Entwine (10 page)

“What are you talking about?”

Her mum ran her teeth over her bottom lip. When she looked ready, she slapped her palms on the cover over her thigh. “Do you know his last name, who he is?”

“I just met him tonight. What’s wrong with his last name?”

“He’s Malik Fawnheart, Sarah. He’s the ex-husband of Alyssa, the father of their child, Lucy. He was the husband, like I was the wife.”

“How would you know?”

“How many Fawnhearts do you know? How many
Malik
Fawnhearts do you think exist? I saw his car, and if it’s that black Ford Falcon he had back then … I don’t think there could be another Milk Fawnheart with that car. Too much coincidence.”

“He said …” Sarah fought a heavy feeling in her chest. “Said he had a little girl, that something horrible happened with his a woman in the past.” Sarah squealed. “No. Crap, no.”

“Come here,” her mum said, opening her arms and pulling her to her.

Sarah’s voice was teetering on the edge of breaking. Her arms felt too heavy, her legs were concrete, and she wondered how she’d ever have the strength to move, let alone get up from the bed and brave her second day at her job.

“But I don’t think that could be it. Coincidences like that don’t just happen.” Sarah felt better all of a sudden. She felt lighter, zippier. She shot up and out of her mum’s embrace. “Think about it,” Sarah said, counting on her fingers, “he’d be way too old for me, he’d remember me, he’d probably have moved far away.” Sarah happily shrugged. “It wouldn’t be him at all. Sure that’s a
ma
ssive coincidence, but don’t worry—I’m not. It wouldn’t be him. That’s just twisted.”

“I know it’s hard to fathom, but I’d be highly shocked if it wasn’t. I’ve seen a photo of that man before, and I’ll never forget him. Both Alyssa and Malik weren’t like people I’ve seen. They were so perfect. Her a model, and him … there was something intense, and yet mesmerising about the look of him. Those two are people you can spot out of a crowd. The light in his car as he waved bye to you? I could swear when it was lit up that was him just by that fact alone.”

Sarah looked down, speechless, and unable to think of something to convince her mum that it was all fine. Sarah wasn’t the type to win the lotto. She’d never found a $10 note lying on the ground, let alone a $50 note. She’d never been very lucky, just plain, stock-standard, normal.

There was no way the first extraordinary thing to happen to her could possibly be this twisted truth.

“Why not ask him?”

“
Mum
, I can’t ask all that! Are you kidding?”

“You could ask something. The name of his daughter, maybe. Say you’re interested. No,” her mum said, suddenly, “ask if he knows your father.”

Her mum nodded, like her test would set it straight. Sarah was too scared to admit her emotions because she would prefer being in this hell-ish state of not knowing, if it meant a promise that no bad news could confirm this.

Sarah was not over the hurt her dad had caused her. She still hated the pretty-named Alyssa Fawnheart, more than ever. Sarah knew, without a doubt, that it’d take her a lot to face all that. Her fears, hate, rage—every issue she’d hidden since she was sixteen, almost six years of emotions.

Was one guy she’d met for a few hours worth it? She didn’t know what term to place on her feelings for Malik, but their night had been so amazing, it rather felt more like a dream. Sure, she would always remember that dream, but Sarah didn’t expect her dreams to become reality.

Sarah wanted to be alone after that. Her mum apologised again, and told her she could come talk to her, whatever the outcome she found out.

“Sure, thanks,” Sarah replied, but she turned over in bed, not intending to talk to her mum on the subject again. She wanted to forget her now horrible night.

She debated what to text Malik for minutes. She settled on, “Do you know a Nigel Langham who lives in this area?”

Sarah was too lethargic to sleep, so she got up, took the bread out, and watched the toaster cook it. She buttered it, and ate the toast over the bench.

Later, she took the ice cream out of the freezer, and scooped it out of the tub with a spoon. After going through a third of the tub, her stomach protested with churning and queasiness. Finally, she flopped back into bed, just getting the covers over her before she slept.

She was woken by her mobile when it was almost time to get up, so she checked it, knowing she’d be getting ready soon, and thinking it was probably Malik, laughing at her randomness.

