Cut (6 page)

I can’t manage words. Whether it’s due to the emotions or embarrassment I am not sure, so I give her a little nod instead. She enters cautiously.

"So… how are you feeling?" she starts, as she sits on the bed beside me. I don’t reply.

"Look Pen, I’m sorry I made you go out last night. I shouldn’t push you if you aren’t ready," she says, avoiding eye contact. It’s strange to see her feeling guilty for once. The roles have momentarily reversed as it’s usually me who is sorry for the treatment of my friend. I internally feel a slight win at her sorrowful sight but no sooner frown as a result.

"R.. ahem. Rose... please don't feel bad. I needed to do this. I wanted to do this,” I urge as I shift up in my bed so that I am sitting up next to her.

Did I want this?

The blood surges forcefully to my head and it begins to pound relentlessly. I raise my fingers to my temple and flinch at the thumping pain, as it fills my brain to the brim ready to burst at any moment. Rosie reaches over to my hand and her warm grasp pulls it down leaving it palm up on the bed beside us.

"Here." She drops two small white tablets in my open palm. "I thought you could do with this. You had an awful lot to drink last night."

I see a tiny smile come across her face, and wonder what sight I must have been.

Shit, last night!

I shake my head carefully to banish the thoughts that rise, taking care not to further irritate the loud drum that now resides there. "Thanks,” I throw the tablets down the back of my throat and swallow them harshly without any water. "What time is it?”

I don’t even remember the ride home.

She turns her head towards my en-suite door, and glances up at the white antique clock nestled above the doorframe. "11.30am."

11.30am?

I’m used to sleeping the days away and have become quite comfortable in my now usual routine. It’s at this point that I’m usually done talking with her and roll over sullenly and go back to my deep slumber. She is eyeing me intently, as if she is waiting for me to continue my pattern. But for some reason, I don’t want to.

"So, did you have a good time last night?" I ask cautiously.  I mean the last thing I want to do is piss her off and have her shout at me for ruining her only night out with me in God knows how long! But I want to talk to her. It is something I haven’t really done for a while and is something familiar we used to do. Keeping an eager eye on her expression, to my surprise it softens and I sigh with instant relief.

She’s not mad.

"It was good to get out with you...." she trails trying to convince me of her positivity. Her face is all scrunched up and I instantly see through it. We simultaneously start giggling. The sound of our childish chuckle fills the air in my room and the once tense sombre mood that has been engraved here for so long, starts to lift oh-so gradually. I begin to feel... to feel...

Okay?

Our laughter dwindles and immediately I feel like a weight has been lifted. I raise my hand delicately to my temple once more, as the loud thump in my head has risen slightly since my laughter, the smile still across my face.

"Ow," I moan without meaning it. Rosie shakes her head still beaming and I notice that she too, appears relieved. Relieved to finally see her friend smile and laugh, probably thinking this day would never come. I have to agree. I didn’t think it would either.

"You did have heaps to drink last night. I can’t believe you didn’t throw it all up!" She glances down beside the bed, and I notice the empty bucket she is eyeing.

She really is like my mother.

I feel compelled to roll my eyes but I stop, because the truth is I am so lucky to have her. She looks back up towards me and before I can forecast her next move she already begins to blurt it out.

"So, what was the deal with Jay Ryker last night?" Her voice is full of excitement, intrigue and is almost in that higher pitch tone I vaguely remember from last night. I fidget in my sheets anxiously and roll my eyes.

"What do you mean?" I question, before adding quickly, "Nothing."

She immediately rolls her eyes at me.

Huh?

She’s rolling her eyes at me?

This isn’t usually how it goes.

"Pen, he was pretty persistent with you," she says ever so slowly before exuberantly adding, "Jay Ryker!"

So?

I shrug my shoulders, showing no thrill at all for this famous man’s attention. "Yes, but we know what for Rose," I say sarcastically. My eyes narrowing to imply our concluded, less than ideal intentions he probably had for me.

"You don’t know that!"

I shrug dismissingly. I didn’t really know for a fact that’s what he wanted; but looking at the other men, the women, the fact he barely even spoke to me and the sheer persistence despite my drunken state - is enough to conclude away. I roll my eyes at her again and she sighs heavily.

"Don’t roll your eyes at me Penny! I’m only saying you can’t be certain that was what he wanted." She turns away from my gaze and stands, before reaching to the floor and picking up the bucket that had been left next to me the night before. She looks uncomfortable. "Didn’t he want to see you again today?" she asks cautiously her eyes wide anticipating my response.

What’s with her?

"I don’t know..." I mumble.

Did he?

I can't even remember.

"It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m sure he found someone else to sleep with last night so can we please forget about it," I mutter away. “It’s not like he has my number or anything.”

