April's Glow (5 page)

Holding the mail in one hand, she knocked on the door with the other, then adjusted her handbag strap over her shoulder.

Her gaze flickered to a window at the side as the curtain moved. Then the door opened slightly and the man stood there as though trying to hide something behind him. Either that, or he could be worried she might barge in and start making herself at home or something.

She waited for him to say hi, but he kept silent, looked at her with eyes that seemed older than his years.

‘Just bringing in your mail,' she said. ‘Not that I'll be doing that on a regular basis, but it looks like it might rain, and it was sticking out of the letterbox.'

‘Thanks.' He snatched the mail from her and went to close the door but April held out her hand and stopped it.

‘And there's a parcel here.' She glanced down at the box. When he didn't bend down, she added with a hint of sarcasm, ‘Would you like me to pick it up for you?'

He didn't reply, simply bent down and lifted the box as though it was as light as a feather. He was wearing that singlet again, and now that she was closer she could make out one of the tattoos on his outer arm: a Chinese-looking symbol.

‘Nice tatt,' she said.

‘One of many,' he finally spoke.

‘I figured that.' Her eyes scanned his skin, but now the box in front of his chest obscured her view.

‘I'm April.' She held out her hand, even though his hands were firmly holding the box.

He turned around to go into his house.

Oh great, he's ignoring my attempt at being neighbourly. What a jerk.

She shook her head and was about to turn away herself when he placed the box down in his kitchen and came back to the door. He held out his hand. ‘I'm Zac.'

Oh.

She grasped it, and even though she'd been taught to shake hands with a firm sense of confidence, she held his like a limp fish as both the touch of his warm skin and the sight of his intense eyes looking directly into hers overwhelmed her ability to focus.

‘I already know your name,' he added. ‘Overheard it the other night.'

Oh yes. The flower. ‘So it was you who left the gift on my doorstep.'

He shrugged. ‘Maybe.'

‘Clearly it was since you didn't say “what gift?”' She smirked, but he remained silent. ‘Well, thanks. It was nice.'

He gave a single, small nod.

‘Anyway, I've done my neighbourly duty, I'll leave you to it.' She turned.

‘So what do
you
do?' he asked.

April turned back to face him. ‘Huh?'

‘For work. What do you do?'

‘I thought you weren't interested in doing, only being.'

‘That's correct. But you are obviously interested in doing. So what is it? Real estate, journalism, school teacher?'

‘Keep guessing.'

‘Just tell me.'

‘Okay then. What I do is own and run a candle shop in town. April's Glow.'

A tiny smile flickered on his lips. ‘Nice name.'

‘Thanks. Yeah it was named after, well obviously
me
, but there's a story to it as well. Because when I was young …'

Zac chuckled.

‘What?' April adjusted her bag strap again.

He shrugged.

‘Why are you laughing?'

‘You're amusing to watch.'

‘Amusing?' April's cheeks went warm and she diverted her gaze to the porch railing. She was just talking, what was so amusing about that? Well, now she wouldn't tell him the story of how the shop got its name. He could suffer in suspense.

‘Candles, huh?' he said. ‘I like candles, actually. I'm not a fan of artificial light.'

She tilted her head. ‘Well maybe you'd like to visit my shop and help your neighbour out by making a sizeable purchase.' She grinned, opening her bag to retrieve a business card. If she could find one. ‘I'll give you my card. Hang on.' She pulled out her purse where she kept a few spares in the zippered compartment. She unzipped it and withdrew a card, but a couple more came with it and fell on the ground, along with …

Oh my God.

April's eyes widened in horror at the flat, square-shaped item, its shiny foil packaging glinting in the porch light as though saying ‘look at me!'

‘You have promotional condoms for your business? Cool,' Zac said.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

April bent down and picked up the item, dropped it again, then picked it up again, along with the fallen cards. Shame she couldn't pick up her dignity.

