Forever Blue (7 page)

She was right. Ruben was well past the stage of happy drunk and was just plain drunk. Annoying drunk. The kind of drunk that left him too affectionate and too friendly for my liking. I went to take the keys, but he whipped them from my grasp surprisingly quickly for someone who couldn't walk straight. It took me five minutes before I caught him and twisted them from his fingers. He laughed a lot. I did not.

I hadn't even had two beers, but I should have known better. Ruben was drunk, and Cara wasn't exactly sober either, so I was the best of a bad bunch. Or so I thought until I drove around the corner and saw the flashing lights.

Chapter Ten

Lennon

Walking home together became our tradition. We never spoke of the fact that we both drove cars. We talked about everything and nothing, pointless facts and nonsensical stories. His favourite movie was
The Dead Poets Society
, a movie I'd never heard of that came out long before we were born, while mine was
The Fault in Our Stars
. I was a sucker for tear-jerkers. He was into 80's rock music, though he had a soft spot for
The Phantom of the Opera
after his mother took him to a performance in the city. He pretended to hate it, but he was enthralled. He whispered when he told me that he still cries whenever he hears
All I Ask of You
, something he had never told anyone. His favourite meal was steak, chips and mushy peas, while the thought of mushy peas made my stomach turn. He dreamed of being an architect, but his dad wanted him to be a lawyer. I just felt bad that I didn't have a dream. His favourite birthday had been when he and Ruben turned thirteen and they went paintballing. He said it was the only time he could remember his father actually playing, rather than standing on the side lines and lecturing. 

And every night he invaded my dreams. It was always the same. He would reach for me and I would go to him, only to drown in his kiss. It was the most beautiful and terrifying of dreams.

On Friday night, I woke earlier than I usually did after the dream. The red numbers of my clock showed it was only eleven o'clock.  My light was still on and my book had spilled to the floor.

It was only a dream.

I pulled my hair back from my face and took in a deep breath. 

It was only a dream.

I caught my reflection in the mirror above my dresser, pale and gaunt.

It was only a dream.

My skin prickled as a faint tap sounded on the window. I pulled the curtain back and saw a figure standing outside, one hand in his pocket, the other pressed against the window ready to tap the glass again.

"Judah?" I pulled open the window.

"Ringo." He grinned.

"What are you doing here?"

Judah took in my ruffled appearance. I was wearing my most comfortable sleeping shirt, which was just an oversized and ripped tee shirt of my mother's. "Did I wake you? I saw your light on."

"It's okay. I was awake." I grabbed my dressing gown from where it lay discarded on the floor and pulled it over my shoulders.

"You want to go for a walk?" he asked.

I looked outside. The night was black apart from the street lights shining in muted circles, restricted by the low cloud. "Now?"

"No, tomorrow." He grinned again and it melted my hesitation.

"Give me a minute." I crept over to the door. Faintly, I could hear the murmur of the TV set. I considered telling Mum I was just popping out, I didn't have rules or curfews—I had never needed them before—but the thought of telling her I was going for a walk at midnight with a boy she had never met, made me hesitate. I closed the door gently, with the smallest amount of guilt eating me, pulled on some jeans and tugged a hoody over my head. I stumbled as I pulled on my shoes and had to grab the curtain for support.

Judah was staring at the street, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. Again, he was wearing only a tee shirt.

"Won't you get cold?" I clambered through the window.

"It's not that cold out here." He turned to help me, holding my arm as I manoeuvred through the window. It was a lot smaller than it appeared, tall but rather narrow.

We walked down the street, through the deserted town, passed one of the hotels that his dad owned, and towards the lake. Some people milled around The Fat Stag, but mainly the town was quiet for a Friday night. Mist danced around the street lights and the moon hovered above, like a protective mother hiding out of sight behind the clouds.

I froze as he led me towards the playground on the stony beach. He sat down on one of the swings and began rocking back and forth, the creaking of the movement immobilising me further. In my dream, the fear never hit until we kissed, but in my dream, I never knew that I had already had the dream.

