Mistakes of My Past

  Chapter 14

  Amber

  After two weeks of dropping, spilling and generally not understanding a drink order other than beer, Sophie tells me I’m a natural and I’m a legitimate bartender.

  I work a variety of day and night shifts. I enjoy the lull of the daytime when the middle and silver ages come in for a beer and a yarn; and the bustling evenings when the patrons are a little younger, the jukebox is on loud, and everyone’s on a high after finishing work.

  It’s the sort of bar where everyone knows one another’s name. They’re like family with naturally flowing banter, love for each other, as well as a little arguing and feuding. I like it. It makes me feel part of something.

  I drive home from the lunch shift with the radio on loud. Rachel Platten’s Fight Song is playing and the lyrics scream from my lungs. At a stop sign, the guy driving the truck next to me turns and stares and I bellow the words to him. It’s that moment when I realise right now, I am free.

  The music still blares as I park the car on the driveway. I spot Will with Pete laying the bricks to the extension outside. It’s still early but the sun is lowering down for the night in the west. In a hurry, I wave and run inside. It only takes me a minute to change out of my work gear and I’m heading back outside, full of energy.

  “Where are you off too in such a hurry?” Will asks me as I jog past them.

  “I’ll be back in a while!” I shout and sprint down the driveway, not wanting to miss a moment of daylight.

  I haven’t run since before Matilda died. My body remembers what to do, but my lungs punish me. Flo spurs me on and seems to enjoy the way her tongue flaps in the wind. We run the length of our street down to the main road and head left. I’ve driven past this farmland more than a dozen times and thanks to a couple of wrong turns a few weeks ago, I know that if I turn left a couple of times the route brings me in a scenic rectangle back to our street.

  Midway along the half a dozen mile route, we hit the woods at the back of Dad’s house. The trees are bare, but dense enough that you could be a hundred miles from anywhere with not a soul or building in sight. It’s beautiful and reminds me of the autumnal walks mum and I would take together. I stop for a moment and collect up a few interesting looking logs like mum would always do. She’d carve them for pleasure into ornaments, signage and so on, to donate to the village fetes.

  We continue our run until my legs ache and my chest heaves. By the time we are headed back up the driveway, the day is turning into twilight and Will and Pete look as though they are packing up for the day.

  I drop my gathering of wood into the growing pile in the disused porch of the main house and close the rickety old door behind me. I’ll find a hardware store this week to buy some tools now that I’m earning a wage.

  Will looks on from beside the porch as he cleans his trowel using a cloth and a bucket of water beside him. “You know we’ll be knocking that down soon? How many sticks does one dog need?” Will asks, nodding his head at the porch.

  “Oh, they’re not for Flo; I thought I might try carving.” I look down, feeling kind of stupid. “My mum, she used to…” My voice lowers to a whisper.

  Will flashes me an easy smile. “I’ve got some tools in the garage. If they'll get you started, you’re welcome to them.” His hair shines in bronze as the final rays of sun illuminate the longer messy locks on top.

  “Thanks. I’ll come over later if that’s okay.” I turn and head back to the house.

  “How was tennis the other day?” Will calls and I turn and stop. He looks me up and down in my make-shift work out gear. My sweaty face reddens a little more.

  “Ha-ha, you’re funny, Will, a bit like your hair.” I turn and flick a palm of the watery muck from the bucket beside him. His hair, as intended takes the brunt of it. Let’s see how he likes his perfect fuck-me-hair all mussed. I grin, pleased at my come-back. Amber can do banter!

  “My eyes!” Will bends over masking his face with his sleeves, he growls and I look down at the contents of the bucket. Grey watery sludge sops from side to side where I disturbed it. I look at Will and await the punch line; he must be joking, right? Except his face is red and I wonder if he’s not joking.

  Pete’s walking toward us and I coyly ask him, “What's in that?” As I point to the bucket.

  “That’s just the acid we use to clean the bricks when we’re done.” Pete’s grinning and I’m not sure if it’s at my stupidity or my mortified face.

