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It was a shocked whisper but they both heard Les.
Polly smacked his head into the doorjamb and said rude things about mothers. “How long have you been there?”
Reece needed to get out, but it meant shoving past both of them, and he was arguably as tense as Polly. Best thing he could do was stand still, shut up and think invisible.
“Yes, I want to be on top, but I like it on the bottom too, and from behind and sideways and just about any way you care to give it to me, Pol.”
“Holy fuck, Les.”
“Yes, I want another hit of Bio-shock, but I want to play Halo and Half-Life too. I like hanging with you, and yes, you can be a Neanderthal, but I’d marry you tomorrow if you’d have me.”
“Holy fuck, Les.”
“I heard you the first time.”
Polly turned to Les. His shoulders were high. Reece didn’t need to see his face to know his distress. “I wanted this to be epic.”
“It’s epic, trust me.”
“I wanted to tell you I loved you first. I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“You don’t have to tell me, I know you do. You showed me a hundred different ways.”
Polly reached for Les, his hands to her arms. “I did?” You could add bewildered to distressed.
“I’m the fat girl no guy wanted, I’m the smart girl who intimidates men and you never once made me feel bad, even when I was half crazy waiting for you to. You make me laugh and you make me feel beautiful. I love you, Marcus Pollidore.”
“I have to fuck you now, Les. Get out Reece, don’t want to see your ugly mug, you’re on Charlie’s sofa tonight.”
Reece had to clear his throat. He chucked random stuff in a bag and stepped past Polly, slapping him on the back. Les had tears in her eyes. Shit, he almost did too. He hadn’t figured on this. It’d worn stealth clothing and snuck about the place and he’d been too hooked on his own feelings to see it lurking.
He caught Les’ hand and squeezed it as he went past, she squeezed back. He bent, kissed her cheek and whispered, “Give him hell,” and then nicked into the bathroom for his toothbrush.
When he came out they hadn’t moved, they were eye to eye, staring, as if they were each the other’s Blair Witch Project, sucked in by the horror, the mystery, the fear, and the gut wrenching inability to want anything else.
He told the story, a cleaned up version, at the dinner table and the girls loved it.
“That’s sooo romantic,” said Gin. “Like in a movie.”
Flip ate Etta’s leftover mash potato. “It’s like Cinderella.” She was that much taller every time he saw her, and always hungry.
“Where’s the glass slipper in that story?” said Neev.
“Polly’s not a prince,” said Etta.
“That’s the way it was with your father, girls.”
Everyone looked at Charlie. Flip had her fork in her mouth and her mouth open. Like Reece, she’d never met her father, Bruce. Reece’s memory of Bruce was tangled up in BBQs and building skateboard ramps, Wrestlemania, and keeping the kids quiet when Bruce was sick. In hearing Charlie cry when he was gone. In not being able to get her out of bed and missing school because someone had to take care of the twins.
“I loved him so much but he was away most of the time, driving that damn truck and then he got sick and he died so young. You were just babies, all of you, and I wish you could’ve known him properly.”
Gin was closest to Charlie. She leaned into her and put her head on Mum’s shoulder. “Is that why you’ve never had a boyfriend?”
Charlie nodded. “And I was busy. I had Bruce for six years and it was wonderful, it was better to love him and lose him than not have him at all. I’ve been very greatly loved and I have all of you to show for it, and no one can ever change that.”
“Jesus—” said Etta.
“Etta,” said Charlie, but without rancour.
