Chapter Nine
Lovely Elise
Something's tickling my nose.
I wiggle my head from side to side, brushing away whatever it was.
I sink back against my mattress and take in a deep breath. I can smell pine needles and damp earth, with an underlying scent of recently washed clothing. All right beneath my nose.
I spring up, my eyes flying open as I do.
I'm not lying in my bed. I'm lying on the forest floor.
I look around me and spot my abandoned shovel tossed beside a lump of uneven ground. Sunlight reflects off the few remaining patches of metal not consumed by rust.
Oh crap.
Yes, we were still in summer and the days still grew to an almost hell hot temperature, but out here in the forest the night's are cold no matter what season it is.
I remember in the early days of December when even a sheet as cover could make me sweat, I'd leave my window open to give the heat in my room some release and myself some fresh air.
And most of the time I'd fall asleep with it like that. But as the night went on and the temperature dropped, I would awake to find myself shivering from head to toe.
There was no doubt in my mind that it was ten times worse out here. Surely I couldn't have slept through the full body shivers and the skin piercing frost?
Some thing shifts beside my thigh and I only now realize that Blue is lying beside me.
Or more like what I've come to recognize as Lion-Blue.
His entire broad male form is stretched out beside me, ribcage rising and falling with his sleepy breaths. He must have changed and used his body heat to keep me warm. No wonder I hadn't woken up.
I decide against patting him awake just in case he springs into attack mode. Being mauled by a lion isn't on today's to-do list. Or any of my future to-do lists.
Instead I stand up and tug my disheveled hair into a bun atop my head. I slowly make my way back to the house.
Once inside, I smell it almost immediately.
It's like stale bread and rotten meat wafting through the air. It hit's me like a brick wall and I recoil back onto the deck. How on earth have I been moving around the house without even noticing that hideous scent?
It's either the effect of a messy house or the corpse that has been slowly decomposing in my backyard for the last three days.
I'm pretty sure the second one is to blame, but either way the house still need's to be cleaned.
So I go to work picking up clothes and dumping rubbish in a bin bag. At first it start's off simple; just a quick go over the room to make it as tidy as possible, but soon turns into an all out mission to make the entire house smell and look good.
I scrub windows and benches, table tops and bar stools. I wipe the cupboards and mirrors in each room before passing on to the next and vacuuming it completely clean of dust. I put a load of laundry in the washing machine and a load of dishes in the dish washer. I make my bed and stack my reading books in a neat pile atop my bedside table.
By the end of my sudden cleaning explosion, every room is sparkly clean, every surface free of clutter and the air smelling of yellow daises. It's a wonderful feeling to have fresh air filtering in through the open windows and the tidy lounge room brightly lit by the twinkling sun.
But the entire marathon has also made my limbs ache and my nose itch with the smell of bleach.
I'm not much of a cleaner and these kind of things don't happen often, but when they do, I'm usually absolutely exhausted afterwards.
After a long shower I slump down on the lounge and sip at a cold cup of ice tea. Blue's returned to my side as a familiar black cat and with him - it seems - my problems.
The whole avoidance tactic Avery has grown so fond of is starting to really annoy me. How long can one person avoid a question before the answer inevitably comes out?
But what if that answer is something terrible? A voice whispers inside my head. What if, once you've heard it, you wish you never did?
Glancing at the lounge room clock, I realize I have half an hour until I'm due to be at work. Leaping up from my seat, I run upstairs to get changed.
Fifteen minute's later I'm dressed and walking out the front door.
"It's six o'clock, baby girl!" Rhonda smiles from behind the diner's front counter.
"And?" I ask, frowning at her.
"It's time for your date," She clarifies. "With that cute boy from yesterday night."
"I totally forgot." I groan. "I don't think I'm going to go."
Rhonda gasps. "Why not?"
"I'm not really looking for a relationship at the moment." I say.
"Oh honey," Rhonda laughs. "You're young, you don't have to worry about that kind of stuff yet. Go out, have fun! Just enjoy yourself."
