“A broken anything means she’s out of work until it heals. No baking, the shop will have to close, so no, she’s not fine.”
“You’re overreacting; she was fine when I dropped her home.”
“No, Ollie. She was pretending to be, it’s what she does. That shop, the one she can’t work in whilst her bone is broken, that place held her together after her grandma died.”
My mouth flapped open and closed like a fish stranded on the beach. I thought I had done a good thing helping her today; I was practically dislocating my elbow whilst patting myself on the back. I thought I’d finally made some ground with her, she’d admitted to not hating me but now I can’t help but think maybe she was acting that out too, being stuck in a car and then a hospital waiting room with me cornered her into it.
Without thinking it through any further I turned on my heel and headed straight back to the car, Drew was calling after me but I had no idea what he was saying. My single focus was finding out whether what she’d said was real or not.
* * *
Her house was just as it was when I had left it twenty minutes ago. Taking the steps two at a time I rush to the top and rap on the security door. Trying the handle I feel awash of relief that it was locked. I had all but convinced myself she wasn’t home when Daisy suddenly pulls the door open.
“Oliver, what are you doing here?” Her hair was wet and hanging down around her face. Her face was free from make-up and she looked like an angel. Seeing the innocence in her eyes took my breath away and with it any of the words I had come here to say. “Oliver?”
Clearing my throat, the words tumble out. “Did you mean it?”
“Did I mean what?”
“Are you fine, Daisy? Are you really? Because I’m not, there are some things I need to tell you and I need to know what it is I have to do to get you to talk to me too.”
“Oliver, it’s always been about what you need. It’s why you left, isn’t it? Because it was what you needed to do. I’m not going to stand here on my front door step and have this conversation with you, so what I need right now is for you to go.”
“Daisy, please.” I beg her, pleading so she doesn’t send me away.
“Oliver, I’m exhausted. I can’t talk to you right now.” She was right and I hadn’t even realised it, everything had been about what I needed, what I wanted and right now, from this very moment, if I can get her to unlock the door it was all going to be different.
“Let me come in, I’ll make you some tea and you don’t have to say a word. Then I’ll go.” I hold my breath until she reaches forward and twists the key, releasing the door. I wait until the door swings wide enough to step inside, moving past her the scent of her shampoo invades my senses, reminding me of vanilla and cinnamon. I bite my bottom lip as if I’d actually had the taste in my mouth.
Wordlessly, Daisy moves past me, swirling the scent around me again. I follow her through to the cosy kitchen at the back of the house. The garden beyond was perfectly manicured, the path leading further into the garden was edged by a cute little box hedge.
Following Daisy’s instructions, I make tea whilst she goes to finish drying her hair. I had just poured the water when I hear her calling my name.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in here.” Her voice is impatient as she calls out, I search in the direction where it has come from, finding Daisy in her bathroom, a look of frustration and despair on her face.
“Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” Of course she did, she looked gorgeous. “This stupid plaster, I can’t do anything with this stupid thing.”
“You need some help?”
“No,” She sighs, defeated. “Yes.” Holding out my hand, she passes me the towel.
“Come here, let me do it.” Timidly she takes a step toward me, like a frightened kitten. “Dase, it’s okay. I’ll be gentle. I promise.” Doing my best to soften my voice, I reach for her. She takes another step, coming into my arms before spinning away from me. My eyes close involuntarily as I breathe her in.
“Oliver?” She whispers.
“Sorry.” Gently, I work the towel over her hair, drying it as I went. “Are you okay?” I whisper into her ear, my breath moving the few wispy strands that clung to her neck. Stupidly, I was jealous of those strands brushing against her. I wanted my lips where those strands rested.
“No. Everything I have been working so hard for is about to go down the drain because of my own clumsiness.”
“Sweetheart, it’s only a few weeks and then you’ll be as good as new.” My eyes find hers in the mirror, she looks sad and my heart aches for her.
“It might as well be a few months. I can’t work with this stupid cast on.”
“I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, Daisy Blossom, but it’s going to work out, we’re going to work it out.” Daisy relaxes back against me, I drop the towel to the floor before wrapping my arms around her, taking careful attention not to bump her plastered arm. I hold her as long as she will allow me to.
“Did you make tea?”
20
daisy
* * *
I felt safe in Oliver’s arms, like everything that had happened today could possibly be okay. He spoke to me in a way he made me believe him. He’d sat with me on the couch whilst I drank the tea he’d made. It was like he’d remembered exactly how I liked it.
Munchkin had curled up on his lap as we sat in the silence and I sipped my drink. When I’d finished, he’d taken my cup to the sink and rinsed it before returning to the lounge room, asking me to lay down before covering me with a throw rug. He’d wished me good night and left and expectedly I missed him, I missed his closeness as he held me together in the bathroom and I missed his presence while we sat in silence.
When there were no words it was easier to forget the past. We’d never needed words when touching was enough, breathing in each other and sharing the moments between us. Words had always been what had changed things, we’d argued and fought using words, hated each other in the cruellest way, but with our actions, with our actions we had loved each other. There was no stubbornness or disagreements with our touches, we’d never argued over the future when Oliver’s lips were pressing mine or when his tongue tasted mine.
We had gone days without speaking toward the end, the day he’d told me about receiving the notice of his acceptance to the academy had caused a huge row between us. He’d promised me it wasn’t going to change anything; his move to the city. He’d told me he’d come home on weekends and we’d talk all the time. It wasn’t enough for me and stubbornly I had manifested it into an argument.
I had wanted him to stay home and pick me, he could have stayed and worked with his dad in the garage. I had our lives worked out.
Being in the police force was too dangerous and not part of the plan. I gasp in shock, my hand covering my mouth. More than a handful of times I could remember my calling Oliver selfish for wanting to leave. I had accused him of not loving me enough to stay, I had tried to make him feel so bad and defeated that he’d give up on his dream so we could live mine.