Heart of Glass (23 page)

Please Ben, please come
back. I can’t live without you. I’ve tried but I can’t do
it.

***

A dejected sigh escaped my
lips as I opened the door to my flat. Everything was dark. What had
I been expecting? Ben? Sitting on the lounge, wearing nothing but a
Christmas bow? A brief smile crossed my lips, it would have been
the sort of thing he would have done back then. But not now, now
nobody was there of course, only the darkness.

“
Do you want me to stay?”
Dean questioned, rubbing my back.

“
No. Go home. It’s been a
long day. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I kissed him and stepped into the
darkness.

Running my fingers up and
down the door, I searched for the light, muttering at the familiar
sound of the light globe blowing. Walking into the living area, I
flopped down on the couch. The globe could wait till the morning. I
couldn’t be bothered rattling around under the sink in the dark
with my hands touching God knows what that was slimy and smelly.
There were nasty scuttling sounds in that cupboard at
night.

I sat on the sofa in the
dark for a long time, saying a prayer of thanks that Christmas Eve
was over. If I’d had to fake a smile for another moment my face
would have been in serious danger of staying that way. I was tired
of pretending to be happy and my head was pounding beyond belief. I
wanted to die. I hated Christmas, especially with Dean fussing
around me like an old woman. He was worse than Nanna and she nearly
killed a girl with kindness.

‘
Here, darling, have some
more desert, eat some more potatoes, take these left-overs home –
you’re too skinny. Give your old Nanna a kiss and a
hug.’

Flipping off my shoes and
padding to the kitchen, I searched the fridge and cupboard for
something alcoholic to ease the sadness. It was my own fault. I had
let Ben go and now he had Natasha, Greek goddess and supermodel.
And I had Dean. Pompous arse and superbrain. No wonder I was
sad.

Vodka bottle in my left
hand, I wandered to the wardrobe, shifting the door with my foot.
The urge to be near Ben was so strong, I wondered if he could feel
me wanting him. Did he think of me? Or was he too busy devising
ways to get naked with Natasha? I took a swig from the bottle and
poured myself a glass as I began to rattle through the jumble of
the closet. Ben’s box. Where was Ben’s box? It was hidden somewhere
away at the back of the shelf, I was sure. I needed to find it, to
see his face, even if it was only in a photo. He was the missing
piece of my puzzle, the cream in my coffee that I wasn’t to have
for fear of gaining weight.

Taking a huge gulp from my
glass, I drained it and refilled again. The numbing effect was
gradual dulling the heaviness in my brain. John Denver had a lot
more than White Christmas to answer for. I took another drink and
grabbing a chair, dragged it to the open wardrobe. My body swayed
slightly as I stood, tiptoed, on the wobbly cushion, pushing
clothes and books aside. My head was beginning to fuzz, that
drunken feeling was returning, topping up the champagne of the
night by the vodka in my hand.

Where was that box? I took
another swig. Ahh, there it was, pushed to the back, smothered by
the fluoro of my Wham t-shirt. Balancing precariously on the edge
of the chair, I reached into the shelf. I could feel it with the
tip of my finger but I couldn’t quite get it.

Instinctively, one leg rose
in the air and I balanced on one tiptoe, trying desperately to
reach my treasure. The chair wobbled and the tears clouded my
eyes.

I didn’t feel my head, as it
hit the shelf when I fell. I didn’t see the glass shatter and cut
me. I didn’t smell the blood, as I lay semiconscious on the floor
and it drained from my arm. All I knew was the pain inside my
broken heart as I clutched at the heart of glass that had fallen
from the box.

***

“
Happy New
Year!”

Someone kissed my cheek in
the dark and I laughed. It felt good to laugh again. After my fall,
everyone had come around, knowing something was wrong but not
knowing how to help. Like an idiot, I had waited and waited but the
phone remained silent. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t come when I
needed him most and the ache inside me grew like an inflatable ball
with pressure that increased but never burst.