‘No, it's not promotional, it's just … it's … I don't usually have …' She shoved the items and her purse in her bag and tensely held the strap on her shoulder. She only had
one
in her purse at Olivia's insistence when she'd agreed to the internet date.
‘Just in case,'
she'd been advised. Not that she'd planned to go that far with someone she'd just met. ‘Anyway, I should go.'

‘Aren't you going to give me your card?'

She eyed his unperturbed expression, which looked like he was used to people dropping condoms around him all the time, just another day at the office. Maybe he
was
used to it. Maybe he was some kind of male prostitute and that's why he kept to himself and stayed home and maybe April was the tenth, eleventh, or even twelfth woman to arrive on his doorstep that day.

She carefully reopened her bag and took out a card, and handed it to him.

He studied it and nodded, then slid it into his pocket.

‘Anyway, bye.' April's voice was high-pitched. She turned away again and stepped off the porch, desperate to get away. But something made her glance back, as Zac walked back inside his house but left the door wide open. ‘Aren't you going to close the door?' she said.
Why can't I stop talking and leave?
‘Oh wait, let me guess. It'll close when it's ready, right?'

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets.

‘You never know who could barge right in.' April gestured to the door. ‘A thief, or a serial killer, or …'
or a woman with your mail.

‘I can protect myself,' he replied. ‘And … I have a feeling you can too.' He grinned and closed the door, leaving April standing in his front yard, wishing she could sink into it and disappear forever. Then the rain came pouring down.

She was struggling. Struggling to stay afloat, to breathe, to find her footing. April shot up in bed, sweat sticking to her pyjama top. The dream was a regular occurrence, but instead of drowning in a dark pit of thick nothingness, she had been surrounded by, almost engulfed by …

What the hell?

She laughed. Shook her head. Dreams were crazy. Like the hundreds or thousands of colourful plastic balls in children's play centres, she'd been submersed among thousands of colourful condoms, as she flailed about and panicked like she was in quicksand. And Zac was there. He tried to rescue her, but fell into the pit and got engulfed too.

April was alone in her dark bedroom and yet her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

She considered taking one of the sleeping tablets she still had in her medicine box, but hadn't taken one for over a year and didn't want to start that again. She'd almost become addicted. Besides, they'd make her drowsy and she wouldn't be able to focus at work.

She glanced at the clock. Almost three am. She rolled around in bed for a while trying to get comfortable, but within ten minutes made her way to the kitchen, rubbing fatigue from her head. She flicked the switch and noticed she'd forgotten to close the venetian blinds before bed. She froze. Zac's light was on next door, and he stood in the middle of his kitchen, just like her. Only he wasn't wearing flannelette pyjamas and nor did he have crazy bed hair. He had normal, neat, cropped hair, and his chest was bare, apart from tattoos. His kitchen window was high and blocking his lower body, so who knew what he was wearing, if anything, down below.

He waved. Not a ‘Hi! It's me! Fancy seeing you here!' wave. A ‘Hey neighbour' wave. She waved back, then ran her hand discreetly through her hair but it got caught in a knot. She looked away to fill her glass of water, and when she looked back he was holding something large and square. He held it up. A whiteboard. On it he'd written:
What's your number?

Oh, nice one. Loser.
Trying to hit on her by standing in his kitchen half naked and doing the old
Love, Actually
trick.

April eyed her own whiteboard that hung on the wall beside the fridge. It had the quote ‘each day is a new beginning' handwritten on it. Lisa had suggested a while back that she have motivational quotes around the house to help with lifting her mood, after it had fallen deep into that dark, hopeless pit she sometimes dreamed about. She was supposed to change the quote each week, but this one had been on there a month. She lifted the whiteboard off the wall and rubbed out the quote, replacing it with:
Why?
She held it up to the window.

Zac rubbed out his own and started writing something, then he held it up:

You're up, I'm up. Might as well talk.

April wrote:

Why not just talk over the fence?

Zac replied:

Because I'm naked.

