10Unintentional
Chapter one
So I didn't really know what I was doing, standing outside that door.
Well, I knew exactly what I wanted to do—go inside, get my stuff, and then get the hell away from there. And I wanted to do all this while seeming completely composed and secure, as if being there didn't bother me at all.
The problem, then, was whether or not I could actually pull it off.
I had it all planned out really well in my head—I had even rehearsed it a few times the night before. Well, it wasn't as if I could do anything else, because insomnia had been hitting me for the past week or so. It was all going to go according to plan, and then I would finally be able to sleep again.
Yet now, when I actually came to putting my foolproof plan into action, I wasn't so sure anymore. It was just that every time I had been to this house there in the past, the situation had been different. Less… daunting.
Well, obviously, since before I was welcomed and invited, and now I felt like an intruder. I probably would have been seen as an intruder too—he probably thought that he'd never see me again.
Ok, just get this over and done with, I prepped myself. And by some incredible feat of willpower, I managed to raise my hand up to ring the doorbell.
Here goes.
The only thing that was good about my job, I decided, was the money. Not that there was a lot of money coming from it, but it was enough for me to rent a house away from my parents during my gap year. The house was a simple, three-bedroom, quite dilapidated Victorian cottage so old that it had no bathtub and so close to the train station and main roads that you could hear the buskers playing on the concourse, but nothing three teenage girls couldn't handle.
It was definitely preferable to living at home, in any case, especially at a time like now. I could just imagine my mother running around the house trying to comfort me and teach me a valuable lesson about relationships, and all at the same time start giving me a lecture about why I should consider getting married and settled down, because I was already eighteen and legally an adult. Then, there was always Dad, who would express his indignation at young men these days, strongly backed up by my older brother Jason who would offer to 'go over there and give the dickhead a beating'. He was in his last year of uni and still lived at home, so I really didn't like it when he pulled the 'protective big brother' crap on me.
"Hey, you're back," Charlie said, sticking her head over the couch when she heard me enter the door. I had met her when I was inspecting the house about nine months earlier, and we had both decided to sign for it at the same time. We hit it off ever since.
"So…" she continued, as I flopped down onto the couch next to her, "how did it go?"
I grunted as a means of answering her. "What are you watching?"
Charlie let out a chuckle, "Rex Hunt. He's touring New Zealand."
I rolled my eyes at the stupid way Charlie chose to spend her Saturday afternoon "I hope he finds a really big marlin." There was something really relaxing about chilling on your own couch, chatting to a flatmate about something totally stupid like fishing. It was enough to make me almost forget the last excruciating hour I had spent making small talk with someone I really didn't want to make small talk with.
"Seriously, girl, stop changing the subject,"
Or… not.
"How did it go? You look really bummed out."
I sighed, and picked up the somewhat squashed Snickers bar that was lying on the coffee table.
"Well," I began, unwrapping the comfort food slowly, "his mother answered the door."
Charlie's eyes widened. "No way!"
I nodded, feeling the satisfying taste of chocolate and peanuts in my mouth. "She answered the door and invited me in for a cup of tea. So… I went in. And over tea and Tim Tams she asked me why I hadn't been coming around recently."
It took Charlie a while to try to process what I had just said, but in the end she did come to the expected jaw-dropping revelation.
"You mean… she didn't know about the break-up?"
I nodded again, solemnly this time to add to the atmosphere. "That's right, he didn't tell her we had broken up."
"Wow," mused Charlie, "I wonder what the deal is with that. So you told her?"
I considered lying to my flatmate. I really did, but then I would have been lying twice in the same day to two people I actually, really, genuinely liked, and my conscience caught up with me.
"No," I sighed, shoving the rest of the Snickers bar into my mouth so that I was speaking through a mouth full of caramel, "I didn't tell her."
"B-but… how could you not?"
I swallowed. "I couldn't do it!" I replied defensively, "she just looked so happy to see me and she even pulled out the antique teapot for us to use! I just… didn't want to give her any bad news."
That was actually the light way of putting it. The woman was practically in happy tears when she opened the door and that hug she gave me practically crushed my bones. Not to mention that the only other time I had even seen that antique teapot was the one time she needed to impress her formidable mother-in-law. There was absolutely no way I could have told her that the reason I was there at last was to reclaim my material possessions from her son, who I hadn't talked to in a week. I didn't feel the need to be so cruel. As a result, I lied, and I didn't even accomplish what I set out to do, because apparently my foolproof plan didn't include clauses about over-emotional mothers.
"See, normally," I continued, pulling out a Chomp bar from under the TV Guide, "I would be so flattered that someone likes me so much, but this time I just feel like a dirty liar."
