.

“You did too! I was sick of hearing about him after two days. I think you fell in love with him then.” She winks. “You and Carl were never gonna be forever. I knew that the second Sam strolled back into the Bay.”

“How do you know this stuff?”

“I
’m a genius, Jen, you should know this by now.” We both laugh. “Point is…” Hannah looks around, making sure Lloyd isn’t around. “…Samuel Edwards is one hot little somethin’ somethin’, and if you didn’t bag him and I wasn’t married, I would certainly not turn him down, you get what I’m sayin, Jen?”

A laugh bubbles out
of me, and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Hannah, believe me, there is nothing small about Samuel Edwards.”

She grins like a teenager, clapping her hands together. “That
’s it. Daisy and I are coming up this weekend. Lloyd can cope without us for three or four days. I need to hear everything!”

“Why do I get the feeling this will be exactly like when I first had sex?” I ask dryly.

“Because it will be. Only worse.” Hannah winks, and I can Daisy calling her in the background. “I gotta go. The sprog is yelling, and if the little one is yelling, the big one will be too. I’ll sort out this weekend and give you a ring. Love you.”

“Love you, too! Give Daisy a big kiss, and Lloyd… Well, tell him hi.” I laugh, and Hannah blows a kiss before the screen goes blank. I shake my head. It
’s amazing how much our relationship has improved since I moved away. Now, instead of dreading weekends with her, I look forward to them.

And I can
’t wait for this one.

~

I sit back and watch Alec as he pounds the punching bag in the corner.

“Do you miss surfing?”

He stops, wipes his forehead, and leans against the wall. “Sometimes. I fit as much in as I can whenever I go back to see Mum, though. Where did that come from?”

I shrug. “I was just wondering. I guess I
’m wondering if Jen misses the Bay.”

“Her family? Yes. The Bay? No.” Alec shakes his head. “Jen
’s too big for a small town like Lilac Bay.”

“That better not be a reference to the size of my ass, Johnson,” Jen
’s voice calls down from the top of the stairs. A smile creeps onto my lips.

“You bet it was,” Alec replies, winking at me. “That thing could block out the sun and cause the next eclipse, Mason.”

“You’m a cheeky little donkey shit, Alec.” She laughs, preceding Lexy down the stairs. “Watch it, or my ass might just sit on you and squash you.”

“I
’ll take that,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around her waist when she reaches me. She puts her hands on my shoulders and leans forward, gently pressing her lips to mine.

“Dinner is ready,” she says, looking into my eyes.

“Can we not go straight to dessert?” I ask, running my hands over her hips, noting her tight jeans.

She purses her lips. “No, we can
’t. And if that’s the dessert you’re expecting, you’re gonna be well disappointed. Lemon meringue pie.”

“Is it homemade?” Alec pipes up.

Lexy nods. “Yep. Mum made it this morning.”

I look at Alec, and he looks at me. I let Jen go, and we both shoot off towards the stairs. Our feet pound against them as we run, and he pushes past me into the kitchen.

A large lemon meringue pie is sitting on the side on one of Mum’s glass dessert plates. I lick my lips a little. Mum makes the best lemon pie – and she learnt that from Gram.

“Reckon there
’s any chance Lexy will ever be able to make a pie like that?” Alec asks hopefully, sitting at the table.

“I reckon there
’s more chance than Jen being able to do it,” I reply, sitting too.

“Rule one, lads.” Dad looks at us across the table. “Never underestimate a woman
’s ability in the kitchen. They’re either really good or really bad, and neither are anything to be mocked.”

Jen grins at me, taking her seat. “Well, I can cook. If it comes in a packet.”

“I’m worse than that.” Lexy shrugs a shoulder. “I guess we need lessons, ‘cause I can barely scoop ice cream into a bowl.”

“Even I can do that.” Jen laughs.

“But you live alone. I still have Mum cooking for me.”

“So do I,” I remind her. “And I can cook.”

“You can cook?” Jen raises her eyebrows. “Why didn’t I know this?”