Malik:
Is this a joke? Do u know this fucker? Don’t ever mention his name. EVER.

Sarah clambered to the bathroom, leant over the sink, as she heaved into the sink. She’d lost her dream man, she’d lost the only food she’d eaten in more than half a day, and now she had lost all her hope.

Sarah was truly left with nothing more than this job she loved so much—but even that didn’t convince her to move an inch from the curled, heaped position she lay in beside the bathroom drawers.

• • •

NOW

Sarah watched her mobile. It vibrated on her desk, tucked away under some papers, so it wouldn’t look like she was wasting time doing personal stuff. Compared to yesterday, her second day at work was a flop.

She made herself wait half an hour before checking the time, but only seven minutes had passed. Yesterday, she only got to check the time occasionally; now, she was fighting the clock. Staying up half the night had worn her down. Adrenaline didn’t come through and keep her awake, even though, usually, she’d only feel tired two days after she’d stayed up. It was a bad day in all, because she wasn’t hungry, yet her stomach felt off, and nothing worked out.

“Sarah,” a colleague next to her said, “it’s okay, you know.” She looked at Sarah’s mobile. “You can check your mobile and use it. We aren’t Nazis here.”

Sarah nodded quickly. “Oh, okay. Yeah, thanks for telling me.”

Thanks for telling me
, Sarah thought. How much lamer could she get? Maybe she should just write out a script, and reply with the available responses there. She wasn’t going to become part of the team if she only took orders and did work at her desk. She had to be approachable, cool, and listen to her team members.

Although she wasn’t ready to face Malik yet, since she’d seen his prior unanswered calls and it was likely him again, she pulled out her mobile and answered before she missed it. “Hey.”

“Sarah.”

His voice was different today. Not in the tone, because it was the same deep timbre, but in the effect it had on Sarah. In a cruel twist, it made her yearn to touch him, be linked with his fingers, or tucked in his embrace. It also made her feel heavy, and burdened. Like she wanted to run far away, and that was the only option.

“I started thinking you’d changed your mind about our amazing night. But also,” he added, “I’ve been worried.”

She exhaled slowly, and it helped her feel calm enough to speak. “Why?”

“I trust you, but with that message you sent in the middle of the night … I wondered if you’d covered up for something else that was going on.”

“Course not.”

“I didn’t
think
you did. I’m just wondering what that was all about. There is a lot of shit that’s happened to me, and that fucking scumbag is at the root of it. If it’s okay with you, I’d rather move past it, if you’re not involved with him.”

Sarah hadn’t replied to Malik’s earlier messages, but she’d read them only about ten times each. He wanted to meet after work. The last text said he could even leave work right then, just to make sure she was okay.

“We can meet if you still want. I couldn’t sleep so got here early, and I didn’t take a lunch break, so I can leave at four. Is it okay to meet ten minutes after that, or so? We can meet at Federation Square.”

“But are you okay?”

Sarah held her breath. Counted to three while she focused.
Do not cry. Do not let your voice break. Breathe
.

“Sa—”

“I’m here. See you then?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she replied, and slowly put her phone down, pushing it to the back of her desk, her thoughts a million miles away. She figured, forty minutes until finish time wasn’t so bad.

The reality was different. She had to proofread a final manuscript against the marked up changes to make sure they went in, and she couldn’t keep her mind the on words, so she had to keep going back.

Four o’clock hit, and she packed up, and hoped for a better day in the office tomorrow and some good luck on her side, for once, as she walked to Fed Square to meet Malik.

The bustle of people was a welcomed distraction. People in the city during peak times were crazy. At least half of them ran late for their cars, the bus or train, day-to-day. Others had their head stuck in their smart devices. Sarah couldn’t focus on anything but not getting trampled, and meeting Malik.

She figured she’d just stand in the middle, with it being an open space, and see if she could spot him when he arrived. But, even though Sarah was five minutes early, he was already sitting on a bench, his knees separated and his hands clumped together, resting between them.

Sarah looked up to the sky, thought of the blue clouds, and willed that image out of her head. She’d need more than some erotic thoughts to get through their next conversation.