Dean had found me, when he
let himself in on Christmas morning. Assuming I had gone out for a
run, and hoping to give me a Christmas surprise, he’d been
devastated to find me lying on the bedroom floor in a pool of blood
and glass. The rest was a blur of flapping and fussing. How he
would ever make a doctor if he couldn’t even call an ambulance
without having a nervous breakdown was a mystery to me.

“
You didn’t do anything
silly, did you?” he’d asked, as he held my hand in the emergency
room.

What like trying to knock
myself off? Was that meant to be some sort of joke? I'd always
considered his humour, to be left of centre but that was plain
sick.

“
Don’t be so ridiculous,”
I’d replied.

A fit of depression and too
much vodka was one thing, but suicide was a different story. So,
back to New Year’s.

Coops and Phil had gone out
earlier in the night to see Lush.

“
Come with us…” Coops had
begged. “New Year won’t be the same without your
dancing.”

I'd shaken my head, saying I
looked too much like a human pizza to be seen in public. My
forehead had a large yellowing lump on it and the bridge of my nose
was purple and swollen. My arm was bandaged but the doctor said
there would be little if any scarring. The only scars were those on
my heart. Besides, it was fun just hanging out at home for a
change.

Then the clock struck
midnight. The remainder of the party were all madly kissing and
hugging when Coops rang to wish us a Happy New Year and let us know
they were on their way home with reinforcements.

“
How much have you had to
drink?” I laughed, as he slobbered into the phone telling me how
much he loved me.

“
Not much, the usual,” he
replied. A slurred school-girl titter followed and I figured
reinforcements could mean anything from more alcohol to the entire
Salvation Army Marching Band playing festive tunes. Best to batten
down the hatches and prepare for hilarity, Coops was a funny
drunk.

Not long after, I was in the
kitchen talking to Prue, and nibbling on a slice of cold pizza when
the door opened and a crowd of noisy boys swarmed in. Spotting me,
they converged like the forward pack of a rugby team, handing me
cartons of beer and hugs of love.

Swooping from the back,
Coops rushed at me, and whisking me into his arms, lifted me high
off the ground.

“
Happy New Year,” he smiled
and kissed me with a tenderness that was bordering on improper.
Then, straightening and attempting to look sober, he added, “Bella,
Prue, this is Damien, John and Mark. They’re from ‘Lush’.
Remember?”

Hmm. Doors music, tight
leather pants…. As if I’d forget that. Especially when Mr. Tall,
Dark and Brooding was standing right in front of me.

“
Hi, you must be Bella.
Beautiful. Just like the name.”

I liked that he’d ignored
the fact that I looked like a train wreck.

“
Um, thanks. Can you excuse
us for just a minute?”

Turning to Coops, I pushed
him to the other end of the kitchen. “What are they doing here? You
know what Justin said. He didn’t want anything to do with them.
He’ll murder you.”

“
It’s New Year’s, live a
little.”

“
It’s not my life I’m
concerned with.”

“
Justin won’t mind.
Chill.”

“
Won’t mind what?” Mark had
crept up beside me and was devouring me with his wolfish
gaze.

“
S’nothing.” Coops
laughed.

“
Good. For a minute, there,
I thought something was wrong.” His dark eyes pierced my heart.
God, the thought of those leather pants had been too much to bear.
How would I ever resist his eyes?

***

Hours later, everyone had
finally gone and the house was in darkness. Phil had passed out on
top of his doona and Coops and Dean had been put into a taxi – Dean
with another migraine and Coops with strict instructions to drink
at least three glasses of water before going to bed.

“
I’ll crash in the spare
room,” I said, when they asked if I was going with them. “Somebody
has to help Jus’ clean up this bombsite.”

