April's Glow (11 page)

‘Here you go.' He handed April a bowl, then grabbed a plate of cheese and crackers from the kitchen and placed them on the small coffee table.

‘Looks nice. Do I have to name this too?'

‘No. It's organic coconut ice-cream, and those bright coloured things on top are raspberries and blueberries.'

‘Oh really? I was wondering what on earth they could be,' she said with a sarcastic tone.

She dug her spoon in and Zac couldn't help but watch her lips envelop the spoon to devour the dessert. They were pink and plump, and when she smiled they reminded him of a bow, like one you'd find on a gift.

He sat on the couch, next to her, but not too close, at right angles with one knee casually bent.

‘So where are these questions?' she asked.

Zac got out his phone. ‘I'll look them up.' He found the article mentioning the research of Dr Arthur Aron and others who had developed the experiment. ‘So we take turns to read out and answer each question, until we've done all thirty-six.'

‘Sounds easy enough.' April cleared her throat. Zac wasn't buying it. She was apprehensive. ‘Do we have to be one hundred percent honest?'

‘That's the idea,' he said. ‘And I'll know if you're lying, remember?' He smiled. ‘But that doesn't mean you have to give absolutely everything away. You can be honest but still keep secrets.' He was telling himself as much as her. Though there were things he wanted to share, to take the burden off his mind, there were things, well,
one
thing in particular, that he wasn't sure should come out into the open just yet. If ever.

‘Okay, let's get this show on the road. Question one?' She clasped her hands together across her right knee.

Zac cleared his throat. ‘Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?'

‘Will you be offended if I don't say you?' She laughed.

‘Nope, because I'm not saying you either.'

‘Great, glad we've got that sorted!'

‘Right. So who would you choose?' Zac asked.

‘Um …' April looked up at the ceiling. Then her gaze dropped, as though the answer had fallen in front of her, but she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. ‘Oh, this is too hard.'

‘We're only at question one and you're giving up?'

‘No, I'm just saying it's too hard.'

‘Watch what you say, your thoughts and words become your reality, you know.'

‘They do? Okay, I'd love a million bucks and a holiday to Europe.'

Zac shook his head with a chuckle. ‘I can see we're going to be here all night.' Question one and they were already getting off topic. He was going to have to pull the reigns. ‘Did you know we're only supposed to spend a short amount of time on each question?'

‘Oh. Okay. Sorry. Right, my answer is …' She drummed her fingers on her knee.

‘I'm waiting.'

‘Geez, impatient pain in the arse you are.'

‘I do my best.' Zac shrugged. Then he leaned a little closer. ‘You already thought of someone, didn't you? But you didn't want to say.'

April's eyes widened. ‘Mind reader. They must teach you well in the army.'

‘Nah, it's all in the body language. I read lots of books remember?'

She sighed. ‘Alright then, I did think of someone, but it's a silly answer.'

‘No judgement here, just say it.' He relaxed his posture deliberately to help her feel comfortable.

‘I instinctively thought of my ex-fiancé, Kyle. There.'

‘Oh?' Zac had been expecting her to say some B-grade celebrity. But this surprised him.

‘Not that I'd be able to have dinner with him, and not that he'd be in a position to be a dinner guest, because of the … anyway, it's more that I never really got to say the things I wanted to say to him. When I said goodbye. I just basically cried and was a blubbering mess. Wasn't pretty.' She scratched the back of her neck and looked away.

His heart ached for her and what she must have gone through—losing her leg and then her fiancé, though intrigue surfaced at what her other answers would reveal. He had the feeling there was a whole lot more beneath her assertive, honest, outgoing personality. ‘What would you say to him? If you could.'

She looked up, her chest rising tightly, as though she'd thought her answer was over and done with and they could move on. ‘That's a bit personal.'

‘Yeah, but maybe it'll help if you get it out in the open.'

She scoffed. ‘But he won't hear any of it.'

‘I'll hear it. And you'll get it out of your head. It'll feel better.'

