Don't Look Back (7 page)

I turn and find myself face to face—and now strangely alone—with Matthew.

“Can I see you safely back to your hotel?” he asks politely as we slowly walk across the parking lot toward the hotel lobby. The night is colder, a damp mist settling in the air.

“It’s no trouble, I don't exactly have far to go.” I giggle nervously, as the hotel is literally all of fifty feet away.

“I would feel better knowing you’re safe, if you don't mind,” Matthew replies, his tone clear and serious.

“Okay,” I respond flatly, all humor lost. “Is everything all right with Joe?” I ask as we walk through the warm lobby toward the elevator, thinking perhaps Joe has upset him.

“Yes, Joe is fine,” Matthew declares curtly. Sensing his agitation, I give up on making further
conversation, feeling awkward.

The doors open, and we walk inside the small elevator in continued silence, the air between us strained and uncomfortable. I push the first floor button and the doors start to close.

“Ground floor, doors closing.” The elevator voice cuts the silence like a knife.

It's bright inside the confined space, and I can’t help but casually look at my reflection in the mirrored walls. I look awful, haggard from a combination of traveling, dancing, and drinking all night. This lighting is probably worse than any dressing room I have ever been in, so that isn’t helping my situation. I briefly look at the two of us in the reflection; it’s strange seeing us together as adults, no longer the youngsters we once were. Matthew has his arms crossed in front of his chest as he leans against the back wall. He is staring toward the ceiling, lost in thought or perhaps avoiding my gaze.

He doesn't seem to notice me watching him; he is in a world of his own. He looks slightly agitated; he also looks very tired. I can see dark circles developing under his eyes, no doubt a combination of jet lag and the stressful day he has had. Perhaps he promised Terry he would walk me back, but he didn't have to, it isn’t necessary. I have stayed here before, and it’s completely safe. I certainly didn't need him to chaperone me back to my room.

I lead the way down the hallway. Of course, I'm all the way at the end, and the long hallway seems to be endless. Why couldn't I have been the first door so he could already be on his way? He obviously doesn't want to chat, and although I have so much
to say, I don't think Matthew cares. I am resigned to the knowledge that I will continue my life never understanding what happened to us.

We continue walking in silence, Matthew always two steps behind me, until we finally reach door 232.

“Well, this is me.” I whisper to avoid disturbing the sleeping guests, since it is already well past midnight. Fishing the room key from my purse, I turn toward him, preparing my short goodbye speech. I take a deep breath, look into his face, and find him frowning, his eyes stormy and his brow furrowed. He stands in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other pushing against the door frame above my head. His body language feels aggressive, and suddenly, the hallway has become very small. My organized thoughts scatter, and all I can think about is how close he is to me and how it felt to be in his arms earlier.

“Bloody hell, Kate, I don’t understand why I’m standing in this hallway. What is it about you? I haven’t seen you for all these years, yet here you are, right here, and it’s as if it were yesterday that we were in my flat in Hayloft Alley.” His dark eyes burrow into me, pleading for me to help him understand. I have no answers for him. I am taken aback by his outburst, confused by his expression of emotions.

“I'm really sorry, Matthew.” I apologize for causing him distress, blushing slightly at the memory of that night. “I didn’t know you would be here … I never expected to see you again.” I stare into his turbulent eyes and see a flood of emotions in them: rage, sadness, pity, sorrow, and pain.

“You. Never. Expected. To. See. Me. Again.” Sarcastically, Matthew repeats the words that I have spoken to him, twisting them, implying something different than what I have said. The pain in his voice cuts into me. He stares at the floor, his head hanging, lost in his thoughts while I try to sort out what on earth is happening here.

“What happened, Kate?” Matthew asks quietly, turning his head toward me, his demeanor now more composed. Although his question is genuine, all I can do is shrug in response. I have no solid answer, I have no true explanation. Fate happened, and destiny stepped in. He never wrote to me. He moved away, I went to college, life moved on. That old familiar burn creeps up my windpipe, like a wild beast let loose from its cage, and my eyes sting with tears. The tightness in my chest is painful, and the more I try to suppress it, the worse it becomes. I have to get away from him; I scramble for the door handle, sliding my key through the electronic reader, vigorously shaking my head.