Satisfied that they were all
settled, I opened the screen door and stepped into the night. It
was almost five in the morning. The temperature had reached its
lowest and the hairs on my arms jumped to attention. I wrapped my
arms around myself to ward off the frosty air, and leant out over
the balcony, drinking in the stars. It was so clear and still. The
whole town was sleeping. Nights like those, I could feel Ben with
me; feel his love surrounding me as I watched the heavens, like we
had on the night of the Christmas Ball. The sky had been the same
and Ben had put his coat over my shoulders. He’d shown me the star,
the one that would guide him back, if ever I needed him. Somewhere
out there, he was looking too, thinking of me. I knew he was. Why
didn’t he come?

“
It’s a beautiful night,
isn’t it,
Blondie
?”

Startled, I turned to see
Mark, sitting on a wicker seat in the shadows. His ankle was
crossed over his knee and his arm rested upon it. Those leather
pants were glued to his body and, somewhat guiltily, I imagined him
without them.

“
Hope I didn’t frighten
you. I came out for a smoke. Didn’t wanna light up in the house.”
He exhaled slowly, his eyes closed and a pungent odour wafted into
the air around us. I could see the long dark lashes against his
cheek and felt an overwhelming urge to kiss the soft skin of his
lids.

Don’t look, Bella, the
little voice said. Don’t do it.

“
You wanna sit down?” he
asked. “There’s plenty of room.”

“
Thanks.” I hopped onto the
seat next to him, pulling my legs up under my body and circling
them with my arms to keep warm. A shiver crept over me and I
squeezed tighter. “Why did you call me
Blondie
before?”

“
It suits you. I won’t do
it again if you don’t like it, I won’t do anything you don’t like.”
He grinned a lazy grin. Justin was right. This man was dangerous
territory. His leather pants and black eyes had probably seduced
thousands of girls.

“
I don’t dislike it; it
reminds me of someone, that’s all. It makes me sad.”

“
Nobody should make you
sad, Blondie; you’re too beautiful to be sad.” He tucked a loose
strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was gentle. “That’s a huge
bruise.”

“
Mmm….I had a fight with a
wardrobe.”

“
That’s a new one, most
people say it was a door.” He looked like the type of person who’d
probably had a few bouts with a door in his time and lived to tell
the tale.

“
Oh no. It was nothing like
that. I was looking for something and I fell off a chair and hit my
head on the shelf.”

“
That’s how you hurt your
arm too?” He took my forearm, examining it.

“
The glass I was holding
smashed and I fell on it.”

“
Glasses can be dangerous
things.”

“
So I found
out.”

“
Seems like you went to a
lot of trouble. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“
No. I lost it a long time
ago. I don’t think I’ll ever find it again.”

Mark stared. It was as if
his black eyes could see right into my soul. Whatever it was that
I’d lost couldn’t be found in my wardrobe.

“
Sometimes, when you can’t
find things, you need to look in a different place or forget about
them and move on,” he said quietly.

“
I know, but it’s
hard.”

“
Maybe you need some
help.”

I looked into his eyes. I
had no idea what he was offering.

“
Do you smoke a lot?” I
asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. At first glance, he
seemed like a nice enough guy, not the drug addicted arsehole that
he’d been described as.

“
A bit. S’pose they’ve told
you about me. All bad?”

“
No. Look, I apologise, I
wasn’t purposely being nosy.”

“
That’s okay. Everyone has
their own theory; it gives them something to talk about.” He took a
toke on the reefer. “Want some?”

“
No thanks. But you go
right ahead.”

His head turned and his eyes
stabbed at me, mocking. They were the most unusual eyes I had ever
seen, hypnotic. It was impossible not to stare into them. “You’ve
never tried it, have you?”

“
No.”

I didn’t want to admit I was
scared. Mum’s sordid picture of wasted dirty girls begging for food
and selling themselves for money on street corners had been the
only deterrent I’d ever needed. In the war against drugs, scare
tactics were her major resource. If she had to, I was positive she
could convince Dunhill that smoking was bad.