In the Shadow of Satellites (22 page)

He turns to look at me over his shoulder, and the pain in his eyes is so clear and so raw, it takes my breath away. I’ve never seen him look this vulnerable before. He’s usually the one comforting me, yet right now, I want to return the favour with interest.

“Maybe not, but I’m not really in the right frame of mind to explain myself.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Don’t I? I just don’t want to be the party pooper, y’know? Everyone’s having a great time. Chris is heading off on a new adventure. I don’t want this weekend to end on a sour note.”

“It won’t.”

“Then I don’t want to be the one thing they talk about when they leave here tomorrow,” he says, his voice hardening.

I’ve never heard him sound this bitter. I’m momentarily frozen. I want to help, to soothe, to comfort, but I’m not sure how. Then, the mood changes. He turns around to face me, leaning back against the sink. The vulnerability is gone, as is the bitterness, and he’s the old Luke again.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “That was overly dramatic, wasn’t it? Must be the beer. It’s been a long day.”

Just like the first time he shared something personal, he tries to blame the alcohol for lowering his defences. It’s funny, because considering what we’ve shared since, I thought we were past all that.

“You don’t have to apologise,” I say, taking his usual role. “And for the record, it’s not that bad. I probably over-reacted because I wasn’t used to seeing a half-naked man coming out of my bathroom.”

He smiles, and like the first time we talked about this, I still have the lingering feeling he’s looking for some kind of acceptance from me. I want the chance to find out if my instincts are right, but I don’t get it because just then Chris and Ana come charging up the steps like a herd of elephants, exploding into the living room, dripping wet and grinning from ear to ear.

“Loser!” Chris pants at her, making the L sign with his right hand on his forehead.

Ana slaps it down, pushing him down onto the couch.

“You’re such a fucking cheat!”

“Jealousy will get you nowhere, princess!”

Then they spot us standing in the kitchen and the hilarity is over. Chris’s gaze flits from me to Luke and back again, while Ana tries to cover for us.

“Can you grab us some towels, babe? We’re dripping all over the place.”

I oblige immediately, grateful for a reprieve from Chris’s calculating stare. He’s put the pieces together in mere seconds, and I have no idea what he’s thinking behind those eyes. I grab a couple of towels from the cupboard and hand them over.

“How was the water?” Luke asks, stepping through into the living room, arms folded across his chest.

“Cold,” Ana says, blotting her long brown hair with the towel.

“That’s what I thought.”

Chris doesn’t speak, and it feels like the temperature of the room has dropped a couple of degrees. He picks up his towel and, still rubbing his hair with it, disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The three of us swap silent glances. He knows, and he’s not happy. My heart sinks. I don’t want to find one friend only to lose another.

“Luke, maybe we should go outside for a bit,” Ana says gently, indicating the bathroom with a nod of her head.

I’m not sure what she’s up to, but Luke seems to know. He follows her, leaving me standing in the living room, a puddle of guilt and angst, waiting for Chris to come out of the bathroom. I sink into the armchair nearest me and wait. It feels like forever, but it can’t be more than a few minutes. When he finally emerges, he assesses the situation instantly. His eyes flit from Ana and Luke out on the deck, to me, sitting staring at him.

He sighs and sinks into the other armchair, towel still in hand.

“So,” he says. “You and Luke.”

I want to correct him, because technically, there is no me and Luke. We haven’t done anything yet. Nothing except one accidental kiss and a hasty retreat. But even as the thought passes through my head, I know it’s much more than that.

“It’s not what you think,” I say.

“Isn’t it? Then what is it exactly?”

I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that. The guilt I’ve been trying so hard to push to the side lately is right back there, front and centre, pounding on my chest.

“It’s not anything,” I murmur. “Not yet. Maybe never. I don’t know.”

I can feel the tears building, but more from frustration than anything else. I don’t know how to explain this to him. I barely know how to explain it to myself.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbles, dropping the towel and coming over to me, pulling me to my feet. “Don’t cry, okay?”

Is he serious? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. He takes both my hands in his and holds them steady, as I madly sniff away the threatening tears.

