A Beautiful Forever (10 page)

We travell home in virtual silence, both of us inside our
own heads attempting to work out how we're supposed to be together. One thing I
know for sure is that I’m obviously crazy about her, she keeps pushing and
pushing at me, and I just stand there, taking every single blow because I know
that eventually she’ll stop, and she’ll let me in.

“Finally!” Shane says as we come through the door, “I was
just about to call you both, dinner’s almost ready.”

Since he was home first he took on the chef duties and has
made some pasta for dinner. Paige and I move straight towards the kitchen and
help get drinks, bowls and cutlery out to set the table while Shane strains the
penne and mixes it with the sauce.

I don’t think I’ve sampled Shane’s cooking before, it’s
um…interesting. I’m doing my best to eat it without grimacing.

“Uh…Shane, what did you do to this pasta?” Paige asks
laughing, seeming much more relaxed now than she was earlier. She’s poking at a
clump of penne stuck together, and only half cooked.

“Man, I don’t know. I put it in boiling water and cooked it
for ten minutes like the pack says, but…”

“Did you stir it?” she asks.

He sits up in his chair and looks at her, pressing his lips
tightly together as he thinks. “No, I don’t think I did.”

“Well, there’s your problem, you have to stir it a couple of
times while it’s cooking,” she tells him gently.

He nods his scruffy blond head, slowly committing this new
information to memory. Suddenly, the theme music for ‘The Wicked Witch of the
West’ cuts through the quiet of the room.

“My butt’s ringing,” he says as he shifts in his seat to
remove his phone from his back pocket, before leaving the table to take the
call.

Paige watches him walk into the lounge room before she turns
to me, “She is going to kill him if she ever hears her ring tone,” she
comments, referring to Shane’s girlfriend. Coral seems like a nice enough girl.
She's just a little full on, I guess. She likes to know exactly what Shane is
doing at all times, and despite joking that she’s a ball and chain – Shane is
very happy to jump whenever she calls. 

I look at Paige for a moment, amazed at the change in her
demeanour. She seems so much happier now that we’re back at the flat. Tilting
her head to see Shane, she seems to be contemplating the same thing I am.

I can’t pretend to eat this food anymore and put my fork
down. “Are you going to eat that?” I ask Paige, who is doing little more than
poking her food around in circles.

She opens her eyes wide and mouths ‘NO’ as she shakes her
head from side to side.

I glance at Shane, who has his back to us, and grab the
bowls, quickly dumping their contents into the bin before he has the chance to
see. When he walks back into the kitchen, I’m already at the sink busily
washing out the bowls.

“Listen guys,” he starts, “I'm going to have to give the
movie a miss tonight. The girlfriend’s in a bit of a tizz so I’d better go and
sort things out with her.”

“There’s a movie?” I ask.

“Yeah, I forgot to mention it, I hired one on the way home –
there’s shit all on tv tonight. It’s over by the DVD player so you guys watch
it. It's due back tomorrow. Anyway, I’ve gotta go.”

“Shane, aren’t you leaving next month?” I ask before he
leaves.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what Coral’s problem is. I’ll see you
both later,” he says as he grabs his jacket and keys and heads out the door,
leaving Elliot and I alone in the house for the first time since I started
living here.

For a moment, I watch him from where I’m sitting as he moves
around cleaning the kitchen. He is such a kind and beautiful man, and I feel
bad for leaving things so unresolved between us, but I can’t help feeling happy
just being around him right now.

Rising from my seat, I decide I should help him by drying
the dishes. He smiles gratefully at me as I take the first one from the
strainer, but he doesn’t speak. He seems lost in thought as we work together,
quietly and comfortably, side by side.

Leaving the tea towel on the bench top I pick up the pile of
dry dishes to return to the cupboard and bend from the waist to slide them into
place. As I right myself, my breath catches in my chest when I find him looking
at me, his eyes so intense that I feel frozen in place. Reaching for the tea
towel, he dries his hands before he stops what he's doing and turns his whole
body to face me.

“What’s your tattoo of?” he probes, dropping his eyes to my
waist height.

