Authors: Samantha Towle
Original Sin (23 page)
I can’t even be angry, even though I feel it in copious amounts right now. I knew it at the time; I just choose to ignore it. I just needed to be close to him. I wanted him.
But now, he couldn’t be further away from me if there were still an ocean between us. I’m just not sure exactly what to do. How to handle this? I feel on edge and uneasy, and completely out of my depth. I don’t bode well in situations like this. I get confused, and easily conflicted. And words, the right words, usually fail me.
Knowing I have no choice, this is all on me, as he’s apparently got nothing to say, so in a pointless attempt to keep things light, I ask in a warm voice, “What you doing way over there?”
“Thinking,” he says, monotone.
Keep it breezy, Alex. Breezy.
“What are you thinking about?”
He looks away. “Things.” He looks back. “You.”
I’m guessing he isn’t replaying fond memories of our reunion over and over in his mind.
I run my tongue around my tacky mouth, readying myself for it. “Any of it good?” I let the warmth slip from my own voice.
His eyes drift down to the carpet. “Some.” Silence. “Some, not so much.”
He shrugs as his eyes briefly meet with mine, then flicker away again. But I see everything I need to in that one look.
As I guessed, our reunion is well and truly over with. Gone with the night. And now dawn is here, so is reality, and he’s pissed.
I left him in that hotel room even though it was with all the best intentions. I left and he’s angry about it, and quite possibly about the last six months of zero contact. Six months of nothing from me. Not knowing where I was, if I was okay.
I guess that part of it never occurred to me before. I never thought of it from his point of view.
Nathan likes to be in control. Ited t0">
Sitting up, I wrap the duvet around myself, get out of bed and go over to him. I sit at his feet. His body tenses, and he shifts position, moving his legs away from me.
It doesn’t make me feel great. At all.
“Will you talk to me?” I ask, in attempt to move thing in the right direction. Well, any direction but the one I know this is heading toward. I feel like I’m in a car, with no breaks, careening toward the edge of a cliff.
Head turned away from me, he stares out toward the window, ignoring me.
He’s behaving like a child.
Frustrated, I sigh. “Look I get you’re angry, so why don’t you just say whatever it is you want to say to me–”
“What makes you think I’m
anything
for you?” He turns my way and hard eyes burn into mine.
Ahh shit. That hurts. My eyes sting with unexpected tears.
I see something flicker in his, and if it’s regret; it doesn’t press him hard enough to take it back.
“Why are you here?” he asks, coldly.
I don’t even know how to begin to answer that, and even if I could, I don’t think I’d be able to talk right now, my throat is so clogged up with tears.
I feel sick. And stupid. So very stupid that I’d let myself believe everything would be okay by coming back here. Of course it wouldn’t be. Everything is different. It’s been six months. I don’t know what’s he’s been doing in that time. His world didn’t stop turning just because I wasn’t with him, even if mine did.
He doesn’t want me here. Why would he?
But why have sex with me? I know he’s a guy but Jesus, if he’s this angry and so turned against me, then why.
To hurt you.
A chill slices straight through me.
I’m dumb, so very fucking dumb. I should have guessed that the second he kissed me. Because prior to that he wasn’t exactly jumping for joy, throwing his arms around me.
The sex was hard, raw and angry.
But even still, I can’t bring myself to ask him the question. Because I might be right. And I know I won’t be able to handle it if I have to hear back the exact words that just echoed in my own mind, from his voice. It will all but kill me.
Withdrawing, I quietly get to my feet, holding the duvet wrapped tight around my body. Numbed, I sit down on the edge of the bed.
I’m not pissed off anymore. I’m hurt. And without my anger I’m simply left naked. No shield for whatever else he has to throw at me.
Reaching down I pick up the discarded underwear and dress up off the floor, and set about dressing myself. I’m tying up the belt day he on my dress when he speaks again. “Are you ever going to answer my question?” His tone is hard.
I’ve actually forgotten what he asked me. I search my brain.
“
Why are you here?”
he says.
I cast a glimmered eye glance in his direction. He looks so closed off, so hard. I can’t speak to him about it now, not even if I had it in me to, and especially not while he’s in this mood. He wouldn’t listen to a word I’ve got to say. I know Nathan; he’ll only hear the words he wants to hear, not the words I actually say.
He’s good at interpreting his own versions of things.
“Not at the moment, no,” I utter quietly.
He lets out a sharp laugh. It scratches over my skin.
“I thought you said you wanted to talk?”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so bitter, not even after Sol died. Things are so much worse than I anticipated.
“I did, then.” I shrug. “Now, not so much.”
Nathan’s mouth opens and I stare at him willing it back shut. Because whatever he says will undoubtedly be covered in barbed wire.
But he ignores my silent pleas and speaks anyway, “So should I take it you’re leaving again? Well, at least I’m awake to see you go this time.” The sarcasm practically drips off his words and down onto the carpet.
I pull in a breath. Can’t say I didn’t deserve that one.
“No, I’m not leaving.” I try to keep my voice even, calm. I brace my hands on my thighs trying to drum up some inner strength. “Not unless you want me to?”
Holding my breath, I lift my eyes, looking at him, hoping to force something, anything, from him. Well anything except that he wants me to leave.
He looks away, saying nothing.
I exhale. Well, at least he didn’t tell me to leave, I guess that’s something. A small start.
I slip my shoes on. “There are things we need to talk about,” I concede. “But I just don’t think now is the right time.”
He doesn’t argue with me.
I start to walk toward the door. My feet feel like they’ve got suction cups attached to the soles. Each step, a really huge effort. I actually feel like I’m leaving him all over again. Except this time he’s here to witness it.
When I reach the door, I glance down at him.
He’s already looking at me. I see his eyes do a quick sweep of my body, up and down. A dark look passes over his face.
