64Just went with the flow on this one.
Epigraphs from 'Life Slash Dreams' by Dan Black and 'Bulletproof' by La Roux. Enjoy.
'Life is life, dreams are dreams and I'm floating somewhere in between.'
The day passed. When it had been nine o clock, it became eleven, then it became one o clock. He sighed and got up from his chair, walking behind it to look out at the school's garden from his bay window that covered the wall behind his desk.
Warm, glowing light filtered through the window and the neo-Gothic confines of the school didn't help. The porters had been proud at getting the heating working this morning which they hadn't been able to do since winter, until the Principal pointed out that it was now summer and it wasn't needed.
Summer had well and truly arrived in rural England, and Jack didn't like it. The heat made his shirt stick to his back and despite the heat, flicked a light once more. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt then sighed, tearing the whole thing off, uncaring as to whether the Principal thought it to be indecent exposure.
He stared out of the window into the almost obscene light of the garden. The lake was full of ducks quacking and resting, the grass a deep and lavish colour of green. Daises, the school flower, popped up in beautiful bunches all over the grass, adoring the lake like a necklace.
Girls had been given leave to work outside and they'd brought picnic blankets, lying on the grass with their files in front of them, some girls joining their friends after popping out to town for lunch. He saw ice creams and chilled bottles of coke in the girl's hands, smiles on their faces as they threw themselves down on the grass and offered to share their spoils. Huge portable iPod docks blasted 'Stereo Love' by Edward Maya and 'Release Me' by Agnes over the garden, a few girls taking the liberty to hitch up their skirts and tie their shirts up and their waists, presumably to get a tan, thought Jack.
The scene looked remarkably rustic, the Gothic arches and towers of the school sparkling in the sunlight, the clock tower chiming and the windows reflecting the sun painfully into his eyes. His own office was Gothic in style, caved stone walls and an arched roof, every piece of furniture warm and wooden. He loved it, but it got hotter than usual in summer time. He pushed the large windows open with great effort.
"Hi, Mr H," came a sly voice from the grass outside as a group of girls waved at him.
He sighed and waved back, hiding the cigarette behind his back. Smoking was forbidden on school premises, but that didn't stop the girls. As head of the English Department, he was meant to be a role model.
He was going out with one of his students. He stared down at the object fuming gently in between his fingers. Suddenly, smoking didn't seem like a huge sin.
He bought the cigarette back to his lips and took a long drag, seeing the girls raise their eyebrows in an impressed gesture. Mr Harkness was hardcore after all.
"Girls?"
"Yeah?!" they called back, turning.
"Have any of you seen Lizzie today?"
They all looked at each other in excitement at potential gossip, and Victoria got up, walking to the window. He poked his head out, the humid air hitting him at once.
"She's got free periods for the rest of the day so she told me she was going home. And we are allowed to, I checked with the Principal!" finished Victoria in defence of her friend.
Jack's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"She's gone home? She told you that?"
"I saw her leave," replied Victoria innocently.
"Right…" he murmured slowly, taking another drag.
"Why? Did you need her for…something?" asked the girl deviously.
Jack's stare hardened but it didn't show.
"No, I just needed to talk to her."
"About what?" she pressed.
"About her coursework," he lied easily.
"But you don't teach her."
Jack sighed, stubbing his cigarette out on the windowsill, leaving black soot on the beige stone.
"I'm head of the department and Miss Thomson forwarded her coursework to me to check over for the inspection."
The girl nodded in disappointment.
"Now hop along, I'm sure your friends are angry with me for keeping you."
The girl grinned and turned to walk off, but not before she winked at him.
"Oh, and…nice pack, sir."
Her eyes flitted to the toned washboard of his stomach. He chuckled.
"And that's quite enough from you, Miss Adams."
The girl smiled prettily and flounced back over across the garden to her friends. Jack looked up at the happy glow that surrounded the school. He didn't share its feeling.
He turned, walking across his office and into the opposite communal English staffroom.
"Ellie?"
"Yes, Jack?"
"I need you to cover a class of third years for me this afternoon. I've got urgent off-site business to attend to."
The bewildered woman nodded and Jack disappeared from view, pulling his shirt back on but neglecting to button it. Shoving his laptop into his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and signed himself out with the secretary, forcing his way out of the thick glass doors.
'Do your dirty words come out to play when you are hurt? There's certain things that should be left unsaid.'
He flew down the steps and walked down the path, beginning to detest the joy of the shoppers and pedestrians around him. Growling with anger, he walked across the street and back towards his house. He wanted to know why she hadn't come to see him. There was no excuse, they had to talk about their relationship.
As he kicked the door open, he wondered if he was being too old fashioned about it. Perhaps this was what young people did nowadays. They didn't need to 'talk about' their 'relationships' like they were on some TV show for dysfunctional families.
He threw his bag on the sofa, braced it and yelled so hard it reverberated around the entire house, penetrating the furthest corners.
"Elizabeth!"
"There's no need to throw your dolly out of the pram, I'm here."
The disembodied voice came from somewhere near the patio. He turned and stared through the corridor into his study, flushed with light, leading to the open patio door.
He sighed and walked through into the airy stone paved patio only to see Elizabeth standing, whisking herself around the paving wearing an adorable white chiffon dress that seemed made for summer. As soon as she saw him, she smiled and walked to the rusty barbeque that she seemed to be attacking with bleach and lime scale remover.
