Page 11 of The Absence of You
AGE 15
Shit. The heavy bin bag I’d been carrying split and litter spilled out everywhere. A couple of bottles smashed instantly as they hit the tiled ground next to the communal bins, and shards of glass were sent scattering wide. I’d have to go back up for a brush, I couldn’t just leave this mess here in case someone hurt themselves. These things happened, but my eyes glassed over and I fought back the urge to sob. Some fucking Christmas this. My mum was already asleep having drunk herself into oblivion hours ago, so it looked like I’d be spending the rest of the day on my own. More fool me for thinking she might actually make an effort to stay sober today, if only for my sake.
I finished brushing up and was letting myself into the flat when I heard the phone ring. There’d only be one person calling us today so I raced over and snatched the handset from the wall before I missed it.
“Hello?” I answered breathlessly.
“Merry Christmas Dahlia.” Dee’s soft voice greeted me.
“Merry Christmas Dee. Have you had a good day?”
“I have my darling, have you?”
My eyes landed on the half-eaten cheese sandwich that was sitting on the coffee table. “Yes, we’ve just eaten, and we’re about to settle down to watch a movie.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear. Is your mum feeling better?”
I clutched the receiver tightly, and steadied my voice. “Yes, she’s over the worst of it now.” It had become clear that I couldn’t leave my mum on her own for a week as her drinking had gotten progressively worse lately. She’d tried to insist I should still go and spend Christmas with Dee, but I couldn’t live with myself if something happened when there was no one here to keep an eye on her, so I’d lied and told Dee mum had a stomach bug.
“I’m so glad. You’re such a good girl taking care of her Dahlia. It hasn’t been the same without you here.” Guilt washed over me at the thought of Dee on her own in that big house, and I almost caved in and told her what’s been going on so she’d understand why I wasn’t there. But I bit my tongue. My mum asked me repeatedly not to mention her drinking to Dee. She said she had a handle on it. I hoped she was right because I hated the lies, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep it up. “Grayson called around this morning. He brought me a lovely poinsettia and book about Bridge. He’s such a thoughtful boy. And gosh, you should see him now. He’s so tall! I think he must have grown half a foot since you were here last.” A pang of sadness hits me. God I miss him so much. It’s been about four months since we saw each other and it’s the longest we’ve gone since we met seven years ago.
“How is he? How’s his swimming going?”
“Sweetheart, why don’t you give him a call? I know he misses you like mad. We both do. Did you get his letter? He said you hadn’t replied.” I got his letter a few days ago, but it was in my bedside drawer unopened. I’d recognised his handwriting and couldn’t bring myself to read it. It was easier that way. I’d see him in a few weeks, during the next school holiday. This was a temporary thing. Anything that was in his letter he could tell me in person next time I saw him.
Later when I was lying in bed, I gave in and opened Grayson’s letter. It was only one side of the paper, but just the sight of his messy scrawl had me welling up. Fuck, I was an emotional wreck today. He’d written to tell me he missed me, and he couldn’t wait until I was next there. He said his dad wanted him to quit swimming but that he was determined to carry on with it. He hadn’t even signed it off, it just ended with a line asking me to please ring him.
I picked up my phone and called him, my heart pounding at the thought of hearing his voice. After a handful of rings my call was answered.
DAHLIA - PRESENT
Monday morning comes around again and before I know it, I’m back walking through the academy halls, ready to start another week. I finally feel like I have a routine and know where I’m meant to be. I have a couple of books to leave in my locker, so I head there before my first lesson starts. The teaching schedule rotates every two weeks so I have psychology first thing today. We have access to a much larger range of textbooks here than at my old school so I'm really enjoying the extra reading element of the course.
There’s the usual hustle and bustle of the early morning as the students rush to get to their lessons and greet each other. As I push my way through the crowd, I belatedly realise there are a couple of guys leaning against the lockers, blocking my access. I recognise Asher Pennington, the guy Callie warned me about the other day, but the other guy has his back to me.
“Excuse me, can I get to my locker?” I smile tentatively at Asher and gesture behind him. He stops talking, and the guy with his back to me turns around. Despite him being so much taller and broader since I saw him last, there’s no mistaking who’s standing a few feet in front of me. His dark blond hair is shorter than he used to wear it, cropped on the sides and floppy on the top, but it’s still the same shade. And the familiar sky-blue eyes I can still picture in my mind as clearly as the first time I saw them, are looking directly at me.
I gasp. “Grayson?”
He meets my gaze, but his eyes are empty. I search them, desperate for a flicker of recognition of our shared history. But there’s nothing. Just a steely vacuum staring back at me.
Asher looks between us and flicks his head towards me, slapping Grayson on the back.
“Made quick work getting to know the new girl, didn’t you?” He smirks. Grayson replies without breaking our stare.
“I don’t know her.”
I had practised this moment a hundred times in my head over the last couple of weeks, not sure what sort of reception he’d give me after I cut off contact with him three years ago. I had my reasons for not getting in touch, and he isn’t aware of them, so I can’t blame him for that. But his icy words are like a slap to my face. I didn’t expect him to greet me with warmth exactly, at least not until I gave him a proper explanation, but this coldness feels deliberately cruel.
“Pleas-”
He cuts me off immediately. “I don’t know you. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even breathe the same air as me.”
I suck in a sharp breath at his words and dread clenches in my stomach. I didn’t expect him to be the same person he was when I left. I mean, hell, I’m certainly not. After all, we’re both adults now. But we’d been such close friends for so long. I suppose I’d hoped he’d at least give me time to explain.
I blink away the prickling feeling in the back of my eyes and tip my chin, mirroring his stance. I should be apologising to him. Begging him to hear me out. But looking at him now, I realise exactly how much time has passed. I’m not standing in front of my childhood friend asking for his forgiveness. This is a man. A man I no longer know. And I can’t find the words. So instead of asking for his forgiveness, I paste a look of indifference on my face. The same indifference I adopted every time my mum let me down. When you spend years being disappointed, you learn not to show it.
I continue to hold his gaze, as there is no way I’m letting him think he’s affected me by looking away first.