“You’ve changed,” he utters.
I’m getting the distinct impression he’s not talking about the length of my hair or the style of my clothes.
“Yeah, and you’re just exactly the same as you were the day I left.” I reach for the door handle, pausing, I turn back, meeting his eyes. “Actually, no scrap that. You’re not the same, you’re an even bigger arsehole than you were before!”
I slam the door behind me and fall against the wall beside it, heart pounding. The tears I was holding in start to run down my face.
I feel used, and cheap.
Of all the things I ever thought Nathan could make me feel, it wasn’t them.
He didn’t have sex with me because he missed me, or because he loves me and it’s been torture for him all this time without me. He had sex with me to punish me. To hurt me. He knows it would hurt me to do this, because he knows how much I care about him. I’ve always worn my feelings for him plain for him to see.
And all because I hurt his damn fucking pride. How could he do that to me? I thought he cared about me. Maybe he did, once upon a time, long ago, but not now it seems.
I’d hate him right now if I didn’t love him so much.
I want to run away and hide, but I can’t. Not again. I’m not going to just up and leave. I‘m not giving him the satisfaction of being right. I’m going to stay here until it bugs the shit out of him and drives him to talk to me like a sensible person would, instead of acting like a teenage boy.
I look toward the stairs. It’s the only way to get away from Nathan, but I also know down there is the one other person I’ve been terrified to face for a long time now. But also the one other person I know I have to talk too. I never got the chance to before I left here. The day he buried Sol.
Taking a deep breath I wipe my face dry and very nervously head downstairs.
Jack’s in the kitchen with his back to me, making coffee, when I push the door open.
He turns to me. He seems to have aged some while I’ve been gone. I guess it’s to be expected after what he’s been through.
“Hiya, Alex, love.” His voice is warm.
Everything’s the same in here as I remember. The sight of Jack in here making coffee slams open my nostalgia and I feel tears well in my eyes. A long old wound cracks open in my chest, and I suddenly feel like a little kid again. A kid who wants a hug from their dad. Wants them to tell them everything’s going to be okay. Except Jack’s not my dad. He was the closest thing to one before Sol died. But I am the reason Sol died. I’m the reason he lost his youngest child. He has every right to hate me. But by the way he’s looking at me now, I’m not so sure he hates me after all.
“Are you passing through or staying?” he asks. There’s no harshness in his words, only kindness and a light smile.
“Depends.” I shrug lightly, looking to the floor.
“On?”
My bottom lip quivers. “Nathan …
you
.”
“Me?” He looks surprised.
“Hmm.” I bite my lip trying to hold back the tears. I can’t cry. It’s not fair on him to do so.
“I get the Nathan problem.” He shrugs, then a small laugh. “Because, Nathan’s well … Nathan. But me, Alex, love …” He lets out a light sigh. “I once told you this was your home. That hasn’t changed.”
I crumble. Tears are running out of my eyes before I can even attempt to stop them. Jack crosses the kitchen in a few strides and wraps his arms around me, enveloping me in a hug.
He smells of everything familiar. Cigars and coffee. Jack is the closest and best thing I’ll ever get to having a dad again. He could never replace my own, but he sure comes in at a close second.
“You okay?” he asks after a minute, patting my hair.
I nod into his chest.
Jack loosens his hold on me and rests his hands against my arms. “I’ve really missed having you here.”
“I’ve missed being here.” I notice my tears have soaked through his shirt. “Sorry,” I gesture.
He looks down and rubs a hand over the wet patch. “Don’t worry,” he says kindly. “I brought up three boys. I’ve had worse on me.” A grin.
I can’t help but smile back.
Leaving me, Jack gets some kitchen roll off the side and hands it to me. “So Nathan’s being his usual self I take it?”
I gulp down and twist the kitchen roll in my hands. “He’s angry.”
“He’s always angry.” Jack smiles lightly.
“He’s got a right to be angry with me though.” I hate to admit it but leaving him like I did was never going to illicit anything but anger. Seeing a slight sense of reason, he has a right to be angry. Not to do what he did; sleeping with me to hurt me, that was a bastard’s trick, but the anger, I can’t deny him.
“Has he?” Jacks response throws me. I give him a surprised look. “From where I’m standing, he’s got no reason to be pissed at you. You did what you thought was right at the time. You did what he couldn’t. You let go. That makes you strong in my books.”
I feel a swell of emotion inside. Jack thinks I’m strong. There’s no higher compliment in my books.
“And to be honest, love,” he continues, “He’s not angry with you. He’s angry with himself … and a little bit pissed off with me at the moment too. But that’s nothing your coming home won’t help clear up.”
I furrow my brows, confused by his last sentence.
“A lot of ears here.” He tugs on his ear lobe and I immediately catch his drift. “I was just getting ready to go visit with Sol, you want to come and keep me company?”
He holds out his hand to me in offeriss tto hurtng.
I have a knot twisting my stomach. Visiting Sol’s grave will undoubtedly mean a conversation I’ve never had with Jack. One I’m afraid to have. Fearful of what he’ll say.
He smiles at me, seeing my hesitation. “Come on we can
talk
on the way.” He gives me a knowing wink, trying to lighten the obvious tension I’m creating.
“Sure,” I nod. “I would love to keep you company.”
I follow behind Jack, pausing as he retrieves a bunch of tied flowers off the work top, and then I follow him out of the back door and into the fresh crisp English morning.
Chapter 23: Ghosts
As we walk across the field toward the woods, Jack and me make idle chatter. I can smell the scent of home so clearly now.
I didn’t really pay attention last night. I was too nervous about seeing Nathan. But now I can smell my home. It warms and soothes me. Funny, I’d spent so much time missing the people here I’d not realised just how much I missed my home.