She eyed him with caution, and Zac knew she was trying to determine how much she could trust him with her personal thoughts and feelings. ‘Look, all I'd say is that even though he ended up a quadriplegic, I still would have followed through with my promise to be his wife. I would have supported him. Somehow. I would have stuck with him.'

Zac nodded slowly. ‘I'm sure he knows that, even without you telling him.'

‘But it's like I didn't get to express it properly, and I didn't get to talk to him about the things we'd been through together, the times we'd shared, thank him for the memories. It was like our life was in some alternate reality or was just a dream, and the accident woke us up.'

Zac processed her words, his gaze running over her face with its rounded cheekbones, and the furrows between her eyebrows that deepened when she spoke of things that upset her.

‘Anyway, your turn,' she said, exhaling a whoosh of air.

‘Write him a letter.'

‘Huh?'

‘Kyle. Write him a letter. Get it all out, once and for all. So you can move on.'

‘After all this time? It seems silly. And I don't want to bring up the past for him when he's probably just getting used to his new way of life.'

‘Then don't send it.'

‘What? What's the point then?'

He shifted his position on the couch, draping his arm over the back of it. ‘The point is it'll help
you
. Free up your mind and heart for other things.' Like … him? Was he unknowingly trying to help her move on so she would consider him an option? It was crazy, and he should stop it right now. He was in no way ready for anything with anyone, and would in no way surrender to the possibility. Thirty-six questions, deepen their friendship, enjoy some interesting adult conversation for once, and that was it.

Her eyes went distant for a moment. ‘I'll think about it.'

‘Good. Okay, my turn.' He rubbed his hands together. ‘Who would I have for a dinner guest, hmmm.'

‘The Dalai Lama?'

He smiled. ‘Don't give me ideas, let me think for myself.'

She made a show of zipping her mouth shut.

‘Megan Fox.'

April looked at him with eyebrows raised in disbelief. ‘Seriously?'

‘Why not?' He chuckled. ‘Okay, I'll choose again. My mother. My real mother. I've never met her.'

‘For real? So you're adopted?'

Oh, how he'd longed to be, in the past. But no one ever made that commitment to him. He shook his head. ‘Grew up in foster care, had a few different families. My mate Johnny,' he cocked his head towards the mantle, ‘he got lucky, found two awesome parents after we both stayed in the same foster family for a while.'

But his friend's luck hadn't lasted.

‘So that's how you met him?'

‘Yep. His new parents made sure we kept in contact and hung out over the years, which was great. I used to wish they'd take me in too, but they only wanted one apparently.' Or they simply hadn't wanted
him
. ‘So I guess I'd ask my mother lots of questions and just kind of hang out, to see what it would be like.'

Would she be like him? Had he inherited some of her traits? Had she somehow impacted on the person he was now?

April nodded. ‘Maybe you'll get to do that one day.'

‘Maybe. But it's probably best to leave things be.'

‘Or you could write her a letter. With all your questions.'

Zac picked up a cracker and topped it with cheese. ‘Good advice. How'd you come up with that?'

‘Heard it somewhere.' She waved her hand around.

After they'd answered questions about whether they'd like to be famous, if they rehearsed telephone calls, and what would constitute a perfect day, Zac asked April question number five: ‘When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?'

April swallowed stiffly. ‘I don't sing.'

‘Surely you've sung at some point. In the shower, while doing housework, at work?' Zac sang to himself all the time. Lyrics floated of their own accord out of his mouth, like the poetry floated from his fingertips onto the computer screen.

‘Well yeah, but I don't anymore.'

Zac moved his hand around in circles to encourage her. ‘So … when was the last time?'

She grasped her fingers and massaged them like they were sore, avoiding his eye contact.

‘It's a simple question.'

‘Yeah, well, it's not a simple answer.' She stood. ‘Could I please have some water?'

Zac stood. ‘Sure, I'll get some.' He filled a glass and handed it to her. ‘Hey, we're both in this together. No need to be worried.'

They sat again and she took a deep breath. ‘The last time I sang was in the car. To Kyle. Right before the drunk driver slammed into us.'

Crap.
‘Oh. I see.'

