Tatted Cowboy (16 page)

LAURA

Today is a public holiday to celebrate ANZAC Day.  Everyone in town has closed their businesses, including me and Luke, and I decided to host a barbeque lunch at my place.  Everyone will start arriving in about an hour, so I race into my room from the kitchen to start getting ready.  I prepared all the salads last night, and Luke is going to grill the meat once everyone gets here.  He left about twenty minutes ago to go back to his place and change.  I haven’t seen his apartment yet, but he assures me it’s nothing much and not really worth seeing.  He also told me he doesn’t sleep there often, preferring to sleep at the tattoo shop.  This makes me sad, but it also warms my heart, because now he likes to spend most nights beside me in my bed. 

The last couple of months have gone by quickly. I’ve been so busy with the salon that time has flown by in the blink of an eye.  My business has been going steady, and every day more new clients are booking appointments, and the feedback from each client who leaves after I’ve provided a service has been nothing short of amazing.

I spend my days working and my nights with Luke.  He spends most nights at my place, which I kind of like, and not only because I don’t like the thought of him sleeping on the couch at Premier Ink.  I like his company. I like spending time with him, laughing with him, talking with him, sitting in silence with him.  I just really like being with him. Full stop!

Even so, I still haven’t told him about Gus.  It’s hard for me to explain why, but I guess I’m just scared.  I also like just being me - just
Laura
- owner of Inner Beauty Salon, granddaughter of Marj Carlisle and resident of Pine Creek.

Since I moved here and hardly anyone knows my past, I haven’t been defined as
that poor woman
.  And, it feels good.  It feels nice to look at people and not see pity hiding in their depths, despite them doing their hardest to hide it.

I guess I just want to hold onto that feeling for a little while longer, and that’s part of the reason why I haven’t told Luke.

I slip on the dress I’ve chosen to wear – a simple tank-style dress that reaches my ankles and is a light blue-grey colour.  Across my boobs are two panels of darker blue-grey.  It’s comfy yet stylish.  I slide on a pair of Roman sandals and give my hair a fluff up before finger combing it back and tying it on top of my head in a messy knot.  My makeup is minimal; a sweep of mascara and some clear gloss and I am good to go.

“Knock, knock,” I hear called from the front door.

“Come in,” I call back from the kitchen.  I finish plating up the devilled eggs and cover them with plastic wrap before sliding them into the fridge with the other salads.

“Hey!” I smile when Ava walks in, followed by Jeremy and their son, Oscar.

“Hey, Laur.  How are you?”

“Good.  How are you guys?” I look to each of them as I’m speaking, including little Oscar, who’s just too damn cute!

“Hi, Laura. L-A-U-R-A.”

“Wow! You’re so clever, Oscar.  You can spell my name!” I clap.

“Of course I can!” he exclaims.  “I’m six, now,” he says, holding six fingers up for me to see.

“Well, you’re just too smart.” I brush his cheek, ignoring the pang in my heart.

“Where can I put this?” Ava holds out an un-topped pavlova. 

“Oh, just over there on the bench. Thank you, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“No problems.” She walks over and sits the pav down on the bench.

“Got room in your fridge?” Jeremy asks, holding a plastic shopping bag in front of him.

“Pav toppings,” Ava explains.

“Sure.” I take the bag and place it in the fridge.

“I’ll grab the esky and bring it ‘round the back,” Jeremy says. Then, he sweetly touches his lips to Ava’s forehead before walking to the front door.

“So, do you need me to help with anything?”

“Nope.” I shake my head.  “All set.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Luke says, coming up behind me.  He slides his hands around my waist and pulls my back against his front before touching his lips to my neck.

“Hey,” I say, a shiver rippling down my back at the contact.

“Hey, Ava.”

“Luke.  Jer’s just gone to get the esky.”

“No worries. I’ll meet him out back.  You want a drink, Laura?” He gives my middle a little squeeze.

“Thanks.” I nod.

“Luke! L-U-K-E,” I hear Oscar saying as he follows Luke out the back door.

“God, he’s such a sweet kid, Ava,” I tell her.

“He is.  I’m so lucky.”

“Yoo-hoo,” Edie calls through the house.

“In the kitchen,” I call back.

We make our way out the back and sit in the shade to drink and snack before the boys fire up the barbecue when Zeke arrives.

Olive is snuggling my chest, sleeping soundly.  To my right, Ava is holding Jules’ and Clay’s son, Banjo, and to my left is Skip’s wife, Rhonda.  Edie and Jules are sitting across from us, with Gran and Dory on the ends of the table.  We’re discussing a recent blunder from a television journalist who blasted breastfeeding mothers for doing it in public.  While Ava knows about Gus, none of the other girls do, so I’m being careful with what I say.  It’s hard, and I wish I had the strength to open up and tell them.  Who knows, maybe one day I will.  The more I get to know them all, the more confident I become that they won’t judge me.  But, it’s incredibly hard to open yourself up like that.  To expose yourself, to just let it all hang out. Especially when it is something as painful as what I have been through.

Luke, Clay, Jeremy, Skip and Jackson are all standing around talking and Oscar is running around the yard playing.

“Well, I don’t care what anyone thinks. When my son is hungry, he’s
hungry
, and I’ll feed him whenever and wherever I damn well like,” Jules states.

“That woman sounds like a judgemental bitch.  Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she was related to Josie,” Gran throws is.

We all turn to look at Gran, but I think I’m the only one surprised by her outburst.  I don’t know why I am.  Rhonda nods her head in agreement.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Marj,” Rhonda says.

“Jesus,” I mutter, shaking my head in bemusement.

I hear my side gate open and see Zeke as he moves through, shutting it after him.

“Hey, Zeke,” I call, lifting my beer in greeting.