"Well I don't care if you lie to me this time, but just please tell me that James is here with the beer."
Danielle stormed into the living room and threw a bunch of shopping in Woolworths environmental-friendly bags onto the armchair.
"He's not here and neither is the beer," Charlie replied.
Dan let out something that sounded between a growl and a grunt while pulling out her mobile phone. "Ok then, I'll call him to get this arse over here, and you two go set all this stuff up."
I suddenly realised that the reason behind Dan's crazed attitude was something unpleasant that I had totally forgotten that I had to face. "The party's tonight…"
Dan turned around and gave me an almost murderous look. "No shit Alison! We've been planning this for ages! What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong with me," I muttered, getting up and dragging a bag filled with No Frills brand salsa to the kitchen.
"Oh, hey, did you get your stuff back?" asked Dan.
I stopped and turned, point one somewhat threatening finger in Dan's direction. "Don't ask me about that."
It wasn't that I disliked the party scene. I really had nothing against a bunch of people gathered together and drinking beer. I never even had anything against a bunch of people gathered together, drinking too much beer and doing stupid things. Usually at a party like this one, I would have been happily mingling, drinking my beer to a stage of tipsy-ness and laughing at other people doing stupid things, especially if it was my own party in my own house.
However, this time I felt like being anti-social, so after I dutifully helped set up for the party by removing all valuable and locking them in the closet in my room, grabbed a beer and decided that I wasn't going to be the most interesting host. I took my (already lukewarm) beer outside, and sat down on the grass, leaning against the fence and stared blankly at the drinking game that was happening about five metres away. I didn't even know why I was feeling so terrible, besides the fact that I had lied to the only mother of a boyfriend I ever met. Typically, shouldn't I have been trying to have as much fun as possible? Or at least be on the rebound or something. Definitely not sulking in a corner of my own backyard with a bit of a headache.
"Al! Come join us!"
That was James, the guy who lived across the street and ate more of our food than we did. When we moved in in January, James found it so hilarious that my two flatmates preferred to be called by male names that he gave me the nickname of Al so I could 'fit in'.
"It's ok," I called back, and raised my beer as some sort of guarantee, "I'm good."
I had already been asked to join the drinking game when I came out into the backyard earlier, when some boy who was already pretty trashed grabbed me by the ankle and asked me to play spin the bottle with him. I just wasn't in the mood. The grumpy part of me wanted to get out, drive to the nearest park, and go sit there by myself. The responsible part, however, decided to stay in the teenager-filled house in case anything went out of hand and I needed to help out. I guessed that I was one of the very few still-somewhat-sober people there. The knowledge just made me sulk even more.
"Dude, just relax and enjoy it!"
I lifted me head upon hearing the voice drift by from the back door. Was there someone who was also not exactly having fun like I was?
"I don't think I'm supposed to be here," was the reply. At least that what I thought the guy said. The loud chorus of cheers had risen from the drinking game group at about the same time. I could make out two guy-like figures walking from the back door, heading in my approximate direction.
"Well you weren't un-invited, so you're just here. For the party."
"I guess…"
There was something about the way one of them walked the sort of disturbed me. Perhaps I had a bit more beer than I thought I did, or the light was really just that bad, but I couldn't really place it.
"Look, just go talk to that girl over there, she looks like she needs some company."
He was pointing at me. Huh. Was I that overtly a loser? Just because I wasn't inside wrecking the house like most other people were, didn't mean I really needed company. I fully intended to tell off the chauvinist once the two of them approached me. That could have been just what I needed—a bit of feminist debate with some random guy I didn't know. It might have been just what could get me back to normal again.
But as my luck would have it, that wasn't supposed to be the case, because as the two guys got nearer I realise that I probably should have stood up and bolted, because, to put it in the simplest way possible, they were not complete strangers.
And there was no way I could have a feminist rant with them. None at all.
"Oh, um… hi Alison…"
It was him. The prick. In my own backyard.
Glossary (mainly to translate Australian terms for all of you other citizens out there):
dickhead: jerk, arsehole
Rex Hunt: a really famous fisherman, with his own fishing show and everything
Tim Tams: only the best chocolate biscuits EVER
Woolworths: big supermarket chain
arse: ass (the body part, not the animal). It's both pronounced and spelt 'arse'
No Frills: cheap generic brand for groceries
Holidays and reflection are driving me to start writing something new and different. Sorry to the readers of So Damn Smug that I haven't been very productive lately. I've been having some troubles continuing writing it, but I'm working on it, I promise, and I hope that this one can make it through all the way. I'm already growing attached to it, because of some content details that lie close to my heart.
Anyways, enjoy, and expect the next chapter relatively soon... I hope!