Three Words: A Novella Collection (37 page)

“
I’m not a kid,” I say, moving to brush a stray hair away from
my face.

“
Far from it.” Nicholas moves closer. His lips are against my
ear. His breath is hot on my neck. I quiver again as his fingers
rest on mine and he tucks the hair behind my ear. “That’s the worst
part, isn’t it?” he adds.

“
What?”

“
Everyone thinking you’ll fall apart, so you do because that’s
what’s easier. You can wallow in your own shit because people
expect you to do that. They almost want you to sink as low as
possible so they can say how they were the one to talk you out of a
funk. I didn’t shave for a month after Mum went. I sat in my own
filth and punched walls and drank tequila. I wasn’t a good person
to be around. At least that’s what they tell me.”

I wonder
briefly who ‘they’ might be and whether they’re male or female.
It’s absurd that such a thing makes me feel a twinge of jealousy.
It’s a conversation. He’s not telling me about his long lost love
or anything.

“
When did your Mum die?”

“
Three years ago. A rare strain of breast cancer. Things were
just starting to come together with the company and I was working
insane hours. I thought she’d be okay, especially when she seemed
to have beaten it. I mean, who dies of breast cancer these days
when it’s caught early? But then, she found a lump in her neck and
within two months she was gone. I wasn’t there for her enough. I
felt like a shit son for a long time after that. The guilt was
enormous.”

“
What pulled you out of it?”

“
Funnily enough it was this kid I saw sitting in the street
one day. I’d seen him a few times on the train with his dad. He
looked sad and he was dirty and skinny, really unkempt and unloved.
His dad was ignoring him, talking on the phone to someone. Then
later in the day, I saw them both outside my building. The kid was
begging for money and the dad was just sitting there, letting him
do it. Every time someone walked past without putting money in the
hat the dad hit the kid around the head to make him cry. That was
when I realised that everyone has one life and, sure, my Mum was
gone, but I had to live the life I was given. There’s heaps of
people who have it worse than me.”

“
And now?”

“
I’m cool. About a year after Mum died, I found a letter she’d
written me. She told me how proud she was of everything I’d
achieved and how I wasn’t to feel bad or guilty. Even if I hadn’t
been in the hospital every second, she knew I loved her and thought
about her. She knew I was trying to build a future for myself that
had to endure after she’d gone. She didn’t blame me or feel sad. In
fact, she said I’d been there when she needed me most. Which was
the exact opposite of the way I’d seen the situation. That helped a
lot, knowing her view of the events and mine weren’t in sync and
she didn’t feel alone or abandoned.”

“
I wish I’d had some sort of closure. It makes me sad every
day that I didn’t get to see Mum at the end.”

“
That’ll pass. You won’t forget but you’ll learn to live with
it and remember your mother with fondness.”

“
I hope so,” I say, wondering at how Nicholas knew the exact
moment when I’d be relaxed enough to talk without weeping? How can
he know that? It’s like the hole in me that I always thought was
missing has been filled.

*****

After a while,
we stop near a beach and drop anchor. The shore bends in a curve a
few hundred metres in either direction enveloping the little boat.
The beach is quite empty. The breeze has picked up now and though
it’s still relatively calm, I feel like I’m bobbing in a beautiful
aquamarine fishbowl complete with tiny sea creatures. It’s
glorious.

“
Want some breakfast?” Nicholas asks. He disappears below and
comes back with a large picnic basket. Inside is a thermos filled
with coffee, muffins still warm from the oven and croissants, jam
and juice.

“
Please tell me you didn’t get up at three this morning to
make this?” I say, feeling a tad remorseful that I’ve contributed
nothing to the feast.

“
Would I get brownie points if I did?”

“
Definitely. I can’t cook more than beans on toast and two
minute noodles.”

“
Then I did.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins at
me.

“
Liar.”

“
You got me. I know the guy who owns the bakery next to The
Beach Hut. I sent him a text last night and asked him to make me
something suitably impressive. I made the coffee though,” he
qualifies.

“
I’m glad.” I pick up a croissant and take a bite. It’s
good.

“
Why?”

“
I’d have felt bad thinking you did this for me. Especially
when I’ve contributed nothing.”

“
Two minute noodles aren’t that good for
breakfast.”

“
Sure they are. I’ve lived on them for the last three years.
But seriously, you should have told me to bring
something.”

“
I didn’t want you to. You’re my guest.”

“
Yeah. But—”

He puts a
finger to my lips. His face moves close to mine and for a second I
think he’s going to kiss me. “Eat your breakfast.”

Later, we
strip to our bathers and stand appraising each other before
preparing to leap into the fishbowl ocean. I don’t feel
self-conscious with Nicholas’ eyes on me and I’m not embarrassed to
be doing the same to him. It’s like we’re silently agreeing that we
like each other physically and it’s okay to look. It’s an odd
feeling. Every other boy I’ve been with has made me feel as if I
need to cover myself when we weren’t making love. But then,
Nicholas is no ordinary man. I’m beginning to see that. There’s
something about him that tugs at my heartstrings.

“
Ready?”

I nod. The
water is calm like a millpond and so clear I can see the bottom.
I’m scared. I don’t do water unless it’s in a swimming pool and I
can touch the bottom without losing breath.

“
On the count of three?” he says.

“
Will you hold my hand?” I ask him, hoping he doesn’t get the
wrong impression from my request.

His hand
clasps mine. He smiles like he understands.

“
You’re very pretty, Sadie,” he says.

“
Smooth talker.”

“
I mean it.”

“
But how can you say it when we barely know each
other?”

“
I don’t know. All I know is you’re all I’ve been able to
think about for the last twelve hours. I almost walked in front of
a taxi on the way home last night; I was so obsessed with thoughts
of you. I can’t explain it.”

