Page 9 of The Absence of You
“Well, you’re aware your father attended the academy from a young age.” She appears to be stalling, but I refuse to let it go.
“Yes, I know my father went there. I had no idea about my mum, though. If it’s true, then why has everyone kept it from me?” I try to keep the hurt from my voice. I hope this is a misunderstanding and not a deliberate attempt to hide it from me.
“Yes, your mum attended there for her final year of school. I didn’t realise she hadn’t told you.” She states, very matter-of-factly.
“Well she hadn’t.” Dee turns back to the oven, pulling another tray of cookies out and she transfers them to the cooling rack. The conversation is clearly making her uncomfortable but I’m not letting it go that easily.
“Dee please. This is the first I’ve heard about it, and I can’t understand why my mum was so adamant that I didn’t go to the academy when she went there herself. Is that where she met my father?” I can’t believe I never thought to ask about how they met before.
“What has she told you about how they met?”
“She hasn’t said anything much about their relationship. When I was little she would just fob me off and I gave up asking.” Dee stays silent for a long moment, clearly warring with herself about what to tell me. She closes the oven door and turns back to face me.
“Yes, they met at the academy. But I really think this is something you need to talk to her about, not me. I’m sorry.” She walks across the kitchen and starts filling the dishwasher. Instead of clearing anything up, this discussion has just left me with more questions, and from Dee’s silence, I can tell I won’t be getting them today. I pour myself a glass of milk to have with my cookie and go to my room to study.
The next morning I’m up bright and early, ready for my interview at the bookshop. I’m about to set off to walk, but Dee suggests I take her car. I’ve had my licence for a few months, but I’ve had little chance to drive as my mum sold her car a while back to pay off some debt. The only reason I could even learn was because Dee had sent me vouchers for lessons for my last birthday.
“Are you serious?” I can’t believe I’m finally going to get out and drive on my own again.
“Yes, of course. I had you added to my insurance, so you can use the car whenever you need it.” She passes me the keys, and I run outside and unlock the car. Excitement bubbles inside me at the thought of getting back behind the wheel. I adjust the seat and mirrors a few times until I’m completely satisfied with them and then put the car into gear. Dee waves me off with a smile, and I drive cautiously down the driveway, familiarising myself with the controls.
The village is only a few minutes away, so I could easily have walked. But knowing I have the freedom of being able to jump in the car if I want to go further is exciting. I’m there in a matter of minutes, and I have no trouble finding a parking spot on the quiet road near the bookshop. I’m about 15 minutes early, so I wait in the car and watch the sleepy village come to life as the shutters open on the shops, and the various staff arrive.
From where I’m sitting, I can see Lauren put out the board in front of Lolly’s, ready for opening. She waves at the postman emptying the post box on the opposite corner. The old cinema at the far end of the street is tiny, with only one screen. It just shows re-runs and won’t open until this afternoon, but there’s someone sweeping popcorn off the street outside, presumably from last night. I think about the last time I was there. They’d been showing Back to the Future, and it was Grayson’s favourite film. We must have watched it ten times together over the years, but he wanted to see it on the big screen so he’d booked us tickets as soon as it was announced they were screening it. The cinema was empty and so the back row was ours. We had the best afternoon, both of us mouthing the words along with the actors. We knew the movie so well. Grayson said he was going to learn to play the electric guitar like Marty McFly. He could already skateboard like him. I smile fondly at the memory and wonder if he ever got around to learning.
Checking my watch, I realise it’s time for me to go into the bookshop to meet the owner. I need this job, so I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves.
Three hours later, I’m climbing back into the car as an employed person. Not only that, it’s actually a job that I can see myself loving. I instantly got on well with the owner Beth, bonding over our mutual love of Edward Cullen and various other hot, fictional vampires. She’s heavily pregnant and managing the majority of her business online and from home so she can put her feet up, but she needs someone to cover Saturdays for her. Although most of Beth’s business comes from online orders, she keeps the small shop going for people who still prefer to shop in person. She was looking for a student who only wants a few hours of work, so it’s perfectly suited for me. Beth told me she’d had no response to the last advert she’d posted. I don’t think many of the local students need a job, so I’ve struck lucky.
