Page 59 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

Chapter Twenty-Four

William

It was a long drawn out walk from the restaurant back to the car. William was sure it hadn’t been this long when they arrived, even with the cold. It was an even longer drive home as they got out of the small city area and onto more rural roads.

William kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel, a position he didn’t normally take. When he drove, he usually drove with one hand resting on the gear stick and the other holding the wheel, but tonight he needed this. His knuckles were thick, white and aching from the death-like grip he had. His chest hurt from the constriction in his breathing as he tried to maintain some semblance of self-control on his emotions. It would take one moment of opening his mouth and so many things would come tumbling out, none of them Rosie needed to hear, and none of them he really meant.

Rosie sat in the passenger seat with her arms folded tightly across her chest. He faced the window and stared out at the road. Occasionally, he dared to glance at her, some form of apology resting on his lips, but he wasn’t sorry.

When they reached the roads where the street lights finished, Rosie spoke. “Why did you tell me you’d gone to the bathroom?” she asked as if she was using the dark to shield herself. Good.

He needed the dark too. It was a cloak he could pull around him.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“Lie to you?”

“Back there. In the restaurant. When you came back, you said you’d been so long because you stopped at the bathroom. The only bathroom in there is at the side of the bar like Mark said. I checked. There aren’t any near the doors or at the front. Just the ones upstairs. If you had gone to them, Mark and I would have seen you.”

“What exactly are you saying, Rosie? Why don’t you come right out with it?” His eyes blurred and his chest hurt. He wanted to pull over and smack himself for the way his words came out just then. He didn’t need to see her to know the hurt expression she’d be wearing. No. William. The prize idiot. No wonder she’d fallen for Josh originally. Hell, she’d be better with Mark than with him.

“Why were you so long from the table? It wasn’t your mother on the phone. Who else did you call?”

“I didn’t call anyone.” His answer felt like a lie. It sounded like one too, even though it technically wasn’t, and he held onto that last shred.

Rosie peered at him. Her eyes glistened in the dark. William bit his lip. She’d never understand if he explained things to her. She’d see it the way she wanted to see it and then she’d leave, like everyone.

More silence between them, as if Rosie was trying to decide about the answer he had given to her. The air was so thick between them, it was choking. William leant his elbow on the edge of the window and leant his head against his hand. It didn’t matter as his breath fogged the glass. If his lies could take shape, the condensation would be it. They’d scrawl themselves across the misty surface and spell out the truth to Rosie, but his head pounded as he even contemplated telling her the truth … the actual truth and not what she wanted to hear.

“I can deal with anything, William,” she said, lowering her voice. “Anything you want to throw at me, go ahead. I can handle it, but lies … they’re like creatures that take little bites out of you and me … out of us, until we have nothing. You have a choice to let them do that or not.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“But you aren’t being honest, and that’s the problem here.” She took a breath. “Have you had enough of me, is that it? Maybe you saw the picture of Sam and thought--”

“No,” he said. “I … Sam …” he slammed his hand against the wheel and pain ricocheted up his hand. Fucking Maria. “It’s not like that. I told you.”

“Mark said …”

“Mark? You asked Mark about Sam? You didn’t believe me?” His head swam, and that red in his mind sailed to the front. A red he hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since he’d lost his temper at his mother all those months ago. Not since the night he’d decided to throw himself off the bridge. But it rose inside him, like thick red bubbles that coloured his vision. He was breathing hard and hardly noticed it.

“Pull over.” Rosie said.

“No.”

“William …”

“Is this what you do? Check up on me? Not believe me. Did I … Do …” His words wouldn’t come.

“William, slow down.”

He put his foot on the brake, but not enough to make them stop. The car skidded a little. He’d not even noticed how it had risen in speed. His hand back on the wheel, his jaw locked in an aching position, but he kept going, kept his eyes on the road and his mind on a clear path so he didn’t take it swan diving off a cliff somewhere and take everything they had between them with it.

There was no way he could say the things he needed to say, and no way he could make her understand anything of it at all. He leant over and flicked the radio on.

One thing Carly had taught him when his mind was running at full tilt was to make a distraction. Either take himself outside and go for a walk or something or do something that could take his mind off it. All he had was the radio. He didn’t normally listen to it. The incessant adverts were usually enough to set his mind on edge, but right then, it was better than the silence.

Rosie turned away from him again when the radio came into life. This time she had her legs crossed as well as her ankles, locking him out and pushing him away. They stayed like that for the rest of the drive. Not speaking, not looking, not anything.

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