"I'll think about it." I say for her benefit.
But when I finish off the rest of my work, I silently slip out the back door and head for my car.
Yeah, it may be low to just sneak off and leave the poor guy waiting but I'd rather that than have to embarrass myself attempting to explain why I can't go out with him. I mean-
"Sneaking off, are we?" Asks a voice behind me.
Damn.
I slowly turn around and smile. "Hey Carter."
"Hi Parker." He smirks. "I'm guessing we're not going out for coffee."
"I'm sorry." I step towards him. "I'm just really worn out."
"How about tomorrow then?"
I sigh. There really isn't an easy way out of this. "Listen Carter, you seem nice and all but I don't really live a life that allows me to casually date. I would gladly go out for coffee with you if the circumstances were different."
And that's not entirely a lie. If it was possible for me to bring someone into my life where I didn't have to worry about them seeing the way I lived, what I had to do just to get by each day or how my father spent his nights, then I wouldn't object even the slightest bit. If it was possible for me to have someone who could ease the strain of my loneliness, who could make me feel wanted or even loved, then there's no doubt I would be welcoming to the idea.
"But their not." I finish and give him a weak smile. "I'm sorry."
Carter look's barely fazed by what I've told him. He smiles at me again, steps closer and almost halves the gap between us. "You know, I'm not really the kind of person to just give up on something I want so easily. I'll prove to you that I'm worth your time."
I can't help the smile creeping it's way onto my lips. I look up at him.
"Goodnight Parker." He says and then walks back to the diner.
I climb inside my car and drive home filled with an odd sense of excitement.
Sunday morning awakens me to the loud crashing of something downstairs.
I sit straight upright in bed, frowning at my closed bedroom door.
Slowly, I slip out of the warmth of my blanket and plant two feet on my cold wooden floor. I'm still dressed in my pajamas when I make my way down the stairs and into the lounge room.
Dad is stumbling towards the front door, quietly mumbling to himself. He's wearing a checkered shirt hanging half tucked into his pants, his hair has been ruffled by sleep and a twenty dollar note is hanging from his fingertips.
I discover the source of the crashing noise almost immediately. He's bumped a lamp off the coffee table and it's now in piece's all over the floor.
"Dad?" I call, moving towards him. "What are you doing?"
"Going out." He mutters.
"You can't." I say and place a hand on his shoulder.
He shrugs me off and continues walking. "I'm the adult. I can go out if I want."
"No," I step around him and quickly flick the front door's lock closed. "Just...wait a minute, okay? What do you need? I'll go get it."
"No." He slurs and attempts to move past me. I block him again.
"Dad, stop. You're still drunk." I wrinkle up my nose. "I can smell the alcohol on you."
"I don't care." He mumbles.
"Well I do." I tell him and gently push him further back into the room. "You can't go out like that."
"What? Your afraid the neighbors will see me?" He spits, sudden anger lacing his tone. "You think I'm going to embarrass you, Elise?"
Elise.
My mother's name.
I swallow the ball of sadness in my throat and force the word's on the tip of my tongue to find volume.
"No." I insist. "I don't want them to see you because they could call people and get me taken away from here. And I don't want that."
Not until I'm eighteen at least.
He huffs and step's around me.
"Dad!" Panic is rising higher up in me the closer he get's to the door.
Sunday is the day everyone is suppose to be lounging around inside, relaxing. But I know that our next door neighbor spends her Sunday's in her front garden, pruning and taking care of her precious Petunia's. Ada Garballey is a nosy old thing and it's a well known fact that she loves to gossip. If she saw this taking place, there's no doubt everyone in town would know about it by Monday morning.
"Dad." I warn as I nervously glance around me for a way to stop him. He ignores me.
"Dad!" I shout and he spins around, anger reddening his face.
I do the only thing I can think of.
I bite my lip, clench my hand and swing a fist out towards him.