Helen
I waited for ages. Forever. Flitting my eyes between the dashboard clock and the lights still shining from the main corridor. I stepped from the car and was about to head back inside when the lights turned out. Mum and Mark came into view, walking in the shadows, walking slowly, talking, and I couldn’t hear any anger, which had to be a good thing.
My heart felt jumpy and weak, but my legs carried me just fine. I slammed into Mark and he was ready for it, he was warm and steady and listened to me rattle off a load of questions before he took my hand in his and turned me to face Mum.
“We’ve covered a bit of ground,” Mum said. “I’m not saying this thing is right, but I can’t put my hand on my heart and say it’s wrong, either.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll do what I can. I’m going to try and make things right with your dad.”
I took a breath. “He won’t listen…”
Mum sighed. “He’s going to have to listen, Helen. I’m sick to death of the whole sorry lot of it these past few weeks. It’s never worth it, not all this, not tearing our family apart. Not seeing you like you have been. Nothing can be bad enough for all that, love.”
“But… he’ll be so angry…”
She pulled me from Mark and I didn’t fight it. She held me in her arms and I cried again, but this time they weren’t sad tears, they were the happy tears of relief. “You leave your dad to me, love.”
I squeezed her tight. “Thanks, Mum.” And there was nothing else to say. No other words that felt right.
She turned to Mark. “I think it’s best Helen goes home with you, just until the dust settles a little. It might be for a few days… I’ll see how he takes it.” She let go of me, took my hand in hers. “I’ll drop some of your things off tomorrow, just until this is all cleared up, alright?”
I nodded.
“No more secrets, hey?” “No more secrets.”
She looked back to Mark. “You’ll take care of her?” “Of course. It will be my pleasure.”
We walked slowly to her car, and Mum had instructions that made me smile.
“Please make sure she eats, she’s a sod for not eating her vegetables, but if you put them in a stew she doesn’t notice.” “Mum!”
“She doesn’t drink enough, either. She needs to drink more water, or she’ll shrivel up one of these days. It’s not good for your organs, Helen. You can’t survive on orange juice. It’s full of sugar.”
“Mum!”
“She stays up too late, as well. Sometimes I have to drag her from her pit and stick her cereals in front of her, otherwise she’d be there all morning. Please make sure she gets to bed.”
I rolled my eyes. “God, Mum, seriously.” But I was laughing, and it felt so nice to laugh again. “Duly noted,” Mark said.
“I’m not five, Mum.” I smiled, anyway, and she hugged me again.
“I’m allowed to treat you like a little girl, Helen, you are my little girl. Only you’re not so little these days. I think it’s about time we all realised that.”
“Love you, Mum.” I hugged her back, really tight.
“I love you, too, love, and so does your dad. That’s what all this is about really, deep down, he just wants what’s best for you. He’s got a funny way of showing it sometimes, I know, but his heart’s in the right place.”
“I know,” I said.
She got in the car, and she was all welled up again. We watched her leave, and she waved as she pulled out of the car park. And then there was silence.
I didn’t even know where to begin, so I didn’t. I waited for Mark to speak and wished I hadn’t. “Carrot and coriander soup, Helen. Have you tried it?”
I pulled a face. “I don’t like carrots. Carrots are disgusting.” “We’ll see about that.” He smirked. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
***
Mark
I relayed to Helen the essence of what her mother had said to me, but I didn’t dwell on the details. I told her she was loved, and her parents were decent people trying to do the right thing, and that it would be for the best for everyone when this was all ironed out.
“But he hates you.”
“He has every right. I betrayed his confidence in the system. You’re his little girl.” “Still,” she said. “He punched you in the face.”
I smiled. “Yes, he did, and he’s got quite a punch. I’m not overly keen to repeat the experience.” “I’ve never seen him hit anyone before.”
“He had extenuating circumstances.”
She laughed, and it was music. “Sunday dinners will be interesting for a while… when you come to visit.” “I think that’s a little way off.”
She shuffled down in the passenger seat and looked so small. “I can dream though, right?” I sighed a happy sigh. “We both can. I’m counting on it.”
The house came alive again the moment she was over the threshold. She ditched her bag in the hall and kicked her shoes off as though she’d never been away. I ditched my jacket and burrowed in the freezer, pulling out the waffles that had been waiting for her for far too long. She appeared in the doorway and stared as I fired up the oven.