Feeling a little agitated by our conversation now, I suddenly have the urge to get up. I no sooner swing my legs around the side of my bed, so my feet are firmly on the floor and I hear her astonished gasp.

"Are you getting up?"

"Well, I need to get out of these clothes and in the shower," I reply as I struggle to my feet. A gentle sway takes over my body; my hand firmly fixed to my temple trying to assist with the consistent pulse.

"Of course!" she replies all too eagerly. "I will let you get ready, and meet you in the kitchen for some breakfast... err lunch!" Her voice is filled with over-excitement, that I am certain if she wasn’t holding my vomit bucket she would be clapping her hands like a child - the way she does when her voice sounds like this and leaves my room with an almost skip to her step.

She’s happy.

I try to shrug off my crankiness and stagger my way across my floor to the bathroom. The sun is beaming through the skylight in the middle of the room as I feel the heat on my skin as I pass through its ray. I turn both taps on in the shower, and drop all of my clothes into a pile beneath my feet.

I enjoy the sensation of the water hitting my body hard, the heat from the liquid creating steam after it hits my tepid skin. I move in and around the water allowing it on every inch of me, feeling and welcoming its exploration. As my hands make their way over my naked body, in gentle caressing motions, I rub the soap all over me. I am a little tentative at first, as the sensation of someone touching my skin after a leave of absence feels completely foreign. But as I slowly relish in the comfort I begin to feel, my eyes close blissfully. As soon as my vision adjusts to the now darkness, the air in the shower becomes intensely thicker. The feeling grows rapidly as an oval shaped image starts forming in my thoughts. The striking blue eyes I remember belonging to
him
begin to appear. The longer my eyes stay firmly shut, the clearer the image becomes. I begin to remember the emptiness behind those beautifully constructed eyes, and the thrill of risk I felt when I was in his presence. I continue the tender motion of my hands all over my body unconsciously, while my thoughts are locked onto those eyes. I try to read my thought deeper, trying to delve into this mysterious man who, to be honest, has me a little intrigued. Despite feeling like he was dangerous in some way - I wasn’t afraid of him.  I jerk my eyes open; suddenly feeling too consumed by his memory and move myself completely under the water once more. I try shrugging off the uneasiness I am now feeling by finishing quickly in the shower and yanking off both taps.

I reach my hands up to my long hair and twist the hair between my fingers, so the excess water drains out of it and wrap the towel around it. As I take a few steps towards the basins, so I am faced with my naked bare body in the foggy mirrors, I reach over and wipe the mirror with my hand so I can now see my face in the reflection. The dark circles which were so evident the night before aren’t as prominent on my face, and my eyes have gained a fraction of life as well. I force a smile and try to be satisfied with the slight improvement in my image. I can’t believe how far I’ve come in only twelve hours. I feel kind of stupid that it barely took a night off from my miserable self-pity to start to lift in the right direction. All of the heartache and sorrow I have felt; that my friends have felt - has been an episode I’d rather forget.

Correction,
another
episode I would rather forget.

If the truth be told, I don’t think I will ever truly get over the first one. How can someone re-build their life after so many years of heading in one direction? Putting all of that time, energy, emotion and effort into building something that severely came crashing down. The scar left inside my heart will be there forever and unless some miracle is discovered, it will never vacate its new home. I finish brushing my teeth, and reach for my makeup bag. Using the same three products I familiarly used last night, and without great attention to detail, I swipe on my makeup and head into my bedroom. I unwrap the towel carelessly off my head and drop it to the floor. Standing completely naked in my room I head to my bedside draw and rummage my hands through the panties and bras; selecting a pair at random plus throwing on a black tank singlet and blue skinny jeans. I remember Rosie buying them for me a few weeks after I moved in. She was trying to lift me out of my depression and fed me the only way she knew how - through clothes. They have been hanging in the closet ever since. A small smile crosses my lips, as I recollect my dear friend’s constants attempts to cheer me up, and feel I owe her to see me finally wearing them. I adjust the tank with my hands as I make my way out of my bedroom, but halt as I reach the door. I glance around the room staring at my unmade bed, with my crinkled up white doona glowing brightly in the middle of the room against the soft sky blue paint on the walls. My eyes dart to the far side where a large mirror resting above my drawers and the photos stuck on the wall around it. Photos of my parents, of Rosie, even Ryan and Maggs being silly and laughing. I really want to be that way again. I needed it. If I am going to resemble some kind of a life I need to move forward. I’m not sure how, but I have to find a way. I take a deep breath and close the door behind me; striding down the stairs towards something that might make me know how I can live again.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs I can hear Rosie in the kitchen. She is loudly humming some tune and as I approach the entranceway I see her bopping her body in time with her melody. She is behind the bench buttering a baguette swaying her hips seductively to her song. I stop in the doorway watching her with softened eyes, relieved that she looks happy. I hadn’t given her the time to grieve her relationship because I was so focused on mine, and it made me less guilty that she at least was dealing with it better than I had. She waves her knife casually in the air as she dances in the kitchen before tossing it past her left shoulder and into the sink. It makes a loud ding sound from the steel hitting the inside of the basin and she looks up at me startled, as she notices me watching her.

