Discovering Stella (22 page)

“Toad
does suit you,
mate,”
Todd
said, adding insult to
injury.

Huffing, I realised the name fit me better
than
it
should. I was a toad. I was a toad
for
treating
her
like shit when I knew she was struggling to deal with the death
of
her
husband, even if she
wouldn’t
admit to it.

Standing up
, I
stretched, preparing myself
for
the grovelling I was about to perform.

“You
going to go and do what
I’m
hoping
you’re
going to do?”
Todd
asked, refusing to look at me.

“Yep,
sure am. Wish me
luck.”
I yawned and stretched
for
effect, to delay
for
the slightest of seconds what I
now
had to go and
do.

Meg smiled and gave me a wink.
“Go
get
her,
Toad.”

Todd’s
eyes flicked to mine, a glint of a warning to behave. His soundless message
didn’t
go unnoticed.
It
was also
one
I
didn’t
need.
My
plans were to apologise
profusely,
let
her
know that I could just be
her
friend if
that’s
what she wanted and,
over-
all, just to be
on
my
best behaviour.
Under
no circumstances was I to look at
her
tits.
None.

*
 
*
 
*

As
I approached
Stella’s
door,
the floorboards beneath
my
feet creaked, sounding
an alarm as
if I were a creepy fucker about to invade
her
privacy.
It
bloody
worked
though, and I froze
...
like
an
idiot.
What am I friggin’ doing? Stop being a pussy and get this over with.

Cricking
my
neck from
side
to side, I gently knocked
on
her
door.
“Stella?”

Silence.

I knocked again. “Stella, are
you
awake? I want to
apologise.”

More
silence.

Shit! Maybe
she’s
asleep. Do I just open the door and check? Of course.
It wouldn’t
hurt to take a peek and see if she was awake
or
not.

Clasping
her
door handle, I turned
it
slowly and pushed
it
just enough to poke
my
head around, finding Stella lying fast asleep
on
her
bed in a semi-foetal
position. She
had
on
her
pink pussy-cat
PJs
and looked
absolutely
adorable.

Just
as I was
about
to close
the
door
and
leave her
in peace,
she
mumbled
something
I
couldn’t
quite
make
out,
something
that
sounded
like win.
She
then
brought
her
legs
closer
to
her
chest and hugged
them,
as if
she
was feeling
cold.
Unable
to just
walk
out
and
leave her
like that, I
proceeded
into her room
with
caution,
knowing that if
she
were
to
wake
up
and find
me
prancing
around
like the fucking Pink
Panther,
she’d
well and truly kill
me.

I stepped up to
her
bed — praying
for
the floorboards to
shut
the fuck up — and took
hold
of
her
blanket, pulling
it over
her.
She
murmured
again
and turned just slightly so that she was lying
on
her
back. Seeing
her
there, so peaceful, so innocent and so beautiful made
my
heart lose
control
and beat like crazy. The pounding from within
my
chest was almost to the
point
of pain. Pain, because even though she was right there within
my
reach, she
wasn’t.
I wanted
her
so badly and in every way possible,
but
I knew I
couldn’t
have
her.
She
would have to be the
one
to want me, to pursue me.
She
would have to be in charge and take control of us — if there was ever going to be
an
us.

Squatting down, I fought the urge to run
my
finger down
her
cheek, to gently trace
it
along
her
smooth skin. I also wanted to soothingly caress
her
pink and slightly
puffy
eyes, because no
doubt
I was the reason they were that
way.
Seeing the evidence that she’d been crying
tore
me to shreds.

I dropped my head in shame and whispered, “Sorry, Princess. I promise
I’ll
make
this
right.” Then, unable to help myself, I leaned forward and lightly kissed her forehead before leaving the room.

As
I closed the door behind me, Meg was waiting
out
in the hallway.
“You
really like
her,
don’t
you?” she asked with a knowing smile.

There was no
point
in lying to
my
sister; she was always able to pick when I was doing so anyway.
“Yeah,
I do
...
a
lot.”

She
gave me
an
encouraging nudge with
her
shoulder.
“That’s
great.”