"Everything okay?" He looked up from under dark hair, his eyes hopeful, yet restrained. I nodded and made myself walk towards the swing beside him. It creaked as I sat down, and the stones groaned under my feet as I pushed off and started to swing.

The moon was nothing like in my dream. It was hidden, shrouded in cloud, and the lake was deadly still. A nervous lump rose in my throat and I swallowed it back down. Since when had I become afraid of dreams? Probably since they played on repeat.

"Are you sure you're okay, or do playgrounds creep you out as well?" Judah's voice startled me.

I laughed but it sounded hollow in the night air, lost in the emptiness of the lake. "I'm fine. Just a little cold. I can't believe you don't feel it."

Judah shrugged and pushed off with his feet so he swung high into the air. His hair flew back with the force. "You're just not used to it."

I pushed my feet harder into the stones and soon we were swinging in perfect time. I laughed as the wind whipped my hair back. I was being foolish. It was nothing like my dream.

I rocked in the swing, the chains cold under my hands and the slight breeze teasing my hair. I wondered if he had seen me at his house the other day and I decided to come clean rather than let the uncertainty eat at me. "Your house is rather nice."

Judah looked up quizzically. "You've been there?"

"No. But I do have to admit I drove past. I was curious to see where you lived."

"What did you think?"

"It's big."

"Overkill, isn't it? Dad bought the biggest house he possibly could after he and Mum got married. Mum had admired it for years." He looked down at the stones, the sadness returning to his eyes. "I never really liked it, too many rooms, and that statue of the peeing boy is just disturbing."

"I couldn't really see all that much from the road." I didn't want him to know exactly what I had been up to. "But what I could see looked impressive."

We didn't say much after that, but for some reason we didn't need to. We swung in unison, only the creaking of the swings and the water lapping against the shore to break the stillness of the night.

Judah dragged his feet through the stones, slowing the sway of the swing. His eyes gleamed in the dim light from the street lamp, then darkened. "It's almost been a year." It took me a while to realise he was talking about his brother. "It feels so much longer, and yet, only yesterday. Everything changed. It was like I became invisible."

I knew how that felt. Though to say so, to compare his loss to mine, didn't seem right. "To your parents?" I stilled my swing and kicked the stones under my feet, watching the reflection of the moon on the lake as it peered out from behind a cloud so grey it was almost blue. It looked like a little piece of the lake had drifted into the sky.

"To everyone," he said. "It's like they stare right through me now. I used to just be me, you know? Now when people look at me, they see something else, or rather, nothing."

It is hard to lose someone you are close to, let alone be blamed for their death. Enough blame was thrown in our family without any cause. I couldn't imagine what it was like for Judah, or how it had changed his life. "What was he like?" I asked.

"Ruben? He was okay, I guess, kind of hard to describe. Everyone liked him, and now that he is dead, I guess it means he will sort of live forever in people's mind as this perfect boy who could have accomplished anything if given the time. If only they knew the truth."

I took my hands off the cold chains of the swing and tucked them under my arms. "What do you mean by that?"

Judah bit his lip. "Nothing. I shouldn't have said anything. It's not good to speak ill of the dead." He let out a grunt that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "But I'm here with you now. And you see me."

He looked at me, eyes full of sadness and loneliness, and they made me want to embrace him and tell him everything would be okay. But I didn't trust myself to touch him. I was scared. The dream of drowning in his kiss flashed through my mind.

Judah sighed and walked behind me. He started to push with gentle swings that drifted me through the cool night air. "So tell me why cemeteries freak you out."

