He never asked for that position, and probably doesn’t even want it… but, without knowing, he has it. He has me.
Helena sits me on a stool in the kitchen and pulls out a first-aid box. My mind drifts away as she cleans my cuts and bandages my hand. I remember chatting with Tobias a month after Isaac was released from prison.
“He just needs time, Liv,” Tobias tells me, but his eyes don’t meet mine.
I huff, leaning forward in my chair. I let my head drop between my knees and bite back the swell of pain that threatens to break me apart. I always assumed Isaac didn’t want me to visit while he was inside. That he didn’t want me to see what it was like in there. Also, knowing him, and what happened between us before he beat up Charlie, I imagined he’d want to talk to me privately. Apparently not. Since he’s been out he’s avoided me. He’s missed every family get together. Excuses after excuses have littered my brain as Uncle Saul, Aunt Soph, and Tobias have dutifully filtered them from him to me. The only person who hasn’t offered a string of half-truths on his behalf is Lawson, and that’s only because he’s away at Uni.
“How much time am I supposed to give him, Toby? It’s been over four years of him in there and a month of him out, and he still won’t speak to me. God!” I shoot up from my sitting position and kick my chair over. “He must hate me,” I shout as the anger courses through my body, and I start involuntarily shaking.
“Hey,” Tobias says taking a step toward me and pulling my shoulders into his chest, holding me and my anger until I calm.
The minute my body stops trembling, I push away from him. “Thanks Toby, but I’m always going to be in this state of limbo until he tells me where his head is at. He knows why.” I swallow and look back down, the tears pool now but I won’t let anyone see them. “Only he knows why,” I whisper to myself and I’m certain it’s so quiet, Tobias didn’t catch it. I blink and gather my composure, grinding my teeth, before I look back at my cousin. “Tell him I want to see him.” Biting my lip, I murmur, “Again.”
He nods, but I can’t take anymore, so I walk away.
That was four months ago and he still hasn’t made contact. So, after a month of crying I decided, no more. I wasn’t going to turn into a weepy shadow of my former self. I’ve been trying to move on ever since.
“There, all done,” Helena says, and I’m brought back to the present.
“Thanks, Hel,” I tell her, sucking in my cheeks so I don’t get upset. I’ve managed not to cry, not to ask about him, and not to talk about Isaac at all since that last conversation with Tobias. The only problem is I haven’t moved on. I’ve tried, believe me. I didn’t save myself for Isaac when he was in prison. I would have if he’d spoken to me, told me he still wanted me. After almost six months of thinking he would come to his senses, I went a little wild. I started drinking and sleeping around. I couldn’t hold down my dancing scholarship, a job, or even friends. I lost them all. The only positive to come out of those years were my tattoos and my friendship with Helena. She was my tattooist for my first and still is with every new one, but somewhere along the line, she also became my best friend.
“Well, that’s all done. Glad I have a free slot after you. Otherwise, you’d be waiting for your tat,” she tells me arching an eyebrow. “So go on, tell me what the outburst was for.”
I shake my head no, but as she purses her lips I know she won’t let it go.
“I had two phone calls on the way here,” I explain, getting up from the stool and busying myself by grabbing a Red Bull from her fridge.
“And they were?” Helena prompts, her face pinched with worry.
“The first was a rejection for that group dance I went for,” I tell her, my shoulders slumping. Ever since getting booted out of the dance academy, Aunt Soph has been working with me. She knows what I want, but neither of us are confident I’m going to get it. The tats make me unpopular for a lot of roles. The sheer amount I have over my body means they can’t be covered. Also, the fact that I never graduated and didn’t get a recommendation is a big black mark against me. She tells me I’m amazing, better than she ever was, but that’s what she would say, she’s my family. Aunt Soph and I are really close, and I love her like I love my mum.
A year ago, I made the jump to ShadowBox. I was working in a card shop which truly was as boring as it sounds. Worst of all though, because of where I was working and the little money I was earning, I had to remain at my parents’ house. Constant battles waged between my folks and me. They’re amazing, and I love them, but they’ve always found it hard to cut the apron strings. My need for freedom meant they held on tighter, and were suffocating me. An old friend suggested stripping, and ShadowBox was mentioned. I was wary, but I needed a new job. I’ve never been body conscious, and I could dance, so to me,
