April's Glow (24 page)

Within an hour he'd received a ton of comments. Some offering words of encouragement, others saying they had friends or family that had been to war, and others saying they had phobias of things like spiders and heights. Everyone had their own story to tell. His wasn't the only one. But maybe by sharing his ongoing journey he could help and inspire others. And maybe one day he would have achieved enough to be able to help people more directly who had gone through addiction, and turn his difficult experience into something positive.

As for him and April, it was a lost cause. He'd done all he could do, and in the end she'd shown that she truly didn't understand him and his challenges, let alone accept them. As much as it hurt to cast aside the greatest, weirdest, most unconventional love he'd ever felt, it was time to move on.

Television was no distraction for April, it only intensified the contrast between her life and others.

How can people get so excited about renovating, I mean, seriously!

She switched the channel.

Oh for God's sake, it's a cooking show, not a life or death situation!

Switch.

Why are all the female characters in movies young and beautiful and the males are old and grey?

She turned off the TV and headed into her bedroom. It was still relatively early, but late enough that she could try to get an early night and be bright and energetic for her big day tomorrow. Work at the store would be first, then set up for the night markets, then enjoy the night markets and then pack up and go home. She was glad she'd have a busy day to keep her mind off the awful thing she'd said to Zac.

Her eye homed in on the seashell Zac had given her ages ago, sitting on her bedside table next to her candle. She picked it up and felt the ribbed surface, noticing its broken edge and the smudge of discolouration and cinnamon-like freckles.

Just because something is broken and blemished, doesn't mean it's not beautiful and precious.

She didn't know where the words came from as they appeared in the doorway of her mind like unknown visitors turning up at the wrong house. Zac thought of words, April didn't. But there they were, and she felt compelled to write them down.

She tapped them into the notes app on her phone and wrote them on her whiteboard.

Then she pressed her mum's number in ‘contacts'.

‘Mum?' she asked.

‘Yes, darling, is everything okay?'

‘Do you regret getting involved with Dad?'

‘What? Why are you asking me this now? I'm watching
Rogue Renovators
.'

April could hear the annoying overexcited renovators in the background having happiness attacks at finding the most perfect colour for the feature wall in their living room.

‘Do you?' she asked.

The volume went down and her mum replied, ‘He wasn't easy, you know that.'

‘But would you do things differently, if you'd known?'

There was a brief moment of silence. ‘No. Of course not.'

‘But why?'

Her mum chuckled. ‘Oh, April. Because he gave me
you
. And you were the best thing that ever happened to me. To us.'

The heavy feeling that had filled her muscles lightened as gratitude took its place. Her chin quivered and she sniffed.

‘Are you alright, sweetheart?'

‘Yes, yes, I'm okay. Thanks, Mum.'

‘Are you still having feelings for that man?'

That man.

‘Not really. I mean sort of, but I'm not getting involved. And I told him that.'

‘Well, good for you. Don't settle for second best,' Clarissa said.

Second best and Zac didn't seem to go together. Why did living without him feel like
that
was second best? She shook her crazy thoughts away. She'd made her decision, and anyway, she'd no doubt hurt him and he would probably never forgive her, and she didn't deserve his forgiveness. She wondered if he had written on his blog, but she'd unsubscribed after their night together so she wouldn't get tempted by his prose.

‘So, having me, that made being with Dad worthwhile?'

‘Definitely, but even despite the difficulties, there were also the memories. The good ones,' she said. ‘He was a real charmer, even sang to me once in public. Embarrassed the heck out of me, but it worked. Charmed his way into my life. I have the memories too, and sometimes that's all we can cling onto.'

She had memories with Zac, even though she'd only known him six months. She could just take them for the gift that they were and move on

‘Thanks, Mum. That helped.'

‘It did? Oh, good. Well, anything else you want to talk about?'

‘No, that's it for now. Thanks.'

‘Okay, nighty night.'