I look into
his eyes and I know he’s telling the truth. “I feel it too,” I say.
“My obsession had been, shall we say … worrying?”

And constant.
And orgasmic. Definitely that.

*****

In the
afternoon, after Nicholas has dropped me at the cottage and gone to
his meeting, I lay on the hammock in the shade, a glass of iced tea
and a book beside me. I planned to do some pre-reading for my
courses this semester but all I do is fiddle around on Facebook and
complete a silly quiz to find out what my princess name would be.
I’m exhausted. Swimming and sun always do that to me.

I close my
eyes and a smile tugs at my lips. My mind is swimming in Nicholas.
The gentle way he touched me, his fingers on mine as we steered the
Constance
along, the way he made talking so easy. I see his
face; feel his arms around my body. I hear his voice, soft in my
ear. I relive the feelings as his eyes raked over my body. I begin
to fantasise about his body underneath his clothes. I see us in the
bedroom. He’s stripped me of my shirt and, with his hands about my
waist, is pulling me close to him, so close I can feel the drumming
of his heart. His teeth are nipping at the skin of my neck as he
undoes my bra. Then his hands reach to cup my breasts and he kisses
me fully—

On the ground
next to my drink, my phone rings and I fall from the goddamn
hammock in surprise.

Shit. That
hurt.

I pick myself
up. “Um, hi... hello?”

“
Hey, honeybubble, how’s it going at the beach? I’m
soooo
envious. I’ve been sitting here with the fan and a
bottle of water the entire morning. It’s like a freaking sauna in
this flat. We, seriously, have to get something done about the air
con, it’s making a noise similar to the one Gary used to make when
he was about to come. You know, sort of grunting and whining?
Hashtag scary.”

It’s my best
friend Emily, or as I call her ‘Machine Gun’. Emily can talk faster
than the speed of light and change subjects at such a rapid pace
that if you’re not paying full attention you end up thinking we’ve
invited the cast of
Supernatural
for dinner (I did once.
Sooo
embarrassing). If Emily were able to run at the speed
she talks, she’d be declared a superhero, though she’s already one
to me. She’s saved my life on more than one occasion.

“
I’m awesome,” I say. “Mega relaxed.”

“
You sound refreshed. Not too many tears, I hope.”

“
No. I’ve hit the books and I’ve been clearing out the garden.
It was so overgrown. I even went swimming in the ocean this
morning.”

“
And what’s brought about this change?”

“
Not sure. But I have been reading this really good book on
making your dreams a reality.” I don’t know if I’m ready to share
Nicholas with Emily yet. She tends to jump the gun when it comes to
boys. She’ll have us married by tomorrow morning. Emily and I are
polar opposites in that regard. I’m wary when it comes to men. I
like the trustworthy, stable, quiet type. Emily will fall in love
with anyone who winks in her direction. And even though she longs
for marriage and a baby, unheard of at our age, she ends up making
the most disastrous choices — serial womanisers, greasy haired
bikers. It’s like she’s so desperate to be loved she’ll settle for
anyone.

“
Boooorrrrring
! Haven’t you met anyone? At least had a
dance with someone cute?” I visualise Emily sprawled on the couch
in her short shorts, her legs draped over the back of it, a glass
of something icy in her hand. She probably has some poor boy there
now, massaging her feet in the hope it will lead to something else.
She’s such a hussy.

“
Not really.” I hope I sound convincing.

“
Oh. My. God. You totally have.”

Okay.
Sometimes I wonder whether Emily has psychic abilities.

“
What’s his name? What does he look like? Please tell me he’s
not one of those buttoned-up straight types you always go for. You
need some spice in your life.”

The questions
are firing through the phone so fast my brain can hardly focus.
“Slow down,” I say, attempting to not get caught up in Emily’s
enthusiasm.

“
Name,” she demands.

“
Nicholas.”

“
Age?”

“
Late twenties. Maybe thirty.”

“
Ooooh
, the older man. Are you sure you’re up for a man
of the world? You know they have chest hair, right? And they like
all sorts of things you’ve never even fantasised about.”

She makes me
sound like Maria from
The Sound of Music.

“
And how do you know?”

I can hear her
eye roll through the phone. “What does he look like? And don’t say
‘nice’,” she says.

“
Hot. Six two. Broad shoulders. Smooth, rock hard chest. And
you should see his abs—”

I’m
embellishing a little for her benefit but it will make her
happy.

“
You’ve seen his naked chest already? Geez Louise, you don’t
waste any time.”

“
Shut up or I won’t tell you the rest.”

Emily shuts
up.

“
So…he’s got these gorgeous pink lips and he has sort of dirty
blond, sort of shaggy surfer hair and a tattoo on his left bicep.
It’s a cross, I think, or maybe dagger. I know there’s a name
written in it.”

“
I’m not going to ask how you got so up close and personal as
to notice that.”

“
It’s summer Emily. Most of the men here are
topless.”

“
Now I’m even more jealous. Are you sure you don’t need me to
come and supervise your extra curricular activities?”

We both
laugh.

The
conversation descends into the realm of smut I’m not comfortable
talking about even in Emily’s presence, the type of stuff she loves
to tease me with when she’s calling me a prude. But I’m not a prude
and I’m not innocent. I just don’t like to talk about it, that’s
all.

“
Are you going to see him again?” she asks,
finally.

“
It was discussed.”

“
And you didn’t take three days to decide this was the right
option?”

“
No. I knew straight away. It was like we connected. You know
what they say about when you meet the right person…”

“
You’re not saying you’re in love with him, this older man
with the naughty hair and tattoos?”

“
Don’t be silly. I only met him yesterday.” But I am deeply
into Nicholas. And it’s scaring the crap out of me. I have no idea
what to do with this feeling.

“
Good. Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”