April's Glow (15 page)

‘Not reading a certain person's blog, by any chance?' she eyed her curiously.

‘No. No of course not.'

‘But you wish you were, right?'

‘No. Definitely not. I don't have time.' Her words were short and sharp.

‘Worried about your dad?'

April dropped her hands and looked at her employee. ‘No. I mean, yes. But he's okay for now. Right now I'm looking for ideas on how to celebrate April's Glow first birthday.'

‘Oh,' Belinda came over to the computer. ‘But isn't that, like, six months away?'

She nodded. ‘October. But better to plan early. I want to do something special, like, not only for the store, for the town too. Something to give the store great exposure but also make it a win-win for the community.'

‘A candle making competition?' Belinda suggested. ‘A colouring-in competition? An everything's-free-for-one-day-only event?'

April chuckled. ‘Yeah, not gonna happen.'

‘What about having a party somewhere, and everyone gets dressed up as a candle? Ooh! And you could have strippers! They jump out of giant candles and get everyone
glowing
.' She winked.

‘Nice try, and as much fun as that would be, I better choose something a bit less … X-rated.'

She stayed at the store until after dark, then remembered she had clothes hanging on the line at home and should probably get back. She also realised that maybe she didn't really need to start planning the store's birthday celebrations yet and was just trying to avoid an interaction with Zac.

April sprinkled food pellets into Romeo's bowl when she got home, then opened the back door, quickly closing it when she noticed Zac on his deck. His back slightly hunched, he peered at the sky through a telescope. He straightened up and looked her way. She could see him slightly through the door's window, but she moved back into the kitchen and hoped he would finish soon so she could go outside.

What am I doing?
She asked herself.
I can't avoid him forever.

But for now, she had to. Or minimise exposure at least. And after a long day today and night last night, she wasn't in the mood for exchanging banter.

She clattered dishes and pots and pans in the kitchen to sound busy, not that he could probably hear her, and then heated up a dinner she had frozen. When she'd finished, she peered out the back door. No sign of Zac.

She closed Romeo into the laundry to stop him running outside, then carried the basket out to the night air. A cool breeze wafted around her face, her hair tickling her cheeks. She pulled the clothes and underwear off the line (which she'd hidden behind the towels so Zac couldn't see), a few pegs dropping onto the ground in her haste. She bent to pick them up, then her gaze became drawn to Zac's face through his kitchen window. He waved. She picked up her washing basket and flashed a brief, courteous smile, then scurried back inside.

* * *

In his eagerness to get to know her, maybe he'd scared her off? Zac frowned as he flopped into bed that night. Juliet leapt onto the bed and curled herself up in a ball on his chest. He stroked her fur while she purred, the vibrating rhythm bringing a certain comfort and calm to his racing heart. An image flashed in his mind, that one day April would be curled up around him in bed, and he'd be stroking her hair as she lay on his chest. He couldn't help it. But as each image intruded into his mind, he allowed himself a brief moment of pleasure at the possibilities. The
future
possibilities. Then he'd replace it with another image, or focus on something around him so that he wouldn't get swept away into the temptation.

His sleep was sporadic, as usual. By the time he woke properly in the morning it was too late to see her, she would be at work. Hopefully they could catch up when she got home. The telescope had been an impulse purchase online, with free overnight shipping promotion. He couldn't resist. Looking up into the stars reminded him that he was only a small part of this world, and although each person was significant, it reminded him not to get caught up in trivial things or get overwhelmed with his own problems. There was a whole world out there, a whole universe. Even though right now in his life, this house, this street, this town—what little he had seen of it—was his whole world, his whole universe. And he couldn't help but hope that she would become his world, his universe, when the time was right.

As he ate a slow breakfast, mushroom and tomato omelette, he wrote. Questions formed in his mind, and he knew that when you wrote things down, asked the universe, or whatever greater power existed, for help, sometimes the answers came. He just hoped the answers would be ‘yes'.

* * *

When April arrived home, Zac was sitting on his front porch, sipping from a mug. She tried to look hurried and busy, carrying two bags of shopping. ‘Have to get these inside,' she said.

He gave a nod.

When she'd put them away and opened the back door to let Romeo in, she couldn't see him.

Not again!

She tiptoed to the fence and peered into Zac's garden. ‘Romeo!' she whispered. ‘Stop getting it on with Juliet and come home!'

She spied his tail in the bushes, along with Juliet's as she sat on a tree branch staring at her feline neighbour. Thankfully no hissing this time. But like April, Juliet was keeping her distance.

Romeo scurried to another nearby bush, the bell on his collar jingling. April dashed back inside and got a bowl of food, then brought it back to tempt him. ‘Romeo, look! Dinner.' She held the bowl up above the fence. He tentatively approached, his nose twitching.

Zac's screen door squeaked. ‘Want a hand?'

She looked his way. ‘I thought you liked cats to do their own thing.'

‘Yeah, but you seem busy, so I'm guessing you want your cat inside sooner rather than later.'

‘I am. And I do, actually.'

As Romeo's nose was hypnotised by the scent of food, Zac scooped him up and over the fence.

‘Thanks,' she said, walking with her cat back inside.

A few nights ago they were staring into each other's eyes and now they were avoiding each other's eyes. Well, she was avoiding his.

Had she been too abrupt? At least she'd said thanks. But just because they'd spent a deep and meaningful evening together didn't mean they had to talk at length every time they were in each other's presence.

April looked in the fridge, trying to decide what to eat for dinner. She hadn't defrosted any meat, and was unmotivated to cook. Eggs? She had three left. Damn, she knew she'd forgotten something from the shops.

Her phone beeped, and she glanced at the screen.

