Paper Dolls (12 page)

I love y…

But all words failed me. So I spoke the only way I could. I leaned up and pressed my mouth to his and clutched him to me as if he were my only lifeline in this storming grey world. Perhaps he was.

Our mouths moved. He clung to me as well, as if we were both lost in a storm. Every part of me felt like it was spinning, falling, sinking into love with him.

And yet, as I dropped, I was submersed in a growing terror. Only in the face of love can you comprehend just how destructive its loss could be. Love dug roots into you and the deeper they went, the more would be ripped away when they left.

His hands gripped me tightly to him, hands that I knew like my own, strong fingers, warm palms and smooth nails, the masculine dusting of hair on each knuckle.

As we kissed our bodies pressed into each other like we couldn’t get close enough. Could it be possible that two bodies could become the same person? I pushed my hips up and against his growing hardness. He groaned into my mouth. I wanted this. He wanted this.

And I saw us stripping each layer of clothing off, and him sitting me onto the railing, the waterfall drumming in the background, and sliding in between my thighs.

Instead he pulled away, his breath heavy and uneven, and he glanced around the darkened sky, beginning to fill out with stars. “Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s get you home.”

We were driving through the edges of Mirage Falls when Clay suddenly pulled the car over, the tires screeching like a chorus of screams. My heart thundered in my chest. “What’s wrong?”

He grabbed me and crushed his lips to mine. My head spun, half lost in the feel and the smell and the taste of him, half scrambling to understand what had scared him so much that he needed to pull over so suddenly.

His kiss slowed, then he pulled his lips off mine, my bottom lip popping out from between his lips with a groan on my tongue. My eyelashes fluttered open, a question on my face. “Clay?”

“Kiss buggie angel-hair red.”

It took me only a moment to realise what he was talking about. A laugh escaped my mouth.

He grinned as he settled back in his seat and pulled back onto the road. “P.S. My version is
so
much better.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

* * *

The instant I stepped into my apartment the giddiness of the last few hours with Clay was slapped out of me. The TV was on, blaring away, but Salem wasn’t to be seen. Had she gone to bed without turning the TV off? I pushed down the grit of annoyance as I grabbed the remote and switched it off. The room darkened and the silence took over.

I threw the remote on the side table before walking into our room, ready to snap at her.

But she wasn’t in the bedroom.

“Salem?” I peered in the bathroom before realising that she wasn’t home at all.

Where the hell did she go?

I reached into my bag for my mobile and paused. That’s right, Salem didn’t have a mobile. I had no way of reaching her. I searched the house but there was no note, to indication of where she had gone.
No note, no goodbyes, nothing.

Later that night, the other side of my bed, Salem’s side, felt emptier than it had been the last three years. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening for the key in the lock, a low-level tension clinging to my body. Where did she go? When would she come back? What if she was in trouble? What if she never came back?

Relax. She’ll come back. Salem and I are part of each other, like paper dolls…

A thirteen-year old-Salem lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her knees up and scuffed boots on the bed, a seething fury etched in every feature.

I sat on the edge of the mattress. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“But you’re hurting and−”

“What do you care?”

My heart cracked as my best friend and soulmate rolled away, turning her back on me. It was the first time she’d ever turned her back on me. But as last night showed…there was a first for everything. I could see her shoulders hunched up around her ears as she curled into a tight ball like she wanted to fold in on herself.

What should I do? What should I say?

I jumped off the bed and returned with a piece of paper and a pair of scissors from my desk. I began to fold the piece of paper in half in the middle of the longer side so that the two shorter edges were touching. Then I folded it again and again until it made a skinny rectangle. I grabbed the scissors in my lap and began to cut: one leg, one arm, half a head. When I was finished I slipped the scissors on the bedside table and unfolded the paper.

“Look.” I held up the row of identical paper dolls to her.

She glanced at it for a second and turned back away. “I don’t want to play any stupid games.”