“Oh, hi,” she starts. “Did you want one?” she questions cautiously.

I ease my way beside her and reach for the buttered baguette on the bench. "I will have it like this thanks," I answer politely as I take a bite from the end of it.

She smiles. She wanders over to the refrigerator on her far left and grabs two cans of Diet Pepsi. In another quick motion she pushes the door closed with her leg and without warning tosses me one in the air. I drop my baguette quickly on the bench and turn to awkwardly catch the air flung can.

"Are you right?" I gasp with a giggle. "Give me some warning girl!"

I stand the can up on the bench to allow the gas to subside and resume devouring my bread.

"So how are you feeling?" she asks anxiously.

"Good I think," I answer honestly but am unsure of my response. "One day at a time yeah?" I continue. She grins and nods, as I take another bite.

The simple joy of my baguette being mutated in my mouth is interrupted by an annoyingly familiar song, so I thought. Instantly my eyes roll as it has to be Rosie’s phone ringing.... again!

Her phone always rings.

But as I glance toward her she moves to the window across from the bench where the small glass buffet table rests. This table is a collection of bank statements, bills, receipts, and other paper items all spread over the top like some kind of paper Mache creation. Still listening to the sound of the ring, I notice that it isn’t her usual song. It’s some strange techno beat, which I don’t remember hearing before. Her hands frantically stifle through the sea of papers until she pulls out a phone from beneath them, making it ring all that much louder.

That’s my phone.

I think?

When my world ended and I fell into my depressive state, Rosie thought it was a good idea to get rid of my old phone and replace it with a new one. 'New number, new start.' I remember her words as clear as if they were only spoken yesterday. The only people who have the new number is Rosie and Maggie, as I hadn’t gotten around passing it on to everyone else. I’ve been busy, wallowing in my self-pity. Taking a quick look at Rosie, who is obviously holding my phone, I then make the assumption its Maggie. Without further hesitation, I snatch it out of her hands and answer it before she can even blink.

"Maggs! I’ve missed you bitch!" I beam at my playful tone, as this hasn’t been the kind of behaviour I’ve felt for so long; or perhaps I was still drunk. Either way, it makes me feel like another weight has been lifted off my burdened shoulders. The other end is silent for a moment and as I peek toward Rosie she wears a stunned expression across her face. Thinking it’s her reaction to my light-hearted tone that has been elusive all this time, I smile warmly towards her to help ease her surprise.

"Hello? I was looking for Penelope."

My heart stops still. My eyes widen as I gaze shockingly toward Rosie, who is still wearing her astounded gawk.

Shit!

I instantly recognise the cool, expressionless American accent on the other end of the line. It’s Jay Ryker.

Fuck!

My heart resumes its beat, but in a strange erratic kind of way, and taking a short breath I begin to respond. "Umm, yes, its Penelope, sorry I thought you were someone else."

Oh God. I couldn’t be any more stupid if I tried.

I bite my lip nervously as my thoughts banish my newly found confidence when I hear a slight chuckle in my ear.

"So I’m not your bitch then."

I squeeze my eyes closed in utter embarrassment. "No, sorry about that," I blush immediately. "It’s Jay. I met you last night." I wince at the thought, forcing my eyes up shamefully in time to see Rosie’s hands clap with excitement. I roll my eyes automatically in response.

"So you do remember?" His voice has lost the slight warmth from his giggle and the chills begin to shiver down my spine painfully.

"Yes, of course."

Glancing again at Rosie I cover my hand over the receiver and mime, 'How did he get my number?' She shrugs her shoulders to answer my question and I remove my hand immediately from the phone.

"I was hoping you were still free to come out with me today?" he asks ever so coolly.

Still free?

Since when did I even say I
was
free?

I wrack my brain, frantically recollecting our conversations from the previous night and despite the grogginess, nothing comes to mind.  "Today? Umm..." my voice starts shakily, as I try to assemble an appropriate response. Even through the phone, the danger in his voice cuts through me so precisely that I find it hard to engage my head. I am staring at Rosie. I am searching her eyes, begging for her to give me an easy way out of this. For her to give me some kind of an escape. But I know what her expression is saying, and it’s not want I want to be hearing. Her large eyes are throbbing with anticipation, her head bobbing frantically, nodding furiously for me to say yes.

