Caine was sitting on the other side of the room, a magazine in his hands. He looked up from the pages and caught my eye. The cover of the tabloid covered from the nose down, but his eyes were all I needed to see to understand the sadness that lingered behind his expression. I was the one to break the eye contact. I buried my face against Ryder’s side.
My parents arrived at the hospital ten minutes later. Mum looked excited, beaming proudly as she strode into the room while Dad followed, looking red-faced and a little uncomfortable. I supposed if I were a man with my daughter having a child, I’d be feeling awkward too.
“How long have you kids been here?” Mum asked, dropping into a chair. “How is your sister?”
Ryder checked his watch. “Nearly twenty minutes.”
I shrugged. “She seemed like a normal pregnant woman before she went in. Pained and hormonal.”
Mum nodded in understanding and politely crossed her legs. I didn’t move from Ryder’s embrace and my parents didn’t seem to notice. I guess they were concentrating on Eve. Dad was still standing, arms crossed as he stared at nothing in particular, deep in thought. After a moment, he spoke.
“I’ll go see if I can get some coffee,” he announced. “Do you kids want anything to eat? I think there are vending machines around here somewhere.”
Caine slapped the magazine back onto the table with the other assortment of reading material and fished out a few coins from his pockets. Quickly, he counted them on his palm and handed them to my dad, to which he politely rejected.
“No, no.” Dad shook his head. “I’ll pay, son.”
Something about that made Caine uncomfortable, but he didn’t argue. “Well, at least let me help carry the stuff back here.”
Dad nodded in agreement and turned to Ryder and I. He raised an eyebrow at our position but didn’t say anything on the subject. Instead, he asked if we’d like anything. Ryder pulled out some money and with an effort, managed to get Dad to sternly take it and told him to get something for us to share.
When they returned, with Smith’s chips, lollies in white paper bags, some coffee and a couple of bottles of water, we each picked up something and ate. I wasn’t hungry, but putting something in my mouth and chewing was a distraction and it made time pass a lot faster. I had finally straightened and sat cross legged in my chair, scooping sugary red clouds from a little paper bag and eating them while I listened to the soft crunch of Ryder’s chewing as he ate from a bag of barbeque flavoured chips.
Hours had passed before a nurse came out. I was starting to feel sick from eating so much sugar but the clench in my stomach was more from excitement. The nurse announced that Eve was exhausted but family could visit for a few minutes and see the new baby boy.
Ryder gently squeezed my fingers before I followed the nurse into Eve’s room. Inside, there she was, looking tired and sweaty, clumps of damp hair curling on her forehead but despite her fatigue, she looked proud and happy, her child cradled in her arms.
“Oh, he’s beautiful,” my mother cooed, reaching out for the baby.
Eve gently passed him on and rested back in Patrick’s arms. “We’ve decided to name him Hamish… Little baby ham.”
“You still want to name him after ham?” I asked, but I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.
She nodded and Patrick took her hand. “Our son is named after a processed meat,” Patrick teased, but you could see the pride in his face when he said the words ‘our son’.
Mum passed Hamish to me. He was wrapped in the softest, blue blanket and when she passed him over, I felt an overwhelming sense of discomfort and happiness. The foreign feeling of holding a baby and the unease of how I should place him in my arms was mixed with the pride and joy I had for holding my nephew for the first time.
“He’s so gorgeous.” I instantly melted, when his sleepy eyes squinted up at me.
Eve sniffled happily and said, “When we get home… we’re having a ham party.”
I silently wondered when my sister’s weird pregnancy side effects would clear and dreaded they would never fade. But the thought was quickly dismissed as I passed the baby to my dad, who looked teary eyed as he pursed his lips tightly and held his grandchild.
“Dad, you aren’t crying, are you?” Eve teased, but her eyes watered as well.
“No,” Dad answered firmly, even though his eyes wavered with water. “No.”
Eve just smiled. “Nora, we’d like you to be the godmother. Without you, this week, I don’t think I would have made it. Through all the hormonal moments, the cravings, the outbursts and complete scenarios of weirdness, you stuck to me… almost as if we were secretly handcuffed.”
Eve winked. I smiled. Tears were shed throughout the room and beaming smiles were shared until the nurse came in and announced Eve needed some time to rest but really, I think she was about to be trained for her first breastfeeding lesson- just like in the movies.
So we left as a proud, happy family.
~♥♥♥~
Ryder and I helped Eve and Patrick pack up the car so they could explore the new world of parenthood in their own home. Eve, who was still as weird as she was when she was pregnant, had stopped her obsession with eating food and was now addicted to something else: dressing her baby as food. Hamish was in her arms, dressed in an orange carrot suit with a little bonnet of green on his head.
Patrick didn’t seem to mind though. He hauled a bag into the boot of the car and on his way to the driver’s side, kissed his son on the top of his head. We all exchanged hugs and stayed out on the front lawn until their car drove away. My mum dabbed a tissue under her eyes and smiled slightly.
She sniffled. “Are you kids hungry? I’ll make some snacks.”
My parents disappeared into the house and that left Ryder and I out on the front lawn. “These last few weeks have been… eventful.”