April gulped and quickly rubbed out her last message, replacing it with her number.

Seconds later her phone rang from its charger in the living room. She picked it up and returned to the kitchen. ‘You're not really naked, are you? I bet you're wearing something, at least,' she said.

‘Only a smile,' he replied, and she glanced at him through the window, his smile sending a warm flush to her cheeks.

‘Aren't you cold?'

‘Nope.'

‘Do you always walk naked around your house in the middle of the night?'

‘Yep.'

Why am I asking such questions?
‘If Nancy Dillinger was your neighbour you'd probably give her a coronary.'

‘Is she that lady next to you?'

‘Yep.'

He took a swig of water. ‘Nice hair, by the way.'

Oh man.
The problem with having naturally wavy hair was that it had a mind of its own. You never knew what kind of strange arrangement you'd end up with in the morning; on a good day it could look like rolling hills of the countryside and on the bad days like the Sydney Opera House.

April defensively patted her hair and frowned. ‘I'm sorry I didn't do my hair before coming to the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. I'll do better next time.'

‘Or shave it like mine. Number three. Then you don't have to worry.'

‘I'm sure your choice of style would look just wonderful on me.' April glanced down, tapping her right fluffy-polka-dot-socked foot on the floor. ‘Why are we on the phone anyway?'

‘Because I called you.'

‘Clearly. But what do you want to talk about? Need insomnia cures?'

‘If I needed them I'd be Googling and not asking advice from someone suffering the same problem.'

‘What makes you think I'm an insomnia sufferer? I could be having a one-off waking episode. Which is actually what's happened.' No need to tell him about the bizarre dream. ‘I should get back to sleep. Have to be up for work in four hours.'

‘Do you love your job?'

‘Huh? Yes.'

‘What's your passion?'

‘My passion? Candles, of course. Why?'

‘But what is it about them? Why candles?'

She frowned again. ‘Because, um … I
like
them?'

‘I like them too. But that doesn't mean I want to run a candle store. So why do you?'

‘Well, some of us actually have to
do
things to make a living, so candles is what I chose to, you know, allow me to have electricity, buy food and clothing—which, clearly—you've forgotten to do.'

‘It's because they give you hope, isn't it.'

Bam. It was like he had pried open her heart and soul and read her like a book.
How did he know that?
‘It's because, well, they smell nice, and look nice, and people like them and buy them and I get income from it. That's why.' She ran her hand across her bed hair and had the vague sense she'd messed it up worse than before.

‘Bring one back for me,' he said. ‘Any candle. You choose. And I'll pay you for it.'

She stood closer to the window and leaned one hand on the sink. ‘Why don't you come into the store and choose your own?'

‘Because I want to see which one you pick for me.'

‘Is this some kind of personality quiz or something? Are you a psychologist who analyses people based on their purchasing tendencies?'
How did you know why I love candles? What is that tattoo on your shoulder? Why are your pecs so damn beautiful?

‘I'm just a man. I need a candle for my house. I want you to choose.' He shrugged. ‘I'll see you and the candle at the end of the day.' He ended the call and put his phone down, switched off the light, and walked his naked self out of the kitchen. April's phone was still attached to her ear, her hand unable to move. This Zac guy was the weirdest person she'd ever met. But somehow, his weirdness drew her to him. She wanted to discover more. She wanted to stay on the phone and talk at three am. She even wanted to peer over and …
No, April. No men. No thinking about men, no flirting with men. No men.

She flicked off the light and returned to bed. Lying on her back, she became aware of a cool film of sweat that had pooled at her lower back. She rubbed it away. It was also on her chest. She rubbed it dry against her pyjamas, but her hand lingered between her breasts, and she thought of Zac's hand. She quickly removed it and rolled over. Maybe it was time to see what the real estate market was like in town. She didn't know how she could handle living here, next to him. And it had only been a few days. And he didn't look like he was planning on going anywhere else anytime soon.