Phoenix

 

I’ve got her front door key in my pocket, the scent of her pussy on my fingers, and a storm of shit to work out at home.

The sword of unanswered questions hangs by a dangerously fine cord over my head, but tonight I’m charged enough to stare right up at it. No fear.

There is no whisky bottle on the coffee table when I let myself back in. No ashtray waiting to disturb my peace of mind.

Instead, there’s Serena, huddled asleep in the armchair, her long hair trailing over the arm. Her knees are held to her chest, her chin resting on top. She looks precariously peaceful, one tiny move and she’d topple.

I forget how small she is, my little sister. I forget how Jake and I used to be so fucking protective over the little girl with big dark eyes, even if she was full enough of spit and fury to ward off demons herself.

If only she could ward off mine. Hell, she’s tried – trapped between two bulls baying for each other’s blood, even though it’s the same fucking blood in their veins.

I prop myself in the doorway, just to be there awhile. I collect my thoughts until she stirs.

She starts as she sees me there. “I was waiting up for you. What time is it?”

“Late,” I tell her. “Why aren’t you upstairs? You do still have a bed.”

She looks away. “We can’t go on just pretending everything is normal, Leo.”

She’s right about that.

Her eyes meet mine. “We need to talk… about Jake…”

“Fuck Jake,” I say.

“I said some awful things, Leo. Awful. But I said the truth… we don’t know…”

I shoot her a glare. “You think I’m too chicken shit to let him see my son? You think this is some shitty excuse for denial because I’m too scared to face the truth?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Is it?”

I shake my head and smile at the ridiculousness of all this. “Jake’s a fucking mess, Serena. He’s a drunk who can’t keep his shit together.” I glare at her. “He hates me too fucking much to keep a lid on his crap. His bitterness is toxic to everyone, not least himself. Cam sure as hell doesn’t need Jake’s fucking baggage, he’s got enough of his own.”

“But you can’t do this…” she whispers. “He’ll never cope if you stop him seeing Cam.”

“I never fucking started letting him see Cam.”

She shrugs again. “He’s my brother, yours too.”

“I know who he is, and I don’t like it one bit.”

I see her clock the mud on my clothes. “Where did you go tonight?”

I wave her question aside. “Doesn’t matter.”

And she loses her shit, just like that. “And this is where the problem is. So many secrets. So many lies. We’re sinking, all of us. Jake looks like death, you’re so tightly wound, I don’t even know you anymore.”

“You know me,” I tell her. “You know Cam, too.”

“And Jake… I know Jake… I know how much he loved her…”

I knock my head back against the doorframe. “Jesus Christ, Serena.”

And we’re there again. Arguing over the fucking L word. Arguing over a woman who’s long in the fucking ground, lost to us all.

“He’ll never let it go,” she carries on. “If you stop him seeing Cam, it’ll send him over the edge… it’s the last he’s got… the last piece of…”

“Her,” I finish. “And I don’t give a fuck, Serena, I swear. He’s my boy. I’m the one who tucks him into bed at night. I’m the one who picks him up when he scrapes his knees. I’m the one who’d kill to keep him safe.” My eyes are wild but I don’t care. “And I will kill to keep him safe. Whoever he needs keeping safe from.”

It’s her turn to slam her head backwards. “Fucking hell, Leo. Where will this ever end?”

I don’t have an answer, so I don’t give her one.

“I love you,” she continues. “Enough to give you the truth, even though it feels like shit, and I’m telling you now, this is a bad road. We’re all on a bad road.” She sighs, then gets up from the chair. “I can’t choose you or him, but I can choose Cam. Please let me come back home for him.”

“You want to move back in here? With us? Abandon poor, sad Jake?”

She bites her thumbnail. “You haven’t really left me a choice, have you?”

She’s got a point. “And you’ll stop the secret fucking visits?”

She shrugs. “If that’s what it takes. You and Jake will have to sort the rest out for yourselves. I’m done.”

“He’s not Jake’s boy,” I say again. “I know it.”

“We’re talking about Mariana, Leo. None of us know anything.”

That makes me smile. “Ain’t that the fucking truth of it.”

She closes the distance between us. I’m tense as she wraps her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry the truth was so brutal.”

“I’m sorry you felt you had to.”

She nods.

I kiss the top of her head.

I watch her head upstairs to bed, back where she belongs.

And then I message my fucking brother.

 

* * *

  

Abigail

 

Something has lifted inside. Even as I wince, walking wounded, through my Sunday, I feel it.

My pain is all external, my outlook sunnier than I’ve known it in months.

I feel… good.

Excited.

Hopeful.

Even a little optimistic.

