April's Glow Page 8

  ‘Can I ask what it was?’

  ‘Seems silly, but it was a tattoo of my budgie that I had as a kid. My first and favourite pet. I took a photo in and the artist made a design from it, and did the tattoo in full colour. Budge, his name was.’

  ‘The bird or the tattoo artist?’

  April laughed. ‘What do you think?’

  Zac laughed too, lightening the mood.

  ‘So you still haven’t asked what happened to my leg,’ she mused.

  ‘Do you want me to?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s usually the first thing most people ask me.’

  ‘I’m not most people.’

  ‘I’ve discovered that.’

  They both took another mouthful of food, then a sip of drink, like they really were in a mirror.

  ‘Okay, so tell me, if you like, what happened?’ Zac asked.

  ‘Car accident.’ She filled him in on the details of the crash and how her fiancé had ended up paralysed. She didn’t fill him in on the details of her recovery, which was as much emotional as it was physical.

  ‘You’re a strong woman, April.’ He stood and refilled their drinks.

  She lowered her gaze. ‘Maybe I should get a tattoo like yours.’ Why couldn’t she accept a compliment with a simple thanks? She was strong, had earned the compliment.

  ‘Something tells me you’d suit something a bit more “out there”,’ he said. ‘Maybe a butterfly, or hey, if you like some of the insight in the book, you could have one of the phrases tattooed.’

  ‘Skin poetry huh?’ She nodded. ‘Not a bad idea. Do you have any?’ Her eyes cast a subtle scan down the length of his body.

  Was her subconscious using her interest in his tattoos to try to get him half naked?

  He turned around and she thought he was going to take his shirt off, but he simply lifted the back of it up a little, exposing a sentence in cursive font tattooed on his lower back:

  As my heart beats, so too does yours

  ‘Not really poetry, but close enough,’ he said.

  ‘It’s nice.’ The tattoo, and his skin. ‘And the reason for it?’ She resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. Touch him. His skin was like a warm fireplace, enticing her towards it.

  ‘To remind people that we’re all the same. We’re all in life together, no matter our differences.’

  ‘Huh.’ April kept her gaze on the tat, until his shirt dropped down over it and he returned to his chair. ‘I like that. So, you walk around shirtless quite a lot?’

  He chuckled. ‘Used to, in summer anyway. But now I don’t do so much walking around, except in quiet places. Nature, secluded beaches, for example.’

  April nodded. ‘Well, I feel privileged to have seen the tattoo that others are being deprived of.’

  ‘It’s nice to show it off for the first time in a long while.’ He smiled, then his hand moved to his wrist tattoo and he rubbed it a little. ‘Anyway, enough about tattoos, would you like second helpings of the Chicken With No Name?’

  April took the last mouthful, then replied, ‘No thanks. It was delicious, but I’m full.’

  Zac stood and picked up their plates. ‘Satisfying Chicken?’ he suggested, a curious crease in his brow.

  ‘Pathetic,’ she said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. ‘You can do better than that. I mean, with the name. The chicken was far from pathetic!’

  ‘Nice save,’ he said. ‘I was about to throw you out.’ He chuckled as he walked to the kitchen, rinsed the plates then placed them in the dishwasher.

  She stood too and stretched her arms above her head. ‘I’m glad we’re finally talking like proper human beings. Most of the time,’ she said. ‘I was trying to get to know you these past couple of weeks, but it didn’t seem like you wanted to all of a sudden. But this is nice. So thanks.’

  Zac turned to face her. ‘My pleasure. And sorry if I was a bit distant, was just dealing with some stuff.’

  She held up her hands. ‘Hey, no worries. And I’m a bit of a nosy person, so I wouldn’t have been offended if you simply didn’t want to tell me your life story.’

  ‘Well, we’ve started making up for the past two weeks tonight,’ Zac said.

  ‘We have. But in my mind are at least another three hundred and fifty-seven nosy questions, so watch out.’ She pointed his way.

  A curious expression crinkled his face. ‘How about thirty-six?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Have you heard of the thirty-six questions that went viral on the internet?’

  ‘No, and that worries me, because I spend a lot of time on Facebook. How could I have missed something that went viral?’ She feigned shock and brought her hands to her cheeks.

  ‘There was a lot of hype about this list of questions that had the potential to help people fall in love, but the research and story behind it was interesting. It’s about deepening connection between two people, whether they be friends, lovers, or strangers, by facilitating mutual vulnerability and self-disclosure. It’s like a fast track to emotional intimacy.’

  ‘Sounds scary.’

  Zac leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter. ‘Not really, you just answer questions about who you’d invite over for dinner, what you’d most regret not doing or saying in life, what you’d take from your house if it was on fire, that sort of stuff.’

  Curiosity swirled up inside, but a slight hint of tension crept through her muscles. Vulnerability was something she didn’t care to feel. She could chat and gossip like a pro, but how open and honest she was depended entirely on the nature of the topic.