‘Night.'

She ended the call then called another number.

‘Hi, Dad, do you want a visitor?'

* * *

She arrived at his stale smelling apartment around nine, her father watching sport on television, a bottle in his hand.

‘Hello there!' he said, staggering up to greet her, as she'd let herself in with her key. He kissed her cheek.

‘Hi, Dad.'

‘Lemme get you a sandwich, hang on …' He stumbled towards the small kitchen.

‘No, Dad, it's okay, I'm not hungry,' she replied, ‘Are you? Would you like me to make you a sandwich?' He probably needed something to soak up the alcohol.

‘Oh, really? Gosh, what a nice thing to do for your old man. Thanks, sweetie.' He made his way back to the couch. ‘Salami,' he said.

She got the salami and mayonnaise from the fridge and quickly made a sandwich. She tore a bit off it for herself anyway, not realising till it hit her stomach that she was hungry. She made a half sandwich for herself.

Her dad ate it eagerly, pointing and shouting at the TV occasionally, ‘You bloody idiots! Don't know whatcha doin'!'

‘Who's winning?' she asked.

‘Dunno,' he replied. ‘Can't read the bloody scores. Broke me glasses.' He gestured to the smashed glass spectacles on the coffee table, which was more like a booze table.

‘Oh, Dad? Why didn't you call? We have to get these fixed.' Damn it, she had a full day tomorrow. She'd have to try and make time at lunch to take them into his optometrist and ask for a replacement. ‘I'll take them and sort it out, don't worry.' She popped them into her bag.

‘Aye, aye, cap'n,' he said with a salute, then he laughed.

She smiled and pretended he was funny.

‘Dad?' she asked, when an ad break came on.

‘Yeah?'

‘Why do you drink?'

‘Tastes good,' he slurred. ‘Yum.'

‘But why so much?'

He shrugged then lowered his head. ‘Nothin' ever feels as good.' He looked at her, his eyes tired and dark bags under them. ‘You know I tried to stop once,' he said, and she nodded. ‘But didn't work. Nothin' else ever made sense in the world, only my drink.'

‘What about Mum?' April asked, knowing what she had sacrificed to look after him for so long.

And what about me?

‘I loved chasing your mum,' he said. ‘Gave me a thrill it did.' He chuckled. ‘Good wife, that woman. But a man needs a hobby, right?' He took a swig. ‘This sure beats stamp collecting!' He guffawed and slapped his thigh, then coughed and spluttered.

Boredom. That's all it was. Boredom and lack of purpose in life. That was her dad. Then it had become a habit, and the habit had become an addiction.

Zac wasn't bored. He did things; poetry, building, cooking.

Zac had purpose, or had
had
purpose, serving his country.

And unlike her dad, Zac had found a way to feel good without alcohol. A way to feel
better
. Working on himself, meditating, educating his mind … it had taught him how to get to a state that was more rewarding than the temporary bliss from drinking. If her dad had never experienced that, then of course he would keep going back to the one thing that always brought him comfort.

They were different, Zac and her dad.

They'd shared the same affliction, but for different reasons. And Zac had stopped, her father hadn't.

She'd been wrong. Zac wasn't just like her father, not even close. Yes he was a risk, and things would never be certain, but she still had feelings for him. Couldn't help it. Maybe like some of his books talked about, this was fate, bringing her to him because she could be the one person who would understand him, understand his past, see what a huge accomplishment it had been for him to recover.

But it was too late. She'd overstepped the mark and made a mistake, said something that should never be said to anyone dealing with any sort of challenge, be it health, mental, or otherwise.

Either way, she had to call him.

Now.

When she'd made sure her dad was settled and ready for bed (at least he couldn't drink while sleeping), April sat in her car and took a few deep breaths. She hardly drove, with everything being within walking distance of her house, but as she glanced down at her prosthetic leg she felt a flicker of gratitude that it had been her left leg and not right that had been lost, making driving much easier. She had a lot to be grateful for; her right leg, her prosthesis, her life, her business, her friends, her house, her mum, even her dad despite his challenges. If this phone call didn't go well, she'd be okay. She'd survive, as she'd always done.