‘The thing is, I can't even remember what song it was. Like the trauma erased it from my memory. But I had the volume up loud, probably a good thing since I was singing and I can't sing very well, and I was really getting into it.' She shook her head and he sensed her regret. ‘I keep thinking if I hadn't been singing along, I could have reacted faster when I saw the car out the corner of my eye. Maybe things would have been different, even if it were only a slightly better outcome.'

Zac exhaled loudly, recalling his own wonderings about that day that changed everything for him. What if they hadn't stopped the vehicle? What if he hadn't gotten out? ‘Regret is an uncomfortable thing. I've had a few of those in my life. But you can't let it eat away at you. We do what we can in the moment and that's all we can do. We can't know what's about to happen, only in hindsight.'

‘I know,' she replied. ‘But even now, I can't listen to music. At least, not music with lyrics. I have atmospheric instrumental music playing in my store, but … songs with words, I don't know why, I just can't take it. I guess they're like crowds are to you. My friends know to leave the radio off if they drive me somewhere.'

Wow. The woman must have been repressing her emotions for quite a long time. ‘So you haven't listened to actual songs since the accident?'

‘Nope. Not intentionally anyway. It just reminds me of that day. And also, songs and lyrics, they trigger emotions, memories. Makes me vulnerable and uncomfortable. So I avoid it. A bit wimpy, I know.'

He shook her concerns away with a flick of his hand. ‘These questions are a bit uncomfortable and vulnerable, but you're doing them. That's pretty brave.'

‘Yeah, but it's different. Anyway, so that's the last time I sang to myself and to someone else. You?' She gulped the rest of her water.

‘Today. I sing around the house all the time. But to someone else? I think it was when I was in Afghanistan, unless I sang after I got back when …' His mind rewound to another time in his life he'd rather forget. ‘No, must have been Afghanistan. I was trying to make a new recruit feel more at ease, so I sang a song, and the others joined in. The fun didn't last long, but at least it brought a smile to the young guy's face for a little while.'

She smiled. ‘That's nice. Are you a good singer?'

‘You'll probably find out at some point and you can decide for yourself.'

‘I'll prepare my ear plugs.'

They continued the questioning, and bit by bit he learned more about April and her life and her upbringing, while sharing some more about his, though he was careful not to let too much slip. They reached the last question of the first of three sets. After this, the questions would get more serious. More revealing.

He handed the phone to April, and she read it out: ‘If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability what would it be?'

This was one of those moments where he'd be honest, but still keep a secret. ‘Flying would be pretty cool, but,' he scratched his head, ‘I think I'd just like to be able to walk around a crowd and not feel a sense of panic.'

April's brow did that furrowing thing again. ‘I feel for you. I really do. I wish I knew the magic solution.'

‘You and me both. But in time, I'm sure I'll find a way to overcome it. Anyway, don't want to dwell on that now, what about you, what ability would you choose?'

April's face lit up like one of her candles and she shuffled on the couch, an excited smile on her face. ‘I'd totally want to be able to do magic. Like a witch. Click my fingers or say a spell and make stuff happen. Oh, the things I could do.' She rubbed her hands together and faked a witch's cackle.

She had nice teeth. White and straight. He'd broken one of his own when he was overseas and wasn't able to get it restored until he'd returned home. But hers, hers were perfect.

‘I said, your turn. Earth to Zac?'

‘Huh? Oh.' He grasped his phone as she handed it to him. What was wrong with him, getting entranced by her teeth?

They exchanged more questions, talking about good and bad memories, dreams and accomplishments. Then question number nineteen came around. April read it out: ‘If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?'

Hell yes.
So why wasn't he? Why wasn't he trying harder? Maybe he was putting too much pressure on himself to move forward all at once. ‘I would work harder to connect with the world again. With people. I'd want to experience more. Feel more. Take risks. Be spontaneous.' The idea of being able to do all of that sent ripples of excitement through his body, but those ripples got snagged on fragments of fear along the way. If only he could yank those fragments out and toss them aside, he could start living this way now.