How To Save A Life (26 page)

I
leap to my feet, but Jase stands stock still. This can't be happening. This cannot be real.

Not when everything was finally starting to look up.

"Jase," I call, but it's barely more than a whisper.

"That's him?" Ana asks, looking to Jase, then me, and back. "Shit."

"He's totally Channing hot," Kat says dreamily, and I shoot her a look. "Just sayin' ..."

My legs are frozen in place and I can't seem to move from the spot where I'm standing. How can he be here? How can I have been so careless?

But I know the answer. It's easy. Because for once, things were going right. In fact, better than right. Things were good, and I let my guard down, and now look what's happened.

I force myself to walk toward him, one step at a time. His arms are folded across his chest, and in this moment, he isn't Jase, my Jase who leaves sweet letters on my car windscreen. He's Jase who's been to prison, Jase who isn't to be messed with, Jase who hit his father. There's no sympathy on his face.

I stop in front of him and look into his eyes. They're burning with anger.

"Jase, I'm so sorry," I whisper, and it breaks him. Devastation flashes through those golden orbs, before they're quickly steeled and cold, angry Jase takes over.

"What the hell, Lia?"

"I ... I'm so sorry."

"You're in school." His gaze rakes up and down my body. "And it's your birthday?"

I nod, my lower lip trembling.
Do not cry.
I have to stay strong.

"Your eighteenth birthday?"

More nods.

"Shit!" he roars, and I flinch as his hands fly wide. "Why would you lie to me? After everything I told you?"

"I didn't mean to!" I protest. "You just kind of presumed—"

"But then I outright asked you, and you said yes." His voice breaks over the last word, and I can hear the pain in him, know the way his heart is breaking over my false truth. It doesn't make me feel better though. It makes me feel ten times worse.

"Did you think at all, Lia? You're working, under eighteen, obviously without an RSA, in my bar. What would you have done if the police came, huh?" he yells.

"I was going to go out the back, then disappear through the stock door ..."

"That's it, huh? That was your brilliant plan?"

"It sounded a lot better in my head."

"The fines I woulda been slapped with—I can't even ..." He runs his hands through his brown hair, the dappled afternoon light catching it through the trees.

"Well, what about you, huh?" I think back to my talk with the girls, desperate for something, for any leverage in this fight that I stand no chance of winning. "What about that guy I saw you yelling at the other day?"

Jase blinks, and for a moment he looks taken aback. “I wish you hadn’t seen that,” he says. “I’m not the licensee of the bar. Soraya’s brother is. That’s why I keep her around as a waitress, as a payback, plus I give her bro a retainer every week. He just came around to pressure me to date her, and I told him I’m not a whore.” He spits the word out, and I shiver. “Apparently, I’m just a sucker who fell for a liar instead.”

The words stab into me, and I find my fire once again. Because damn it, I didn’t mean to hurt him. And surely he’s done something wrong too. In desperation, I ask, “Well how about the bar, huh? How’d you get so much money to start one, and to pay this retainer?”

He raises his eyebrows, the expression on his face one of pure sarcasm. "Oh, really? You wanna know about that?"

All of a sudden, I don’t.

No.

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"While I was in prison, doing time for hitting that bastard, he took it one step too far. Pushed her down a set of stairs." He steps closer to me, so close that I can see the sheen of tears that veil his eyes. "She died, Lia. He killed her. I started the bar with her life insurance cheque."

I open and close my mouth like a goldfish. "Jase ... Jase, I didn't know."

"Because we're
new
, Lia. We haven't talked about everything yet. That's why I hadn't told you about the bar stuff." He sighs, and looks out to the lake.

"I never meant to hurt you," I say, and my voice shakes. "I just ... I needed that job so badly. I needed to save the rest of the cash so I could get away. I didn't expect to fall in love. I didn't expect
us
."

"And what about us?" His voice is lower now, and he takes a step closer. "I trusted you."

"And I trust you—"

"I thought we had something special."

"We do." A tear snakes its way down my cheek as I place my hands on his chest. He doesn't push me away, but he doesn't pull me close, either.

"I thought I was falling in love with you."

My breath hitches in my throat at the painfully beautiful words I didn't realise I was longing to hear. The man I love felt the same. It's the most exquisite torture. It tears me apart.

