“Really. Do you.”
“Honestly, yes, and I hope you’ll give me a second to tell you again how sor?—”
“How sorry you are? Yes, you’ve said it before.” I’m aware I have to keep calm, but my internal hurt is bursting to break free. I know, deep down, part of me has been waiting for him to slip up just so I can let go of all this negativity. Nothing good ever comes from festering hate or seeking revenge, but there’s so much inside for me to deal with.
We share another silence, but this one feels strained. Scott is obviously looking for the right words to say, so I step in.
“Look, Scott, I get you’ve changed. Ash believes in you and the little time we’ve spent together today has been okay—so far. But before I can let this go completely, I’ve got to… well, get it out of my system.”
“Okay.” He glances at his hands placed on the table in front of him, and I note his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallows hard. “There’s no better time than now Calla if you want to, that is. I get my apology the other night wasn’t enough for you, so please, shout, scream or do whatever it is you feel you want to do.”
“Yeah, I um...” But I don’t say anything, not at first anyway. It takes Scott to jog me into action. “It’s okay Calla, I know this is difficult for you and if it helps, it won’t be easy for me to hear, but I don’t expect you let me off the hook. Nobody likes to admit the hurt they caused another person, but this whole shit storm is down to me, and I want to face up to it.”
“Right,” I say wide-eyed before I take a deep breath. Scott has obviously given this a lot of thought. “Right,” I say again, my palms a sweaty mess. “Well, firstly, Ash said you did it because you liked me.”
He rubs his hand slowly over his nose then mouth, closing his eyes. “Shit, it sounds pathetic now, doesn’t it, but back then, yes I did. It’s true, I had a thing for you.”
I sigh. “In that case, do me a favour. If you like someone in the future, please don’t be a dickhead about it.” My tiny smile breaks the atmosphere a little.
His cheeks turn bright red, but his tone is lighter. “I won’t.”
There’s silence again for a moment until I say, “Year seven, we were twelve, remember? It was the first time I met you, and we clicked, got on like a house on fire.”
“Yeah, we did,” he agrees.
I pause and contemplate what to say next. If I’m going to get this out of my system, I must re-live an awful moment. I purse my lips, close my eyes and let years of hurt and upset come pouring out.
“Now fast forward to age sixteen and you switched.” I look him in the eye and swallow down any fear I had. I note then, his half-smile drops. “Something happened to you during the summer break because when we went back to school the following September, you changed towards me. Everywhere I went, every corner I turned, you were there calling me a name, throwing insults which, to be honest, wasn’t the worst thing you did. I could handle the times you pushed me over, bumped into me on purpose, tripped me up as I walked down the corridor. I didn’t care when you stuck chewing gum in my hair from behind or tipped the entire contents of my bag across a busy school hall. I could almost handle those things. Want to know why?” I wait for a beat, all I can hear is my heart pounding as finally, I’m lifting this weight from my chest. “I knew there would always be someone there to help; to tell you, to back off.”
“Like Ash, you mean.”
“Exactly, like Ash. It may not have been much, but he was there to help me up when you kicked me down. He might not have talked you round every time, I don’t think any of your friends were capable of that, but he made up for the shit you put me through. Ash made me want to fight back, even though I was dying inside. It was the reason I never backed down—at least, not at school.
“The hardest times were when you caught me at a disadvantage and got your revenge. The other stuff you did when no one was around. You know the worst thing you ever did to me?” He looks up to the heavens, which makes me think he does. “Remember the time I was on my bike and you made a catapult out of wood? Should I go on or do you know what I’m talking about?”
He looks me right in the eye, “I can only imagine how itmade you feel.” He can’t hold my eyes for long, so looks to his hands.
On the day in question, Scott made a mud and dog shit pie especially for the catapult he’d crafted in my honour. When he aimed it straight at my head, it was an accurate shot, knocking me off my bike and tangling crap in my long hair. My legs were scraped bloody, my elbows the same, but more than anything else, he made me feel worthless.
“You have no idea, Scott; no idea at all. Have you ever felt lower than the piece of shit you threw at me? Things couldn’t get any worse. I was already at a point where my stomach was constantly in knots, and I dreaded every day I walked to school in case you were following me. There was a point when I nearly gave up going into class because I didn’t want to face you; I just wanted to make you stop. I even considered hurting myself.”
“Calla, shit. I never meant to hurt you so badly. I just wanted to…” he trails off, leaving out the most vital part of his sentence.
“Whatdidyou want from your actions, Scott? Please tell me why you went to such giant lengths to make me so miserable? If you really did like me, why did you do it? Did you think I didn’t notice you? Was that the reason?”
“Calla, no. That’s not it. I’m sorry.”
I close my eyes to think. I’m so confused. When I open them again, he is texting. I can’t believe he’s being so callous. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Calla, it’s not?—”
“How dare you text in the middle of me pouring my heart out. I’m being straight with you here. The least you can do is hear me out and have the common decency to give me your full attention. I want a straight answer, Scott.” I raise myvoice at this point and notice Rosie pop her head out the back room briefly.
“This is so hard,” he says to himself then looks to the ceiling.
I examine his face, trying to get a handle on what he’s thinking. “I’m just wondering what the hell is going on in your head. Is there something more sinister behind all of this? Did it make you feel good? Did you get a kick out of it?”
“No, nothing like that.”