  “Oh. Shit, Will. Are you okay?” I put Flo’s leash in my other hand, so I can use my nearest hand to grip Will’s shoulder, to let him know I’m here. Will shrugs me off. “Come inside and I’ll help you flush it out. Do you want me to drive you to the eye doctor?” I ask Will, not really sure how to make this situation better.

  “If you could just hand me the hose,” Will says, his voice uneven. His forefinger and thumb grip his temples and his lips are pulled together. He holds his other hand out toward me.

  I do as he asks, holding the end the water is gushing from so it spills away from his boots.

  Will takes the hose from above my hand, his thumb causing the water to well in the middle and spit from the sides. His grip tightens and the hose is out of my hand before I fully appreciate his attention.

  A high-pitched scream is forced out from my lips as I hop and crouch and do all I can to avoid the icy blasts Will directs toward me. I let go of Flo’s lead and she calmly takes a drink from a puddle as Will grips me around my waist… “NO!” I shout as he carries me away, ribbing my sides, making me giggle. I struggle but he’s strong. “Where are you taking me?” I call, in between random guffaws and high pitched yelps.

  “You, Miss Amber, stink. Your shot stinks, your arm pits…” He sniffs me as if to make sure, “Yep, they stink too. You need a bath.” I turn to watch Pete swilling the bucket across the gravel.

  “That wasn’t acid!” I look to where Will is headed, a water filled wheelbarrow. “No-no-no Will, plea…” He plants me gently, yet firmly in the drink. Splash!

  My ass is soaking, my legs hang over the handle side and the curve of the wheelbarrow supports my shoulders. The frigid temperature soaks through my leggings and I bounce back out, my stance crouched, my finger pointing.

  “You, you… I’m too cold to even think of an appropriate word but when I do, you,William Denver, will be so sorry!”

  Will bites the side of his mouth, a broad grin playing on one side of his mouth.

  Pete is stroking Flo, his shoulders bob in time with his smirking boyish cheeks.

  “And you, Pete! You are just as bad for playing along.” I shake my head, feeling the cold. “Flo, come on, you traitor!”

  Flo beats me to the backdoor with a smirk. It’s not a face you can stay mad with so I put her leash on the island, throw her a treat from the cupboard, and head upstairs to shower.

  * * *

  I hear Flo whining downstairs so I switch off the faucet, wrap a towel around me and head downstairs to check on her.

  “Hey there, just came to check on Gizmo here. I thought someone stole her for dog meat when I got home from work and she wasn’t there—thought I’d best try here first—Amber Boland-Scott.” Jed stands facing me, the morning post in his outstretched hand. He’s wearing his police uniform. It’s creased and there’re food stains on his shirt.

  I snatch the mail from him and put it on the counter, out of his reach.

  “We just got back from a run. I can bring her back later, if you like. Or she can stay here?” I ask, even though I’m pissed he got our mail from the box out front.

  Jed’s eyes are grazing across my bare skin. I nervously pull the towel tighter, gripping it at both ends, holding it in place. Flo’s laying in the furthest corner of the kitchen, her head in her paws. “I like her company, it’s no bother. I have food for her and everything.” I smile and pretend I’m totally relaxed, not pissed off in the slightest.

  “I can see you like to work out. I’m quite partial to a workou
t myself. How about I stay a while, we could work out together?” Jed tries to wink, but it turns into a twitch. He looks like he might have a seizure.

  “I have a boyfriend.” I lie and spot Will at the door, I wave him in like a demented penguin—afraid the towel might drop.

  “Will, have you met our neighbour, Jed?” I ask.

  They both nod, mirroring one another’s tight body language.

  “Just came to get the mutt,” Jed says taking the leash from the island.

  “She can stay, I don’t mind,” I say too eagerly. Jed smiles smugly like he’s enjoying having the upper hand. He roughly pulls the leash around Flo’s neck, jarring her head upwards. She doesn’t stand to leave or wag her tail like she usually does with the promise of a walk. I get an uneasy churning in my stomach.

  “I’d rather Gizmo was at home tonight. Be seeing you, Amber.” Jed nods at Will and drags Flo out the door behind him, slamming the door dangerously close to Flo’s tail.

  “You okay?” Will asks me. “That guy is such a dick!”