"I'm falling in love with you," I say on a sob, and I look up into his eyes for any sign of hope, for any sign of a future for us. I zero in on his lips, those plump, kissable lips, and lean toward them, hoping I can make it right. His hands go to cover mine, and for one second, one split second I think it's all going to be okay, and that he's going to forgive me for this.

Then he drags my hands from his shirt, letting them go when they fall loosely by my sides.

"Goodbye, Lia." He turns and walks back the way he came.

My knees weaken, and I crumble to a heap on the ground. The fall hurts, and the dirt and rocks smart against my knees, but I don't care, because I just lost the best thing I have, and I don't know how to get it back.

I sob as he walks further and further away, and just as he rounds the corner that will take him out of sight, he calls out, without turning around.

"Happy birthday."

And then I break.

***

Tears rain from my eyes like it's a thunderstorm. They're so heavy, so thick I can't see. My chest heaves with emotion and I shake, my whole body shakes and stings and ravages and aches with this raw need for him.

"I love him," I cry, just as I feel an arm around my shoulders.

"It's okay."

"Hey, we're so sorry, babe."

After that, I don't hear them anymore—all I hear is the throb of my heartache and those words from his lips. He'd thought he was falling in love with me ...
thought
.

And now he never will.

And I only have myself to blame.

I cry harder, and my throat aches as the girls stand me up and guide me back to the car. I slide into the back seat and one of them even does my seat belt up as they drive me home.

Ellie gets out of the car and walks me to the door, unlocking it for me when my fingers just won't work. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No. Thanks, but no."

He was the one good thing
.

The house is quiet, and for once I'm thankful that Mum's obviously with Smith because right now, I just need to be alone with my tears and my sorrow and my anger at myself for being so damn stupid. Why hadn't I just told him the truth?

But no amount of could haves or what ifs will bring him back.

No matter how much I want it to.

Step number five: Bleed in private

I crawl under the covers of my bed, still in my uniform, and cry myself to sleep, the taste of raspberry still ghosted on my lips.

I
lie on my bed, throwing a tennis ball up at the ceiling and then snapping it close to my chest. It's a droll, mindless activity. It's exactly what I need right now.

I still can't believe I ruined things with Jase. And while there's a little part of me thinking
well, it was going to end when you moved to Melbourne anyway
, I almost don't know that it's true. Because maybe we could have made long distance work. Maybe he could have moved.

Maybe I could have found a way to stay.

I just know that losing him is a million times worse than losing Duke ever was. This pain is physical, a hollow ache in the pit of my stomach. I hunger for him like a woman starved, and we've only been apart for six hours.

"Lia! Come downstairs, baby," Mum calls from the stairwell, and I press my eyes shut. All I want to do is kind of feel sorry for myself, but I know that won't achieve anything.

"C'mon, Lia," I mutter, pulling myself up into a sit. "You're a doer. And you still have Melbourne."

The words fall flat. I don't even cross the day off on the back of my door.

Instead, I stand and thump my way downstairs, where Mum and Smith are chatting away in the kitchen. Mum's stirring a pot of something that actually smells quite good, and while Smith has a glass of wine in his hand, I think that's water in the glass next to Mum at the stove.

Then again, it could be straight vodka.

With her, it's hard to tell.

"Honey, you look terrible." Mum drops the spoon in the pot and walks over, placing her hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it." The words stick in my throat, coming out croaky and just all wrong sounding.

"No one's hurt my birthday girl, have they?" Smith smiles, but I still cringe at his use of the word
my
.

Be nice, Lia. He's lost someone too.

I shake my head. "No."
Pause
. "Well, they have, but I deserved it."

"Oh baby, well I have two birthday surprises that are gonna cheer you right up." Mum grins. "But first, I need you to go have a shower, put something nice on. You don't want to be wearing that ol' uniform at your birthday dinner."

It's then I notice what they're wearing. Smith has a button-down shirt on, and Mum's in one of her summer party dresses. She's even got a smear of lipstick on, and once more I feel like an ingrate for not even noticing how much effort they were going to for me.

I traipse up the stairs and take a shower, which amazingly, does make me feel better. The hot water scalds my skin and the steam clouds the room, blocking my body from the view of the mirror. This time, when I get out, I wipe a patch clean, though. I want to see those scars.

Because if today taught me one thing, it's that I can't keep hiding and running from my past. If I don't face it, I risk losing everything I have.

It’s the scar from the accident, the broken glass that tore my stomach to shreds. The scar from where I broke free.

