Seventeen
'Hiya Mum.' I tried desperately to sound as relaxed as was humanly possible. In no way did it soften the blow.
'Don't you hiya Mum me, where the hell are you?' she screeched down the phone penetrating not only my eardrum but also the eardrums of the surrounding patrons.
'I'm just out with a friend, we just had some lunch. Time just kind of ran away from me. I'm so sorry I worried you.' At that very second it occurred to me that I was being sincere, I really was sorry that I had worried her. All I could hear was silence. It must have blindsided her that I wasn't arguing back or resorting to hanging up on her as I would usually.
'Well OK' she mumbled, unable to think of a response. This was unfamiliar territory for the both of us.
'I love you Mum, I'll be home soon.'
'Oh, OK love, see you soon.' I put the phone down and returned it to my bag. I felt like me and Mum had finally moved forward a step. It was a warm but unknown feeling.
'She really does worry about you.' I glanced over at Beau. I felt deflated. I didn't want to be apart from Beau but my eyes were heavy and I could have passed out there and then. Beau took my camera bag off my shoulder placed it over his head and took my hand in his tightly. As I peered up at him I felt tremendously content.
'Hey spaceman.' Beau waved his free hand in front of my face. 'You always seem to be at war with your brain, what goes through that head of yours all the time?'
'Wouldn't you like to know' I teased.
'I reckon I could muster up another twenty questions' he said cheekily with his eyebrows raised.
As Beau lifted his rucksack and caught it on the back of the chair, with a crash everything ended up in a pile on the floor. I bent down to help Beau pack everything back away in his bag but something stopped me in my tracks. It was clear by how fast Beau reached my side that he realised what it was I had noticed. I rushed to the A4 graphic print sketchbook and held it tightly to my chest as though it was made of gold. The DC comics that still littered the floor made Beau's temperature rise and his blood rush to his sheepish face. 'Wow, I'd never had guessed you were into comics Beau.'
'They are not comics, they are graphic novels!' he enthused as he shoved them back in his bag.
'Hey, don't be embarrassed, I played with Barbie's until I was fourteen.' As soon as the damning words left my mouth I regretted them. There should be a medicine to cure this - speaking before you process a thought will always get you in trouble. In an effort to console Beau I had released a secret that I had managed to keep to myself for seventeen long years; not even Amelia knew about my prolonged Ken and Barbie phase. At that moment I felt like curling up into the foetal position and dying right there and then. Mortified was a word that didn't even come close to describing how I was feeling.
'Well it seems my graphic novels aren't so funny now, huh?' Beau was now elated and had a smile across his face that stretched from ear to ear with glee and satisfaction. Another thing I loved about Beau, even when he was teasing you (and enjoying it a little too much sometimes I might add), he still made you feel special. He still let me know with his smile that he cared for me, which made the torture fun.
'Hey Superman I may have enjoyed the odd time of dressing up Barbie...'
'And Ken don't forget him.'
'Yes and Ken, thanks for that Mr. Memory, helpful as always' I jeered oozing sarcasm. 'They also had a luxurious dream house and a pool if we're getting into details' I smirked. 'But I think that we have to get you over your delusions, they are comics and usually enjoyed by eight year olds.' I placated condescendingly like an adult would a child, but with a firm smile on my face. Grace-2, Beau-2. As though locked in a fierce battle on a chessboard, we both waited in silence for the other to make a final blow move that would crown one of us the champion.
'Call it even?' he whispered with a coy wink. I nodded and agreed.
I helped load the other comics (sorry, graphic novels) onto the table and realised I still had Beau's sketch book clutched securely in my hand. I flipped it open to the first page and then on through each page gazing at Beau's work. 'Beau these are really great.'
'They're just sketches.' He tried in vain to grab the book away from me.
'The detail is amazing.' I gently ran my fingers over the indentations the pencil had made on the paper and mused in awe at the in-depth detail.
'What would you know?' This was the first time I had ever seen Beau so defensive. His face was taught and unresponsive. I handed the sketchbook back to Beau willingly and after a second or two he relaxed back into himself and the despondent expression that had plagued his beautiful face disappeared. He pulled me towards him and kissed my cheek fervently as his hand settled on my neck. 'Thanks'.
The cool night breeze through the open door woke me up instantly as it lapped at my hair and wafted in my face. 'After you madam.' I looked at him and curtsied. We took the short walk to my car through the dimly lit car park and the black cast iron security gates of the college grounds. He kissed my head lightly, not letting go of my face. I glanced up at him longingly not wanting him to let go. Leaving him was getting harder every time I saw him. 'Until tomorrow' he cooed.
'Do you want a lift home?' I asked, hoping for just a few moments more with him. He shot a quick look into my back seat and took a wary step back.
'No thanks, I can walk, it's a nice night.'
'It may be a bit of a mess but...' I began defensively. Beau the materialistic type – who'd have thought?
'It's not that' he interrupted.
'It's only just occurred to me that you've never been in my car. It's like it's radioactive to you or something' I said.
'I've been in your car...yesterday in fact, if I remember rightly. If the rubbish on the floor didn't bother me then it wouldn't bother me now!' he retorted with an unwelcome snigger.
'So why don't you want a ride? Somewhere better to be maybe? What, my old rust bucket isn't good enough anymore?' My voice was a high pitched squeal and left little precious breathing time. A crazy and unsuspecting mottled green wash of bunny boiler jealously appeared to pounce on me from out of nowhere, taking both me and Beau by complete surprise.
'Hey Annie Wilkes, how about you dial down the crazy a couple of notches.' Beau reached out and rubbed my arms. The tension dissipated into a cooling pool around me as his skillful fingertips kneaded out the tension in my shoulders. Why do I react like that around him?