He gives me a jerk of his chin in reply and walks to the men.

“He’s got that brooding, sexy act down pat, hasn’t he?” Gran murmurs.

“Uh-huh,” someone agrees, I’m not sure whom, but I think it was Rhonda.

Lord help me!

***

We’re all sitting at the table, eating our food and gabbing.  The night is going so well and it’s been so nice just to chill out with all my friends at my home.  About an hour ago, it started to get chilly, so I popped on my cropped denim jacket and curled into Luke’s side to warm up while I waited for everyone to dish up their food before me.

“Well, well, well.”  I hear the slurred words come from the voice I know so well and I turn in my seat, praying I’m not actually going to
see
what I already know.

Shit!

I scramble out of my seat, the chair falling backwards in my scurry.

“Who’s that?” I hear Luke ask, his tone alert. 

I don’t answer.

“Frank,” Gran answers on a gasp.

“Who’s Frank?” Luke counters.

“Laura’s husband,” Ava replies, sounding shocked.  I don’t stop to correct her, or to speak with Luke; I just bolt across the yard to Frank.

“What the fuck?!” I hear Luke boom.

“Frank, what are you doing here?”  He ends up meeting me half way.

“Look at you, living it up,” he slurs again.

“Frank, maybe you should come back when you’re not drunk?” I suggest.

“Fuck you, Laura.  Fuck.
You!
  You’re fucking living it up, got yourself a house and a fucking business,
friends
,” he snarls the word friends.  “Living the fucking dream, while I’m still living in fucking
hell
.”

“Frank,” I try to cut in, but he keeps going, speaking over me.

“A hell you fucking created when you killed our fucking kid!” he ends on a roar, spittle flying in my face.

Behind me, I hear a bunch of gasps and tears prick my eyes.

“Laura?” Luke comes to stand beside me. I can’t answer him; my throat is clogged.

“Who the fuck are you?” Frank snarls.

“Luke.  And you’re Frank?” Luke answers calmly.

“Yeah, I’m the guy she destroyed.” He points an accusing finger my way.

“Frank, please don’t do this,” I plead.

“
I
didn’t do anything. 
You
fucking did it all.  Killed our kid.  Killed our marriage.  Might as well have killed
me!”
he shrieks.

My face heats in embarrassment and shame.  My heart beats rapidly in my chest and tears burn the back of my eyelids.

“Frank, please,” I beg on a whisper.  “Please don’t do this.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Zeke, Jackson, Jeremy and Clay, all standing off to the side in silence. Their arms are crossed over their chests, their faces impassive.

Behind me, I hear Edie, Ava and Jules talking in hushed tones as they walk inside, taking Oscar with them.

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?  Laura?” Luke asks, sounding confused and hurt.

“Luke,” I sob, turning my body to face him. But, I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes; petrified I’ll see the disgust that’s sure to be shining there.

“Laura, look at me,” he commands.

Slowly, I raise my tear-filled eyes to take in his blurry face.  My heart slams in my chest.

“Baby, explain to me what he’s talking about, ‘cause what I’m hearing, I’m not liking.”

“I’ll explain,” Frank spits.  “She killed my fuckin’ kid. Our marriage deteriorated and it’s all on her. The end!”

I sob again, my body shaking.

“Now that’s about enough, young man,” Gran says sternly.  She shuffles over to us and I look at her.  She gives me a sympathetic look back, and I know I’m showing just how broken I feel.

“Oh, shut up, Marj,” Frank slurs.

“Oi, arsehole, I’ve had just about enough of your shit,” Luke says, grabbing Frank by the collar.

“Stop!  Just stop!” I shout.  “Don’t you
dare
speak to my grandmother like that!  You treat me how you want to, blame me for what you want to, but don’t you
dare
speak to her like that,” I hiss.

“Listen to me, Frank, and listen carefully.  Happiness is a choice.  It doesn’t choose you,
you choose it
.  I know you’re hurting, but you’re not the only one.  Laura lost Gus, too.  We all did; her parents, your parents, me … we
all
lost him.  But, living in a state of hate is only tarnishing his beautiful memory.  Look deep down, son, and I know you know Laura didn’t kill Gus.  Do you think he’d want his Dad speaking to his Mum like that?  No,” she answers her own question, shaking her head.  “He wouldn’t.”

“
She killed my kid!”
Frank screeches, making me jump.  Then, he begins to sob.

“She didn’t kill Gus, Frank.  It was an accident.  There is no one on Earth who loves a child like a mother.  She didn’t stand there and watch him drown.  But, you already know that, don’t you, son?” she says, gently.  “Having someone to blame can ease the pain for a little bit, can’t it?” she continues, her tone still gentle. Frank continues sobbing and I break down as well.

“But, in the end, all blame does is eat you from the inside out.  It does more harm, than good.  Now, why don’t you come on over and have a seat, let’s talk about this like adults, hey?”  She puts an arm around him and looks over at me. 

Tears run unchecked down my cheeks, I don’t even try to contain them; there are that many of them.  I give her a nod, and we walk over to the table.

That’s when I realize Luke isn’t beside me anymore.  I scan the yard, looking for him.  My eyes meet with Jackson’s and he gives me one, sad shake of his head, letting me know Luke has left.

It doesn’t surprise me; it is what I expected him to do when he found out.  But, just because I expected it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like fucking hell.

I cross my arms over my body and rub myself, trying to put some warmth into my bones. I suddenly feel like I have ice running through my veins.  With my head down, I walk across my yard to Gran and Frank who are sitting at the table.  Frank is hunched over, his head in his hands between his knees.  Gran sits beside him, rubbing his back in consolation.

“Hey, sweetie, are you okay?” Ava asks, pulling me into a tight hug.