“No,
it’s
not.
She
doesn’t
want a relationship;
she’s
not
ready.”

“She’ll never be ready unless
someone
helps
her
see that she
is.”

I rubbed
my
face with the palms of
my
hands, frustrated that being with Stella
wasn’t
as
simple
as
it
should be.
“I’ve
tried and
it
has backfired.”

“So
you’re
just going to give up and be the guy who is ‘just a friend’ even though
that’s not
who
you
want to be?”
Meg’s
voice
hinted at a sliver of disappointment.

“I
don’t
have a
choice,”
I grumbled
.

She
slapped me
on
the back of the head.
“You
always have a choice.
You
have a choice of whether to fight,
or
fall
back and surrender. Since when does Lawson, Knight of Pittstown, yield?”

“When his fighting hurts the
one
he’s
fighting
for,”
I explained, rubbing the back of
my
head.
Cheeky bitch
.

“Oh,
sweetie,”
she said, sympathetically. “Is
it
really
you
who’s
hurting
her,
or
is she hurting herself?”

“I
think
it’s
both.”

Meg
put
her
hands
on
my
shoulders and gave me a light shake. “Then go about
it
in a different
way.”

“How?”
I asked, confused.

She
smiled mischievously. “Through
music.”

Music? Unlike Leigh, I
didn’t
have a musical
bone
in
my
body.
“What do
you
mean?”

“Send
her
messages through
song.”

“I
can’t
fucking sing.
I’m
not my
dickhead
friend.”

“I
never said
you
had to sing.
Find
a song that tells
her
what
you
are
trying
to say
or do.
Stella is a musician. She’ll understand.”

My
breath hitched and a huge smile spread across
my
face. I kissed Meg
on
the head and pulled
her
to me.
“You
are a genius!”

“Yeah,
I
know.
Now
go and search
for
songs that say
‘I’m
an
arsehole and
I’m
sorry’ and
‘I
want to be your knight in shining
armour’.”

“Is there a song called that?” I asked, pulling away and scratching
my
head.

“I
don’t
know,
silly.
Go and find
out.”

Releasing
her
from
my
hold,
I headed to
my
room with a new sense of purpose. I was going to get through to Stella once and
for
all.

*
 
*
 
*

After
spending most of the night searching the internet
for
songs, I’d found three that pretty much summed up what I wanted to
say,
starting with Denis Leary’s
‘I’m
An
Asshole’.
Granted, I
didn’t
piss
on
public
toilet seats
or
park in handicapped spaces
as
the lyrics suggested,
but
I’d definitely been
an
arsehole the night before, therefore I thought
it
was a good way to
show
Stella that I was admitting to it.

Copying the song link
into
a message, I
typed
what I wanted to say and pressed send:

Princess,
I’m
sorry.

I’m
a toad and
an
arsehole ~ Lawson

*
 
*
 
*

By
the time morning
smoko
came around, I checked
my
phone
for
the umpteenth time, disappointed that Stella
hadn’t
replied. So I
typed
another message and
sent
her
the song link to
‘Creep’
by Radiohead:

Princess, just in case
you
didn’t
get that I
am
an
arsehole,

I’m
also a creep ~ Lawson

When I
didn’t
receive a
reply
to that message
either,
I decided to stop moping around and get stuck
into
work. I’d received a
phone
call
earlier that morning from
Scottie’s
in Shepparton, informing me that
Stella’s
cylinder head was
now
repaired and ready to be picked
up.
Having made a
note
to go there the next
day,
I also took stock
of
the supplies I was running
low on
and would need in the coming weeks.

By
the time I was ready to close the
workshop for
the
day,
Stella still
hadn’t
replied to
my
messages. I had
one
song left to send
her,
but
I
wasn’t
sure if
it
was the right
move
or
not.
The lyrics
mentioned love,
and as
much
as I really fucking liked
her,
what the two
of
us shared
wasn’t
love
...
at least,
not
yet.
But
there was something between us. Something good. Something really good. And whatever
it
was, I wanted
it
to
continue,
not
end.