Page 35 of Rectify

“Where are you going?” I call out.

“I’m getting wine. It seems I’m going to need something to help me deal with your multiple personalities tonight.”

Well, she hasn’t kicked me out.

Anticipating her usual uptight and oppositional attitude, I follow her in shock. Wondering if she’s teasing because she doesn’t think I’m serious or teasing because she thinks I am.

“Do you want a glass? Or something else? I ha—”

“I’ll have whatever you have,” I say, cutting her off. No longer feeling the alcohol from earlier, I decide one glass won't hurt.

She walks back my way and gestures to the dining table. Placing the wine glasses on opposite sides from each other, I’m grateful for the ability to watch her, and I know as intrigued as she is, she’s seeking the distance.

We both take our seats, and she takes what appears to be more of a gulp than a sip.

“Nervous?” I ask.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting with you. In my house.”

“There are worse things.”

She blanches.

“Really? Nothing worse than me?” I lean forward to touch her but pull back at the last minute. “Try not to overthink it. We’re just talking.” She raises a knowing eyebrow, and I raise my hands in defence. “Talking... Until you want something else.”

She covers her eyes with a hand, hiding her most honest feature. “This is my space,” she explains, her voice lacking the sarcasm from earlier. “I can’t have you taint this place.”

It’s a slap across the face, but I deserve it. There’s nothing but truth to what she says, I do tarnish every single thing I touch.

“I know it means next to nothing, Sasha, but I won’t do that to you. Not again, and not here.” I slide my forefinger and thumb up and down the stem of the glass contemplating how I’m going to have her believe how sorry I really am.

I push away from the table, giving myself room to get up. Walking around the table’s whitewash wooden edges.

She twists in her seat, and I kneel down in front of her. Her eyes widen at the intimacy, but it feels necessary. If I don’t open myself up to her, she’s never going to believe a word I say.

“This is why I’ve wanted to talk to you,” I start. “After bumping into you the other week, I couldn’t get you off my mind. All the things that happened. What was said, and what wasn’t.”

She rests her hand on my shoulder, interrupting me. “I appreciate what you want to do, or at least what I think you want to do, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

I shake my head. “I do. There are things I should’ve told you.”

“It won’t make a difference.”

I put my hand over my heart. “For me, it will.”

She turns back into her seat, breaking our connection. “And then what?”

Giving her the space she seeks, I stand and make my way back to my almost empty glass of wine. Once seated I answer her question. “And then I’ll walk out of your life, and return to Melbourne.”

Her head snaps up, and her brows furrow together. “Melbourne?”

“Yeah.” I scrub my hands over my face as I realise there’s so much she doesn’t know about me. “That’s where I live now. I’ve lived there for the last seven years.”

“Oh.” The expression on her face turns even more serious. “So, you came back for…”

The cloak of pain returns, heavy and uncomfortable, as I nod and say his name. “Leroy.”

Now it’s her time to rise. She’s up and beside me in seconds, mirroring my position from earlier. Her eyes become pools of sympathy, looking up at me, as reality comes crashing down.

---