Page 96 of Connectio
Chapter Fifteen
“Do you want me to come with you?” Carly asks, her shoulder propping her body against the doorframe to our lounge room.
I look up from the sofa and swish my hand. “No. Derek gets back today. You should be with him.” Flipping the page of my Better Homes and Gardens magazine, I add, “I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first biopsy, you know.”
She huffs.
“Hey!” I point at her. “Don’t give me that sad puppy dog look.”
“But, Lib—”
“No ‘But, Libs’.” Flipping the next few pages, I admire the double-page spreads of summer garden ideas. “I’m a big girl, remember?”
“More like a big pain in my arse,” she groans.
I shut the magazine with a snap and frisbee it onto the coffee table before tucking my feet under my bum. “Sooo, are you and Derek finally gonna have sex tonight?”
Part of me feels terribly guilty—not to mention a little trampy—that I’ve slept with Will before she’s had a chance to sleep with Derek. I mean, they’ve been seeing each other for several months now, and I’ve only been “seeing” Will for a week. But, then, am I technically seeing him if we haven’t revealed it to anyone? Kinda like the fallen-tree-in-a-forest-when-no-one-is-around scenario. Did it really make a sound if nobody heard it? Ugh.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I like Will a lot, and every part of me wants to grab a megaphone and blare to a crowd of unsuspecting strangers in the street that Elizabeth Regina Hanson—the quiet, Disney-fairy-tale-loving teacher—finally has a boyfriend and is happy. That she’s not some miserable nearly-thirty-year-old spinster cat lady sans the cats. Then there’s my mother; she’ll be thrilled. Not to mention a genuine relationship is something I’ve wanted and deserved for so long. I just… I know it can’t come without hard truths and unsurmountable sacrifice, and I’m not sure Will is up for that or should be up for that. Just telling him the entire truth about my life terrifies me.
“…I’m desperate to fuck his brains out, like really fuck them out of his sexy head and into the next century, but I’m so nervous and scared, and I don’t understand why, and—”
I realise I haven’t been listening to a word Carly’s said for the last minute or two, so I nod, pretending to agree with full comprehension. It’s a tactic that always works.
“So what do you think is wrong with me?” she asks, and I also realise my tactic is flawed.
“Uh…” There are so many things I could say here, like, “You act before you think, Carly, and you’re an extremely unkempt housemate, not to mention the worst dog owner and dishwasher.” The list goes on. Instead, I choose to go with, “There’s nothing wrong with you, hon. Just go with your gut and have a good time. Like you always do. Don’t think about it too much.”
God, I hope that’s good advice. For all I know, she could’ve just admitted to being a nymphomaniac without morals.
It’s not entirely farfetched.
She pushes off from the doorframe. “Okay. Yes. I will.”
“Good?”
She nods. “Good.” Carly approaches and kisses my forehead. “Good luck with the biopsy. Ring me if you need me, for anything at all.”
“I’ll be fine,” I playfully groan.
* * *
Turns out I am fine.Biopsy: negative. Thyroid: clear. Lump on my back: a benign lipoma. Will noticed it in the shower the other day, and I had to explain what it was, which he seemed content with. I didn’t offer any further information; I’m not ready for that. But I do know I’ll have to confess the extent of my illness sooner or later, especially because, over the past few weeks, we’ve spent more time together and have grown much closer.
I’m now a permanent member of his boxing class, and he’s well versed in assessing spelling homework. I can complete a killer seed knitting stitch, and he knows just how I like my tea. He has five tattoos; my favourite is on his foot. He’s memorised my bra, panty, and shoe sizes, and I now like to listen to Led Zeppelin and Muse.
He likes white chocolate; I like dark.
We both love Mexican food.
The more time we spend together, the more I fall for him. Like how he cares deeply for animals and the underdogs of the world, how he challenges me even when I don’t want to be challenged, and how his mischievous smile lights up the darkness that often creeps up from within. I’ve loved sharing every moment with him, even the times when we’ve nearly been busted by Carly, like when she unexpectedly came home while he was between my legs.
Needless to say, he had to hide in my wardrobe for roughly thirty minutes while she told me all about some satay sauce sex session she had with Derek. I had to bite my lip the entire time to prevent myself from laughing, which would’ve worked, because her satay sauce story was kinda funny. Messy and entirely unhygienic, but funny all the same. Thankfully, she eventually left me to my devices and had a shower, which was when I could finally sneak him out of the house. How she never noticed his car in the street is beyond me.
Other than a couple of close calls with Carly, and one at school when he snuck a kiss behind the excavator, our secret relationship has successfully remained secret.
We did, however, have our first proper fight on Christmas Eve. He wanted to tell our families about the two of us, and I told him I didn’t. I mean, deep down I want what he does, but I’m still not ready. Call it denial; I don’t care. I just want our bubble to remain intact for as long as possible, so we can continue to float through a world of pretend and insurmountable bliss. A world where shadows stay in the darkness, and where things are easier done than said. Floating through a world with no risk because I refuse to acknowledge the stakes is not something I get to do often. And if I tell Will the whole truth and nothing but the truth, there’s a good chance our blissful bubble will burst, and I’ll stop floating and fall back to earth among the soil and shit. I don’t like soil and shit. No one does. And the more people who know we’re together, the greater chance my fall will happen.