I'll have plenty of dinner ready in about an hour if you want to join me. It's in the slow cooker.

Could Zac read her mind? And she
had
read some of the book he lent her. Wasn't she supposed to get dinner for each chapter, or was that only for the whole book? She couldn't remember. But no. She couldn't go over there.

Thanks, but I'm all good here.

She checked her vegetable drawer, her pantry, and then her finger touched the pizza delivery flyer stuck behind a candle magnet on her fridge. No, if a pizza delivery vehicle turned up outside he'd know she'd blown him off.

Scrambled eggs it would be.

But first, couch and Facebook time for a little while.

She lay on the couch and put her legs up when her phone beeped again.

I thought you hated cooking.

She couldn't get away from this guy. If he wasn't chatting to her over the fence, it was via text.

I don't hate it, I'm just no chef.

She opened the Facebook app on her phone.

A text flashed across the top of the screen:

Can I ask a question?

April swung her legs back down and sat up.

You're asking my permission? And aren't thirty-six of them enough?

There was a longer than expected wait for his reply. The little bubbly dots to show he was typing appeared then disappeared, then appeared again.

I guess you're feeling a bit … exposed? After Wednesday night. Sorry if anything triggered bad memories.

Exposed? She felt … what did she feel? At one end of the spectrum she felt annoyed that she had met an interesting guy but he was totally unsuitable, and like there was someone behind her pulling her away from him, and at the other end, she felt compelled, like there was an intense and irresistible pull towards him, like she was in a current and couldn't stop being carried closer. But she couldn't say, ‘no I feel annoyed that you're amazing apart from the booze and compelled because you're amazing and I'm a woman and you're a man and that's how it works which sucks because I can't be around you without feeling things and I can't feel things because I don't want to end up like my mother'.

I'm fine
, she typed back.

She waited for him to reply, and ask the question he asked permission to ask, but nothing came. She reread their brief text exchange. Yep, she'd sounded abrupt and a bit rude.
Bugger.
She could never get the tone right in text messages, let alone when words catapulted from her mouth in speech, but at least in those situations she had her hands and face to join in and give context to her words.

She started typing …
sorry if I sounded,
but then there was a knock on her door. Her gaze darted to the white glossy front door, a large silhouette visible beyond.

She got up and went to the door, and didn't need to check out the side window, she already knew it was him. Not by the silhouette, and the fact they had just been texting each other, but she could
feel
it. Somehow, it sounded crazy, she could feel his presence, his energy, his
being-ness.

‘Zac,' she said, opening the door. ‘This is a first.' If anything, she thought he'd simply jump the fence and knock on her back door.

He stood there with hands in pockets, and the sunset blazing red and orange behind like he'd brought a fire with him. ‘It's good to get out and about sometimes,' he said. ‘My question: does knowing about my alcoholism bother you?'

The virtual fire must have grown stronger as its warmth spread inside her skin, tensing her muscles and making her want to run. She gripped the side of the door with one hand and fiddled with her silver necklace with the other.

‘It does, doesn't it,' he said.

‘Zac—' she was about to bluff.

‘Just tell me.' He pinned her with his stare.

‘Yes. Okay, yes. It does,' she blurted.

His chest rose sharply. ‘So, now you know the ugly truth you don't want to talk to me? At all?'

‘No, of course not, it's just …'

‘Well, you're doing a pretty good job of avoiding me and fobbing me off.' His voice was tense and blunt.

So he wasn't Mr I'm-So-Calm all the time. See? She was right. Charming one minute, agitated the next.

Like Dad.

‘Okay, yes. Yes, I have been avoiding you and fobbing you off.' She crossed her arms. ‘You cook a great meal and I appreciate your hospitality—'

‘My hospitality?' he scoffed. ‘I think we shared a bit more than my hospitality the other night.'

April took a small step back. ‘I know. And you didn't let me finish.' Her father never let her finish things she was saying. He'd ask her something and then in the middle of her answer he'd start talking about something else, usually something insignificant, or some story he'd told her a hundred times but thought he was telling it for the first time. Talking to an alcoholic took a lot of patience. ‘And … I appreciate your company, and your empathy about my accident, and I know you've been through a lot and I'm really sorry, but …' she sighed. ‘My dad is an alcoholic. It tore our family apart.'

They fell silent and heat burned the air between them.

Zac dropped his gaze. ‘I'm sorry to hear that.'

She shrugged. ‘He is who he is.'

Zac looked up. ‘And I am who I am. We're all different, even if we share something the same.'

They all said that. But she'd seen other alcoholics her dad had associated with, and the drink united their differences in the same destructive bond. It didn't matter what he said, it only mattered that if he drank again, he'd be different to the man she had dinner with on Wednesday night. He'd be uncharming, un-intriguing, and maybe even worse. Who knew?

‘Has your father tried to stop?'

‘Yes. Once, but it didn't last long.'

Zac nodded. ‘And I take it he's been like this for quite a long time?'

‘Most, if not all, of my life.'

Zac nodded again, his face creasing. ‘So, what, we can't be friends? Because of this?'

April rubbed her arm, as the cool air finally brushed past the heat and into her house. ‘I …'

‘The thing is, April, your dad may not have stopped drinking. But I did. I have. And I have no intention to go back to the way I was.' He hooked his thumbs into the corners of his pockets.

He had a point, but still. ‘Intentions are one thing, but they're not foolproof.'

‘But the reality is, I'm not drinking. I haven't for eight months. That's all that matters right now. This moment in time.'

Their eyes locked for a moment and she was reminded of their eye-gazing exercise. She'd seen something that reminded her of her father. But she'd also seen other things, and still could. There was a world within his eyes, a universe, and it pulled her in while scaring her out of her mind. She looked away.