So, What Pick-Up Line Actually Works On You?

Chapter Ten - You Told Me God Was A Monk Who Lived In A Cave In The Himalayas.

Tyson cleared his throat, and flushed, “Well, Rhys made Annie a very generous offer. If she went through her bucket list with him, he would pay for her treatment any time if she wanted it.”

Miranda floundered for a few seconds, then she laughed humourlessly, “Good to see he’s doing something good with that money.” Tyson bobbed his head up and down happily, sighing.

“What money?” I demanded, curiosity ringing out in my voice.

I saw Tyson and Miranda exchange a look, an unsure look. The tension in the air was uncomfortable.

Then Rhys barged back in noisily, shooting daggers at Miranda and Tyson. He slipped two paracetemol tablets in my hand, and placed a glass of water on the rickety table by the sofa. He lay back down on the sofa, placing his bare feet on my lap.

What wasn’t I supposed to know?

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Question: If someone had told you that you were to walk inside a government building and steal one of their official red staplers, what would you do?

My answer: Laugh really hard, and then ask why the hell Rhys wanted me to do that with him.

His answer: I had to paint myself purple for you. Now we’re stealing a stapler that just happens to be my favourite colour.

My response: That’s cool.

His response: I know right!

This was how I found myself in the passport office at two o clock the next day, actually getting Maggie a passport and looking for a snazzy red stapler we could steal. The things I did for those two, honestly.

Apparently I would have the trauma of sitting in a stuffy building in a queue made up to me later. This had better be good or I’m having a tantrum.

And to make things worse, today everybody decided that they needed a passport and we had one seat between the three of us. By the three of us, I mean me, Rhys and a cranky Maggie. A very cranky Maggie.

“But Rhys, I want to sit on Annie’s lap!” She whined, half-heartedly smacking his chest with a balled up fist. He sighed through his nose, not looking like he was particularly enjoying himself. Well, that is what he gets for snagging the only seat and letting me stand. He’s so generous, right?

I smiled smugly at Rhys, revelling at his severe distaste. He didn’t like cranky children very much by the looks of it. He shot me a dirty glare, before lifting Maggie off his lap and getting out his chair. Rhys met my wide eyes pointedly, nodding towards the chair he had just abandoned. With a huff, I sat down. I knew all too well that if I didn’t, he would have a giant hissy fit.

“Brady, Maggie Brady.” A metallic voice cackled over the speakers. Rhys visibly sagged in relief, knowing he only had half an hour tops left in here. He glanced at me quickly, nodding again. Mission steal a red stapler was now a-go.

Rhys unenthusiastically handed the bunch of forms we had crinkled in the spades he called hands to the man behind the desk. His face mirrored Rhys’s of complete boredom. Man, that guy didn’t even check the forms.

Maggie pulled on Rhys’s trouser leg, and he bent down at his waist to listen to her quiet murmuring. Then the man behind the desk got up to put the forms in this big folder thing. Then I saw my opportunity.

I reached inside the glass and snatched the red stapler up from the cluttered desk and stuffed it in my bag. Hey, I know it was stealing. But still. Rhys was in this too. Remember what I said about Rhys making me do bad stuff? Yeah, that. I locked eyes with Rhys, and he smiled proudly. Sick bastard.

The guy returned, nodding at us expectantly. We walked off, hiding our grins from others around us. The moment we walked outside the building into the street, Rhys burst into laughter. “Oh my God, Annie! Your face when you took the stapler! The pure concentration was wonderful!” I blushed, slapping Rhys on the back of his huge head.

“Why did you steal a stapler? Stealing is against the law, and one of the commandments is that you shouldn’t steal.” Maggie quipped up, looking at us in a disapproving manner and wagging her finger.

Rhys started laughing harder, “Since when have you been religious? You told me God was a monk who lived in a cave in the Himalayas.”

“Yes, but that monk doesn’t like fish. And he has a fungal toe nail infection.” Maggie argued, placing her hands where her hips should be. They clearly were not a religious family at all.

“Where do you get these things from, Maggie?” I pondered out loud, sounding thoughtful even if I do say so myself.

“Rhys tells me all sorts of stories, about God in the Himalayas, to the orang-utan who lived under my bed, about the pretty princess who loses her memory… The last ones my favourite. Rhys made a story up about a girl who has an accident and forgets everything. She had a prince who she loved very much but she couldn’t remember him. The prince got very sad and started doing bad things.” Maggie rushed out, her eyes darting from me to Rhys nervously. It was as if she expected Rhys to smack her or something for telling me about this side of him, in my opinion.

“Well, maybe Rhys can tell us the story on the way home.” I suggested, plastering a light smile on my face and ruffling Maggie’s hair playfully. Her eyes light up and I looked at Rhys expectantly. He seemed frozen, the brief grin on his face fake.

We reached the car, and I handed Rhys his stapler solemnly. He bowed his head in reverence, “Oh great stapler stealer, I bow before your greatness and vow to use this stapler for only the most serious stapling affairs.” Rhys uttered, fighting off the smile that threatened to break loose across his face.

He clicked open the saloon with his fancy remote thing, and placed the stapler on the dashboard of the car. It seemed like I had claimed shotgun, and Maggie didn’t argue. Rhys started the car smoothly, reversing out of the car park without a hitch and moving into the busy streets. With a sullen sigh he started speaking,

“Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there lived a pretty princess. She was the fairest of them all, but not in the usual way. She was outgoing and tomboy-ish, messy and outspoken. She was still the prettiest however. A prince from the neighbouring kingdom fell in love with the princess, and vowed to love her forever. She spat on him, of course, and then agreed. They made an agreement of marriage and promised to never part. One day, while on a carriage ride, the prince and the princess were the victims of a huge accident. Their horse had been spooked and had panicked, driving their golden carriage into a tree. The prince emerged nearly without a scratch, only a little cut on his forehead which later left a scar. The princess hit her head hard, and it was bleeding a lot. The driver of the carriage was dead, and the prince didn’t know what to do. Some bystanders called the village healer, and he brought the princess back to his cave. She didn’t wake up for a few months, and when she did the whole kingdom was overjoyed to have their princess back. However, there was one problem; she couldn’t remember anything that had happened in her life. The prince was heartbroken when he found out that she couldn’t remember her and swore to never talk to the princess again.”

Maggie was sobbing in the backseat quietly, trying to hide the fact that she was. Rhys’s face was emotionless, his tone sad and regretful. I was thoughtful, the thoughts racing around my head like lightning bolts.

This story was too full of raw emotion to be fake, to be something Rhys made up to amuse Maggie. This story was Rhys’s story. I knew it was. I turned to face Rhys again, just as the sun light shone in the window beside his head. And it was impossible not to notice the scar that reflected the light dully. The scar on his forehead that marked him as the prince in the story.

But if he was the prince, who was the princess who broke Rhys’s heart?

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888