"It's a lovely day today, I thought perhaps we could have a go at the barbeque."
He stared at her in disbelief as she dried the grill with a towel, chucking charcoal into the machine. It flamed at once and she turned to the black metal table on the patio, with two plastic bowls filled with marinated meat.
"Hello! Are you just going to act like nothing's happened?"
She turned to him and smiled shakily. Her façade was dropping, he could tell. As she bent over to check on the meat, the bandaging on her shoulder was visible through the straps of her dress.
"Cigarette?" she asked timidly, pushing his box of Dunhills towards him.
He breathed in and out. He needed to keep calm.
"No, thanks. I've had enough cigarettes today to sedate a third world country."
She smiled a little and turned to check on the barbeque that was now letting off the richest smell and plume of almost invisible smoke. She loved the smell. She knew it was strange, but she loved the smell of fire, of something burning and cooking. She didn't know why. Perhaps it was because it meant something was ending, but never quite got there. Just like her life.
"Why didn't you come and see me at lunch?"
The firm, clear cut American accent brought her back to Earth.
"I was busy," she murmured inaudibly, poking at the coals with a tong.
"You were busy," repeated Jack in sarcastic understanding, turning and running a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and the smell of smoke enveloped him. This had just started and he was not going to let it go down in flames that easily.
"Do you have any idea why I called you to my office?"
"Because you needed to talk to me," she whispered, tucking her curls behind her ear as she turned to the plate of fresh vegetables she'd cut five minutes ago.
"And what do you think I needed to talk to you about?" he asked, fighting to keep his cool.
"I don't know."
He stared at her in shock as she walked and laid the plate down next to the two bowls, even though there was no need. He stared at her. She was walking around, cooking a barbeque, acting as if nothing had happened. That was when he blew it.
"For God's sake, girl, we kissed last night! Don't just go around acting like nothing's happened!"
"Do you think I don't know that?!" she asked back in an equally loud voice.
"Then why won't you talk to me about it?!" he yelled back.
"Do you think it's easy for me? I know you, you're wandering around, acting the wounded hero but you don't know what it's like for me! You're not the only one suffering here, you know!"
He sighed and was blinded by frustration, hardly registering what she was saying.
"You have no idea what it's like to be me! You have no idea what it's like to want someone that bad, even when you know it's wrong!"
She turned and stared at him with red-rimmed, tear filled eyes, chest heaving with despair.
"You just can't empathise with anyone, can you? It always has to be about you, you, you. You never give anyone else a second thought! Perhaps that's why you never have relationships longer than a few months! You act the weary, questing lover, and expect her to tend to your wounds! Well, hello, welcome to a girl who has her own wounds! I need tending to, I need care just like you!"
He sighed once more and then swung around, slamming his fist on the table.
She spun, her eyes wide. Her first instinct was to go to him, to see if he was OK. The table was metal, it must have hurt. She clutched the table to restrain herself.
"Now who's being egocentric?" he shouted at her, "All this accusation would have been fine if you'd at least talked to me about us! If you'd just sat down and talked to me, I wouldn't have minded all this shit you're flinging at me!"
Strained, she breathed in and out but couldn't control herself. Why was he being like this? Didn't he understand she needed time? She couldn't just throw herself in. She wasn't normally an argumentative person, but her feelings got the better of her.
She spun around and stared at him, her voice choked with tears.
"If you love me, why don't you just understand I'm not like other girls? I need time! I need to understand myself! I need…I need some reassurance! I don't need you to fling demands at me! I don't need you to act the hero! I love you, you bastard! I don't need you to act the hero, I know you're the hero! But why won't you just leave me alone?! Just leave me alone!" she screamed at him, the words tearing her throat.
His eyes softened. His defences fell. He knew now what he'd done. He'd forgotten about her father. He'd forgotten about everything. Of course she needed time, of course she needed space. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, aching, wishing he could retract everything he'd said.
"But you won't look further than your own little bubble! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"
She doubled over in tears, choking audibly.
"You don't mean that," he whispered softly, "you don't mean that."
She straightened and leaned back against the table, wiping the tears away, her chest still hiccupping.
"Of course I don't," she whispered in despair.
He walked to her and drew her fully into his arms. She turned and rested her cheek against his chest.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, kitten."
She sniffed and clung to him.
"I love you," she whispered back, eyes closed.
"And I love you," he murmured into her hair, "I'm sorry for being so awful. I…I didn't mean it. I swear, I didn't mean anything I said. I love you. I love you so much, just…forgive me, sweetheart."
She nodded and rubbed at his back soothingly. He waited till the tremors subsided in her chest and looked down at her. She looked up questioningly and he smiled, stroking her now dry cheek.
"Barbeque?" he offered with a smile.
She chucked a little, sniffing, yet still clutching him. She stood up on tip toe.
"Kiss me," she asked, blinking softly.
Aching inside, he leant down, cupped her cheek and lost himself in the kiss. She responded with tenderness and they kissed for hours, weeks, perhaps several sunlit years. He pulled away softly.
"I think we've set fire to the house," he murmured with a soft smile, stroking her cheek. The smell of smoke was overpowering.
"Put it out, then," she smiled, stroking his bare chest.
"I don't think I can," he replied.
They both smiled and she looked down shyly. She felt good.