I run my hand over it, tracing it, mirroring Jase's action from several weeks earlier. This flesh is a part of me.

Maybe I'm not losing this battle called life. Maybe I'm still fighting, even if it's taking me a while to figure it out.

I get dressed and head downstairs again, this time in a nice dress. The last time I'd worn it had been to Dad's funeral.

I know Mum notices—she eyes it off, and I see her open her mouth to say something, then she snaps her jaw closed. I don't know why I'm wearing it either. But for some reason, today I don't hate him quite so much.

Today I hate him a tiny bit less.

"Baby, we have a surprise for you." Mum places a fourth plate at the dining table, and I cock my head and frown.

"Four?"

"I know you've been a bit down lately ..." I frown. Unless she means specifically this afternoon, I don't quite know what she's referring to. "And we had a feeling it was to do with maybe a certain breakup?"

Oh no.

Oh, no, no, no,
no-no-no-no.

"But Smith can be very persuasive when he wants to be." Mum gives him a warm smile, and Smith just takes another sip of his wine.

"You didn't ..." I can't find the words to finish that sentence, but I don't have to, because Mum gestures to the kitchen to her left.

"Look who we convinced to come to your birthday dinner!"

Out walks Duke, looking just about as enthused to be there as I am to see him. My heart skips a beat, then resumes at double, no, triple time as my wide-eyed panic takes in Duke, Duke Finnegan,
in my house
.

He's going to see.

Please don't let him see how messed up my life really is.

"What are you doing here?" I hiss, as if Mum and Smith can't hear me.

Duke glances at Smith, then back at me, and gives a slight shake of his head. "I wanted to ... wish you a happy birthday."

"You could have sent a text."

"Lia, be nice." Mum gives me these wide eyes that seem to be trying to convey some secret message by bugging out of her head. "You catch more flies with honey ..."

"Mum, Duke and I broke up. Remember?"

"Yes, but we know that you were sad about it, so we're trying to y'know, perhaps subtly bring the two of you back together."

"It's not subtle when you tell us that that's the plan." I raise my eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, but I already have a girlfriend," Duke says, directing this line to Smith. "Maybe I should go."

"Stay." Smith nods, pointing to a chair. "Sit. Eat."

Duke obediently takes his place and pushes the chair into the table.

"Why are you taking orders from him?" I shake my head.

"He ..." Duke swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and then shakes his head. "I'm here to celebrate your birthday. It's not a crime."

A sick feeling brews in the pit of my stomach. I don't know what Smith has on Duke, or what he's done to bring him here, but I know it's not good. I look at the tall man towering over me, his big arms folded across his broad chest, and I wonder just how much sway he has over Mum. I know she said he was just being fatherly toward me before, but that was before I knew how serious the game he was playing was, and I have a feeling things are about to get a whole lot deeper.

"Sit, all of you. I'll grab the food." Mum flits off into the kitchen, somehow oblivious to this awkward-as-hell situation.

Smith nods toward my chair and pulls it out. I sit, perching myself on the edge of my seat. Every muscle in my body is alert. Something isn't right. Something isn't right
at all
.

"So Lia ..." Smith downs the rest of his wine and then opens a new bottle that's sitting in the middle of the table. I don't know how many he's had, or when he started drinking, but he doesn't seem too wasted. A dangerous air of consciousness swirls around him. He's formidably in control. "Tell me what you got for your birthday."

"I got this bracelet." I hold up my wrist and display the eighteen charm that the girls got me.

"And who gave you that?" he asks, hovering his body over me as he pulls out a chair. I feel exposed, and I want to cross my arms over the top of my dress that he can most probably see down, but I don't dare. He sits down slowly, too slowly, and my flesh crawls with goosebumps.

"Some of the girls."

"Which girls?"

"Kat, Ana and Ellie," I say, keeping my eyes on Duke. He's looking at me, but his face is schooled to neutral.

What does he have on you, Duke?

"Pour yourself a wine, girl. You're a woman now. You can do that." Smith nods at the bottle. "Although I guess you've already been doing that at the bar." He gives a menacing laugh, and I manage a titter as accompaniment, and then Duke does this weird cough-giggle thing. It's like a scene from a horror movie, only this horror is real, too real, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe I should try and get out of here while I still can.

