Page 33 of Chase

As I tentatively walk inside, I hear her bustling around in the kitchen, singing badly to David Bowie. It’s the soundtrack toLabyrinth, her favorite film, just one of the many facts about her that I remember from our childhood. For a while, I can’t help but stand in the doorway so I can watch her in her obliviousness to my return, being that the music has been turned up loud. She knows every single word, including the talking parts, which has me smiling to myself. She wiggles her ass as she sings, and though she is a piss-poor singer, she’s still the sexiest, cutest girl I’ve ever seen. She also still fits into theLabyrintht-shirt she had worn when she was just fifteen. Her breasts may have filled it in a little more, but otherwise, it’s like we’re inside her family home, me in my suit, her in this exact same t-shirt. The memory brings a lump to my throat. I remember thinking it was the best night of my life, and if I’m being truly honest with myself, it still is. What happened the following day forever tainted it. It’s like holding a trinket or a photograph of a loved one who is no longer here, filling you up with both happiness and grief. In the end, you block it out to avoid the overwhelming emotion that goes with it.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice her turning around until she jumps with a pitched yelp of shock. Her hand flies to her chest before she switches off the music and tries to calm herself down. I laugh softly at her, and she almost smiles back, but then catches herself and wipes any hint of genuine mirth from her face.

“Thought I’d return the favor with a homemade curry,” she says as she gestures to the pots and pans. “Hope you like it hot and spicy.”

“Only way to have it isn’t it?” I grin before removing my work tie and sitting down at the table.

She serves me a plate before taking a seat opposite. We smile awkwardly at one another, so I take a large bite, only torealize she wasn’t kidding.

“Fuck me, Iz, that’sdamnspicy!” I grab a glass of water and start to gulp while she casually swallows her mouthful like it’s an extremely mild korma.

“You might wanna try milk if that doesn’t work,” she says and dips in for another forkful.

I have to give in and head straight for the fridge to grab a glass full of ice-cold milk. Of course, she takes great delight in watching me struggle with the heat, all the while she eats more and more of her dinner.

“Where’ve you been over the last couple of days?” I take the opportunity to ask, still wincing over the hot sauce burning my esophagus.

“Been making a porn movie,” she says without looking up from her next bite, “it’s set to be big next year.”

“Yeah?” I play along. “You certainly have the body for it.”

She doesn’t say anything, merely rolls her eyes and continues to eat. By the time she’s finished, I’ve just about managed to eat half of it. I apologize for not being able to clear my plate before inviting her to come and sit with me in the living room. Expecting her to say no, I look to the floor, just waiting for her rejection. However, she shocks me by nodding her head and getting to her feet, grabbing a couple of wine glasses and a bottle. I follow her closely before she can change her mind.

“Fancy a game to break the tension?” I ask as we settle down inside of the living room chairs.

“No,” she replies bluntly, then takes a sip of her wine.

“Oh, come on, Iz!” I sigh. “Throw me a fucking bone here.”

“What game?” She sighs back at me as I punch the air in celebration. “Theo, I am used to living alone, so go easy.”

“I have never,” I suggest, “that’s a girly sleepover game, isn’t it?”

“Wouldn’t know, never been to one,” she replies, “but I know of it. You go first, two fingers if you’ve done whatever it is.”

“Ok, I have never watched the whole ofLabyrinth,” I tell her truthfully. She gives me an unimpressed look before tipping back her glass to drink.

“I have never had sex in the sea,” she says, sounding purposefully bored. That is until I drink. “I hope you got an infection,” she tuts, to which I smile. Finally, she’s beginning to sound like the old Izzy.

“I’ve only ever been in love with one girl,” I say, to which she looks me in the eye. I stare right back at her as I drink my two fingers’ worth. By the time I’ve finished, she’s shaking her head and laughing disbelievingly.

“I have never been hurt by a blood relative,” I say, even though it isn’t my turn. Her expression is murderous, but she still plays the game, drinking her entire glass all the while she glares at me.

“I have never cut contact with a girl whom I professed to love,” she says, narrowing her eyes. She stares, still waiting for me to drink, and when I don’t, her face turns an angry shade of red. “If you’re not going to be truthful, Theo, there’s little point in playing this ridiculous game.”

“Ididcontact you, Izzy,” I tell her, sounding stern, “I texted, I phoned, I emailed, and I sent you letters. I even came over to see you, but you’d already gone. Perhaps you should ask your brother why you never got any of them.”

“It’s been over ten years, Theo, and you’ve been traveling over here for the last few, so why did you never come and find me?”

“Because when I found out about you leaving with your new boyfriend, which Ethan took great delight in showing me on his phone, it broke my Goddamn heart, Izzy! I had waited for you, didn’t go near a single girl because I was in love with you and only you. Seeing you with some guy wrapped around your half-naked body gave me nightmares for months, Iz,” I admit. She looks at me with such sadness, I wonder if she’s going to break down and cry, admit to everything and finally let me in. I take a risk and push forward. “I was so lost, Iz, I even had to ask Grandma to not talk about you, just to get the sickness of losing you out of my head. I didn’t want to hear how you’d moved on with your life without me.”

She closes her eyes for a minute or two, and when she finally opens them, a tear rolls down her cheek. This is it; this is when she’s going to confess all to me and let me comfort and forgive her so we can be together again.

“Your turn!” she snaps, to which my heart drops with disappointment.

“I have never loved anyone but you,” I tell her confidently, if not angrily, but she doesn’t move, not even to look at me.

“I never drink more than two glasses of wine at a time,” she whispers. She then smiles as she watches me drink with a frown of utter confusion on my face.

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