Heartbreaker (3 page)

Bennett opens my door. I love his car, or should I say truck. A 79 Silverado Chevy. It’s his pride and joy. He bought it with his own money, and restored it, which means volumes to Bennett. His dad is part owner in the company we
work for and is pretty well off. Not in an uber rich, helicopter pad kind of way, but enough that he has powerful connections and lives the good life. Bennett doesn’t buy into that though. Well, he doesn’t anymore. He wants to prove himself. Not sure who to, but that fact alone seems to motivate Bennett.

He puts my bag on the small front step and pulls me in for a quick hug. He doesn’t say anything, just gives my pouting lips a quick peck.

I turn. “Where are you going?”

“Thought, I’d catch up on some texts and have a coffee in that nice new place. I’ll be back.”

The silver café, I think and I remember the last time I was there. I bite my lip. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to face my dad alone. But I know I have to. This isn’t Bennett’s bed, its mine, and I need to lie in it.

He yanks open his car door, then stops, scowling at me. “Bales … get going, before I push you in there.”

I’m tempted to take him up on his threat. Might be the only way. I fidget some more, and I hear Bennett’s car door slam and I look up to see him with his hands on his hips, about to come for me.

Uh oh.

Then
I hear the handle on the front door turn, and the door creaks opens. I turn back to be faced with my dad. From behind, I hear another slam of a door, and Bennett’s car starts.

My dad looks pale but I can’t read much more on his face. He
was always good at hiding his thoughts. Drove my mom insane, she could never work out what he was thinking.

I fidget some more and hang out on the front step. I have no clue what to say.

My dad looks me over, then pulls me too him and hugs me tight. God, that feels nice. He hasn’t given me one of those bear hugs in so long. I cling to him, and I choke back more tears. I’m kind of glad I had that purge with Bennett before, or I’d be a sobbing mess again.

Dad pulls away and kisses my head, and its then I see it. Wo
rry, fear, pain in his eyes. Maybe he’s not so good at hiding his feelings any more.

“I’m sorry, Dad
,” I say. Because I really am. I’m sorry he has that look in his eyes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell him what happened to me and I didn’t come home sooner. I'm sorry for so many reasons.

“Honey, don’t ever say that. None of this is your fault. Come on, let's go in and talk.”

I nod and follow him into the living room. He’s tidied. Well in dad’s way. There aren’t any dirty dishes hanging around and it looks like the floors been vacuumed. It’s enough.

We sit on the couch, nice and close and dad grabs my hand. “Are you ready to talk about it?” he asks.

“No.” I say automatically. Because really if I’m honest I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.

“Do you
want
to talk about it?” he rephrases.

The same answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I know he deserves better. He’s hurting, because I’m hurting and he needs to heal just like me.

“Okay, what do you want to know?” I say.

He squeezes my hand. “The only thing I want to know is, that you’re okay. Or that you’re going to be.”

Wow, right, so we’re starting with an easy one.

I pluck at my t-shirt. “I really don’t know right now. But I am trying. Dr Richards was really nice and talked to me a lot. He helped, and he said I really need to exorcise my demons and talk to someone about it." I bite the
inside of my cheek. "I um ... haven’t till now.”

My dad shifts in his seat and sighs.

I may have just hurt him even more with those last four words, so I turn to face him and look into his eyes. “I should have told you. And that’s why I’m sorry. But I just wanted to bury it, so I didn’t have to deal with it. I’m much better at pretending and ignoring.”

Dad g
ives a small nod and I wonder if I got that particular trait from him. He was a closed book when mom died. That’s how we both dealt with it. Like the last chapter in that book had closed and we didn’t like the way the story ended, so we focussed on a different story.

Trouble is, no matter how many new books you try, there are always more bad endings. Closing one book doesn’t make that go away, just adds another chapter to the pain.

He blows out a big breath. “Okay. Enough for now. You need to rest. And to eat. I made your favorite.”

My stomach churns. My returning appetite when I came home has well and truly left the building. I hardly touched any food in the hospital. I hear Dr Richard’s voice in my head, telling me I need to kick start my recovery by eating aga
in. He said I was way below my normal weight. I’ve always been a little on the skinny side, but I never baulked at eating or worried about my weight before. Now it’s annoying to have to consciously consider every morsel I put to my lips. Makes my stomach churn some more.

“That’d be great Dad. The hospital food was awful.” I part lie.

“Yeah,” Dad chuckles and gets up. “I think they buy in bulk from the frozen food factory.”

“Yep, that or the pet food factory.”

Dad laughs again. And I smile.

We’ve broken the ice, and even though it’s not enough, it’s a beginning and it’ll do for now.

FiVe

______________________________________

So I’m sitting on my bed in Scooby- doo pajamas feeling like I’m fourteen again. Gerry's sitting opposite, crossed legged like me. She’s wearing her usual rainbow of colors. Today she’s got three different colored vests layered over her black skinny jeans, a tangle of silver and black bracelets jingling up her arms. She’s put a couple of white streaks in her pink hair, and it's straight not spiky today. Her boots are on the floor and her thick red and white striped socks make me smile, reminding me of Witchy Poo from HR Puff n’ Stuff, my favorite retro show.