I paused before answering. "It's just thinking of the bodies lying below. I don't like to think that I'm stepping on them, or disturbing them." He was easy to talk to. I felt like I could tell him anything and he wouldn't judge. He had lost someone too. "Besides, it always brings back the memories of seeing Harrison before he was buried. It is just too horrible to think of him down there, all cold and dark. I peeked in the coffin when Mum and Dad were talking to the funeral director. He didn't seem dead. It was like he was sleeping. And he was so perfect. He had these little rosebud lips and such perfect skin. He looked nothing like new-born babies usually do, all wrinkled and red. Only his little fingers and toes had wrinkles on them." I wanted to tell him about Harrison's eyes and the way he looked at me like he wanted me to know something, but I knew how it would sound, and as honest as I felt I could be with Judah, it was something that verged on crazy. I didn't want him to know that about me. Not yet. I cleared my throat, my voice barely a whisper. "I touched him and he felt so cold, and he was so pale, as though he was a black and white photograph rather than someone real. Every time I go to the cemetery, I picture him like that. I can see the little white outfit that Mum had him buried in and the little blue coffin." I sighed. "It just fills me with a sense of dread."

Judah pushed me higher, and I was keenly aware of his presence each time the swing swung back. Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to.

After a while, he stopped pushing and walked in front to catch me mid-flight. The weight of the swing pulled me back, but he held onto the chains. He was so close I could feel his breath, warm and comforting on my cheek. For a moment, we just stared at each other, and I was certain he was going to kiss me. It was as though all he could see was me. I was used to being Sienna's cousin, my mother's daughter, Robert's kid or Lizzy's granddaughter. But not this time. This time, someone saw me. He saw me. He lowered me back to the ground, and I was left staring at the freckles that dotted his cheek in the shape of Orion's belt.

When we walked home, Judah reached out and took my hand. A delicious tingle rippled down my spine and chilled my skin. Waves of electricity pulsated through my hand, and I wondered if he felt the same. I tried not to think about how his kiss would feel, his real kiss, not the one in my dreams.

When we reached my window, he stood with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes once again clouding with sorrow. "Thanks for that. It's nice having someone to talk to."

I watched until his shadowy frame turned the corner on the street, and my hand burned cold with the memory of his touch.

Chapter Eleven

Lennon

The following night, I lay in bed with heavy eyes but couldn't fall asleep. I was tired. My late night stroll and nightmares had made sure of that, but no matter how long I lay still with my eyes closed, I couldn't drift into the numbing bliss of sleep. Maybe that was it, sleep no longer brought numbing bliss.

Finally, I got up and turned on my computer. My room was small, only big enough for a single bed, a desk and a wardrobe, and even then, I had to push my chair under the desk to get into the wardrobe. My computer whirred into life and I opened the app to check my emails. Bold print flicked onto the screen, scrolling further and further down as each message appeared in my inbox. There were a few from my friends at my old school asking how I was. I hadn't contacted them in ages, so I quickly sent out a group email updating my life in Puruwai. It didn't take long.

There was also one from Dad with an attachment of a photograph from the scan of the baby. Its face looked like an alien. The skeleton of its frame glowed white against the black and grey smudges. I could make out the features on his face, and his hand was pulled up to his mouth as if he were sucking his thumb. Next month, another life would come into this world and be connected to me in a way I had never truly experienced before. I would have a brother, well, half-brother.

It was after one in the morning before I turned off the computer. There was no knock on my window that night.

Once again my sleep was invaded with dreams. The panicked feeling I had when Judah kissed me no longer felt like a nightmare. Instead, I welcomed him, eager to drown in his kiss. It still hurt. It still overwhelmed me, but I was no longer scared. I knew it was a dream I could wake from.

Mum always slept in on Sundays, sometimes choosing to stay in bed until lunchtime, when she would drag herself out, eyes still weary with sleep and do yoga on the lounge floor dressed in brightly coloured lycra. So by the time I got out of bed, I expected to creep down the hall and be greeted with a lime green lycra-wrapped butt, or Mum's face, red like her hair, dangling upside down and smiling serenely. So I was surprised to be greeted by a chirpy, "Morning!"

Through the arch into the lounge, I could see Mum on the couch with her feet tucked under her, a blanket wrapped around her legs and a hot cup of coffee in her hands. The TV was on, and the newspaper was spread out. Her hair was in rollers. Grams was in the kitchen, scowling at an unlit cigarette in her fingers and a cup of tea in her hand. I lifted my brows, but she just scowled harder. Mum must have collected her earlier.