Optimistic enough to log into my social media accounts for the first time in months and not feel a crippling sense of loss.

I browse my newsfeed, smiling at posts by my friends back home. I even comment.

I laugh. I smile.

I’m human again.

Human enough to realise that the new contacts I’ve been making at work, the people I’ve been spending my time with, are becoming more than just empty connections.

I add them, one by one. I add Lauren and Kayleigh and even pink-shirted Jack.

I catch sight of a glorious sunset over the cathedral from my living window and capture it on camera.

I save it as my phone backdrop.

I smile at life – at the life a stranger in the night gave me back.

A stranger who watches me.

Who wants me.

Who’ll be lurking around some shadowy corner when I least expect it. The thought gives me shivers.

I walk to work on Monday with a smile on my face and my head held high. I walk with a thrum of excitement in my belly, as if his eyes are on me. Always on me.

I make a round of coffees first up, as though I really belong in the office.

Maybe I do.

Lauren seeks me out at my desk. She fans her face and leans in close, and my heart does a little burst at the thought of juicy gossip.

Sandra and Frank from the Worcester accounts team. Both at Diva’s, hitting up the dancefloor and snogging each other’s faces off at 2 a.m.

I haven’t met them, so I pull a face.

“Summer barbeque, you’ll meet them all there,” she tells me, and I grin. Summer barbeque is bigger than Christmas here, so they tell me. “You missed a great night,” she continues, and I actually believe her. “Say you’re coming along to George’s leaving party on Thursday! You have to be there, it wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t. We’re all dressing up as vicars and tarts. Wear your sluttiest.”

“I think I’m washing my hair,” I reply, and she rolls her eyes. I laugh. “I’ll be there. Sounds too entertaining to miss.”

And it does.

Sarah from next door is struggling to open the communal door on Tuesday evening when I arrive back home. She’s loaded up with enough shopping to feed the five thousand for a week.

I pull the door open for her and she grins.

“Lifesaver. Got a bit carried away with the special offers.”

I take a couple of bags from the floor. “No shit. Those buy one get one frees are fatal, right?”

I help her upstairs with her haul, and when she invites me in for coffee, I accept with a smile.

Her place is so different to mine. The mirror image in layout, but so much warmer. So much more lived in.

She tells me she only moved in a few months earlier than I did. I find that hard to believe as I look around.

“It gets lonely sometimes,” she says as she sits down at her kitchen table. “My family are all up north, I got relocated down here for work. New branch. They’re all old where I work. I haven’t made it out once yet.” She takes a breath. “So, what’s your story?”

“I had a break up,” I tell her with surprisingly little hesitation. “I left everything behind. Even my nail varnish.”

It makes her laugh. “Must have been pretty dire to leave without beauty essentials.”

I look at my chewed-up nails and find myself laughing back. “It was pretty dire, yeah.”

Was.

I said was.

“Where are you from?” she asks.

“Hampshire. Fleet.”

She nods. “Was he worth it? All the shit? Worth running across the country for?”

I’ve never been asked that question before. Never even contemplated it.

The answer comes easily. “No. Had a nice dick, though.”

She splutters her coffee. “Did he know how to use it? That’s the clincher.”

The memory of Stephen is hazy. Distant.

Sore feet and soil and barbells are the only things that feel real.

My definition of knowing how to use it has changed somewhat in my frame of reference.

“He was okay.”

She tips her head. “He was okay? Just okay?”

I nod. Giggle. Sip my coffee. “Just okay, yeah. I thought he was the best ever at the time.”

“But not now?”

I think of my monster. The dark soul in his dark eyes. The way he pushes me, pins me, stretches me and makes me love it.

“No. Not now.”

“Intriguing.” She laughs, but I don’t elaborate.

I look at the woman opposite me, her kind eyes and her easy smile. I see a loneliness in her that’s gone from me, floating just under the surface.

“I’m going out to Diva’s on Thursday with the crowd from work,” I tell her. “Vicars and tarts. You could come, if you wanted to check out the Hereford nightlife.”

“I could?”

“You sure could. Just wear your sluttiest – I’m under strict orders. No suspenders, no tequila.”

Her eyes twinkle. “I’ll see what I can cobble together.”

I’m strangely pleased by her acceptance.

“I’ve got plenty of nail varnish,” she says. “Just tell me what colour you’re wearing. I’ll pick some out.”

“Red,” I say, even though I have no idea. “Scarlet harlot.”

“Red,” she repeats. “I’ll bring a shortlist over. Give you a knock.”

“Thanks.” I finish up my coffee and put my mug on the drainer.

And then I head back home for some late-night online shopping.