C4 Chapter 3

I finally hustle into the café, looking like a drowned rat, with my hair now soaked and plastered to my face. Isabella is already sat down, twirling her highlighted, light brown locks in her fingers and flicking through a magazine, wearing a bored expression.

“Hey chick!” she calls me over, pointing down at the table where lunch is sat ready and waiting. My stomach growls when my eyes register the food. Stripping out of my wet coat, she smiles brightly and hands me a few napkins. Patting my face dry, I grab the mug and take a sip, relishing the heat the drink is providing.

“So, how was your weekend?” She’s all light and optimism. Always. Unlike me, her glass is always half full.

“Interesting,” I answer nonchalantly. She spies me curiously, and I know she is dying to talk about whatever she was so desperate to convey this morning.

Taking a bite of my ham and cheese, I really don’t want to talk in any great detail about the tragedy currently comatose on my sofa. I’m positive by the time I get home this evening, rigor mortis might have even set in. I avert my eyes, knowing full well Isabella can read me like a book – everyone who knows me can. I’m aware that I am facially expressive, but I didn’t think I was that clear-cut.

Isabella's eyes sadden a little at me. “That’s what I wanted to talk about. Some of the guys had seen him out with a few scary-looking guys the other night, and they said he looked high. Is he still using?” she asks in a hushed tone, glancing around to make sure we’re not overheard. I nod, swallowing hard.

There’s no point in speaking of it, trying to find a way to evaluate and justify it, the truth hurts too much. I have spent my entire adult life trying to escape the pitfalls of addiction and pain. Just when I thought I was finally arriving at a good place in life, another obstacle would be thrown my way. Looking around the café, the few people who were in here have now gone, and only a few customers are waiting to be served.

“I hadn’t seen him since the last time we spoke. He finally resurfaced around two this morning. He looks awful, but I don't know what to do anymore. I can't turn my back on him, but at the same time, I don’t want to help him. I know that sounds really cruel, and I’m not being a bitch, but I just can’t do it any longer,” I say, my hand shaking softly on the tabletop. Isabella's fingers come over mine, and my breath catches in my throat, as the slow burn starts to envelop my hand.

“It's not cruel, Nelly. I would feel the same. I know you want to help him, but if he doesn't want it, you can't force it. Look, if you need somewhere to stay, give us a ring.” “Thanks, but I don’t want to put you out.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’d be nice to have some company, instead of going home to an empty house and a cat that uses me for food.” I chuckle. Like I said, always on the bright side.

Isabella doesn’t push any further after imparting her views, and I sit and stare out of the window. The sky has darkened considerably, and I’m mesmerised by the way the rain pelts against the glass. Glancing back at her, seeing her lips move, my own thoughts run rampant through my brain like wild horses. And for the second time today, my mind drifts back to the terrified girl that used to hide in her cubbyhole. The one who used to lock her bedroom door in fear every night. I drain the contents of my mug, ask Isabella if she wants another - she doesn’t - and move to the counter for a second coffee. My mind is still awash with emotions, as I attempt to dam the torrent of unwelcome memories and horrors I can recall a little clearer because I have finally let a handful resurface.

Fresh coffee in hand, I head back to the table and sit. I give Isabella a weak smile. “How much do I owe you?” I ask, needing something other than the train wreck at home to speak about.

She waves her hand very blasé. “You can pay next time. Or maybe we’ll call it your birthday lunch since you skipped out on drinks last week,” she says, clucking her tongue at me.

“Isab, in the years you have known me, how many times have I skipped out on drinks with you? Hmm?” “Last week!” She smiles broadly. I groan when I realise what she’s doing.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No. N. O. No!”

“Fine, I’ll just drag you out!” I roll my eyes at her; we both know she wouldn’t dream of it. She sits opposite, giving me a pouty, innocent look, knowing full well I will eventually break under the guilt trip.

“Fine! Birthday drinks it is, then! I’m guessing the usual suspects will be making an appearance?” “Of course! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t hire you a stripper or anything!” My mouth falls open in shock. “Isabella,” I say in warning.

“Seriously, just a few quiet drinks with friends, belated birthday girl!” she says, clapping her hands together.

We eventually finish lunch and start to go our separate ways. Isabella makes me promise to call her if anything happens when I get home, and also not to cry off on my birthday drinks. After yielding that I will, and also that I won’t, she lets me go. I walk steadily back to the office in the rain, my mind a blur with an abundance of emotions and feelings consuming it.

It is far too easy to become lost in life.

The only trouble is, I have never been found.

The files on my table and some papers which well hither to well arranged began flying off to the floor I could feel a gentle wind forming round circles, it is definitely someone from the waters. No one from the other side knows my address except my parents, Maxwell and Isabella.

I have no internet accounts and only my work email address. I’m also not registered with any social media network sites. The fewer people know about me, the better. It’s my safeguard, the way I keep people out and myself safe inside. My only real friends are Nancy - if I can still call her that at the moment – Isabella, and a few girls that we both went to college with.