"What are you doing up this time of day on a Sunday?" I asked Mum, as I walked over and kissed Grams on the cheek before leaning against the frame of the arch, crossing my arms.

Her eyes sparkled. "Oh, just getting ready for a lunch date."

"You have a date?" I couldn't help the surprise that knocked my voice up a few notes.

"Don't look so shocked. I'm a single woman. I'm allowed."

"I just didn't think—never mind." I walked over, picked up the paper and plonked myself down on the couch beside her. "Who's the lucky fellow?"

"A widower that Debbie set up. She thought it was about time I got out into the world." She lifted her hand and started counting off on her fingers. "His name is Flynn Armistead. He does something to do with cars, fixes them or sells them, or maybe he paints them. Wouldn't that be wonderful? A painter, like me. And he's very sweet, according to Debbie." Mum shook her head slowly. "Debbie said his wife died and she thought it would be a great first start for both of us." She looked at me with a faint smile playing on her lips. "Anything else you want to know?"

I wasn't sure what to make of the news. The thought of my mum dating had never entered my mind before. It seemed too strange to even consider. Then a dreadful thought occurred to me. "Does he have any children?" I silently hoped she said no. Getting a baby brother was one thing, having to hang out with potential step-siblings while our parents dated was another.

"Oh, that's where things get even worse." Mum turned, scooting closer to me on the couch. "His youngest daughter died. The poor man's had a lot of sadness in his life." Mum nodded solemnly. "But he has another daughter around your age. You probably know her from school, Cara?"

My heart dropped. The one girl who took an instant dislike to me when I started school. I think it was only because I was friends with Sienna, but in her mind that immediately put me in the dislike pile. Cara and Sienna had dated the same guy. It happened ages ago. It was for something like two weeks, and Sienna only ever got with him to make Ross jealous, but nonetheless, Cara and Sienna had become mortal enemies.

"Yeah, I know her." I sighed.

"Don't you like her? I would have thought you had a bit in common because, well—" Mum left it unspoken, but I knew what she meant.

"Because we both had siblings who died?" I shouldn't have said it so bluntly. Immediately, tears welled in Mum's eyes and she looked away. I reached across and placed my hand on her knee. "Sorry, Mum."

Grams got up from the table and walked into the room, the unlit cigarette now hanging limply out the corner of her mouth. "Having dead siblings doesn't instantly bond teenage girls, especially in high school." Her words were mumbled by the cigarette, though somehow it managed to stay in place while she talked, stuck to her bottom lip.

"Well, you probably won't have to have anything more to do with her than you already do. We are just going on a lunch date." Mum put her hands up to her hair and patted the rollers, somehow offended by Grams' words. "I think these are ready to come out. Be back in a minute."

Grams glared at me.

"What?" I said.

She played with the cigarette, jiggling it up and down.

"What?" I was impatient and slightly unnerved by her stare.

"You missed Wednesday." Grams' voice was croaky and she coughed, detaching the cigarette from her lip and putting it in her pocket.

I thought back to Wednesday and realised I spent the afternoon with Judah, forgetting all about my mid-weekly catch up with Grams. "Nope. It happened," I replied. "I remember Wednesday."

Grams scowled. "You know what I mean."

"I just forgot. Sorry."

"Well, you should be. I'm not going to be around forever, you know." Grams followed me back into the kitchen.

"Nothing can bring you down, Grams. You'll probably still be here, huffing away on those awful things long after Mum and I are gone."

Grams didn't smile at my teasing. "Why did you forget? It's not like you."

I shrugged and ripped off a piece of bread. It was stale and I opened the window to throw it outside for the birds. "I've been a little tired. Bad dreams."

Grams reached into her pocket and pulled the cigarette out again. She placed herself down at the kitchen table, near the open window, and lit it, inhaling deeply and letting the smoke out in a steady stream. It gathered and swirled, then slipped out the open crack and joined the mist that hung in the air. "Well, I came to you today. Flick the kettle on and get the teapot. And you owe me a bottle of gin."