“I’m not hungry,” she said. “You don’t have to do that.” “No arguments. I promised your mother.”
She smiled. “No carrots, though. Deal?” “Not today.”
Her expression turned serious. So serious. “I missed you,” she said.
I tipped beans into the saucepan, and then I looked at her. Properly looked at her. “I missed you, too.” “Never again. No matter what. If you go anywhere, I’m coming.”
“Agreed.”
She took a breath. “And I’m staying. Next year, I mean. I’m not going to university. I don’t want to go. I’ve never wanted to go, not really.” She sighed. “I mean, Dad might still hound us out anyway, but if he doesn’t… if he doesn’t, then I’m staying, too.”
I shook my head. “You’re going to university, Helen. That was the deal.” “The deal’s changed,” she said. “I’m serious, Mark, I don’t want to go.”
“And I’m serious. You’re going to university and finishing your education.” I stirred the beans. “There’s all the time in the world, Helen, and you can take some of it to finish up your study.”
But she was shaking her head. “I’m not going.” “Helen. Stop.”
But she was walking forward, closing the distance. “Shh,” she said. “I know my own mind, and I’m done with talking.” Her fingers brushed my cheek. “Just for tonight, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“This conversation isn’t done,” I said.
“I know.” She shrugged off her blazer and tossed it aside. “But it’s done for now.” She kissed my mouth, the lightest touch, just a butterfly landing. “I need to wash my uniform, Mr Roberts… I’m all dirty…”
She pulled off her tie, and my stomach tightened, everything tightened. “You need to eat your dinner, Helen.”
She smiled, and took the pan from the flame. “I like cold beans, cold waffles, too.”
Her fingers danced down her blouse, and I opened the washing machine. She tossed it inside and giggled, and she was still giggling when I kissed her. I lifted her onto the side, and pulled up her legs and kissed her ankles as I pulled her socks off. I hitched her enough to slide her skirt off, and pulled down her knickers as she unhooked her bra. The light above the cooker cast her in an orange glow, and the shadows were unforgiving. I swallowed as I saw her ribs, and she bit her lip.
“I’ll get better now,” she whispered. “It’s all better now.” “Never again,” I said.
“I need you.” Her voice was just a dance of air, a simple, honest statement from the pit of her, and it moved me.
I held that girl so tight I feared I’d crush her little sparrow bones to dust, but she held me right back. She wrapped her legs around my waist and gave me her weight, and I carried her to the living room with her mouth on mine.
I dropped us onto crusty paint and sheets, and she pulled away enough that her eyes widened at the sight of the mess. “I haven’t been here,” I whispered. “I haven’t been anywhere.”
I made to start up a fire, but her hand gripped my wrist. She pulled me back to her and shifted down onto cushions splattered blue and yellow. Her fingers worked at my shirt, adding more paint splattered fabric to the surroundings until we were skin on skin and it was divine.
She arched her back as I kissed my way down her front, and giggled as my hair tickled her, giggled until her breath dried
up.
I cast off the rest of my clothes, and when I returned to her she had a grin on her face and a tube of cobalt blue in her fingers.
She squeezed the paint onto the palette, a fresh splodge of colour. I didn’t say a word as she daubed her hand in it, didn’t even breathe as she pressed her palm to my heart.
Her fingers trailed down my chest, leaving jagged lines of blue, and I felt her fall all over again, only this time she didn’t crumple on my art room floor, because I caught her. I caught her heart right there on that sheet in my living room, and I loved her. I loved her back to life.
She took my face in my hands, and I smelled paint and felt it, too. And when I pushed inside her she took the deepest breath and didn’t exhale until my forehead was pressed to hers.
“This is everything,” she breathed. “I’m home. This is where I want to be… forever. Don’t ever make me leave…” I shook my head, and took her hand and placed it back on her wet handprint. “This is home, Helen. It’s anywhere.
Everywhere.”
And she understood, and she nodded, and her eyes turned glassy with tears.
I rolled us over, until she was on top, and I held her hands as she moved for me. She took her time, rocking so slowly that it was nothing but blissful torture, and I didn’t rush her.
She came slowly and deeply, in waves that made her shudder and gasp, and it was perfect. It was the most perfect moment.
And then she did it again.
I think she’d have done it all night long, if we hadn’t smelt burning waffles.