“This isn’t a game. This is you and me, Salem,” I said. “We’re from the same piece of paper. Our souls are made of the same stuff. When someone cuts holes from you, they cut holes from me. When you’re hurting, I’m hurting. When he…when he hurt you last night, he hurt me.”

She turned suddenly, her eyes flashing like lightning in storm clouds. She launched at me, flinging her arms around my neck in a fierce hug, the paper dolls crushed between us. I put my arms around her skinny waist and hugged her back just as tightly, her body trembling with rage under my hands.

“The bastard,” she hissed in my ear, and I flinched. She used the same bad word that Mama used to call him. At the time I hadn’t really been sure what it had meant. Now I knew. “He won’t ever hurt you. Never. I won’t let him.”

“You can’t stop him,” I said quietly, tears already rolling down my cheeks. She couldn’t stop him from hurting her last night. How could she stop him from hurting me?

“Yes,” she said quietly, her voice deadly like a snake’s hiss, “I can.”

She pulled back from me, her face as cold as marble and she carefully wiped the moisture from my cheeks. The way Mama used to do whenever I was hurt. God, I missed her. None of this would be happening if only she were still here.

There were no tears on Salem’s face, only two fierce glass orbs glistening in her skull and a firmly pressed snarl that showed her white canines. She had always been the strong one.

“Did you hear me?” she said, her voice firm as I ever heard it. “I won’t let him hurt you. If he tries, I’ll kill him.”

7

When I woke up the next morning my own face was staring back at me. Salem was standing at the open door to my bedroom, staring at me. “Salem.” I sat up, clutching the sheets to my chest. “Thank God. I could barely sleep from worrying about you.”

“You looked like you were sleeping fine.”

I swallowed down my urge to retort back. “Where did you go last night?”

“Does it matter? You were off having all the fun in the world with loverboy.” She threw herself onto the bed on her back, tucking her hands under her head and bending her knees up so her black Doc Marten’s were on the bed. “Go on, spill it. I know you’re dying to tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“All the dirty little details of your loverboy? Is he packing as much as those plastic versions you sell?”

I tasted a bitterness on my tongue. “Don’t refer to my boyfriend’s…thing in the same sentence as a dildo. Actually don’t refer to it at all. Ever.” Salem was not allowed to know or even
think
about Clay in that way.

“Come on, Aria. It’s me. You can tell me. Is it huge? It’s huge, isn’t it? I promise not to stare when I finally get to meet him.”

Jesus Christ. “I don’t know. We haven’t…you know.”

“You guys haven’t fucked?”

I made a face. “Do you have to call it that?”

“What’s wrong with fuck?”

“It just sounds so…crass.”

“Sex is crass. It’s not like in the movies. Forget candles and violins and the tender press of two bodies. It’s dirty and noisy and real. Slapping flesh, grunting, bumping uglies, rooting, doing it. Hard and fast and rough.” Salem began to thrust her hips up at the air, making guttural noises in her throat while her face twisted into ugly expressions of pleasure and pain. Oh hell. I just got a look at how I might look when I…

I slapped her arm. “Stop it. Clay’s not like that.”

Thankfully she ceased her air-humping and rearranged herself on the pillow before giving me a look. “Clay’s a guy. All
guys
are like that.”

“He’s not.”

“Whatever. So, what are you waiting for?”

“Just…for the timing to be right.”

“And for unicorns to fart rainbows and doves to shit fairy dust.” She made a dramatic sigh. “They do call it ‘
hopeless
romantic’ for a reason.”

I pressed my lips together. “What’s wrong with wanting romance?”

“It’s the same as wanting a dragon as a pet. It’s not real and you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.”

I decided to ignore this. “I have to get ready for work.” I threw off the sheets and climbed out of bed. I could feel Salem’s eyes on me as I padded around my room, gathering my clothes. My annoyance loosened. She had reasons for being cynical. Perhaps if she could just see Clay and me together, she’d change her mind.

“So, I was thinking that maybe I could invite Clay over one night this week,” I said casually.

