Phoenix (13 page)

A short time
later I sit up on the edge of my bed to get my bearings. Phoenix lies behind me
stroking my back up and down.

“Breakfast?” he asks.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I love his cooking and I love
it when he cooks for me.

“Yes please. I’m starved,” I enthuse. “Oh, damn, but I have to be at the
school in less than an hour.”

“I’ll drive you. I’m just going to see what you’ve got in your fridge,”
he says getting up and pulling on his jeans before heading downstairs.

I hop in the shower and have a quick wash, fashioning my hair in a long
plait when I get out. I dress, putting on a light summer skirt and a tight
black cardigan. I can smell the welcoming scent of eggs, toast and coffee as I
make my way down.

“Smells delicious,” I say as he moves effortlessly about my kitchen. He
looks good there.

“You can use my shower after you’ve eaten if you’d like. I never use the
main bathroom so don’t worry about leaving a mess or anything.”

He smiles at me. “I’ll shower later, darling. Let’s just focus on getting
you fed and to work on time.”

He sets a full plate down in front of me and I dig in, savouring the perfectly
cooked scrambled eggs. As I look at him his face grows serious for some reason.

“You know, Eve, I am sorry for my behaviour on the day we first met. I
wasn’t, well, I can’t say I wasn’t myself because I was,” he shrugs in a
self-deprecating fashion. “But it was an unfair thing to do to you. I hate that
I did that.”

My heart sinks remembering how he tossed the poem I’d left him to the
ground, the look of pure distaste in his eyes.

“No need to apologise,” I mutter.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I was tired of the people in
this town pestering me. I’d mistaken you for one of them. You know that.”

I smile, by way of communicating that we don’t need to talk about this
anymore. What we have now is so far beyond something as silly as the way we
first met. A quiet descends and then Phoenix asks curiously, “Do you by any
chance still have the poem?”

I give him a small secretive smile and continue eating, because I
do
still have it. I put it in the shoe box where I store all of the little
trinkets and keepsakes I come across. Soon I will transfer them to the
jewellery box he made for me. It’s a wonder how he knew I was the kind of
person who liked to keep things that hold sentimental value. Of course, I didn’t
know that the poem would become sentimental at the time, but there was
something about it that made me smooth out its crumpled corners, fold it
carefully and store it away.

“Yes, I have it,” I mumble. “Why do you ask?”

He grins now. “I was wondering if I could have it back.”

I swallow a piece of toast. “Uh, sure.”

Shifting in my seat, I try to interpret the funny feeling in my middle.
Something that closely resembles happiness.

“If you come over later I’ll get it for you,” I tell him, smiling shyly.

After breakfast, Phoenix makes a quick trip over the road to his house to
change into some clean clothes and get his truck. He insists on driving me to
the school. I tell him I’ll be better off cycling, since if I don’t cycle
to
the school, I won’t be able to cycle
back
, and I don’t feel at all like
walking home this evening.

But then he suggests picking me up and my heart lifts at the unexpected
offer. I tell him I’m off at four. He keeps his hand on my thigh the whole way
to the school, rubbing his thumb back and forth softly and making me remember
our morning together. I feel like a whole other person from the one I was
yesterday.

We pull into the school parking lot and he stops the truck in a free
space. Gripping the back of my neck, he pulls me to him and kisses me deeply.
It doesn’t last nearly long enough and the bell for the first class is ringing.
I’m late.

As I get out he pulls me to him and brushes his lips over mine one last
time before allowing me to scramble away.

“See you later, darling,” he calls after me with a low chuckle.

Later that day, I find that my cubbyhole in the staffroom has two items
in it. Usually it’s always empty. The first is a statement for my first pay
check. I’d been living off the money Harriet left me up until now, so it will
be nice to finally be able to support myself.

The second item is an invitation to the town’s Easter festival. There’s
going to be a fair and lots of other fun activities down by the beach. I decide
I will go and perhaps ask Phoenix to come along with me.

“Woohoo! Pay day,” says an over-enthusiastic Tim who comes up from behind
me to check his cubbyhole.