“I don’t know, I can’tttt ... I’m sorryyy.” My voice stutters and vibrates; I turn and quickly push inside my room, trying to escape the humiliation of breaking down under the bright lights of the hallway, in front of
him
, the cause of all my pain. I grab a tissue and take some deep breaths to calm myself, hoping each breath will shove down the raw emotions that have somehow been let loose. I realize that Matthew has followed me inside; he quietly closes the door and takes a seat on the end of my bed.

“Come on, Kate, surely we can do better than this. Come sit.” His voice is calm and soothing.
Somewhere, a part of me deep inside recognizes it and responds to him. He pats the bed beside him, and I slowly move toward him and sit next to him. “We used to be able to talk for hours about anything. Let’s talk this through. I need closure, Kate. You left me with a gaping hole, and it took years to for me to move on. From the look of you, it hurt you, too. Help me understand why, please.”

The room is dark except for the moonlight shining through the window. His face is lit by the glow, and he looks so melancholy and magnificent. I am shocked by what he has said, so confused as my fogged, jet-lagged brain tries to process his words. I always assumed he went off and started a new life in Australia and never looked back. He chose never to respond to me; he never once attempted to contact me, and I convinced myself that he never loved me, that what we shared wasn’t real. I never dreamed he was as heartbroken as I was.

CHAPTER 8

First Love

Matthew Sullivan, or “Sully,” as he is called by his friends, is two years ahead of me at Anderson James Senior School. He is quiet and shy, especially when surrounded by the other boys, who seem to be full of raging hormones and in a constant fight for attention. Sully appears to be content in the shadows, much like me, never bringing unnecessary attention toward himself. I don’t ever recall him having a girlfriend.

The first time I notice him is during Sports Day in June, 1983, when I am a first-year student at senior school. I am walking off the field toward the girls’ changing rooms after taking second place in the one hundred meter hurdle finals. Sully is fifteen, already two years ahead of me at school, tall and
slender, with olive-toned skin and soft brown eyes. I stop to watch him in the pole vault competition.

He’s standing at the starting line in his crisp white shorts, his brow furrowed with deep concentration, his long, lean legs rocking back and forth in preparation for his sprint. I’m fascinated as he starts running with his long stride, and I hold my breath as the pole makes contact with the ground. I stand captivated, watching him fly upward and over the bar, gracefully clearing it with ease, pushing the pole backward and away from his body, elegantly twisting in midair, then landing upon the thick padded mats below. He is beautiful, and I am mesmerized by his fluid movements. I feel drawn to him, as if seeing a long lost relative for the first time. I feel like I know him, like I am supposed to know him.

He jumps up, and for a moment, our eyes meet and a slight smile touches the corners of his lips as he jogs past me, back to the start for his next jump. Horrifically embarrassed, I turn around and head straight for the girls’ changing room to escape, my face blushing bright red.

It’s a few months before our next encounter. By a stroke of luck, the following autumn, Diana starts going out with Terry Hearst, who happens to be a friend of Sully’s. One day after school, I am hanging out with Diana. When we walk around the corner to Terry’s house, Sully is there, watching television with Terry. The four of us start to hang out in front of Terry’s house daily after school, and sometimes we go to the field to watch the boys kick a football around. Diana and Terry kiss each other goodbye awkwardly and we run away, giggling, acting like the
silly teenage girls we are.

Sully is there most days, and as the weeks go on, Terry and Diana spend more time together, and Sully and I find ourselves enjoying each other’s company, huddling close to stay warm on the cold winter afternoons. It gets dark early, and I have to be home before the street lights come on, so we only spend an hour or so hanging out, but we talk about many different things. I think he’s smart and clever. He makes me laugh, and he even teaches me some tricks with a football. It isn’t awkward or uncomfortable between us—we’re friends. In a way, he’s almost the brother I never had, and he becomes an essential part of my day.

