Page 21 of Spiralling Skywards
“What? Fuck, Sarah. Why the fuck didn’t you . . . ah, oh fuck. Oh God, fuck, I’m sorry, baby.”
He was done. He then proceeded to lean over the side of the bed and throw up all over the pile of coats we’d just moved to the floor.
I winced as he groaned and slid out of me. I left him face down, out cold, in a pile of his own vomit and went to the bathroom to clean myself up. There was more blood than I expected, so I rolled up some toilet paper and put it inside my knickers before leaving to walk home by myself.
I didn’t feel dirty. I didn’t feel ashamed. I felt nothing, and I certainly had no desire to ever do it again, which at least proved one thing, I wasn’t likeher.Iwasn’tlike my mother.
When I was about fourteen, I’d overheard my brother and my nan talking. Nan was saying that I was the same age my mother had been when she started to go off the rails. Staying out all night and getting involved with older boys, drinking, and taking drugs. Luke had told her that was the reason they needed to be so strict with me, otherwise I would end up just like her.
I was ashamed that they thought that of me. I’d always tried my best to be a good girl, I went out of my way to try to make my grandparents and brother proud of me. I’d never smoked, I’ve never tried drugs, and until the night I lost my virginity, I’d never had more than a few sips of beer. I did well at school, even better in college. I knew the sacrifices Nan and Grandad had made when they took us in, and I knew that Luke had always had my back. He was an exceptional big brother, but when I heard them talking, I felt hugely disappointed in their opinion of me and became determined to prove them wrong. It also left me emotionally paranoid.
What if I was like her? Exactly like her? I think I chose Darren because I knew that emotionally, I’d be safe. I had no desire for him, no interest in a long-term relationship, I just wanted to prove that I wasn’t anything like my mother. I wanted to prove to myself that once I’d tried sex, I wouldn’t suddenly become a nymphomaniac like she apparently was. I didn’t have sex again for another three years, and when I did, it was with a complete random, but the motive was still the same. It was all about proving to myself that I could take it or leave it.
I met him in a club in London, took him back to the flat I shared with Sasha, and experienced the same three thrusts and a squirt that I’d experienced with Darren. He tried to tell me it was all my fault, and it had never happened to him before. It was because I was too beautiful, my tits too perfect, my pussy too tight. He’d not even gotten my top off, so how did he know what my tits looked like? And he barely broke the seal on my pussy, so how the fuck did he know how tight I was?
I asked him to leave, showered, and swore off men for life, or at least until I was in a long-term relationship with someone I loved. As I couldn’t see that happening for the foreseeable future, sex with anything other than Ronaldo my Rampant Rabbit or Adam my Aquarius Vibe, was not an option.
I stepped from the water, wrapped my hair in a towel, and wiped the tears that thoughts of her always evoked from under my eyes. I didn’t know why I got so emotional when I thought about the woman that gave birth to me, but it pissed me off. She didn’t care about us and she didn’t deserve the title of “Mother”. I knew very little about her and that’s exactly the way I wanted it to stay. I’d seen photos and I had a vague recollection of long auburn hair but that’s where the memories stopped. I’d been told more than once that I looked just like her, and I hoped that was where any similarities between us ended.
I cleaned my teeth, rubbed some moisturiser over my skin, and gave myself a wink in the mirror.
Let’s do this.
I was nothing like my pill-popping excuse of a parent, and I never would be.
***
I ended up booking a table at Semplicemente Il Meglio for nine o’clock. It was in the next town over, so hopefully there would be no chance of running into my brother or any of his friends. I’d spoken to him earlier, just to be sure of his plans, and he’d told me he was nursing a major hangover and staying in with a curry and a few of the boys.
“Hope you don’t mind cabbing it, I had a fair bit to drink last night and was worried that just one tonight might put me over the limit.”
A strange sensation travelled from my belly to my chest. It was like a little wave of panic at the thought of him getting in trouble with the police.
“Not at all. I didn’t expect you to have a car anyway, you being a foreigner and all.”
I watched as he appeared to fight a smile.
“I’m actually not.”
“Not what?” I asked, frowning in confusion.
“A foreigner. I have a British passport.”
“Oh, how come?”
“My dad was born here, well, Ireland. He moved to Australia when he was two. I have dual nationality, so I carry both a UK and an Australian passport. That’s why I’m able to work here without having to worry about a visa.”
Well that was a relief. At least he wouldn’t get thrown out of the country for breaking any laws. I let out a long breath, which I’d apparently been holding as I mulled that over. Liam mistook it for a sigh.
“You disappointed?” he asked. His blue eyes sparkling as they danced all over my face. I felt my cheeks burn. Fuck me, he was good-looking. His hair was slick with some kind of product and pushed back from his face, he still hadn’t shaved, and the stubble from last night was now almost a beard.
He was wearing a black shirt, which was open at the collar, and I could see a few hairs sitting at the base of his throat. The thought of how far down they travelled, and where they actually ended, made me physically shudder.
“You cold?” he asked, sliding his arm across the back of the seat and pulling me in closer to his side.
He smelled amazing.
“No? Nothing?” His eyes flicked over my face, and I just stared. I knew that he’d asked me two questions, I was totally aware of that fact, but my brain simply didn’t want to relay that information, or any kind of response to my jaw muscles or voice box.