'You see something, don't you?' I glanced at Beau and then into the back window of my car. My face fell along with my stomach. Why hadn't I thought of this before? He looked at me intensely, battling with the choice of telling me the truth or fabricating a lie that would be easier for me to handle.
'I'm guessing you got this car second hand?'
'Hey Sherlock how did you come to that conclusion. Was it the rust that's covering pretty much every visible speck of metal or the fact that it's being held together with duct tape?' I retorted sardonically. I had subconsciously realised the truth and my not so witty attempt at sarcasm was my defence mechanism. It wasn't making me feel any more at ease though as realisation hit me with a blow that resembled a tyre iron to my head.
'Well the previous owner didn't really...'
'Didn't really what?' I probed, hesitantly taking a few steps away from the car. Beau was silent. 'Beau, didn't really what?'
'Leave' Beau answered finally in a hushed voice. I began to whisper suddenly very aware that someone or something else was with us.
'You mean to tell me that whoever owned my car before me is still in it? You're kidding me, right? There is no way...How can I drive?...What the hell am I going to do now?' I yelled. So I was a little shook up – shoot me!
'Yes, he is definitely in the car and he definitely doesn't want to leave.'
'Well make him leave, I love this car!' It occurred to me that I sounded like a five year old who wanted her favourite teddy bear back. It was a natural gut response.
'He hasn't stopped you driving it so far has he?' Beau chuckled.
'Do you honestly think I can drive it now?' I cleared my throat and took another few steps around the car, grabbing Beau's arm as I did and pulling him round so our backs were facing the car.
'Why hasn't he gone to where he's supposed to be, you know, the light, the tunnel, heaven?' I urged quietly and tight lipped. 'If he's worried about the car, tell him I've looked after it and I wash it every month.' Beau glanced at the car then back at me with a disbelieving smirk. 'OK once every two months, but I still do it! And on the note of Casper the friendly ghost in there, how comes you haven't told me about him before?'
'Well the first time I saw him in there I didn't even know you. The second and third time you still didn't know my secret and then on the last three occasions we were having such a great time, I didn't want to freak you out.'
'There was more than one occasion and you didn't think it necessary to mention I was ferrying around a hitch-hiker? And what makes you think I would freak out?'
'You're seriously asking me that, and with a straight face no less?' He laughed. OK so maybe, (a big MAYBE), I was overreacting, slightly. Beau strolled towards the driver's door and slipped inside. Watching Beau having a conversation with thin air was a little hard to swallow. As the seconds passed my nerves settled.
'Beau, what's he saying' I questioned. I approached the passenger side cautiously and leant anxiously on the window frame. I peered hesitantly into the vacant back seat.
'He says that when he passed away his wife was evicted out of their house. She couldn't find the deeds. He wants to know why you haven't taken the car in to get the radio repaired.'
OK this bizarre Mystic Meg crap is freaking me out I thought. I looked at Beau stunned and unable to talk. 'I urm...just...just thought because the car was old, that it didn't really work. I'm really sorry, really, really sorry, please forgive me' I pleaded. Beau sniggered. 'What's so bloody funny?' I scowled.
'Grace, he's not going to curse you, relax. He understands that you couldn't possibly have put it all together. He says he was trying to get you to take the car into a mechanics, so they would have to pull up the front passenger seat floor panel to get to the wires.'
'Why the wires?' I asked confused. I don't remember the kids in the Enid Blyton novels having so much trouble deciphering the clues. Am I really this dim? I thought. My inner bitch for once decided to help. Wait a second little lady, leave the question alone, lock it away and throw away the key, no good can come from that question. I did as I was advised and returned my attention back to the task at hand.
'It's not about the wires Grace, underneath the floor panel is a storage area, that's where the documents are.' I opened the door nervously. A part of me was half expecting Beau to jump around laughing at my expense and reveal that it was all a big joke. I apprehensively reached for the panel and pulled it up. I pulled out an A4 crumpled brown envelope that was wedged securely in the space. It was brick heavy and stuffed full with all different coloured papers. I replaced the panel and with my other hand I turned the envelope over. In large black capital letters were the words 'WALTER HANSON'.
'Is this what he wants?' Beau looked into the back seat and shouted 'Hey Walter, what do you want us to do with this?...Walter wants you to take them to his wife.'
'Does he have a specific woman in mind? A name, address maybe? I don't know his wife' I stumbled.
'He says she lives with their daughter two streets from here.'
'Can you ask Walter if his daughters name is Louisa?' I couldn't believe how frustrating it was talking through Beau, everything took twice as long and the suspense was killing me. Beau didn't even have to ask Walter, he immediately nodded and smiled.
'Grace how did you know that?' For once I had taken him by surprise. It was a shame I couldn't enjoy the moment for longer.
'Ahhh Beau, we all have our little secrets don't we?' I revelled at the curiosity in his eyes.
'Louisa is the lady who sold you Walter's car isn't she?' Now Beau was the only one smiling.
'You're not funny! How the hell do you do that? You're like some freaky mind magician. Just once it would be nice to be a little elusive for longer than five seconds.'
'Well Walter laughed' Beau uttered under his breath. It was oddly eerie knowing spirits still had a sense of humour. With some inside knowledge that Sixth Sense film would have been in a completely different isle in Blockbusters. With a turn of my car key I giggled to myself as a dull rumble emanated from the radio. 'What's so funny?' Beau asked.
'Nothing. Is Walter smiling by any chance?' Beau peered over his shoulder into the back seat.
'Yes actually'.
'Hey Walter, this is for you, for old times' sake.' I turned the radio on and set it to the station Walter obviously liked. The 21st century passed by outside the window in a grey haze, whilst inside the colourful melodies of George and Ira Gershwin filled the car.