Page 39 of The Absence of You
“As an extra incentive, I’ve kept the painting from that little job you did for me. If that were to turn up at an art auction, you’d be struggling to explain why your fingerprints are all over it, wouldn’t you?” That sly motherfucker. He’s got me over a fucking barrel, and he knows it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
DAHLIA
AGE 14
It was a warm night, so I’d left the window slightly ajar. The pale pink curtains flitted gently in the soft breeze as I tossed and turned in my bed. Despite my best efforts, sleep eluded me. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was Grayson’s face when his dad grabbed him roughly earlier today. In a few weeks we’d both turn fifteen, but in that moment he looked so much younger. He looked like the little boy I’d first met. I hated that man so much. Grayson was so kind and sweet. And that bastard was going to keep trying to break his spirit until he couldn’t take it anymore, I just knew it.
His mum didn’t seem to care enough to stop it. She wasn’t cruel exactly, but she wasn’t exactly a hands on and loving mum either. God, I wished there was something I could do. Every time I came down here to visit, it was like a little more of the fire in his eyes had gone out.
Rolling over again, I threw the tangled blankets off me and sat up on the edge of the bed. A glass of milk might help me sleep.
Ten minutes later, I was back upstairs, hoping I’d be able to find sleep at least at some point tonight. My vision had adjusted to the darkness, so when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye, I startled. I clutched my chest until I realised it was just Grayson sitting in the armchair in the corner of my room.
“Shit, you scared me! How long have you been in here?” Grayson didn’t answer. I walked over to my bedside lamp and flicked it on. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles almost white. Running my eyes over him, I saw his cheeks glistening. Was he crying? I crossed to him, and when I got closer, I wanted to throw up. There was a dark bruise forming under his left eye. Gingerly, I placed my hand on his other cheek.
“Grayson?” He let go of the arm of the chair and gripped onto my hand, before gently pulling it off his face. Holding my hand in his lap, he stayed silent, so I knelt in front of him, waiting for him to say something. After a few minutes of silence, I pulled away from him.
“I’m going back downstairs to get some ice. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
When I got back to my room, he was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I lay down next to him. After a few minutes, I whispered,
“We have to tell someone how bad it is...” My words trailed off as he placed a finger on my lips, shushing me. I turned onto my side to look at him as he mirrored my position. My heart bled seeing his beautiful face marred by the purple bruise, but it was the sadness in his eyes that cut into me the most.
“I don’t want to talk about it. We only have a few hours left before you leave again, and I don’t want to waste it talking about him.” He lifted his hand and ran it down my face, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear.
DAHLIA - PRESENT
I wake with a start, my blankets tangled around my legs. For a moment I’m disorientated. I look down to see I’m dressed in nothing but Grayson’s hoody and my underwear. Shit, Grayson must have put me to bed. Throwing myself back down on my bed, my limbs ache from the punishing coaching session he’d put me through yesterday. He’d worked me hard, but I’d made so much progress it was well worth it. I wouldn’t have to rely on Callie or Grayson to teach me for much longer, and I’m actually enjoying the water. But it’s not just the swimming that has me smiling this morning. My cheeks flush at the thought of what happened in the summer house last night. The way he touched me, instinctively knowing how to make me feel good, wasn’t like anything I'd experienced before. It certainly topped anything I’d ever achieved on my own.
Having no clue what time it is, I look around the room until I spot my phone on my dressing table. Luckily, it’s early still so I have time to shower before school. The rest of my things are folded neatly on my chair. Seems like Grayson was kind enough to bring my stuff up to my room last night. I smile to myself and start typing out a text to thank him when I hear a car door slam outside. I wander to the window to check if it’s Dee going out, but the noise is from next door. Colin Banks is standing next to his car talking angrily on the phone. Even with the window cracked open, it’s too far away to make out what he’s saying, but he’s obviously mad about something. Colin slams his fist down on the car bonnet just as Grayson comes out of the house. He must be heading to academy for an early gym session because he’s dressed in a tracksuit.