You're being ridiculous, Lia
, my logical brain rations. He's a lonely man who never got to celebrate an eighteenth with his daughter. And aside from the creepy watching you sleep bizzo, he's never behaved in an odd manner around you. Well, odd that can't be explained off as drinking too much.

"I got you something." Smith reaches behind him into his back pocket and pulls out a small gift. It's a square about 10cm by 10cm, and only a few centimetres thick. The wrapping paper is a glossy gold, sticky tape large and messy, holding it all in place.

"Thank you." I take his offering and place it in front of me.
See? Nice guy. Lonely nice guy.

"Go ahead." Smith nods to the present and pours us both another wine, because somehow in the space of what was only a few minutes he's finished the one he had before, and I'm starting to think that maybe he's celebrating with a little more gusto than anyone else at this party.

I pull open the wrapping paper, the thick, too-long tape making the job rather tricky. Finally I get it free, and I unfold the paper, revealing the present inside.

Bile lurches in my throat.

It's a black lacy G-string.

Nice guy my arse.

"D'you like it?" he asks, slapping me on the back. "You're a woman, so I thought you could use a woman's underwear. S'how you keep blokes like this one"—he jerks his head in Duke's direction—"keen."

Duke actually does snort-laugh at that, and I shoot him my best death stare, which quickly shuts him up. "Ahem, sorry, Smith. I told you before, I do have another girlfriend."

"Maybe we should get Lia to model them panties for you! Maybe then you'd reconsid—"

"Oh my God, Smith, no!" I protest, and he laughs, and this time it's not cruel, or mean, simply a drunk guy getting off on his own joke. Still, a part of me keeps on shrivelling, withering away. Duke will tell everyone. I'll be an absolute laughing stock.

And I don’t care.

Because compared to losing Jase, it doesn’t even register on my scale of hurt.

"Sorry, Lee Lee, baby." He slaps his knee. "You gotta admit, though, the look on that kid's face ..."

"Dinner," Mum calls in a shrill voice before walking into the room, oven mitts on either side of a large pot. "It's a chicken and leek pie. Your favourite." Mum smiles at me as she places the white baking dish in the middle of the table. Her hands are shaking again.

"To Lia!" Smith holds his wine glass up in the air. "Becoming a woman."

The way he says the word makes my skin crawl, but I politely hold up my wine glass too and ignore the part of me that is wishing I was not attending World's Most Awkward Family Dinner and that I was in fact with Jase right now. I'm pining for the guy I just lost, and staring at the guy I'd once thought made me safe.

Jase doesn't make me feel safe. He pushes me just to feel, and that's worth so much more.

New resolve musters in my gut. I have to fight for him. I can't just let him out of my life.

"Lee Lee? Duke asked you a question," Mum interrupts my thought, and I smile politely.

Squelch

A large serving of pot pie goops onto my plate courtesy of Smith, and I nod my thanks.

"I was just asking when your scholarship audition is." Duke smiles politely.

"On Friday," I reply. "They only do one round of auditions throughout the country, so I've got permission from Mrs McDonald to take the day off school."

"Cool."

Squelch

A similarly gooey looking pile of grey gunk lands on Duke's plate. "Thanks, Smith."

Soon, the only sound in the room is the screeching of the butter knives against the white porcelain plates as we all eat the food Mum prepared. It's the first time she's cooked in months, and even though it may not be
Masterchef
quality, it's actually far tastier than it looks.

"We're going to miss you so much when you go, baby." Mum pauses and looks at me, sincerity shining in her eyes. The glass of what I presumed earlier was water really is just good ol' H2O, and it sits in front of her. My heart swells with pride, and I know that
this
is what she's gotten me for my birthday. Dinner. Family. Normalcy.
Sobriety.

I couldn't have asked for a greater gift.

Smith, on the other hand, doesn't quite seem to be on the sobriety train. He knocks back drink after drink, opens more bottles of wine, a third, a fourth, and no one is keeping pace with him. No one is even trying.

Mum doesn't seem to notice his outrageous behaviour though, and still laughs at every lame joke he cracks, still giggles when he suggests I kiss the nearest high school boy when I cut my birthday cake and the butter knife—which it's impossible to cut cake cleanly with—comes out dirty.

"Ah, go on." He shoves my shoulder a little too hard. "It's your birthday, he won't say no."

"It's okay, Smith." I hold up my hands, butter knife still firmly in them. "I don't actually want to."