  “Yeah, he is, but she’s not my dog,” I frown. “She doesn’t even like him.”

  “I know you’ve gotten attached to her these last few weeks, but she’s a dog, she likes whoever feeds her. And, you’re a feeder.”

  Will puts his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. My wet hair touches his hand, a drop of water falls down my cleavage, and I step back and nod.

  “Maybe you’re right. Jed’s language is terse but I haven’t seen him actually harm her, apart from the sleeping outside. I’ll phone animal defenders. Who knows they may be able to do something. Thanks for coming over, he makes me… I don’t know…”

  “You have any problems with him, you call me, okay?” Will’s eyes crinkle and his hair flops to the side. He checks my reaction to what he’s just said and, satisfied, he changes the subject. “I brought you something, it might cheer you up,” Will says, polishing his halo. He heaves a big, heavy looking canvas bag onto the island and unfolds it.

  “Tools to carve with, Will, these will be great.” My grin widens as I pick one up to examine it.

  “Hey, what’s this?” Will holds my left hand, palm up and examines my inner wrist, tracing the red puckered skin with his finger. I flinch and pull my hand away as if burnt from his touch.

  “That’s, um, nothing.” I dipped my head to avoid Will’s too intense gaze. I’m still covered by a towel, yet I feel bare. “I’d better get dressed.” I edge away. “Thanks for these. Could you let yourself out please?”

  I sprint up the stairs, unable to breathe. The oxygen was expelled from the room the moment Will’s enquiring touch found my wounds. How many more secret scars will he notice?

  * * *

  I head downstairs, dressed in jeans and a new black sweater. My socks are red with green Christmas trees on the ankles. The backdoor was shut and locked ten minutes ago. I know, because I hid upstairs like a coward and waited for Will to give up on me and leave. Maybe I should have explained about my scar, but it would have invited other questions, the answers to which would turn him against me.

  Keeping secrets is becoming a full-time occupation, it’s exhausting and I’m not even good at it. Convincing everyone I’m crazy? That seems to come naturally.

  I fill the kettle, in desperate need of a caffeine hit. The mail Jed was so interested in still sits on the counter. I normally call my dad when there’s post. He asks me to read his aloud in case it’s important, and we chat about our days. I’m not feeling up to a chat. Dad has a knack of sensing my unease and inviting me to tell him about it and I’m finding it harder to evade the truth as I become more comfortable with him. The same might be said for Will.

  I pour my tea and sit at the island. I’m about to move the post ready to be dealt with tomorrow when I notice something I’m not expecting. There’s a handwritten note on the front of a formal looking letter addressed to me. The writing’s childlike, with bubbles to dot the I’s.

  Amber,

  I came by to ask you to dinner for Cody. She wants to practice for cooking class—by holding a dinner party?!?

  Please don’t make me suffer alone.

  It starts at 7.

  Will x

  PS—you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.

  I’m sorry I pushed.

  I read it again, and then again. But all I see is… a kiss. I can’t possibly face him after earlier, but I don’t want to let Cody down. I check the time on my phone, it’s already six-thirty, I text Roxy.

  Amber: Is it normal for American guys to add kisses onto notes?

  Roxy: Totally! When they want to bone you! Who?

  Amber: No one. I saw it on a T.V. show.

  Roxy: Liar! I’m on my way over—Minx face!

  Amber: No, don’t come over. I’m going to bed soon, long day.

  Roxy: Don’t you have a dinner party to get to?

  How does she know about that?

  The sound of gravel spraying pulls my head up from my phone. Car headlights shine through the window and abruptly switch off. The moonlight catches Roxy’s dreads in a platinum halo as she strides the short distance to the back door. I open it wide ready for her arrival and the toasty warm kitchen haemorrhages heat.

  “I said don’t come,” I tell Roxy by way of a welcome.

  “Yeah, I chose not to listen. Besides, there’s more parking at your place.” I look at her sceptically. What’s she up to? “Oh, you think you’re the only one invited to fancy-schmancy dinner parties? I may not be regal like you, princess, but I can eat like a king.” Roxy pulls off her coat and gives me a hug. “Now, tell me about this kiss.”

