fired it against Jake’s temple, mumbled “Fuckwit,” and pulled him in for a tender hug using both arms—one tight and strong, one loose and weak—before releasing Jake, swaying slightly from the sudden shift in balance.
Jake reached out to steady him. “You can’t just use swear words, Dad, you have to use whole sentences.”
“A new me.” Dad laughed. “And you?”
“I guess I have to use whole sentences too.”
49. Real
At home with the rental beige paint and the semi-regular ant trail, Jake knew he wouldn’t sleep. He called Bodge, woke him up, and wasn’t sorry about it.
“Where is she?”
“Mate, I’m not sure I—”
“Where is she, Bodge?”
Bodge breathed a flubber of air down the phone. “Look, last time I got involved in this, things didn’t go so good.”
Jake stood at the sink and looked out the window, as if by looking into the night sky he could find Rielle himself. “You could say that. I want to know where she is.”
“Nah, can’t see the point, Reedy. You made it pretty clear there were no second chances. She leaves in the morning anyway.”
If that was true, and he wasn’t sure he trusted Bodge, then he had no choice. “I have to see her tonight.”
“Don’t be a fuckwit.”
He growled at Bodge. “That’s the second time I’ve had that advice in the last hour. I think I get it.”
“It doesn’t sound like you get it. She’s different you know. I dunno how to describe it. I’d say older, but without the rock chick gear, she looks younger. She’s better. It’s like she knows who she is and doesn’t have to act it out anymore.”
Jake left the sink, walked into his bedroom, “Bodge, I need to see her,” he came back out again. “I need to talk to her.”
“I dunno if that’s such a good idea. You made it clear it’s over.”
He pressed the top of his head into the hallway wall, leaned into it. “It’s not over. God help me, it’s not over.” He gave his head a thump on the plaster. He needed some way to relieve the pressure. There was silence on the line. “Bodge, are you there?”
He could hear Bodge talking on another phone in the room. He couldn’t make out what he was saying. He waited, frustration kicking a football in his gut, and when Bodge came back on the line he said, “She’s coming to you, Reedy. Good luck.”
Anxiety waited in the flat with Jake. It wrapped its arms around his chest and squeezed to make him short of breath. It beat against his head to make his thoughts scramble, it made his confidence a weak thing cast from flimsy fabric. She was coming to him; here to the flat, to the ants and the flickering bulb; to his life, far less glamorous, far less rich and full of possibility than hers.
He didn’t have a clue what to say to Rielle. No idea if he could get past the hurt of her rejection and the knowledge she no longer needed him. No idea how not to be a fuckwit and screw this up.
When he opened the door to her, he saw the Rielle of his dreamscape. She smiled and colours changed, taking on a brilliance he’d not been able to see without her. In her eyes was the promise of something near to holy; in her body, the concept of heaven. And when she spoke he heard the most seductive music calling to his soul.
She said, “Hello Jake,” just like they were simply old friends meeting up again, like he might happily welcome her.
The loss of her, the change in her, struck him with the unrelenting force of all his old fears and he forgot how to manage them, forgot he’d wanted to see her. He felt the ground cut out from beneath him and panicked, fucking it up by snarling, “What do you want from me?”
Hearing the coldness in Jake’s voice and seeing his defensiveness as he blocked the doorway, Rielle armed herself with a deep breath and steeled herself with courage to see this one last unexpected chance through. With Bodge’s phone call, retreat suddenly became advance. But now, hearing Jake tense and bitter, she was struck again with how much she’d wounded him and how little her apology would mean. It winded her so her voice came out small and uncertain.
“I want to tell you how sorry I am about what I did to you.”
“A little late with that aren’t you?” He forced the words out through a