“Don’t be angry with me,” I beg. “Please?”

“I’m not angry, Sian,” he frowns. “I’m just… I don’t know. Disappointed, I suppose. It feels like I’m the last one to know, and I kinda thought you might’ve told me yourself, rather than let me figure it out like this. It feels like you don’t trust me.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, looking up at him. “It’s not like that, I swear it’s not. It just kind of… happened. I don’t even know if it’s a thing yet, him and I. I’m not sure I’m ready. I don’t know if he is, either.”

His brown eyes burn through me, and he nods slowly, his expression softening slightly.

“Oh, it’s a thing alright,” he says. “Look at you – you wouldn’t be this upset if it wasn’t. And I saw the way you two were looking at each other before. It’s definitely a thing, believe me, I know a thing or two about things.”

Oh God. Somehow that makes it worse.

“Look, you’ve got to have a million thoughts swarming around in that head of yours right now. I don’t blame you – I reckon that’d be only natural. You’ve been through a shitload, more than anyone should ever have to go through. But you’re still here. I say you do what you have to do to be happy. Don’t spend the rest of your life wearing black, figuratively speaking. It’s really not your colour.”

He winks at me, so fast I almost miss it. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. I sniff again, letting go of one of his hands so I can wipe my eyes.

“I’m serious,” he warns. “It really isn’t. It washes you out, ask Ana. She’ll back me up.”

I want to smile, to thank him, for everything. But I can’t, not yet.

“Come on,” he says, pulling me close. “Enough tears, don’t you think? You really think James would want you to be this miserable? If there’s a heaven he’s surely in it, wherever the hell it is, drinking beer, looking after Kieran and watching you, wishing you’d start living again, waiting to see you smile. Do it for them. You owe them that much, surely.”

I hold him tightly, because he seems to have all the answers and all I have are questions.

“You want I should have a little chat wid Luke?” he says, faking a New York mobster accent. “Tell him if he hurts you, he’ll be sleeping with the fishes?”

I laugh, because the accent is really, really bad, but the sentiment behind it is really, really sweet. I pull him closer, shaking my head into his chest.

“Yeah, nah. I don’t think we need to do that.”

“Whatever.”

I hold onto him, not ready to let go just yet.

“He seems like a cool guy,” he says. “Pretty sure you could do a lot worse.”

Saying goodbye to Chris again feels much more final than I anticipated. I don’t know when I’m going to see him again. He has a life to go back to, one he needs to settle into again, and I’m still here. I get that sucking sensation in my chest again, as if I’m being dragged backwards while everyone else is racing forwards. It hurts.

Luke and Geezer hitch a ride as we make our way over the lake and back to civilisation. After the noise, and mostly hilarity, of the past two days, it’s deathly quiet on board. I’m obviously not the only one feeling it.

I hang onto Chris much longer than usual when he gives me his customary goodbye hug. I want to say a lot of things, but it’s either too late or not the right time. I’m not sure which. All I know is the words are there, but I don’t say them aloud.

“Hey,” he says, into my hair. “It’s not like I’m leaving the country. Although Wellington does feel like another planet, after London.”

I sniff back tears and nod, but I don’t let go.

Instead, he does. He gently pulls me back by the shoulders, and looks down at me.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he says, serious now. “It is. You’ve got my cell phone number. Call me if you need me. Anytime. You know me – I’m not one for keeping in touch, but I’m gonna try harder, I promise. I need you to be my conscience.”

He winks, and he’s back to the old Chris again. I conjure up a smile from somewhere, and it must be convincing enough because he smiles back, going over to talk to Luke and leaving me with Ana.

“He’s right y’know,” she says, putting her arm around my shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

I really hope they’re both right.

He shakes Luke’s hand, and picks up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and looking like the million other tourists who travel through here every year. I stand on the jetty and watch Ana and Chris walk away, fighting the sensation that I’m being abandoned yet again.

