Fragments (40 page)

She continues to kiss me passionately while driving her tongue against mine. I know we need to pull apart before her parents see us, but I can’t. The warmth she brings me leaves me feeling intoxicated. We eventually pull back when Robbie yells out, “Get a room!”

Bea turns her head and raises her arm in the air to give him the bird.

“Sucked in, loser. You owe me a twenty.”

I look at her in confusion, until she explains, “Robbie bet that you would be too shy to pash me in front of Mum and Dad. I said you would pash me hard while groping my ass. I won!”

I cringe and close my eyes.

“Tell me they didn’t see us just now …” I beg.

She throws her head back and laughs. Turning away from me, she raises her hand again, pointing to the right of Robbie.

“Sorry babe, but they’re kinda watching.”

I follow her finger and see both of her parents standing there. I am about to start apologising until I notice that both of them are laughing at me. I guess I’m definitely part of the family now. I’d be a fool to bet against my Bea.

*              *              *              *              *

I hate hospitals. The memory they evoke makes me shudder. The last time I was here, I had to view my pop’s body and all I could remember feeling was guilt. Guilt for not confronting my father over his abuse; guilt for not being a stronger man. Guilt for just being me. Back then, I was such a coward.

Walking into the hospital today, my senses send my brain into overdrive. The pungent smell of antiseptic lotion, the intermittent beeping of monitors, and the scattering of medical staff all have me thinking that hospitals are a collector of death. The façade it holds is all just a ticking time bomb until the next casualty. My heart rate accelerates, forcing me to take deep breaths to calm my wayward thoughts. I suddenly feel the tight clasp of her fingers in mine. Looking down at our intertwined hands, Bea squeezes my hand again and I can’t help but smile. My breathing slows down, my mind clears and my shoulders relax. Once again, she is the one who I should be worried about. Time to take my head out of my ass. I bend down and give her a quick kiss on the lips and whisper, “Thank you.”

When I lean back, she gives me an air kiss and tilts her head towards the elevator, gesturing

for us to continue.

              The trip up to Nonna’s passes quickly, and not too long after we have exited the elevator, we are stepping into her room.  Four beds are lined up, filling the room, and in the distance, we see her. She’s in the far corner, closest to the window, with her face turned towards us, and a large smile spread across her face. Post recovery, she is laying down with the bed sheet up to her waist and a morphine drip in her exposed left hand. Walking closer, I see dark and splotchy bruises colouring her marred skin. 

Bea tightens her grip on my hand, no doubt noticing them as well. When we are in earshot, Nonna looks down quickly at our intertwined fingers and before we can react, her voice croaks but she’s able to say clearly, “
FINALMENTE
,” startling her neighbouring patient.

              Both Bea and I chuckle at her reaction, and it warms my chest. Reaching the bed, she raises her sore arm and Bea moves forward quickly to let her touch her face as she says, “You look happy.” 

Bea smiles and looks up at me and without breaking eye contact, smiles widely.

“I am,” she whispers.

“Me, too,” I say before we look back at Nonna. No doubt I have a puppy love expression on my face. Along the way, I’ve lost my man card, and I couldn’t give two shits where it went.

              Nonna looks past us to Robbie as he steps forward and around us to lean right down, giving her a hug. He is delicate with her arms while also garnering a cheek pinch. As much as I loathed the cheek pinch as a kid, it’s something that I have come to respect now. Plus, it doesn’t seem to hurt so much.

I scrutinise her arm and can’t help but frown. This accidental fall has given us an untimely reminder that life is fragile and unpredictable. I’m just grateful that, though it’s a broken hip in its severity, it’s still a blessing rather than a fatal accident. My instincts kick into physio mode as I begin to survey the drip in her arm while I ask her questions in regards to her treatment.

“Are you in much pain?” 

Her smile barely covers a grimace as she looks back up at me.

“Nonna,” Bea pushes, “I can buzz the nurse if you want.”

She flicks her chin up and shakes her head. “No,
amore
, I’m good for now.”

Leaning closer, I tell her, “Once you’re home, Nonna, you need to do a little exercise every day so you can walk properly, okay?”

She rolls her eyes and taps my face, “You no worry about me. I’m okay. You look after my Beatrice.”

I chuckle while shaking my head. “I can do both, Nonna.” 

              The monitor begins to beep repeatedly and a male nurse eventually approaches, fiddling with the new dosage. 

“All good, Emanuella?”

Nonna beams up at him, smiling broadly. “Yes, sweetheart. Very good.”

I raise my eyebrows and look over to Bea. Her lips twitch as she watches the exchange. The nurse leaves and Nonna watches him go. 

“Nonna!” Bea admonishes. “Stop checking him out!”

Looking back at Bea, Nonna shrugs and feigns her innocence. “At my age, you can only look and it’s no harm, no?”

Bea rolls her eyes, while crossing her arms over her chest.

“It’s not a crime to look,” Nonna continues. “He was
molto bello
. You should see the doctor; he very, very sexy. ” 

              We stay with Nonna a little while longer as she asks us about our jobs, and when she reaches Bea, I feel her tense next to me while she talks about her dance instructor.

“I don’t know if I want to be there anymore, Nonna,” Bea admits. “It’s not how I saw my career to be.”

Nonna turns her hand over and signals for Bea to grab it. Linking their fingers together, Nonna says, “If you are unhappy,
amore,
you cannot stay there. You are still young; you’ll find somewhere else.” 

I study Bea’s face when Robbie interjects softly, “What do you want to do, Trice?”

“Dance, but not there. The industry is a lot uglier than I thought.”

I squeeze her shoulder and draw her closer to me.

“You’re not happy, Bea-Bea?” I mumble into her hair

“No, babe. It’s been even more shit lately.”