I’ve missed her. Didn’t realize how much till now.

“So … how are you feeling?” she asks.

This is the first time I’ve seen her since I left the hospital, and I know today’s the day I want to start getting back on track. I’ve been lost for too long. I just hope she’s up for it.

I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

I pop a jelly bean in my mouth and crunch down. Dad bought me a huge bag full. He’s stocked the cupboards with all my childhood favorites in an attempt to see some meat on my bones, or so he puts it. Not sure that sounds altogether attractive, but I’m not arguing with him. And I have been trying.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” she says and smirks.

We loved the Big Bang Theory and were always quoting lines from it. I haven’t heard that one for a while and it makes me smile.

“Well, now you mention it, I did have something to ask you.”

She shifts forward, poised on her knees as her eyes widen. “So ask.”

“Um … apparently I’m a bit of a mess.”

She shakes her head.
“You? No. Who fed you that rubbish?”

I throw a cushion at her
and she grins as she fobs it off, then she stares at me, doing that waiting thing she does.

I twist some of my hair around my finger. I wonder for a moment if I should get it cut and dyed orange.

Of course I’m being ridiculous.

Dad will think its attention seeking, or I’ve completely lost it. He knows how much I like my hair. It’s the only thing I got from my mom. She had exactly the same thick brown hair that hung in loose curls. I’ve always loved that mine was just like hers. I bite my lip remembering.

Gerry clicks her fingers in front of my face and I refocus on the room and her.

She still doesn’t say anything just pops out those buggy brown eyes.

“Alright, stop freaking me out by looking at me like that. I’ll share.”

She reins in the bug eyes and puts a black jelly bean in her mouth, gesturing with her flapping hands for me to continue.

“The doctor said I should talk to someone. Purge my soul, so to speak. He gave me this.” I pull out the pink petal card and hand it to her.

Gerry reads the name. “Have you made an appointment?” she asks, giving me back the card like it’s no big deal.

She really is the best friend in the world. I really love her.

“Um ...
I’d rather not. I’d rather talk to you.”

Her eyes melt with warmth and she gives me a big goofy grin.
“Really?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay. I mean I don’t want to bring you down with my sorry life. I’m not after pity.”

“Bales, I’m really stoked that you want to talk to me. It means a lot. Particularly since we’ve been out of touch for a while. But you know I’d do anything for you. You’re still my best friend.”

Wow, we’ve never talked like this and it’s packing a bit of an emotional punch, even before I’ve started telling her the whole drama of my life.

I swallow. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you or Bennett, but I’m so glad to have you both.”

She frowns a little. “So what about Bennett? Have you already talked to him?”

“He knows most of it, just not the messy details. I told him I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Wow, and how did your other best girlfriend take that news.” She grins and rolls her eyes.

I give a small smile. “He was devastated of course, but said he’d live.”

Gerry shakes her head. “What
’s the deal with you two?”

I give another smug smile. “Well I love him to death. He’s been my savior the past two years and done everything for me…

“And he’s scorching hot.”

I tilt my head. Gerry hates the word
hot
and never uses it. She thinks it’s a cliché. And no guy in the near vicinity has ever deserved that ranking.
Interesting!

I arch a brow.

“What?” she says bugging her eyes at me again.

“Since when do you say
hot
in reference to any guy?”

“Yeah, well no one has come within a mile of that status before. But honestly that boy is in a league all his own. I can’t believe you haven’t even thought about that. I mean, I know you still hold a torch for Cam, but Bennett’s worthy of making you forget your own kin, he’s so … ”

Wait a minute. Stop the bus and reverse.

“Cam? How do …”

She puts up her hand. “Please. I’ve known you all your life Bailey Ryan. Two years changes nothing. I know why you were sitting in the cafe that day. I know who you were hoping to see. And you got your wish by the way.”

I scoff. “Not quite. And I wasn’t
wishing
to see him.”

“Okay, hoping.” She smirks, and I glare at her.

I want to question her about what happened after I passed out, but I decide to save that for another time, if I’m ever going to do some purging I should start right now, and talking about Cam does not belong in that conversation.

“Whatever.” I fob her off.

She tucks her legs under her and shifts a bit closer leaning on her elbow. Getting comfortable.

“Okay, Bales, I’m here, I’m all ears. So spill.”

I suck in a deep breath. “Yeah, well I suppose I should give you a run down on all that’s happened since I left. Then you’ll have some perspective.”

She gives me a reassuring smile and I take another breath, thinking this is going to be the longest talk of my life. But I need to get it off my chest, to lift the weight before it crushes me.

And so I begin.

Two years ago…

I arrive in Chicago
by bus on an icy winter’s day, a few days into the New Year.

I ring my mom’s cousin and he agrees I can stay with him, his girlfriend, and her two kids for a couple of days. I’ve only met him a few times, but he's the only contact I have.