Then Luke’s hand finds its way into mine. He just seems to know when I need a steady hand, in more ways than one. I look up but he’s still watching Chris and Ana. He was wrong when he said he was no oil painting. He is. Those eyes, the way they burn through flesh and bone and see right into a person’s heart, that’s all part of what makes him so amazing – that he cares enough to look. It’d be easy to look at him on the outside and say he was beautiful, but that isn’t the half of it. That’s only skin deep, surface beauty. What makes him so beautiful is what’s on the inside. That’s real beauty. His patience, his kindness, his caring nature and his strength, they’re all part of it, too. And yet I still get the impression that it’s only the tip of the iceberg.

He glances down at me and I want to say something, but he smiles and suddenly whatever it is disappears.

“Come on,” he says gently, gently pulling me with him by the hand. “Let’s go home.”

I steer the boat back across the lake slowly, Luke beside me and Geezer standing like a silent sentry on the bow, his face to the wind. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and yet the breeze carries with it a vibration that feels out of place. A sense of foreboding settles over me. Change is coming, I can feel it. My heart races even though I’m just standing still, and I grip the wheel even tighter.

I guide the boat back into the jetty and Luke ties it off for me, helping me out. We walk up the jetty side by side, with Geezer trotting on ahead. I stop when I get to the lawn, because I really don’t know what to do. The cottage looms before us, but whereas it always welcomed me before, now it looks so empty.

“It’s always tough, being the one left behind.”

I have no idea if he’s aware of the double meaning or whether that’s just me, reading too much into it.

“Let’s do something,” he says, taking my hand. “To take your mind off it.”

I look up at him.

“Like what?”

“Why don’t we take a walk? Burn away some of those cobwebs.”

I consider the alternative – sitting in the cottage, staring at the wall. I look down at Geezer sitting in front of us, waiting, tail wagging.

“Okay.”

The track seems quieter today, even the birdsong is muted. It doesn’t help my mood, and I’m pretty sure Luke has picked up on that, too.

We’ve been holding hands for the last ten minutes. We take it slow, and he goes ahead when the track narrows, holding back stray branches for me. Geezer stays close, as if he feels it too. Something is different.

As we approach the halfway rock, I feel Luke stiffen beside me.

“You really don’t like it here, do you?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Not really, no. I mean, I like the track, but this rock creeps me out.”

“Why?”

“Because every time I come here now, all I can see is you, standing on the edge.”

My heart races, and he looks down at me. I scared him that day. He doesn’t have to say it again, I can see it in his eyes. I want to apologise again, to tell him that I never meant to, that I had no idea he was even watching me, but before I can, he reaches down and smooths down my hair against my clammy cheek. I close my eyes, leaning into his palm. Every time he touches me, I can feel the change within me. At first, I thought it was a subtle shift, a gentle breeze, as if someone left a door open. I don’t know whether that was because I was so deep inside myself that I just didn’t feel it, or if I was in some kind of denial. Maybe it was a little of both, because now, it feels more like a hurricane.

He tilts my head up, his palm still against my cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking it, and I open my eyes at the movement. He’s tearing through my skin, my flesh, my bones, setting fire to my insides with just his eyes. Does he know what he’s doing to me, how it’s making me feel?

His other hand curls around my waist and he draws me closer. Can he feel my heart pounding? All I can see in his eyes is desire, which makes my heart race even faster. He doesn’t speak and I’m incapable of it. We don’t need to speak, anyway. I know what he wants, and he seems to know that I want it too. As he leans down, I stand on tiptoes, closing my eyes and the gap between us because I can’t wait a moment longer.

Our lips brush against each other softly, and it’s just like it was the first time. Slow, tentative, simmering. His beard scratches my face but I don’t care. All it does is heighten my senses, stoking the raging fire within. It’s a kiss unlike any James and I shared. It’s different, he’s different. Even I’m different, and that’s the crux of the matter, that’s what makes this experience such an adventure.

A little more of me unravels and I instinctively reach for him, winding my arms around his solid frame. Bare skin brushes against bare skin, and one of us groans softly. Then he pulls away, and I open my eyes, slowly finding my way back. I freeze, as does he, before he reaches for me again, drawing me closer, his kiss more urgent now. The gentleness, the tentative exploration is gone.