  “Which one?” Guilt floods my face. I didn’t tell Roxy yet about the almost kiss. I fill her in.

  “So, I don’t know if he was going to kiss me, or if it was me or if it’s all in my head. He noticed my scar, so I threw him out. You have to help me avoid him. I’m a loose cannon around him.”

  “Honey, if you like him, you got to start talking to him. He’s not going to wait around forever, although he is persistent. I would have dumped your crazy ass ages ago, even if your rack is pretty fine.” Roxy’s grin is mischievous, she’s joking, but I can’t help notice the core truths in her words.

  “You’re right. He won’t wait around forever. Soon he will have had enough. Maybe that’s what I’m waiting for.”

  “That is not what you want. You think you’ll feel all better when some ho-bag is hanging off him? Amber, this is moving on. Go on a few dates, take it slow. If it doesn’t work you can always move house.” Roxy laugh. “He’s not that bastard. This is Will. Will doesn’t sponge off his girlfriend and beat her down. He doesn’t fuck her over and screw her friends. This is Will. Will watches you snivel and snot and fucking hugs you for it. Will makes you laugh and put’s a smile on your face that’s like nothing I’ve seen before. And I am fucking funny. You should give Will a shot.” Roxy looks at me, a sincere, pointed stare. She’s right.

  “He probably won’t ask me out again anyway. He probably just asked me to go tonight for Cody.”

  “Yeah and he probably likes men.”

  My head spins, “What?”

  “Ha-ha, you should see your face! Come on, like, let’s go, you need to flirt with your man, and Ambs, when I say flirt, I don’t mean like, throw up on him or anything kinky yeah? Just say he looks hot, run your fingers through your hair, or even better his hair, that kind of thing. Be brave.”

  “Gotcha. Looks nice, fingers, hair.”

  Roxy runs off to pee before we leave and I steel myself to be brave by jogging on the spot for a minute and doing a few high kicks. I am a ninja. I can totally do this.

  * * *

  The first course of soup is without any major catastrophes. I’m not at all shocked to see that Cody has invited Pete, as well as Roxy, which is good because the three of them keep the conversation flowing while I look at Will, and then look away, flustered, when he notices.

  I’m not sure if h
e appreciates all the hair combing, but when Cody asks me if I want to use her ‘Cootie Comb’ I don't think it's had the desired effect. I do manage to say his hair looks nice, but I think he takes it the wrong way when Cody fishes a hair out of his soup bowl.

  Cody brings out ‘home made’ pizza, which looks suspiciously like thawed frozen pizza with extra cheese.

  “So, do you manage to get out much to date, Will?” Roxy asks and my heart plummets into my stomach as I listen for the answer.

  “Who, me? I’m not really looking to date,” Will replies and looks in my direction. I’ve blown it.

  “Will, that is not true. You were asking only the other day about what Amber thought of you.” Cody’s grinning from ear to ear. “Have you asked her if she’ll come to the Gala with you yet?”

  “She doesn’t want to, Cody. Leave it alone.” Will clears his throat and takes his plate to the kitchen.

  “Amber, since Cody cooked and Pete brought beer, why don’t you clear the table?” Roxy’s nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen. Like a new born lamb, suddenly I can’t walk in a straight line as I carry the plates through the swinging door.

  Will turns at my entrance and I freeze. I’ve got no idea how to start this conversation.

  “Come in here to get out of the heat, huh?” Will asks me and takes the plates from my arms, placing them on the counter.

  “I think we were ambushed,” I admit in a whisper, a smile plays on my lips. “I think they’re trying to be sweet.”

  “Uh-huh. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Cody. She’s no business interfering like this.” Will starts to load the dishwasher and my hand holds his arm to stop him.

  “If you’d like, I can go with you. To the Gala, I mean. I know you didn’t ask and I’m probably being presumptuous, but it could be fun if you can handle my weirdness.”

  “You want to go? Or you been strong armed into it by the frightful three out there?”

  “I want to, I’m sorry about… I find it hard, to talk about things…” I stutter and bite the corner of my lip. I’m not sure what to say without giving the green light to a request for full disclosure.