Only minutes later, before the tea had steeped, Mum floated out of the bathroom, dipping her finger into an empty lipstick tube and rubbing the almost non-existent contents on her lips. She sniffed the air, scowled at Grams, and then twirled in front of me. "How do I look?"

"Isn't it time you bought a new lipstick?" I asked.

Mum frowned, twisted the tube back—even though it was unneeded— and placed the lid back on. "I like this one and they don't make it anymore."

A car rumbled up the driveway and I looked out to see an old, immaculately kept, pink and green vehicle with winged sides, roll to a stop. In small silver print down the bottom of the door, it read, 'The Auto Shop, Stone's Throw Road, Puruwai.'

I read it again. It was the name of the place Judah worked. Surely the universe was trying to tell me something. Without worrying that I was still in my dressing gown, I bounded to the door.

"Hello." The man extended his hand. He was short, with scruffy blond hair greying at the temples, and the creases in his hand were stained black. In one hand, he held a bunch of slightly wilted daisies, the ones wrapped in clear cellophane and purchased from the local supermarket.

"You must be Lennon. I'm Flynn Armistead." He shook my hand firmly.

"Yes. Hi Mr Armistead. Come in."

He wiped his feet vigorously on the mat. "Please, call me Flynn."

I ushered him inside where Mum stood waiting, beaming a smile so wide it nearly swallowed her face.

"Shelley, I believe?" He held the flowers out. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Why thank you." Mum blushed and took the flowers, sticking her nose into the bouquet and sniffing deeply.

Mr Armistead cleared his throat and wiped his hands down the front of his creased pants. "Shall we get going?"

Mum looked around for her purse then followed him towards the door which I opened and held wide.

"Does Judah Mitchell work for you?" I asked quietly.

Mum lifted her eyebrows but looked to Flynn for the answer.

"Yes, he does. Hard worker, good kid. Why do you ask?"

"He mentioned he worked for an auto yard. I just figured there couldn't be too many in Puruwai."

"One and only." Flynn beamed.

They stood looking at me while I held the door open, waiting for me to say more. "Well, have a great time."

"Wish me luck," Mum mouthed as she walked past. Flynn held the car door open and she slid into the passenger's seat while I waved goodbye before plonking myself down at the table.

Grams poured the tea. "He seems nice enough," she grunted, watching the car slowly idle down the driveway.

"Can't tell much at this stage," I said, not as keen to accept the new situation.

Grams tutted and shook her head. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. "What sort of dreams have you been having?"

I didn't want to tell Grams what sort of dreams. "Just dreams."

"You don't normally lie to me, Lennon."

I dipped my head and took a sip of tea. "I'm not." Another lie.

Grams grimaced and brought the cup to her lips, the grooves around her mouth growing as she pursed. They were deep, having spent too much time attached to the butt of a cigarette. She didn't say any more, but she watched me as I drank and I squirmed in my seat. I had never lied to Grams before, I didn't need to, but I wanted to keep Judah's and my fantasy dream dates a secret. Surprisingly, Grams didn't ask any more questions. Instead, she threw her cigarette out the window and took her cup of tea outside to sit and look over our non-existent garden.

I read, curled up on the couch until the low rumble of Flynn's car pulled up the drive. Peeking out the window, I saw him give Mum a peck on the cheek. The date must have gone well. Mum flew through the door and leaned against it, a wide smile on her lips.

Grams appeared. "It went well, I take it?"

Mum lifted herself from her leaning post, practically glided across the floor and sat down with a contented sigh. "He took me to that new cafe. It's a gorgeous place, such cute decorations and the food was simply superb."

I smiled suggestively and wriggled my eyebrows. "And Flynn?"

Mum blushed. "He was wonderful. Kind and thoughtful, interested in all I had to say, not at all like your father."

"So another date is on the cards?" I prompted.

"He's going to take me out Friday night. I have no idea what I'll wear. Maybe I'll go and check out my wardrobe now, just to be prepared."