Colin turns and grabs Grayson by the neck of his training top and shoves his son against the wall. Just as quickly, Grayson rounds on his father. He has hold of the lapels of Colin’s suit jacket, and turns him against the wall, easily overpowering him. Colin’s a tall man, but Grayson has a few inches on him, and he’s much more built than him now.
Despite Grayson having him pinned against the wall, Colin is still yelling in his son’s face. He is practically spitting with rage. Grayson has his back to me, but I can see the tension in his shoulders and his hands are clenched. He holds him firmly against the wall as Colin struggles to free himself while continuing whatever tirade he’s on. My heart is in my throat watching them. Colin’s aggression is sadly familiar but seeing Grayson able to physically overpower him settles something in me. Their front door opens and Melissa steps out. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but I’m almost disappointed when Grayson loosens his hold on Colin. His father tears himself away and barely acknowledges Melissa before he stomps into the house.
I watch as Grayson and Melissa start talking, and he reaches out to try to draw her into a hug, but she shrugs it off. Watching him quite obviously reach out, only to have her rebuff him, breaks my heart. I turn away to give them privacy. My early memories of Melissa were good ones. She was fun, and she’d often engage with us, but over the years she’d become less and less interested. Always seemingly too busy or too tired to play with us. She used to defend Grayson when Colin would shout at him or lose his temper, but then she began to say whatever it took to keep the peace. She’d side with Colin to avoid a row or she’d just send Grayson to his room. I had never been sure what had caused the change in her, always wondering why she put up with Colin, and why she hadn’t tried to build a life for her and Grayson away from him.
I sigh. Now, I’m a bit older, I’m not so naïve as to think it was as simple as his mum being able to walk away.
Colin is a prick, through and through. Why can’t he see how lucky he is to have this beautiful family, a lovely home, and a successful career? He’s living most people’s dream fucking life, and yet, he treats his family like that. My dad might have abandoned me, but maybe it’s preferable to that.
I move away from the window and get into the shower.
GRAYSON
A couple of hours later, I place the weights back on the stand and wipe down the grip before taking a long swig from my water bottle. I’d really pushed myself this morning, taking my mental frustrations out on my body until I couldn’t run another minute on the treadmill or climb another step on the cross fit. My chest heaves, almost painfully, but it’s a welcome distraction.
As a result of using the gym as an outlet for all the crap in my life, I’m in good shape. The best I’ve ever been. Pretty fucking ironic really. The fitter I get, the better chance I have at succeeding with my swimming, something that bastard hates me doing. There’s an important swim meet coming up, and there’s a bit of a twinge in my shoulder, probably from my altercation with my father, so I decide to hit the pool and to do a few gentle lengths before heading home.
As I head into the changing room, I think about the upcoming ball. Of all the events I’m forced to attend, the Heathley Academy Ball is my least favourite. The room will be full of my parents’ friends and a lot of kids from the academy, so I can’t let my guard down for even a minute. I’m well practised at it, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy wearing the mask I’ve perfected over the years.
Every few weeks I’m forced to attend some shit event with my dad, where I have to walk around pretending I’m like them. Like him. Pretentious and false. Building relationships with other important members of society is a vital part of growing his business, apparently. On the surface, Banks’ Waste Management looks legitimate. My father inherited the company from his father years before, and over the last ten years, he expanded it to become one of the most successful in the country, through ‘sheer hard work and determination’.
Of course, that isn’t the full truth. I can’t remember exactly when I realised our family run business was just a front. The real money he’s making isn’t from the contracts he holds with large companies but his other ‘work.’ The company is just there to provide a paper trail when the taxman comes knocking. Nothing more.
I pull on my swimming shorts and head to the pool. It’s quiet, still too early for most of the students, so I enjoy the peace. The only time I really feel like myself anymore is when I’m swimming. Gliding in the cool water, my arms stretched, feeling the burn in my muscles, losing myself in the silence under the water. It’s calming and honest, and I’ve been chasing that feeling for a long time. I always loved to swim, but I only really started taking it seriously the last few years. Preferring my own company and the water to faking some kind of meaningful human interaction.