When the school discos start on Friday nights in the spring of 1984, things change between Sully and me. One Friday night, when the traditional slow song comes on at the end of the night, he asks me to dance. I accept, and we awkwardly stand on the dance floor, shuffling our feet round and round, surrounded by endless couples making out. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I set them stiffly on his shoulders. His hands are gripping the sides of my waist. We don’t speak, we don’t look at each other, and we certainly don’t kiss. But as awkward as it is, something inside me leaps, and dormant butterflies stir for the first time in my belly.

The song finishes, the lights come on, and Sully disappears, yelling “See ya!” over his shoulder like he can’t escape quickly enough. He doesn’t walk home with us that night; he leaves me to walk with the two love birds, Terry and Di. I see him at school only once or twice the next week, from a distance, and he isn’t at Terry’s at all. I am sad; I miss hanging
out with him, and I feel like he is avoiding me. It isn’t the same sitting at the field by myself while Terry and Diana roll around together, hugging and kissing. I feel like a fool sitting alone, and I wonder what I’ve done to make Sully not want to be my friend anymore. I feel his absence tremendously.

At the next Friday night disco, Sully is a no-show again, and Terry doesn’t seem to know where he is, nor does he offer any explanation or excuse for Sully’s behavior. The night drags on, and I don’t enjoy myself at all. I decide that I won’t be coming to the disco the following week, and I probably won’t be hanging out with Di much, either.

At the end of the night, the lights fade, and the final song starts: Foreigner’s “Waiting For a Girl Like You.” Out of nowhere, Sully appears and asks me to dance, but this time there is something different about him. We find ourselves back on the dance floor, a little less awkward. His hands are much more relaxed this time, resting on the curve of my back. His body is less stiff, moving more fluidly to the rhythm of the music. He actually is good at dancing, and I feel my hands relaxing on his shoulders, our young bodies drawing closer together. I can feel his breath against my temple, and I can smell some sort of aftershave on him that I have never noticed before. I decide I like the aftershave, and I also like being this close to Sully. It feels … nice. At the end of the song, he doesn’t run off; instead, we wait for Diana and Terry and we all walk home together. Diana and Terry are in front, and Sully and I walk behind them in silence.

“Where were you this week, Sully?” I finally find the courage to ask him.

“My mum needed me to help her this week, so I wasn’t allowed out after school,” he replies, never taking his eyes off the ground.

“I thought maybe you were in trouble or something. Will you be around next week?” I ask, hoping that he will say yes.

“Yeah, I might be around next week, if you want me to.” Sully looks at me briefly, a bit embarrassed, but smiles his quirky smile that makes my tummy do somersaults. He quickly returns his eyes to the road.

“Of course I want you to, I missed you this week. It’s been awful hanging out with Romeo and Juliet all by myself.” We both giggle at our pet name for Terry and Diana, then we are silent again and only our footsteps can be heard down Collgate Avenue.

We get to the top of my street—the point at which I usually run off to my house—when Sully announces to Terry that he’s going to walk me home. Both Terry and Di stop, stunned by his announcement. I shrug at them in response; I don’t know why Sully is walking me to my door.

We call out our goodbyes and separate, going in opposite directions. Sully and I saunter slowly toward my house, which is only about five houses down from where we split from our friends. I have to go down the side alley to the back gate to get in, as my mum left the back door open for me. Sully follows me down the narrow alleyway between our house and the neighbors. It is dark and quiet; the only light is the faint orange glow from the street lights on the main road.

“Did you really miss me this week?” Sully whispers as we near the end of the alley,
approaching my gate.

“Yes, I was bored stiff!” I whisper back. “Please promise you’ll be there next week, otherwise I’ll have to tell Di I can’t go.” The thought of enduring another week as third wheel to the lovebirds is too much to bear.

“What if you promise to be my girlfriend?” Sully is still whispering as he leans against the wall of the house next door with his arms crossed across his chest, staring at me, a fresh coolness about his demeanor. New self-confidence washes over him; it’s the same look he had when he asked me to dance tonight.

I don’t hesitate. Looking into his eyes as best I can in the darkened alleyway, I say, “I promise.”

In a flash, Sully roughly pecks me on the lips and rushes off, leaving me alone. Shocked, I stand there for a moment processing what has happened, listening to his footsteps running away as my fingertips softly touch my lips.