“There
’s no need to sound so surprised.” I grin. “I learnt from Mum. I need a lot of food you know.”

Dad smiles. “We went away for the weekend when he was eighteen, and he was only worried he wouldn
’t be able to eat anything but crap food, so he asked Emily to teach him how to cook.”

“I remember that!” Lexy cries, smiling widely. “Watching my womanizing big brother with an apron on and cooking in the kitchen was probably the highlight of my life.”

“An apron?” Alec smirks.

I pinch my
top. “No way am I messing up these clothes, mate.”

“
You’re such a girl.” Jen nudges my arm. “You can cook me dinner one night then.”

“Fine.” I grin as Mum puts a large bowl of pasta in the middle of the table. “I
’ll cook you dinner tomorrow night.”

Jen looks at Mum. “Should I be worried?”

Mum smiles. “No, love. He’s actually a very good cook. He could teach his sister a thing or two.” Her eyes glide towards Lexy, and my sister pokes her tongue out at me.

Alec grabs one of the spoons in the pasta bowl. “I don
’t think I’d trust Bing to make me toast.”

Lexy snorts. “Yes, Alec, because you
’re Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen.”

“I burnt it once, Princess! Once!”

“I’ve been known to burn toast on occasion,” Dad pipes in. “It’s easy to forget about.”

Lexy puts her fork down. “You do your toast in the grill. Alec was using a toaster set to the third setting. How do you burn toast on the third setting?”

“Actually,” Jen muses. “It’s possible. One piece of toast will go more than two pieces.”

“I made two pieces,” Alec mutters, stabbing his fork into his pasta.

“Oh, well, then, ha!” Jen laughs. “You suck.”

“Says the ready-meal queen.”

“At least I can make toast without burning it.”

“I made Lexy spaghetti and meatballs once. That was edible.”

“After you’d burnt the spaghetti.” Lexy laughs.

I grin. “It
’s a good job I can cook. If I couldn’t, I think Jen would probably have me starve.”

“No. You
’d just be eating an awful lot of ready meals which, aren’t actually that good.” She thinks for a second. “Huh. Now I have the washing machine mastered, I should probably get on that cooking thing.”

“You can do bacon. And eggs.” I kick her under the table, and she coughs.

“Yep. But that’s not hard to cook.” She looks down.

“I feel like I
’m missing something,” Mum says, looking between us.

Lexy reaches over and pats her arm gently.
“If you’re missing it, then you probably don’t want to know it, Mum.”

~

I wander aimlessly through Tesco. I said I’d cook – but no-one told me
what
to cook, and I have no fuckin’ idea what to make. What am I supposed to cook?

Wait. Am I supposed to take wine and flowers? Where is Alec when I need some help?

I stare at the different types of pasta, pull out my phone, and dial his number. It rings and goes to voicemail. I try it again and the same thing happens. Shit. Looks like I’m going on my gut feeling… And that says yes to flowers and wine. Right.

I manoeuvre the trolley back round, still mulling over what to cook, and head towards the flowers. I
’m greeted by too many types and colours to count. Right.

Let
’s just go for roses – but not red. Pink, because pink is Jen’s favourite colour.

I scour my eyes over the display, finally finding some pink flowers, and put them in the holder at the end of the trolley. The wine is easy – Vino. Always Vino.
I grab a bottle from the shelf, and turn my attention back to the food.

Alec said he
’d made Lexy meatballs and spaghetti. It’s simple, but I guess I could that. Does that count as copying? Well, maybe, but I’m not exactly a walking cookbook, am I?

I grab all the ingredients from the shelves, pay at the checkout, and load it into my car. On the way to Jen
’s, I glance at the clock about a million times. I have to beat her home.

I
’m as nervous as a drug user being searched. Shit.

I let myself into her flat with Lexy
’s spare key, and look around. It’s deadly silent. I glance at the clock again. I have an hour to cook and get everything ready before she’ll be back from Uni.

I set the bags on the table, shrug my coat off, and roll up my sleeves. My eyes travel over the numerous bags, settling on the flowers lying in front of them.

Let’s do this.

~