The sound of his phone ringing gave her heart palpitations.

She prepared herself to speak.

It went to voicemail.
Damn.

Maybe he was in the shower. No, he'd just had one when I got there.

She called again. Voicemail.

Text message? No, she was a voice person. She called again and this time left a message:

‘Hi, Zac, it's me. Obviously, you would have seen my name on the caller ID. Anyway, I just want to say how sorry I am for what I said. God, I feel like an idiot. I'm so sorry. Sorry. Okay, I'd better … sorry.' She ended the call. So much for being a voice person.

She drove home and listened to the radio for the first time in ages. Two songs came on that she didn't know, along with a couple of others she had heard in the past. Then she was home.

That wasn't too bad. While driving too
.
I deserve some chocolate.

She got herself ready for bed but by the time she was about to snuggle up and wind down with some chocolate, she didn't feel like it anymore. Sleep was calling, and unlike Zac, she answered.

* * *

There was no response to her voice message when she'd woken, though he could have been asleep, but by lunchtime on Saturday there was still no response.

‘Call the guy again,' Belinda said, stuffing some of the items for tonight into a box.

‘That'll make me look silly. And desperate, and grovelling.'

‘You are silly and desperate and grovelling.'

‘Hey,' she said, pointing her pen at Belinda. She ticked a couple of items off the store birthday To Do list. But there was something else she had to do. ‘Oh!' She held the pen to her lips. ‘Crap. Can you mind the store a bit longer for lunch? I need to go get new glasses for my dad. I could leave it till Monday, I guess, but I don't want him to trip over a step or something.' She stood.

‘Of course, chicky babe. I mean, boss. Go.' She flicked her hand to the door. ‘And maybe on the way back you could stop by Zac's house and see if he got your message.'

‘Yeah, yeah,' April muttered. ‘Might not have time.'

‘Make time.'

April left and went home first to get her car, then drove to the optometrist in the next town. She organised a replacement to be made and paid the bill, then gave her dad a quick call. Then she drove back into her street, but when she neared her house, there was another car there. At Zac's house. His ute was there too. Had he bought a brand new, fancy, black Audi? Talk about going over the top, the guy hardly went anywhere.

Someone got out of the car. A woman. She looked vaguely familiar, and as the smartly dressed woman walked up to Zac's porch, April drove into her driveway and noticed the logo on the car.

Oh no.

Desperation and apprehension gripped her inside. It
was
too late. And she
had
made an irrevocable mistake with Zac. And now he was going to sell his house and leave this street and her life forever, and some old guy would move in and he wouldn't have a cat like Juliet, he would have a dog that barked late at night and woke her up, and he would be one of those annoying people who whistled all the time and sang old tunes that you couldn't get out of your head and he would come over at random times and ask for sugar and anything else he needed, and chat to her for hours like she had all the time in the world, and then he might collapse and have a heart attack and she'd have to give him mouth to mouth and call an ambulance, and …

She jolted herself out of her worst-case scenario fantasyland and noticed Zac had opened his front door, and both he and the real estate agent were looking her way, as she stared at his house and sat idle in her car. She put her foot on the pedal and the car jumped forward suddenly towards her carport.

When she got out, the estate agent had gone inside. April began her walk back to work, walking as briskly as she could.

No, no, no, no,
was all she could think.

And when she arrived back at the store, a customer was wanting a refund for a candle that hadn't lasted as long as the label said, and she knew this for certain, because she had kept a timer and noted down the burning duration each time she had lit it.

April forced a ‘customer is always right' smile and hoped bad things didn't come in threes.

* * *

When they had dealt with the candle disaster, April told Belinda about what she'd seen at Zac's house.