I’ve been waiting in the ill heated arrival lounge for two hours, when he finally turns up. I only have one bag and a backpack. I didn’t have time to pack more and didn’t really have a clue what I’d need.

He rushes in wearing a dark coat and black jeans. His brown hair is messy, his light blue eyes framed by square red glasses. He gives me a quick smile and peck on the cheek while he swings my bag over his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo.”

I give him a tight smile back, rather than scowling at the
kiddo
remark. Pointless to tackle that. Then I follow him out into the Chicago night. The traffic's buzzing, the high rises scattered across the skyline all lit up like Christmas trees. Neon signs of countless restaurants flash repeatedly, blinding me. I immediately miss the fresh night air and starry skies of my hometown. If it weren’t for the fact Brad had gone to all the trouble to pick me up I might have been tempted to catch the next bus back home, but I suck it up and walk with him to his car. A beat up two door red hatchback with paint peeling across the hood.

I know from what mom told me years ago, that Brad is an associate for a big Chicago law firm. I guess they mustn’t pay much in the first few years. I kind of thought he’d be making big money b
y now and drive something flashy.

He seems to notice my perusal of his car. “She runs well. Mia has the better car. She needs it for the kids.”

Ah! I nod and clamber in with my backpack on my knee. Brad puts my other bag in the hatch and gets in, then starts the car and pulls out into the traffic. We chat about mindless stuff. The last time I saw him was at Mom’s funeral. But we don’t mention that. There’s no mention of mom at all. Which annoys me a little. Dad and I pretend it never happened, but I expected her relatives might want to reminisce about her.

After about an hour’s drive through thick traffic we arrive at a small house on the outskirts of the city. It looks pretty and tidy. A white painted house with matching white mailbox, which stands out on the bright green lawn.

“Here we are,” Brad announces.

I turn to him. “Thanks so much for letting me stay. I hope it won’t be for long.”

He gives a small nod but never offers a reply. I wonder right then and there if this is a good idea. He’s nice enough, but I’m not sure if I’m going to be as welcome as I thought I might be.

And boy was I right.

I last two days with Brad and Mia.

They fight a lot. And not the silent, I’m not talking to you, kind of fighting. The volatile, passionate kind. And it's not just them, its Mia’s teenage kids as well. The screaming hurts my ears and makes me more than uncomfortable. Mostly they ignore my presence, seems even with a visitor in their midst nothing fazes them from their normal routines of yelling and stomping around the place. I realize how peaceful it was at home. Dad might not talk much but it was way better than this.

So I find a place to live. I have some money stashed away from when Cam and I were saving for our overseas backpacking adventure. An adventure that never saw the light of day. I figure this is a new adventure, and it might not be on the European continent, but it's an adventure none the less, only it doesn't come with Cam.

I think about him every minute of every day for those first few months, I'm so tempted to answer his messages, call him back and explain. But I know if I let him speak to me, he'll convince me to come home and I'm not ready. I’ve taken the first big step by leaving, and I don't want to be a coward by backing out.

My mom’s voice always in my head:
Live now, don’t plan. Act. Planning is an excuse to never do anything. Some people spend their whole life planning and never achieve anything... You need to get out there Bailey. Get out in the world and experience all life has to offer ... I never did .... I never had that chance ... don't let anyone or anything hold you back.

I want to be, like mom wanted me to be. But I also know deep down I’m a planner like my dad, but I don’t like to recognize that in myself. I can and will be impulsive and fun. Surely I can change.

The apartment I find is in a dodgy part of town. The trains run by the window, and my neighbors shut and bolt their doors in record time. There's no, “Hi there, new neighbor.” Only the occasional suspicious glance. Otherwise its heads down, hands shoved in pockets, move along and move out of the way.

The apartment is cheap, fitting my main and only criteria. It has two rooms. One is a bedroom, or so the ad in the newspaper said. It isn't much bigger than our bathroom at home. I do manage to squeeze a single bed in the tight space, but nothing else. The living room houses, a one bench, one basin, one stove, three cupboard kitchen, leaving enough room for a second hand couch, which I manage to find at a thrift store along with two dining chairs and a card table. Not much, but it's all mine. And for the first time in my life, I find myself alone, living the adventure. Ready for action and ready for fun.

Yeah, right!

All good adventures need good characters and good times and I'm all set to find both. I don't know anyone. I've never been to Chicago before. I read every guide book I can get my hands on and quickly work out the pattern of the streets and where the essential places are. I get around mostly by train and bus. I decide as cities go it's pretty picturesque with its parks and great lakes. I take a boat down the Chicago River and listen to all the stories of the gangster era, infamous in the city's history. I am acclimatizing, or so I think.

I get myself a job at a bar and work as often as I can. The tips are good, and I get on well with the other staff. Everyone is friendly, but no one steps over the boundary rope to be an actual friend. Everyone busy with their own lives and issues. It's okay, but it isn't enough. Once I’ve done all the tourism Chicago has to offer, I get bored in my time off. I don't have a television, and I’ve read most of the books I’d piled on my kindle, and with no internet access, I can't download anymore.