“It’s late, Ben. I’m tired. I want to sleep.”
“Sure.” He nodded slowly. “Can we pick this up in the morning?”
“Pick what up?”
“This conversation, there is still so much I want to say to you.”
“You’ve said enough, Ben. Trust me, you’ve said enough to last you a hundred lifetimes. Goodnight.” I started pushing him out and closing the door, but he blocked me.
“Ben! Please. Let’s just call it a night.”
He opened his mouth and looked like he was about to give one last big plea, but stopped himself.
“Goodnight, Sera.”
48: Snooping And Sneaking . . .
It was seven in the morning, way too early for a normal person to be up and about on a Sunday, but I was. Mainly because I hadn’t slept at all. I’d replayed the conversations we’d had over and over again. The one at the party, the one outside the restaurant and then again at the door.
God, so much can happen in a week and I bundled all my laundry together, wrapped myself up in extra scarfs and put two warm tops on and waddled down to the laundry room. I hated the fact the laundry room was in the basement parking lot, which was as cold as a morgue in winter. And then to top it off, the washing lines were on the roof—they couldn’t be further away if they tried.
I walked into the washing room and immediately saw it. A portable CD player. What the hell was it doing here? I walked over to the thing and looked down at it.
“Press Play.”
A note written by Ben was stuck to the top of it. I reluctantly reached out and pressed play, nervous of what the hell I was going to hear. Suddenly a cheesy Justin Bieber song filled the room, something about saying sorry and now he was yodeling about her body, or something.
His voice echoed around the room. I cringed and then I skipped to the next song and more music . . .
An eighties power ballad filled the tiny room, like the singer’s massive perm probably would if she was standing here. Her gruff voice warbled about more forgiveness and . . .
I quickly skipped and was suddenly confronted with Meatloaf himself, vowing to do all sorts of things for love, except . . .
I stopped the CD and stared down at the player. I didn’t really know what to think about this? A CD full of sorry songs wasn’t exactly going to make it all better. I pushed the CD player aside and loaded the washing machine. I sat on top of it waiting for the cycle to be over while munching my way through a bar of “sugar free” chocolate and drinking a cup of coffee which had also been conveniently left for me.
Suddenly the sound of a little girl’s voice could be heard echoing through the room. I knew exactly who it was.
I climbed off the machine and stuck my head around the corner, just in time to see Ben and Li climbing out of his car. She was giggling and so was he. I stayed there and watched him interact with his daughter. I wanted to watch him, as if inspecting him might give me some of the answers to the questions I had about him. I also wanted to watch him because despite everything that had happened, I just couldn’t help myself from being drawn to him.
I studied every little thing about it. The way he held her hand softly as they walked, the way his eyes lit up when he looked down at her, the way her entire face lit up when she looked up at him. Suddenly the machine stopped and a bell started going off. I saw Ben’s head lift and look in my direction. He caught my eyes briefly and smiled. I jumped back behind the wall.
Half an hour later I was standing on the freezing cold roof, trying to hang my delicates in the only beam of sunlight penetrating the gloomy winter’s day. I had just finished and was almost frozen from the wind when I heard that familiar laugh again. I moved over to the side railing and looked down. Ben and Li were playing in the garden together. He was chasing her around and she was giggling. I sighed. I wanted to turn away and stop watching, but couldn’t. In fact, I wanted to see more.
So I took the lift down to the bottom floor again and then tried to creep silently into the garden. There was a small path running against the wall at the back of the rose bushes. If I crept against the wall, I would pop out by the tree and I could see properly. So I put my back to the wall and started sliding across it.
Oh scarf.Oh long, woolen, fluffy scarf that is not conducive to creeping through thorny bushes. I felt it tug as it got caught behind me on some devilish-looking thorns. I turned to undo it and the other side swung out and straight into another bunch of thorns. Both ends of my scarf were now trapped, and every time I leaned over to deal with one side, I pulled the other side even tighter. The more I moved, the worse it got.Maybe if I bent down and lifted it over my head?But as I pulled—hard—the one side yanked against the rose bush, snapping the branch and causing the scarf to slap me in the face.
“Fuck!” I quickly ducked in anticipation of the thorny branch plummeting into my eye. Luckily it didn’t.
“That’s not a very nice word,” the little sing-song voice said. My hands were still over my face to protect against the thorns. I pulled them down and there she was, and he too for that matter. Both staring at me.
“My dad says that you should never say that word.”
I looked up at Ben and he had an awkward smile on his face.
“Well, your dad is right.”
“Dad is right about all things,” Li said with an adoring tone in her voice.