We had stopped our discussion on the Salvatore brothers long enough to actually talk work, and she’d spent the next couple of hours training me on the order system. It’s straightforward, and given the fact there’s only been a couple of customers all day, I’m sure I’ll be able to cope on my own next Saturday. Beth only lives round the corner, so I can call her if there are any issues.
Chapter Nine
GRAYSON
PRESENT
“He shoots, he scores…the crowd is chanting his name - Banks, Banks!” I yell to no one, as I make another basket through the hoop on the side of my house. I catch a whiff of myself as I jump up to catch the ball again. Fuck, I stink. I’d spent most of the day in the car with my parents driving back from France, and as soon as we got back I’d immediately grabbed the ball and spent the last hour blowing off some steam. The two things combined mean I’m not exactly fresh right now.
I’m about to head inside when the grocery delivery van on the neighbour’s drive pulls away, and I see Dee Boulton on her doorstep. Dee picks up the last few bags of shopping. She must be in her sixties now, but she looks younger today, a smile on her face that I haven’t seen for a good while. She lifts her head, and seeing me watching her, she calls over,
“Grayson, sweetheart, how are you?” Like always, I’m polite to Dee, but I do my best to avoid getting into any kind of deep and meaningful conversation with her. It’s not like it’s Dee’s fault her granddaughter ghosted me three years ago, but seeing my neighbour is always an unwelcome reminder of Dahlia.
“I’m good thanks, Dee. How are you?”
“I’m excellent, Grayson, better than I’ve been for a long time. And I owe it all to my new houseguest.” She smiles cryptically. Dee has very little family although she seems to get out plenty, I rarely notice her having visitors to her house.
It occurs to me that maybe she’s getting a touch of dementia in her old age, or perhaps she’s gone a bit nuts rattling around in that old house by herself. Either way, she’s clearly waiting for me to ask her to elaborate, but I don’t bother. A few years ago, I would have cared. But it’s not my place anymore. I make my excuses and head into the house for a shower.
My mood is further soured when I bump into my father at the bottom of the stairs on the way up to my room.
“Son, I’m still waiting for you to bring the suitcases in from the car.” He scrunches his nose in disgust as he blocks my way. “And for God’s sake, get a shower.” Prick. Two weeks in Paris with my parents has left me tired and cranky as fuck.
They’d said it was a holiday, but I might have known it was going to be anything but. As soon as we got there, my father had us meeting with potential clients. He speaks a little French, but mine’s better, so I was being used for translating services, among other things, for the full two weeks. He also dragged my mother along to portray the image of a happy family. Much easier to sell the dream if you look like a family man. And if the actual trip wasn’t shit enough, he insisted we drive there rather than fly. Said he needed his car while he was over there, and God forbid he should have to hire a car and learn how to drive on the right side of the road, the arrogant arsehole. So instead of an hour flight, I’d been stuck in the car with two of my least favourite people since the arse crack of dawn this morning. That much forced proximity with the man always makes me ragey. He’s a tight bastard too and refused to use the A/C despite it being over 70 degrees today.
“I’m just on my way to the shower,” I grind out. “But I’ll get the bags first, Sir.” He doesn’t react to the sarcasm I inject into the last word. I turn on my heel to go to the car, his grating voice following me out.
“Oh, and you need to make sure you’ve caught up on all the schoolwork you’ve missed this week. I don’t want you falling behind this early in the year. You know how vital good grades are if you want to get accepted into a top law programme.” Any work I’ve missed this week was because you made me go to fucking Paris with you, you absolute dickhead. If I’m behind, you have no one to blame but yourself. “I’ve had Mr. Canning email over your assignments. I took the liberty of printing them out for you. They’re in my office.”