“What tattoo?” I reply nervously, in a lame attempt to
deflect.

“The black and orange one that occasionally sticks out from
under your shirt. I saw it on the plane when we first met, and I’ve seen it a
couple of times when you’ve leant forward. What is it?” He steps closer to me,
a solemn look in his eye.

I shift uneasily under his gaze, “Oh… uh, that one – it’s um
just the markings of my misspent youth. It’s um, a phoenix.”

“A phoenix?” he repeats, his voice low and rumbling,
caressing even, as he steps closer.

My breathing quickens as I nod quickly in response, suddenly
I’m feeling light headed. Taking a step backwards, I try to gain a little
distance between us, but that only puts me up against the cupboard behind me.
“Elliot don’t,” I whisper watching him stalk towards me. He stops right in
front of me, his body brushing up against my own and sending little spirals of
longing shooting through me. He’s so close that if I lift my head, we’ll be
kissing.

“Can I see it?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

“No,” I breathe out, closing my eyes and trying to focus on
keeping calm. His lips brush mine lightly, and I let out a whimper. I'm torn
between my body’s impulses to pull him toward me, and my brain’s insistence
that I stay away from him. Then all of a sudden, nothing.

Letting out a shaky breath, I open my eyes, feeling both
relieved and bereft to see him standing at the sink again, washing up as if
nothing happened. I decide to take my cue from him, and walk back over to
continue drying up.

“Leave it,” he says, a slight edge to his voice.

I pause and look at him, warring with myself about how I
want to deal with this. I can walk away right now, and let whatever this is
between us go, without ever having to deal with it. I feel as if I push him
away one more time, he might never come back.

A heaviness weighs down my chest, making it hard for me to
act. It feels as though my decision now – whichever one it is; will change
everything between us. I can’t keep him away anymore, even though I should.

Despite the fact that my better judgement keeps screaming at
me to stop, I do something I haven’t voluntarily done for years. I reach out
and place my hand on his arm to get his attention.

Besides when I forced her to shake my hand on the plane and
then paid her to cut my hair, Paige has never touched me willingly – it’s always
been me reaching for her. That’s why, when she does, it makes my heart ache
from not knowing it until now.

“Elliot,” she ventures, her hand still resting upon my arm.
“I’m sorry, ok. I haven’t shown anyone the tattoo – ever... Well, besides the
artist of course, but…” Her hands drop to her sides with a slap, “Oh god. I'm
ruining this aren’t I?”

Drying my hands again, I turn to face her, meeting her amber
eyes that are brimming with tears as her eyebrows furrow and her mouth opens as
if she is going to speak. Her eyes dart from side to side as she clamps her
mouth shut and presses her full lips together in a thin line. I say nothing as
I watch her beautiful face run a gamut of emotions. Feeling disappointed
however, when none of them are conveyed to me.

Leaning with one hand on the edge of the sink, I glance down
at the floor and clear my throat, I don’t know what it is she isn’t telling me,
but it bothers me that she doesn’t trust me enough to tell me things, I’d hoped
we were moving past this.

 “Paige, what do you want from me?” I ask point blank. It's
time to lay our cards on the table.

“I…I don’t know,” she stammers out.

“I think you do,” I whisper.  

Slowly, I reach out and gently touch her cheek. It’s as if
she quivers under my fingertips and when she closes her eyes, a single tear
escapes, sliding down towards my hand in a bright trail of emotion.

Brushing my thumb over the tear, I wipe it away. Paige
starts shaking her head and squeezing her eyes tighter. “No, Elliot,” she
breathes out, “You don’t want me like that.” When she opens her eyes and stares
into mine, hers are so full anguish that I ache along with her, desperately
wanting to do something to try to take some of that pain away.

“But I do Paige, what do
you
want from
me
,” I
insist.

“I…I can’t.”

“Say it Paige,” I continue to push needing this to happen,
no matter what the cost.