“Yeah,” I say, eyeing him warily. He’s been acting way too interested in me
recently, always watching me when we’re in the staff room. On one level I’m
flattered, but since his interest isn’t reciprocated it just makes me feel
uncomfortable. Some women might, but I don’t enjoy the attention, and I don’t
know what to do to let him know nothing will be happening between us. I could
say it up front, but I don’t want a confrontation.

“You up for Montgomery’s tonight then, Eve?” he asks, blue eyes alight with
hope. Unfortunately, I will never fall for blue eyes. I am too possessed by a
pair of deep brown ones. “Me, Anik and some of the others are going for
drinks.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. It’s a week night.”

“Oh come on, you haven’t been out with us at all yet. Well, apart from that
one time and you left way too early.”

“I’m not big into pubs,” I tell him, my statement final.

The bell rings for the end of lunch and I walk away before he can reply.

When I get to my classroom most of the students are there already, some
standing, some sitting on the edges of tables, some sitting in their seats. You
would not believe the amount of noise a bunch of teenagers can make when they
put their minds to it. I sit and clear my throat loud enough for them to know
that it’s time to simmer down, and reluctantly they take to their regular
seats. I flick through my folder. We’re doing a section on mythology, with
today’s focus being Homer’s
Iliad
, Chapter Seven: The Duel of Hector and
Aias.

Feeling brave, I select one of the cocky popular boys to read, thinking I’ll
break the reading up between about three or four students since the chapter is
thirteen pages long. Cocky boy, whose name is Tristan, lets out a heavy sigh as
the boy beside him elbows him in the side.

“Do I have to, Miss Pound? I’m no good at reading out loud,” he whines.

I say nothing but shake my head and gesture for him to start reading.
With another heavy sigh and a tut, he finally begins, intentionally slow. “So...speaking
gloo-orius Hector...rushed out through the gates, and...with him
went...Alexandros his brother...both of their hearts eager to do battle and
join...the…fighting...”

He continues like this for about four pages before I ask a different boy
to take up the reading. I wasn’t going to give in until he had read a
sufficient amount, slow as all hell or not. The next boy reads a lot more
quickly and efficiently, and I am glad of that. As he reads I fall into the
story. This is an exciting part. I can tell that some of the boys are enjoying
the passage because it involves a fight, and what teenage school-going boy
doesn’t enjoy a good fight?

This chapter is where Aias, on the side of the Greeks, is selected by his
fellow warriors to go up against Hector, who is one of the Trojan princes, in a
duel. Aias was meant to have been
really
strong and
really
courageous. When I try to envision him I see this big, scary, muscle bound guy
who’s over six feet tall, wearing nothing but a pair of brown leather pants. Suddenly,
my thoughts become distorted and I see Phoenix in the place of Aias, fighting
off a blood hungry Hector. The scene warps and it is half ancient Greece, half
modern day underground fighting ring.

My stomach twists as Phoenix ploughs into Hector, reigning down on him with
his shield, bashing his face in and then slicing his head clean off. I draw
myself from my thoughts, not knowing what provoked them. My palms are sweaty
and my cotton skirt is sticking to my skin.

In the book, though, there is no decapitation like what my mind has
conjured up. Despite both taking a good beating, a draw is announced by the
heralds, acting on behalf of Zeus.

By the time the boys have finished reading and I’ve thrown a couple
questions at the class and given them their homework, the bell rings. The room
empties and then refills with the students for my next lesson.

  When the final bell rings to indicate the end of the school day I feel
a rush of relief, but then a rush of pleasure as I remember that Phoenix has
promised to pick me up. I run my brush through my hair and put on a touch of
lip gloss to spruce myself up.

When I go outside I immediately see Phoenix’s black truck parked just by
the entrance. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat reading a book, so he doesn’t notice
I’m there until I gently tap on the window. When he smiles it could light up a
room, and I go around to the passenger side door and hop in.