You bloody go!
I feel like yelling at her.

But like my body doing its own thing last night against the wishes of my mind, I can already feel the words forming their own sentence. Before I have time to rationalise against it, they slip steadily out of my mouth.

"Sure. I guess…."

Maybe it will be fun?

FUN?!

This day trip will be anything but. I can already see the tension, the anxiety, the silence... oh my, the silence! He barely constructs a conversation.

He’s probably not after good conversation Penelope
.
And that would be my good conscious reminding me, again.

"Good," he replies steadily. "Does thirty minutes work for you?" He pauses, waiting for my answer, but my brain still hasn't caught up.  "Where should I send the cab?" he adds not giving me anymore time to answer or possibly decline.

My address?

Why would I give this stranger my home address?

Just last night I thought he was a sexual predator trying to take advantage of me.

I clench my teeth together in anguish, but again, he doesn’t give me time to respond.

"Just text it to me, since you have my number now. I’ll see you soon.”

And with my mouth still wide, my jaw dropped to the floor - I hear the click on the other end of the phone. He was gone. I stand there still for a moment, still gripping the phone to my ear despite there being no one on the other end. I stare blankly towards Rosie who is still wearing her ample eyed astonished grin.

"Well what happened? When are you going to see him? Oh my God this is so exciting!" She hurries her words so fast out her mouth they almost mesh together. I instantly snap out of my numb state and roll my eyes at her enthusiasm.

"Why don’t you go if you are so bloody excited about it?" I bite, as I toss my phone back onto the paper Mache covered buffet knocking a small pile of papers to the very edge of the table. "How the hell did he even get my number?" I shake my head sceptically and I immediately notice Rosie skulk her head towards the floor, as she creeps away from me towards the bench. I’m instantly suspicious.

"Rosieeeeeee..." I complain.

She spins around to look at me throwing her hands frustratingly in the air.

"Oh what Penelope!? Some celebrity, fucking gorgeous guy wants to hang out with you, of course I gave him your fucking number!" she snaps.

Fucking?

Rosie does not ever use that word, but before I know it, the routine rebuttal begins flourishing comfortably. "What’s wrong with you? It’s not
you
that has to spend the day with him!" I snort irrationally.

She takes a swig of her opened can from off the bench. "Oh whatever Penny. Are you evening listening to yourself? This gorgeous guy wants to see you. Not me.
You.
Get over your self-pity for fucks sake, enough’s, enough. We
all
need to move on you know." She slams down her drink and heads out of the kitchen towards the main lobby. I follow, but a slight inappropriate giggle comes over me as the word ‘fuck’ sounds so ridiculous coming out her usually articulate mouth.

"Rosie!" I call after her. "Wait a second," I plead.

She stops in front of the timber staircase and turns to look at me. Her fly like eyes protruding, pulsating at me, and her arms gravely folded across her body. She looks angry. I halt just in front of her but before I can say anything, she sighs heavily.

"Pen, I know you have had a hard time. But it’s been three months. It’s time to start enjoying your life. It’s time to start living again," she reasons firmly. The former anger settling with each word. "I’m not trying to push you into anything, but it’s sight-seeing, in Sydney, with a hot guy that is
never
going to happen ever again. You would be crazy, no
stupid
not to go." She raises her hands in the air to emphasise her words as I allow their logic to sink in; struggling to find an actual real excuse.

"I know," I shrug.

But...?

"What happens if he wants to, you know?" I ask like an inexperienced teenager.

She laughs. "Well you have done it before so I’m sure you know what to do."

I roll my eyes. "I’m serious Rose. You know what he was like last night. He’s… intense. I'm not like that. I’m not ready to be that girl yet. I probably won’t ever want to be that girl again," I plead, hoping she understands my fear.

Fear...?

Yes fear.

That’s why I’m hesitant to go out with him. Even if it is just a day trip with this guy, I can’t bear to put myself in that vulnerable position again. A position where I will feel and maybe enjoy myself, before having it all come crashing down around me. I’m so fragile mentally, that I feel even a minor incident could tip me over the edge. Besides, I remember how his voice made me feel. It aroused such an intensity in me. Such a strong emotional feeling that will be hard to handle for an entire day. And those eyes. I get chills just thinking about them.

Can I really do this?

Should I?

"It’s just one day Penny. One day," she reasons, as she places both of her hands on my shoulders gently squeezing them beneath her strong hold.

"You will go out, see some of Sydney, eat lunch, then come home and tell me all about it. It will be a story you will look back on one day and won’t believe you actually hung out with a guy like that."

I guess there is no harm in a day out…

"You're right," I mumble. "It’s just one day."

I nod my head trying to ascertain my words but the knots start to build inside my stomach resiliently. I take an anxious breath.

It’s just one day.