Page 89 of Resist
He looked up and over the coffee machine, steam billowing past his face. “Do what?”
“Work with this smell. I’d be in a state of delirium all day. It’s absolutely lovely.”
“You get used it.” He smiled and acknowledged the person behind me with a head nod. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Sorry,” I said, turning around, “I’ll just move over to the—” I jumped back and knocked the napkin holder and takeaway cup lids off the counter. “Shit!”
“Hello, Helena.”
My limbs seized, and my jaw dropped open. “C … Colin, what are you doing here?” I bent down and started cleaning my mess.
He, too, bent down, his hand outstretched to clasp my arm.
“DON’T TOUCH ME.” I snapped my arm away and stumbled back.
Colin held his hands up before proceeding to help me pick up the remaining lids. His face was severe like stone: eyes bright as steel and set deep into his head. Shadows lurked over his cheekbones and jaw, their severity sharp as blades I knew could, and would, cut deep.
“What are you doing here?” I stood up and placed the lids back where they belonged, and Colin did the same.
“I came to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He placed his hands in his suit pant pockets and seemed to recoil. “Because I want to talk.”
“I … I don’t want to talk to you.”
He smirked, and it sent dread creeping over my body like fire ants.
“Order for Helena,” the barista called out.
I turned my back to Colin, hastily collected the coffee, and went to walk away.
“I’ve changed, Helena.”And he lied then forgot the lies.
It was what Colin did. It was what he always did.
Ignoring his bullshit, I kept walking, my steps longer and brisk.
“PLEASE!” he shouted.And there it is.
That all too familiar aggression presented itself once again, and I startled at the severity of it, nearly dropping my tray of coffees, my hands now trembling.
“Please. I want to see Jason.”
Halting my steps, the air was knocked from my body with merely his words. But when I turned in his direction, it was the threat in his eyes that iced my lungs, because he wasn’t asking, he was demanding.
“He doesn’t want to see you.”
His eye twitched and he took a step closer. “Sure he does.”
“Look, I’ve got to go—”
“Helena,” he said, his voice hard. “I want to see my son.”
“And I want to see you rot in hell,” I hissed.
He closed his eyes and cracked his neck before opening them again. “I understand that you’re angry with me, and rightly so, but like I said, I’ve changed.”