Looking straight to the settled circle formed by the wind is my father. “Yes?” I snap out, tapping my finger, waiting for the latest round of lies to leave his lips.

Pleasantries are not something that will ever pass between us, no matter how hard he tries to come across as caring. Even as a child, his presence stirred something inside me that I could never explain. Now I know better. Yet I just don’t seem to know when to sever all ties completely.

“Nelly, don't be like that. I just want to talk,” his voice slurs on the other nside. “I thought that maybe you could come up and see us, your mum has been asking about you for days.”

My mum! How dare he use her as an excuse! I scoff at his audacity, and his obvious, but failed attempt at hiding behind the true nature of his call.

“Really? The only time you want to see me is when you need something. So how much is it this time, Travis?” I’m beyond irritated, and I half-listen while he rattles on about getting a new job in the human world saying he will pay me back. He’s been paying me back for years. As much as I despise him, and what he has to be done to me all those years ago, I still love my mother. How could I not, knowing her life isn’t much better than mine had been back then?

“I don’t need much, just a few hundred dollars will do,” he says, a little more perceptive this time.

“A few hundred dollars? Where do you think I’m getting that kind of money? Look, whatever mess you’re in, you better find your own way out. I’m done with you. If Mum needs anything, tell her to call me herself.” I wait for him to hang up.

He doesn’t.

“Come on, Nelly, I'm in trouble up here. I owe some money to James, and he's coming to collect. Soon.” I sigh.

Even as an adult, the mere mention of that man still makes my skin crawl. I lean against the worktop, listening to the silence thicken between us. Hundreds of miles might separate us now, but it doesn’t make me feel any more relaxed. “No, I can’t help you, Ian,” I say with conviction, my resolve final. “They're gonna kill me, sweets.” I say nothing.

“Please, I'm begging you!” He’s begging the wrong person.

The silence is deafening as he waits for me to cave. He’ll be waiting for a very long time. Realising I am not wavering, he starts swearing at me and calling me by that name. I despise it more than anything else in my life.

Sweets!

“Don't call me that!” I hiss.

“You just fucking killed me! You've fucking killed me, Nelly.” The line goes dead.

I brace my hands on the desk, fearing my legs might give out from under me. I gulp in a few deep cleansing breaths; only nothing will ever be able to clean out the shit from my past and origin.

A rustling in the entranceway tells me Nancy is back. I straighten and leave the kitchen, just in time to see her bluster in. She looks fantastic in her grey tailored skirt suit, with her short blonde, bobbed hair perfectly in place. I know I look a complete mess in comparison. One simple, fleeting glance my way will easily tell her of my newly formed distress.

“I have to tell you all about the man I met today at the Benahillz. He was so bloody rude! An arrogant little bastard! Didn’t seem bothered in the slightest at what I was offering! Just wait until I tell-” She quietens immediately when she notices me lingering in the doorway. A frown of concern replaces her welcoming smile. “Oh, no, what has he done now?”

I don’t even bother trying to hide the anguish I know is written all over my face, clear for her to see. Disappointment slices through my insides. It has taken me years to try and perfect the false façade that screams I don’t give a damn, but lately, that guise is disintegrating fast.

“No, it's not him. My dad just appeared” I say quietly, allowing my hatred for the man to devour me. I bring my hand to my eyes, trying to hide the despair I am currently feeling for myself, and the life I have been bestowed with. The sham of an existence I have to live with.

“Want to talk about it?” she asks sympathetically.

“No.” What’s the point? It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t remove the bad elements. Talking just makes it more destructive.

Putting one hand on her hip, she starts to shake her head. “Look, go home. You’ve done more than enough this morning,” she says warmly, putting her bag on the desk. “I suggest you have a chat with Maxwell too. I’ve heard some stuff lately, but I'm not quite sure how true it is.” She gives me the same sad eyes that Isabella had only a few hours ago.

I nod knowingly. I’d also heard the rumours swirling around regarding maxwell's current lifestyle, and it wasn’t just the mention of over-consumption of illegal drugs that were being tossed out there. The small group of friends I occasionally went out with had mentioned him in passing a few weeks back, and as usual, I brushed them off. At the time, I prayed it wasn't true, but judging by the way he was this morning, and the fact he had disappeared for the whole weekend, I can’t deny it anymore.

“I know; I’ve heard the same about same. I spoke to Isabella at lunch, and I... I don’t know what to do anymore,” I whisper. Watching as she rounds the desk, her arm stretched out to me. I quickly get up and make my way to the door, and she sighs in defeat.

Humn touch makes me uncomfortable. Seriously, The touch feels like I’m being slowly eviscerated and would take my real form. For me, it’s parallel to a small burning sensation that starts on the surface and burrows itself deep into my soul. It doesn’t matter who it is; it always drags me back to a place that I never want to go back to again. Normally, Nancy is the only one I can tolerate touching me, but lately, my condition was becoming worse.

“Promise me you’ll call if you need anything, honey.”

“I will, thanks,” I murmur softly, grabbing my bag and coat as I head out of the door.