“I know,” I agreed.
Ryder ran his fingers through his hair. “We still have a lot coming.”
“I know.”
“It’s going to be crazy, Nora.”
“I know.”
Ryder turned and gave me a lopsided grin, capturing me in his arms. “Stop saying that.”
I let out a laugh, but sobered. “We’re in this together.”
“That was such a High School Musical line,” he answered.
“Should I start dancing and singing?” I asked.
“No,” he replied, circling his arms around my waist and pressing my back against his chest. He rested his chin against the top of my head and we stood like that, looking out onto the street in a calm silence. I knew he was right, we had a lot coming…
...but I had gone through a whole week of handcuffs, kisses and awkward situations and I was confident that I could tackle anything more that was to come.
Thirty Two
Ryder
After graduation, you’re confronted with a million possibilities, a thousand responsibilities and only a hundred abilities. It’s intimidating knowing that high school eliminates a selection of those skills, a number circled in red pen estimating your overall success in the future if you decide to pursue a certain career. It’s a natural characteristic for the human race to enjoy something they’re good at and despise anything they’re not.
My final examinations would determine which universities I could attend, which courses I could study and which career path I could choose. Two weeks ago, I had a clear understanding of what I wanted my future to contain: graduating from university with a law degree.
Then, a pair of handcuffs made my clear thoughts of my future veer off the road, into a cloud of confusion. Well, a pair of handcuffs and Nora Montgomery, former ex-best friend with golden hair and caramel eyes who was beautiful and awkward and could never form a coherent sentence when her emotions took over. Two weeks ago, I had a million and one reasons to hate the girl and now, I have a billion and one reasons to love her.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, gently nudging
my foot with hers.
“Nothing,” I answered and gave her a reassuring smile.
“You seem worried.” Nora pulled a pained expression, a face that made her nose crinkle and eyebrows draw together. It was something she did when she was concerned.
It was weird how a couple of weeks back, I didn’t know her ankles slightly rolled in when she walked. Or that she chewed her lip when when she was concentrating. Two weeks ago, I never realised she didn’t have to smile for her dimples to show or that her nose twitched after she sneezed. But now, it was like I was aware of everything.
“There’s nothing to be worried about,” I replied, stretching out on the hammock in her backyard.
But there was a lot to worry about: the dinner with her dad, the arrival of my own father, the fact that I would be doing my final examinations in a couple of months’ time and that the police were tracking my every move. I felt like I was wearing a house-arrest tracker, where one wrong step would cause them to come running for me.
Nora raised her eyebrows but said nothing and settled into the spot next to me. Although I had told her there was nothing to be worried about, she still seemed tense. Instantly, I felt guilty for lying, but I didn’t want her to stress over my problems.
“Hey,” I said, picking up her hand and lacing her fingers through mine. “How about after training tomorrow, we hang out. Just me and you.”
She seemed to perk up at the idea as I kissed the back of her hand and settled back, gently rocking us. “Sounds good.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said, looking up at the sky.
Since it was still winter, it got dark pretty fast. The sky was starting to transcend into the darkest shade of blue, the stars faded, but still out there. I placed my other hand under my head and stared upwards. It was a quiet night, mostly because Eve and Patrick had left and there wasn’t a constant rummaging for food in the kitchen. Instead, there was only the faint sound of a knife hitting a chopping board- Mrs Montgomery making dinner, I presumed.
Nora must have noticed the faint sound of slicing because she turned her head to look at me. “Are you staying for dinner?”
I returned the gaze. Although her dad had acted reasonably civil at the hospital, I wasn’t expecting the same treatment. “Not tonight,” I said, sitting up and letting go of her hand. “I should actually get home.”
“Oh,” she answered, “alright.”
Disappointment laced her tone, but I needed to leave. So, with a quick kiss on her forehead, I exited the Montgomery house.
~♥♥♥~
When I returned, a dark SUV sat in the driveway. At first, I didn’t make much of it. I figured it would be a few of Mum’s associates over for a long night of planning and organising, but the more I looked at the vehicle, the more familiar it grew. When I realised why, a shiver crawled its way up my spine, tormentingly slow, making my whole body convulse in remembrance.
There was a knock on my window before I had time to figure out what to do. My head spun towards the intruder, trying extremely hard not to control my temper as I rolled down the window and his familiar face came into view.
“Ryder.”
He looked the same, just a little more stubble on his chin that I remembered as a kid. I scowled, a sudden impulse to let the rumble forming in the back of my throat let loose and growl out defensively. I had strong urge to go completely feral just like a wild animal, but instead, I kept my hands on the wheel and tightened my grip until my knuckles turned white.
“What are you doing here?” I said, as calmly as I could, keeping my eyes anywhere but on him.
“Ryder, I’m your dad. Don’t I have special rights to see my son whenever I please. C’mon, mate, we’re family.” I heard him lean down, placing his arms against the door and poking his head in.
I wanted to reach over to the console and wind up the window while he was still wedged between it, but instead, I tightened my grip on the wheel and gritted my teeth.
