I wandered through the bedrooms turned into art displays, until I reached the self-portrait of the artist with his brother, clad in opposing outfits. Comfy PJ’s versus knowledge and power. Both of them depicted with solemn expressions. The laugh bubbled up from my gut, escaping without my permission, just like the smile I’d been wearing before. It felt fucking awesome to let it out. Until I heard a deep laugh join the melody of mine.
My tailbone throbbed at seeing him again. He was laughing at my shoes, not the painting. What’s so funny about my sneakers? I watched as his eyes travelled over me, the pupils growing larger despite the bright light streaming in the windows. My heart pounded, and my muscles tightened in response. I wanted to run before they reached my face, but I was too slow. He looked at me, rendering me speechless with his smile. He didn’t smile like that before. Given the circumstance of our past meeting, I probably would’ve slapped it off his face. Now, it’s an art work all on its own.
My heart galloped along, out of control. Lord knows where it wanted to go, but it definitely felt like it wanted to leave my chest and leap into someone else’s. It was scaring the shit out of me. His smile faded a little and he took a step back, and said something about the artwork. I couldn’t answer. My vocal chords had checked out on me, apparently on board with the travel plans taking place inside my rib cage.
His boots thumped against the floorboards as he retreated another step. He was looking at me strangely, continuing to prattle about the painting. I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, but his feet spoke for him. Two times he backed away … Twice. I was used to it. I encouraged it. I couldn’t afford to let people in. But watching him stand there looking scruffy and dangerous … holy shit … he was sexy. I didn’t want him to back away. I wanted him to take a step closer. But those buckled, biker boots backed up, slicing a piece off my tough exterior as they went. With my vulnerable centre exposed, the second step cut even deeper. I couldn’t let it happen again. So I ran.
That’s what I do. I’m good at it.
I woke up all stiff and sweaty from sleeping on the blow-up mattress in Granny's living room. 4:15 a.m. The sun was about to enter stage left. After downing a couple of paracetamol, I threw on my running gear and headed out.
The sky held a flotilla of steel wool, locking in the heat, and denying the dawn. The oppressive atmosphere matched my mood. This was the third time this month I’d been kicked out of my home. How many fucking parties does one person need to have? I’d refuse to leave, but there was no way I wanted to be there with a crowd of people. Especially her friends. I screwed up my nose and poked out my tongue in a mock dry retch. Flick knew it, too. That was why she did this.
Wet leaves and small branches covered the footpath after the storm last night. I slowed my pace, worried I might slip on the decomposing carpet. The air felt like warm molasses. The end of something hovered close … I could sense it. The hairs on my arms transformed my skin into a pincushion. I fumbled with my phone, as if turning up the music could drown out fate. Looking around, I couldn’t see any signs of life. Not even a bird. I should be celebrating. Having a moment to myself was rare for me, but this felt … fucking creepy. My skin grew taut, my muscles tensed, as my eyes darted around on high alert. I half expected the big bad wolf to jump out at me. Debating whether I should forego the torture and turn back, I decided to suck it up and keep going.
I turned a corner to run along the golf course that overlooked the river. My unsettled thoughts hurtled back to the man from Old Government House. The guy that broke my tailbone over a week ago. I admit, I haven't been able to get him out of my head since that mortifying display of ineptitude. He was connected to this sense of unease. I knew it somehow. It made me fight his pull with all my strength. I avoided the places where I’d seen him, and kept my eyes open in case I needed to run again. A neurotic attempt at maintaining my slippery control on my pathetic life.
Breaking into my morbid thoughts, I spotted a flash of yellow and blue in my peripheral vision. “FUCK!” Hurling my body sideways, I narrowly missed falling into the bush and sliding down the river bank. I made my way back onto the path, accompanied by my little stalker.
"Good morning. You look like crap," she said with an innocent smile.
I will not acknowledge you.
“My name is Letitia, by the way.”
Please go the hell away, Letitia. My arms and legs fell back into a rhythm.
"You know … I can tell my brother's really going to like you. He needs someone like you to get his head out of the clouds, and you need him to neutralise your acid tongue."
Okay, that got my attention. My head twisted to glare at her. "Christ! This isn't some dating app, you know." Was she for real?
I expected her to reply with a cheeky comment, but I was met with silence.