“Hey,” I say smiling back at him, but then I notice his face has grown
significantly grim. When I follow the direction of his gaze I see that he’s
looking at Cathy’s car that has pulled up across the way from us.

“Just ignore her,” I tell him.

Phoenix is silent for a moment before asking, “Didn’t you say she tried
to knock you over once?”

“Well, yeah, but...don’t worry about it. Seriously.”

Her son makes his way into the back of her car. Cathy has seen us and is
now staring at us intently. She picks up her mobile phone while not once neglecting
her concentrated stare on us.

“Jeez, what is her problem?”

Phoenix doesn’t answer but instead brushes my hair over my left ear and
kisses me on the neck before starting up the engine. Cathy’s eyes bug out at
Phoenix’s display and she continues speaking into her little black phone ever
more frantically. Now I know what she’s doing. She’s informing Deborah about
us. After overhearing their conversation at the grocery store yesterday, I have
no doubts about their scheming ways.

“I hardly got any work done today,” says Phoenix on the drive. “I couldn’t
stop thinking about you, about how it feels to be inside of you.”

At this I blush, and I can’t think of anything to say in response. With
his eyes still on the road his hand travels up my thigh and moves between my
legs, rubbing softly under my dress.

He draws closer and presses his lips against my earlobe. “Hmmm,” he
breathes, stroking a finger over me. “I just love it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Blush.”

“Oh,” I gasp and he continues stroking me. I’m just about ready to
explode by the time he stops at a set of traffic lights. I want to be at home
with him in my room already, but then I remember something more urgent that
needs to be dealt with.

“Um, could you stop off at the pharmacy?” I ask in the smallest voice
possible.

“Sure,” he answers, bringing his hand back to the steering wheel. He
seems to notice my nerves and his eyes narrow. “What do you need to get?”

I look at him apologetically. Surely he thinks I’m already on some form
of contraception, only I’m not. There wasn’t really much call for it in my life
up until now.

“I have to get the morning after pill,” I whisper even quieter.

“Say again?”

“The morning after pill?” I state, my voice rising at the end like a
question.

His eyes darken now and he returns his attention to the road. “Ah. Right.
Of course I will bring you to the pharmacy.” His voice softens. “Would you like
me to come inside with you?”

“Oh, God no. I don’t want to make a spectacle and the people who work
there will know you. I don’t want it getting around town.”

“Eve, I should have asked you last night if you were on the pill. I just
got so lost in you.”

“I got lost in you, too. I didn’t think. It’s my fault.”

He takes my hand and fits his fingers between mine, squeezing tight. “We
will be more careful the next time.”

Just thinking about a next time makes me get flushed. Phoenix stops
across the road from the pharmacy and I hop out. Thankfully, it only takes a
couple of minutes for me to talk to the pharmacist and get what I need. The
short, grey haired man is no-nonsense. He asks me a couple of straightforward questions
and then provides me with the pill.

When I get back to Phoenix’s truck I’m looking forward to spending the
rest of the evening with him. Unfortunately, that is not to be.

“I have to make a number of deliveries this evening, so though it kills me
to say this, I can’t come in with you,” he says as he drops me at my cottage.

My face falls in disappointment and he chuckles. “Don’t worry, Eve. I
will be inside you again soon. It will be worth the wait.”

When he kisses me it’s soft and tender, a goodbye kiss.

Then he pulls away from me and starts up the engine again. I get out of
the truck and wave him off, before going into the house and cooking myself some
dinner.

That night I
dream quite vividly. A dream so spectacularly horrific, I would have actually preferred
one of those nothing dreams again. The dream begins and I am outside of myself,
watching a vision of me standing alone in a field wearing a white cotton dress.

There is something foreign about the landscape; the shrubs and grass are
unlike the kind you’d see anywhere in Britain. It’s sandy and dry, a hotter
climate. The vision of me peers around, eyes wide in shock.

It’s a weird experience seeing yourself react to things when you are not
even inside of your own skin, but a spectator somewhere on the side-lines. And
this is unlike any ordinary dream because the scene is not blurry,
indeterminate or changeable. It is in ultra-high definition.