I frown, watching her slump in defeat.

“Well …” Robbie shuffles on his feet. “I might have a solution for you.”

Bea tilts her head at him, while crinkling her brows. “Um … I dance, Robbie. How could you help?”

“I just bought the Chaise Lounge, so I’m refurbishing and making it into a burlesque club.” We both stare at him, open-mouthed.

“You what, bro?” I stand there, puzzled by his revelation.

“Yeah, seeing as I have a business degree, I thought I’d use it. This came up and I’ve signed

the dotted line and I had your friend, Theo, help redesign the interior.” 

“That’s awesome!” Bea squeals, rushing to hug him. “That club was in a shit-hot area, too.

But what do you mean by giving me help?”

“There’s a stage, Bea. I’ve got a few ideas, but I’d rather sit down and discuss them with you. I already have half the entertainment sorted, but you’d be great to join them.” 

Intrigued, I grin and pat him on the back. “Well done, man. That’s cool. Looking forward to seeing the end result. Did you rename it?”

“Yeah.” He smiles cheekily. “The Emerald Vixen
.
”

              I leave Bea and Robbie to spend some quality family time with Nonna while I head off into town. I have a mission in mind, and I need Bea distracted. Driving to my destination, I pull up into the parking lot and excitedly head out.
Please don’t freak out, Bea.

Walking to the front door, my eyes are assaulted by all the bright images that adorn the windows.  I look at a couple, but not I’m not that adventurous. Seeing as I still know a few people here, it’s not surprising when I enter that I recognise the guy behind the desk. Jace sits up from his desk and salutes me. Rather than leave town with the rest of us, Jace
chose to stay here and open up his own business. His body has filled out since high school, and is also covered in his artwork. He also has multiple piercings in both ears, one on his side lip and one on his eyebrow. I feel pretty tame standing near him.

“Hey man,” I greet, holding out my hand.

He clasps it firmly and bellows, “Fuck Alex! Have not seen you in ages.”

Our conversation flows freely about our lives until I ask, “So, you got a free appointment?”

He mouth twitches as slaps my shoulder in jest. “Seriously?”

“As a heart attack.” 

If there was ever a way to imprint Bea onto me, now was the time. My skin feels clammy with nerves, but fuck it, I’m doing it.

Jace holds one of his booklets to me but I shake my head. I already know what I want. I grab the pen off his desk and begin writing.

“I want this one …” I explain as I write, “… to go here, and this one to go there.” I indicate to both parts. He grabs the sheet of paper and strolls over to the back of the shop.

“Follow me, kind Sir.” Looking over his shoulder he asks in a girlie voice, “Is this your first

time?”

He’s clearly enjoying the nerves that he sees me radiating. “Yes, arsehole and no, I don’t need the de-virginalise jokes.” 

He laughs and points to the chair. “Welcome to A Trace of Ink. Sit back and relax.”

I laugh, as clearly that’s not what I’ll be doing for the next hour.  I rip my shirt off and ease into the chair. Staring at the pictures on the walls, I focus ahead, trying to ignore the dull buzzing as it approaches my skin.  

Afterwards, I stare at his artwork with a huge grin on my face.

“Man,” he says. “You are one pussy-whipped mother f— ”

I flick my hand out and whack his arm. The sudden movement causes me to flinch in pain. 

“Yep.” I grimace back. “And a sore one, too. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I grab my wallet from my back pocket, but Jace flicks my hand away.

“Mate, it’s on the house,” he chides. “The two of you together is fucking epic.”

We pump fists as I head out. 

“Yeah, we are.” 

Walking out, the nerves begin to return, but I couldn’t stop the smile forming on my face if I tried. 

*               *              *              *                *             

              I’m nervous. Really, really fucking nervous.

After dropping Bea and Robbie home, I text Bea and ask her to meet me at the big gum where we used to run to. I don’t know how many times we ran here, me being a perv, while talking about all sorts of things. Our love of music, hers usually the angry-girl variety, and just a mutual understanding of each other.

I need to talk to her, here at our special place. Pacing back and forth, my hands are in my pockets as I wait for her to arrive. My shirtsleeves feel tight around my wrists; I’m hotter than Satan’s arsehole.
Don’t be mad, Bea, don’t be mad.

I turn when I hear approaching footsteps and see Bea jogging up to me. Her hair has fallen out in places from her ponytail and her cheeks are red, but still she is the most beautiful woman that I have ever known; and she’s finally mine. Time to let her know just how much.

“Babe,” she puffs. “What a track down memory lane!” 

I smile and step towards her, and grab her face with my hands and kiss her soundly. She moans into my mouth and I draw her closer. I could kiss her forever. I almost forget why I called her, until she accidentally presses against my ribs, causing me to flinch.

I gently step back from her. She narrows her eyes in confusion, while still clutching my shirt. I encase her hands in mine and begin peeling her fingertips away. She moves her hands back up to grip my shirt. 

“Bea, I need to tell you something.”

She stills as her fingers grip tighter into my shirt.

“It’s not bad,” I continue quickly. “It’s a little crazy, but I hope it’s a good crazy and not a fucked-up crazy as …”

She rubs my arms and leans up to kiss my lips. “Babe, just tell me,” she pleads. “Telling a girl that you need to ‘tell them something’ is a recipe for stress.”

I chuckle nervously and puff out a big breath.

“Wait!” she interrupts. “Will I need my iPod afterwards?”

I laugh as memories of her ignoring me while listening to her music fill my mind while we were near this tree. “Only the happy stuff, not your angry, crazy girl bands,” I quip. “I promise you won’t ignore me afterwards.”

At least, I hope not.

“Nitocris is amazing. Just sucks they broke up.” 

Fuck, she’s cute. I want to strip her down, but I can’t … yet.