Chapter 32

They walked up the steps to the room above the garage. He opened the door and flicked the light switch on. He held the door open for her and as she passed him and entered his living quarters he remembered the pizza from last night, and the three empty whiskey bottles sitting on the coffee table. Then there was the dirty laundry strewn all over the sofa bed that he hadn’t had time to give to his sister to wash for him. He dashed past her and began gathering up the mess that seemed to be spread over the entire room.

“Sorry about the mess, I had to shoot the cleaning lady.” He said trying to make light of the situation.

“What did she do to deserve that?” She added showing that she wasn’t too bothered by the mess, hoping he would clear somewhere for her to sit down before her feet spontaneously burst into flames.

“Oh, you know, she kept putting things away and I just couldn’t find a thing.” He said in his usual flat and serious tone. If she had never spoken to him before she would have been quite worried at that point. Instead, they both laughed. He cleared the laundry from the sofa bed and offered finally the long-awaited seat.

“Do you mind if I take these things off? My feet are killing me.” She asked, it was more of a rhetorical question than anything else as she had begun to remove the torture implements called shoes mid-sentence.

“Why do you women put yourselves through all that agony? I mean if they hurt why do you wear them?” He asked in a rather insulting manner almost as if to say that women put themselves through unnecessary pain.

“It’s a girl thing.” Was the simplest answer she could think of, one of those get out of jail free card women use all the time, roughly translated means that purely based on genetics guys wouldn’t understand. “What about that drink?” She asked changing the subject, and after all, it was the excuse he used to get her to come back to his place.

He began rummaging around in the mess at the side of the sofa bed and produced an impressive unopened bottle of whiskey. He then realised that as he still hadn’t been bothered to do last week’s dirty dishes, finding a glass or cup that was clean would be difficult. But somehow, he managed to produce two reasonably clean cups and proceeded to pour out the whiskey. He handed her the cup and began the small talk. “So have you lived here long?”

“Mmm, all my life. Born and raised. What about you?” She took a sip and answered. Not expecting that this would actually be a two-way conversation he had already began to sip at his whiskey.

He swallowed hard and looked up at her sheepishly and answered, “I’ve only been back about a week and a half.” The response provoked curiosity in the young reporter’s mind.

“Back?” She asked surprised that he had let slip a crumb of information about his life. He was feeling cautious as to how much he should divulge at this stage or whether he should ever trust another woman at all. It really wasn’t that long ago that the last woman in his life firmly imbedded a five-inch stiletto heel in his heart and then twisted it just for kicks. But against his better judgment he was determined to remain civilised, and so he braved the question and responded sounding a little unconfident and quite human.

“Yeah, I’m originally from here. I actually grew up not far from this house. But when my dad died, I went to live with my grandparents.”

Finally, the cold exterior was melting and letting through signs of a human being underneath. She couldn’t resist questioning him further.

“When did he die?” It was beginning to sound like a therapy session, ‘Lie down on the couch and tell me about your childhood.’ But she was actually finding out about this mysterious man that she felt drawn to. He took a mouthful of whiskey for Dutch courage before blurting out his answer.

“About twenty years ago. He was murdered.” That was it she really felt like saying to him ‘Great, you’re making progress, the hour is up but keep saying the affirmations I gave you and you’ll be fine.’ And then laugh about it.

But all she could manage was “Wow!” She felt pathetic really. He laughed and made light of it by adding.

“Talk about a conversation stopper.” They both laughed but before the awkward silence set in again.

“So, what made you move back?” And there it was she had asked the one question he had been hoping to avoid altogether. This was real vulnerability and he wasn’t sure he wanted it. But for the first time he was going to acknowledge out loud why he transferred back. He sank back what was left in his cup and tried to say it as casual as possible so that he didn’t crumble into a million and one pieces. And tried to let go of some of the vulnerability that he was feeling.

“Well, I thought it was time to move out when I came home after a hard day at the office to find my fiancée on top of my partner.” There, it was said. It was one of those conversations that you wish you hadn’t started or at least that’s how Rebecca was feeling. She felt rotten for prying so much. She had to say something but nothing was settling in her head. So, she said the first thing that lasted longer than a second. “That would explain the ritual drinking yourself into oblivion then.” He managed to laugh and she felt a little better.

He poured another drink for both of them, and looked straight into her eyes. “Better not being able to remember my name than sitting in every night crying about it. So, I came back here where I have family. Back to this hell-hole.” She looked up at him over the rim of the cup and challenged back at him.

“It’s not so bad.”

“It’s looking better by the minute.” He replied smiling back at her before taking another sip. She felt herself blush all over. She even felt a little giddy. This was not the way she had wanted things to go. She never got into a relationship of any kind unless she knew she could walk away completely intact. But with him she wasn’t sure this would be the case. She would be in danger of actually feeling warm and fuzzy towards another human being. And thought now might be the best time to leave before anything hot and heavy happened. She put the cup down on the coffee table and stood up.

“I really should be going. I have an early start in the morning and I should get to bed.” He was old enough to understand what she meant, this was another ‘Get out of jail free card’, one of those ‘Sorry not tonight I’m washing my hair.’ Phrases that women used to get out of situations without causing offence. He stood up and put his cup down on the table beside hers. He walked over to her, he was feeling ballsy enough to take the risk of outright rejection, hell, a bottle of whiskey had the great ability of erasing all feelings of stupidity. But he wanted to know what she was really feeling towards him, he wanted her to be honest.

He put his hands on her waist and pulled her into him. Then leaned into her ear and whispered, his voice was hot and breathy and she could feel her skin tingle as he spoke.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to stay?”