I saw her stiffen. “So you want me out of here.”

“What? No. I want you to meet him.”

“Why do I need to meet him?”

“Because…you’re the two most important people in my life.”

“He’s important to
you
. Not to me.”

“Come on, Salem. I could cook us all dinner.”

She scrunched up her face. “Have dinner with Mr and Mrs Perfect? No, thanks.”

“It’ll be fun.”

She let out a snort. “Fun is drinking a fifth of vodka and dancing until 5 a.m. Fun is not sitting around eating wholemeal pasta with you two lovebirds.”

“Okay…you’re obviously not in the best mood.” I walked to the shower. “I’ll ask you again later.”

“The answer will still be no,” she called out.

I was going to ask Clay about dinner with Salem as he walked me to work that morning. But he was a deathly silent and only managed one-syllable answers as we walked down the sidewalk. He held my hand in a death grip and practically dragged me down the street, his long legs pumping like pistons.

“Clay,” I tugged back at his hand. “Slow down.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He slowed down for me.

“What’s up?”

He paused before saying, “Nothing.”

And that’s all he would say.

I felt instinctively that he just needed some silence. Salem would get like this sometimes. All quiet and intense. Any attempts to draw her out of that state would only seem to push her in further. But if I let her be, then she would come out herself when she was ready.

Clay remained silent and broody for the rest of the way. When we reached the Whip & Flick I wasn’t sure if I’d even get a proper goodbye. But he grabbed me by my shoulders and spun me towards him, the look on his face stopping me in my tracks. He looked torn, as if something clawed at him from the inside, his eyes glassy and forehead furrowed as if it hurt. Something was wrong. My annoyance seeped right out of me. “Clay?”

He crashed his lips down onto mine. This kiss was unlike any kiss we had shared before. It felt like…goodbye, filled with desperate needing, as he clung to me like a little boy lost. I felt his heart flapping like a scared bird against my own chest, fear of some foreseen, inevitable pain. As if the earth might crack open between our feet and separate us.

…my mind misgives, some consequence yet hanging in the stars…

It scared me right down to my bones.

I pulled away, not being able to take any more. “Clay,” I whispered, fear gripping my throat. “What’s wrong?”

“I… It’s nothing,” he breathed against me “Just…work stuff.”

Clay was lying. It was the first time that he had lied to me.

Before I could respond his phone dinged. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the text message, his brows drawing together. He turned, his eyes never reaching mine. “I gotta go.”

“Who was that?”

“No one important,” he called back over his shoulder. I watched his rapidly retreating back. What had gotten under his skin? Who had texted him? And what had that text said?

“Are we still on for tonight?” I yelled.

But he was already too far gone.

That afternoon when my shift ended I was surprised to see Clay waiting across the road, leaning against the door of his parked car. I let the door of the Whip & Flick swing shut behind me. Flick was still inside so I didn’t have to lock up.

I approached him cautiously as if one sudden movement would cause him to take flight. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” He laughed at me and tugged at my hair when I reached him. “Why are you looking at me as if I might suddenly grow an extra head?”

I peered at him. There was no sign of the Clay from this morning. Almost as if it had been a different person. “I’m just trying to make sure it’s you.”

“Who else would I be?”

“I don’t know. The Clay from this morning was someone I’d never seen before.”

His eyes dulled for a second, as if a storm cloud had passed before his mind. Then it disappeared, leaving just the brightness to his face that I knew. He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sorry about this morning. Just work stuff. I’ve fixed it now.”

He’s lying to you. But why?

He interrupted my thoughts with a kiss, unhurried and tender and sending rushes of feeling through my body. But part of me felt like this kiss…was too perfect. Almost like he was trying to cover up the kiss from this morning. As if he was trying to show just how ‘normal’ everything was.

What about Salem? You haven’t told him that she’s back. Don’t get mad that he’s hiding things from you if you’re still hiding things from him.

I’m not hiding. Just waiting for the right time.

Maybe he’s just waiting for the right time too.