Wait For Me

Chapter 5.

            One downside for having a square jaw was that it was a huge pain to shave; I clamped my left hand on the porcelain sink as I cautiously slid the Gillette razor across my skin, tentatively manoeuvring the sharp blades across the angular surface of my upper lip and chin before dipping back down to skim back up my neck along the parts I had missed - Noah refused to let me out of our room with my beard, so I had been forced to be rid of the beard I had grown attached to. When my handiwork was done I rinsed the razor and tapped it on the side of the sink before splashing off the remaining shaving foam.

I patted my face with post shave balm; the feeling of softly clean shaven skin under my hands was almost alien to me after having a beard for such a length of time.

   “Hobo-Cinderella, are quite finished making yourself beautiful? I need to piss.” Noah groaned from the other side of the panelled door.

I snorted, glancing in the mirror one more time before I left – fortunately, my eyes were not bloodshot anymore and I was beginning to resemble my old self. I lifted my shirt and ran a hand down my stomach. Evidently, I no longer had a six pack, nevertheless, the muscular structure of my torso was still there and my arms were still as bulky as they had always been. I flexed slightly and grinned to myself. I’ve still got it. I thanked my father for giving me the height of a small mountain. Even though my physique was acceptable, it wouldn’t hurt to hit the gym again sooner rather than later.

Noah leapt towards me as soon as I left the bathroom, skipping like a clumsy deer as he rushed to go to the toilet.  He slammed the door, but I heard him muttering. “Narcissist bastard, made me wait half an hour.”

I laughed deeply, walking over to my badly packed holdall. I was so out of my mind the night we drove there, I had no idea what I had actually put in it. The clothes were all bunched up into little balls and I rummaged through absentmindedly. Her crying face suddenly wept into my mind and I squeezed the bridge of my nose as I tried to block it out.

Lou was twenty one today.

God, I fucking missed her.

It was as if my life support had been shut off the past four years. I hadn’t been living, only existing without her. My mother thought I was pathetic, having feelings for a teenager and expecting her to wait for me like an obedient puppy. “She’ll never wait, Zachary. Girls like her are vermin - a shiny new boy will have swept her off her feet by the time you find her. She’s a leech, a sickly parasite, and you’re the host.” Cain had said nothing, his opinion void as my mother ranted vigilantly until I wanted to bash my skull in with a rock. It was like torture as she pushed her poisonous words onto me, as if ripping the love of my life away from me wasn’t good enough, she had to pour salt into the wound as well.

Scarlett had had to return to France after my father’s recovery, but frequently Skyped me. However, in a few months I closed in on myself, and just ignored her calls. Her support would never be able to fill the hole that was left after Lou was gone.

There was always the same thought that painfully niggled in my mind over and over again: what if she hadn’t waited?

What if my age put her off?

A lot of girls liked men that were older, but I always had the doubt in my mind. Soon enough, I would be thirty and she would still be in her early twenties. Maybe she would want someone her own age, maybe the thrill of being with an older man died that night when I was taken away from her, maybe she hated me for leaving her. I had to. To keep her untouched by my mother and her vicious tactics. If I didn’t leave her, no college or university would have accepted her due to the old hags’ influence. She would have had no chance of further education; I refused to ruin her life like that.