“You walked out on us,” I answered. “You’re not family. You’ve got nothing to do with us. Leave.”
“I brought presents,” he stretched out the words and sung them slightly.
I slammed my hands against the steering wheel and turned to face him. “You think I’m that easy that you can just buy back any little respect I ever had for you? Take your damn presents and shove them up your fu-”
“Ryder,” he cut me off before I had the chance to finish. “You got some damn nerve using that filthy language with me.”
“How?” I was yelling by that point. “You did the exact thing to Mum before you left. You made her feel like crap. It was bad enough that you packed up and left, but you didn’t have to say the things you did.”
Before he could say anything more, I reached over and flicked the button, watching the window roll up. He seemed to struggle against the window, as if he could stop it from moving, but when it got dangerously close to slicing off his fingers, he removed his hands and swore. It wasn’t enough to stop him though. He scratched against my window, squinting to see me through the dark tint. When I was sure he could see me, I flipped him the finger and opened my door, causing him to stumble backwards.
Without a look back, I stormed my way to the house, unlocked it and shut the door before he had time to follow. As I fully entered inside, Mum rounded the corner with a freaking cricket bat. A cricket bat. And she wasn’t going to hesitate to aim it at my head, but when she realised who I was, her expression faded from worry, to relief, then to anger.
“Ryder,” she snapped. “I almost killed you.”
“Hey to you too,” I answered teasingly, throwing my things onto the floor. “Jack is outside stalking us.”
I started addressing my dad as Jack ever since she started death staring me whenever I called him anything that suggested fatherly sentiment. Mum pressed her back against the wall and quickly peeked behind the curtains. When she ducked her back, she closed her eyes and spoke. “Is she…”
Her voice was barely over a whisper and she didn’t need to finish her sentence.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, watching her hold back tears.
She was asking about the girl he had run off with.
There was a moment of vulnerability that had crept its way over my mother’s face, like a crack in the mask of emotionlessness she tried to convince everyone of. She looked tired, clutching the cricket bat tightly before she let it slip from her fingers and fall to the floor. Slowly, she slunk onto the carpet.
Mum had grown a reputation of being a strong and determined business woman who never got too emotionally attached and most of the time, she was able to keep her cool exterior, but whether she liked to admit it or not, Jack was her weakness. Slowly, I walked over, dropped beside her and circled my arms around her. She sunk into the embrace, placing her chin against my shoulder.
“I never wanted to see that man again,” she whispered.
“I’ll take care of it,” I reassured her, even though I had no idea how the hell I was going to do it. “Have you eaten yet?”
She shook her head against me.
“I’ll make some pasta.”
I gently slid away from my mother and helped her to her feet. On our way to the kitchen, she glanced back toward the window, staring into the darkness outside. I had to gently drag her away and force her to sit at the table, and draw the curtains to dampen her temptation.
While I cooked, Mum stared at nothing in particular. A fly probably could have wormed its way into her mouth and she wouldn’t have taken any notice of it. Her eyes were almost glassy as she kept her attention ahead.
As I was waiting for the pasta to cook, I reached into the fridge and poured her a glass of lemonade. When I was younger, she was the kind of mum who would make homemade lemonade in glass pitchers and serve it during barbeques in the summer and to my friends when they came over to use the pool. She stopped making it when Jack left and started bringing store-bought lemonade, even though no one in the house drank
it. When my father announced he was coming back to town, I decided to recreate her famous beverage. It brought back happy memories.
I set the glass down in front of her.
She looked down at it at first and it took her a moment to respond, but she finally said, “Thank you.”
Mum raised the glass to her lips and took a small drink. When she lowered the glass, she sucked in her cheeks.
“I didn’t do it right, did I?” I already knew the answer.
“It’s a little sour,” she admitted, peering down into the contents.
I bit back a laugh. “Want more sugar?”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks, honey.”
I placed the small jar of sugar on the table anyway and returned to my cooking. As I was draining the pasta, my back pocket vibrated. I placed the pot into the sink and checked my phone for the message. It was from Nora. Eve and Patrick had stopped by with the new baby. She claimed her sister was using her child to score free meals at home.
Along with the message, she sent a photo. It was one of her and her nephew, sitting on the couch together. Hamish was dressed up as some sort of green vegetable and Nora was kissing his forehead.
Aren’t we cute?she texted.
Extremely. Do you want to know what would make it even cuter?
What?
Me. You kiss Hamish’s forehead. I’ll kiss yours.
You shouldn’t have stayed for dinner then.
I should have.
But I couldn’t have left my mum. I glanced over at her. She had gone back to staring. While I grabbed the plates with one hand, I used the other to talk to Nora.
What is Hamish even meant to be dressed as? A cucumber?
Oh, God. Don’t ever let Eve hear you say that. She got super pissed when I said he was an adorable asparagus. He’s meant to be a celery stick.
I don’t see it.
Trust me, neither do I.
Once dinner was plated up, I headed toward the table. My mother picked up her fork, but didn’t make a move to start eating. I sent one last message to Nora, explaining I was about to have dinner and placed my phone back into my pocket.