“You Elliot, I want you!” she yells, finally admitting to
what is between us before she drops her face and takes a step away from me.
“I’ve done things Elliot, terrible things, and I’ve hurt people. I've used
people. I….Oh, god, I can’t do this…” She shakes her hands in an agitated
fashion and blows out a calming breath before she continues. “The tattoo, it’s
a huge reminder of everything I never want to be again, and I don’t get to have
someone like you. I don’t deserve this. I'm not supposed to be happy!” she
cries. “Can’t you understand that!?”

Suddenly, I feel really crappy for pushing her. My chest
hurts watching her so upset, especially knowing it was me that caused it.
Taking a couple of quick steps, I close the distance between us, hugging her
tightly to my chest. It’s the only thing I can think to do right now.

In all my life, I have never been held as I am now, and it’s
more than I can bear, huge sobs wrack through my body for everything I wish I
could forget. Clinging tightly to him, I draw in his strength and take comfort
in his arms.

“There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me stop
caring about you Paige,” he says as he lifts my face so I have to look at him.
The sincerity in his eyes pulls at my heart and I can see he fully believes his
own words. For a moment, I do too. But the reality is - no man wants a woman
with a past like mine, not anyone decent anyway.

When he leans in slowly and brushes his lips against my own,
a feeling of beautiful longing sweeps through my body causing fresh tears to
fall from my eyes.

Overcome with emotion, I give in to my desires and kiss him
back. Opening my mouth slightly as he holds my face tenderly in his hands. I
respond as his lips entwine with my own, softly tasting and teasing. Never
forcing anything.

Pulling away, he presses his lips to my forehead and circles
his arms around me once more. This time I hug him back, breathing steadily as I
listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. “Can we watch the movie now?” I
ask.

I feel his chest bounce as he laughs, “Yeah, we can watch
the movie.”

He takes my hand and guides me over to the couches. I let
him hold my hand, and I even let him put his arm around me as we watch the
movie. I feel so undeserving of him as I rest my head against his chest. My
heart swells at the mere thought of him and I know I’ve fallen too far, so much
further than I wanted to. My mind keeps telling me to get up and go, pack my bags
and leave. But my body is staying firmly, pressed up against his, refusing to
let go.

Instead of focusing on the movie I’m running through my
options in my mind. Is it wrong of me to want him as much as I do? He’s only
here for six weeks; this can’t go anywhere… maybe I could do this. Maybe I
could have this without having to tell him anything. Would it be wrong to just
enjoy what little closeness we can have before he goes? I wriggle a little
against his hard chest and feel myself melting against him.

Six weeks… six weeks until he goes home, and then if I have
to - I’ll tell him everything, then I’ll let him go.  

“You’re awfully happy today,” my client, Agy, comments as
she wipes her face with the towel I just handed her. “Is there a new love
interest making you look that way?”

Smiling, I simply shrug my shoulders. Agy is one of my
favourite clients. She's in her late 50s and comes to the gym every day to work
out. She doesn’t come here to partake in any gentle movement either - she does
full-on  weights training and intense cardio. She’s strong as an ox, and I’m
betting she’s going to live until she’s at least a hundred.

Training her is always entertaining because she’s got loads
of great stories to tell me about when she was a kid growing up in the country,
and she in turn, loves to hear me talk about Australia.

“Come on, tell me all about her. It’s been a long time since
I’ve gotten a dose of young love,” she presses.

“What do you want to know Agy?” I ask. 

“Well, her name for starters – unless it’s a he of course,
then you can give me his name,” she starts all very matter-of-factly.

I can’t help but laugh at her boldness. It's one of the
reasons I like her so much. “Paige, her name is Paige, Agy.”

“Well that’s a lovely name. Now you can tell me all about
her,” she asks eyes gleaming as she listens in rapt attention while tell her
about meeting Paige on the plane and some brief details about how she came to
stay in the flat and how our friendship has been progressing.

“She’s been making it really hard to get to know her, like
she’s scared of her feelings for me. But we finally made some progress last
night and this morning, well, she just kept smiling and Agy, she’s beautiful
when she smiles,” I finish, fighting hard to stop my mouth from curling into
some sort of goofy grin.

“That’s wonderful Elliot. I'm sure any girl who can hold the
attention of a gorgeous young man like you is well worth the effort.”