Malik waved her over. He was torturing her, she was sure of it. She knew those pants. They were a smidgen tighter around his hips than his other pants, and no matter her efforts, with her gaze she traced the shape of the bulge from his penis. She wondered what it’d feel like elongated in her palm. He wore the shirt, too. She felt worse, seeing that. Sarah had got so worked up around him, she knew she’d sweated a little bit last night, and he must have, too. He must have gotten up early to wash it in the hope he’d see her today. Instead, he got a message about Nigel Langham, the one person he hated most beside his ex-wife, not knowing the day he had ahead of him.

“Hey, you,” he whispered in her ear.

He had wrapped his arms low on her back, pressing their hips together, and just for that moment, it felt so right that Sarah let go and let it happen; encouraged it, even. She slipped her hands between his waist and corded inner forearms, and pressed him tighter to her, turning her head to the side and resting her ear on his chest. When the urge to look at him grew too great, she tilted her head up, and Malik led her chin up so their lips met. His kiss was less hungry than last night, and more tender. More like the kiss a husband would give his wife after a stressful day at work, after he’d passed through the front door.

That thought zapped her back to
here
and she pressed her hands against his chest, until he realised the kiss had ended. He looked down at her, worry wrinkling his forehead.

“Sarah …”

“Let’s sit,” she offered.

Once he sat, he drew out his hand to rest on her thigh. Not high, just touching her, letting her know he was there.

“Can I just start at the beginning, and catch you up to this point, now? No interruptions, no questions. I just need to say it in one go or else I’ll overthink, under-share, or
not
share.”

Malik nodded.

“My full name is Sarah Langham.” She noted his eyes open wide, but pressed on. “Nigel is my father and, when I was sixteen, I found out he’d been having an affair with some other woman for years. I came back from a party a couple of streets away to pick something up, and heard sounds. He was doing her in my mother’s and his bedroom. I ran off, and for the next week I just wrote it in my diary, feeling guilty for not telling mum. She found what I’d written. Turned out, he’d been having an affair with the other woman for years. They broke up half a year later, after he and mum split anyway, but I found out that lady’s name was Alyssa Fawnheart. She had a baby, but I didn’t know it was your child until my mum saw you pass the house early this morning. She remembered you, and we spent some time …”

Sarah stopped for a moment. She needed to catch her breath. She was too wound up, so she shook out her hands, and Malik removed his from her thigh. She shivered, and then looked at Malik again, feeling ready to finish. “… some time, and she told me and convinced me who you really were.”

Sarah had never felt as bad as she did now, not since years ago, when a duck had been in the middle of the road in front of her. It moved left, right, and she couldn’t figure out where to swerve, in the end, running it over. She’d spent nights after that wondering what would happen to its mate and ducklings. She’d been responsible for ruining that innocent, poor little duck, and so many other ducks inadvertently.

Now, looking at Malik, that didn’t compare. His tanned skin had paled, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down repeatedly. His nose twitched, and then he scooted away a few inches, leaning back and looking to his lap, then around at the people running and sitting and talking, absolutely clueless Sarah had just ruined his life.

Sarah didn’t want to say anything, much less could she say anything, but a sorry or a huge ramble of everything she was thinking. She sat still instead, and repeated hopeful thoughts that, in the end, made her lips turn up. Malik would surely come out with something even more outstanding than the events that had been unveiled since midnight. Something crazy, like the fact he had an identical twin with an identical name?

Oh, who was she kidding? She lost her partial smile that instant, and just sat thinking nothing, staring at the concrete and the patterns in it.

Malik finally looked at her, and Sarah didn’t have enough strength left to guess what he was thinking. She sat there like a snake’s skin, brittle, and hollow inside.

“I don’t hate you, Sarah,” he said. “I just … how haven’t we seen each other somehow, or heard of each other before? It’s crazy.”

Sarah sat up, edged closer. “I knew about a husband, but Mum … we’d been so close before, and it tore us apart. We only moved on by moving past it. We rarely talked about what Dad did, let alone
her
or …”
You
.