  ‘So what do you say, wanna do them?’ His unblinking eyes awaited her agreement.

  ‘Are you saying you want me to fall in love with you, Zac?’ A flirty tone sweetened her voice and she put one hand on her hip.

  ‘No, I’m saying do you want to do the thirty-six questions and see if we can make up for the past two weeks of me being a distant, boring neighbour, while you were being your normal, nosy self?’

  April’s amused laughter filled the house, and from somewhere Zac’s cat meowed.

  She could just say no. Say thanks for dinner and be on her merry way, but Zac had opened some kind of invisible door inside that she hadn’t known was there. She didn’t exactly want to answer thirty-six questions about herself, though the three he’d mentioned sounded okay. But, she desperately wanted to hear his answers, and it was that reason that made her say ‘yes’.

  ‘Awesome! I’ll get us some dessert and snacks and we can move over to the couch and get started.’

  What am I getting myself into?

  ‘Ah, Zac?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah?’ He looked up from the fridge where he had bent down to get something from the freezer.

  ‘I have a name for your meal,’ she replied. ‘Since I have no idea how you got me to agree to this … this … experiment thingy, and we’ve revealed a few significant things about our lives already, I’ve deduced that there must be some kind of truth-extracting ingredient in your chicken.’ She planted her hands on the kitchen counter. ‘I officially name your meal: Truth Chicken.’

  Zac straightened up. He held a tub of something up in the air. ‘And we have a winner!’

  And she had officially decided that she was crazy, knowing full well she couldn’t back out of this now, and hadn’t even thought to ask to see the actual questions first. They were most likely, most definitely, about to become more than just neighbours, in the weirdest, most unconventional, yet irresistibly intriguing way.

  Chapter 11

  Excitement surged through Zac’s bloodstream. He had been longing to find someone to do the questions with. But with his solitary existence, there hadn’t been many options. He knew deep down it was probably a bad idea, and he’d been advised to distance himself from April for the past two weeks, but today, on this day that marked remembrance, he wanted to remember other things too. What it felt like to look into someone’s eyes for longer than a simple glance. To talk openly fo
r hours. To be heard, noticed, understood. What it felt like to tell someone else about your life, your journey, your dreams. And to listen to theirs and see that spark in their eyes, that light that reminded him he wasn’t the only one trying to move forward in life and find meaning with his existence.

  And dammit, he wanted to know her. Really know her. Maybe he had moved next door to her for a reason. The universe could have planted him there on purpose and he had to discover why. Or maybe it was a test, a challenge, to see how strong he really was. To see if he could resist knowing her, discovering her, wanting her.

  Either way, tonight he was going to do what he damn well wanted. And the fact that the questions were structured and systematic gave him some kind of control. Unlike random conversation that went in multiple directions and could be more dangerous, this conversation would have a beginning, a middle, and an end. He just had to follow the process, and then it’d be done. He’d know April a little more, she’d know him, and he could finally feel those things he’d wanted to feel again. If only for a little while. Then he could get back to his plan.

  ‘Here you go.’ He handed April a bowl, then grabbed a plate of cheese and crackers from the kitchen and placed them on the small coffee table.

  ‘Looks nice. Do I have to name this too?’

  ‘No. It’s organic coconut ice-cream, and those bright coloured things on top are raspberries and blueberries.’

  ‘Oh really? I was wondering what on earth they could be,’ she said with a sarcastic tone.

  She dug her spoon in and Zac couldn’t help but watch her lips envelop the spoon to devour the dessert. They were pink and plump, and when she smiled they reminded him of a bow, like one you’d find on a gift.

  He sat on the couch, next to her, but not too close, at right angles with one knee casually bent.

  ‘So where are these questions?’ she asked.

  Zac got out his phone. ‘I’ll look them up.’ He found the article mentioning the research of Dr Arthur Aron and others who had developed the experiment. ‘So we take turns to read out and answer each question, until we’ve done all thirty-six.’

  ‘Sounds easy enough.’ April cleared her throat. Zac wasn’t buying it. She was apprehensive. ‘Do we have to be one hundred percent honest?’

  ‘That’s the idea,’ he said. ‘And I’ll know if you’re lying, remember?’ He smiled. ‘But that doesn’t mean you have to give absolutely everything away. You can be honest but still keep secrets.’ He was telling himself as much as her. Though there were things he wanted to share, to take the burden off his mind, there were things, well, one thing in particular, that he wasn’t sure should come out into the open just yet. If ever.

  ‘Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Question one?’ She clasped her hands together across her right knee.

  Zac cleared his throat. ‘Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?’

  ‘Will you be offended if I don’t say you?’ She laughed.

  ‘Nope, because I’m not saying you either.’

  ‘Great, glad we’ve got that sorted!’

  ‘Right. So who would you choose?’ Zac asked.

  ‘Um …’ April looked up at the ceiling. Then her gaze dropped, as though the answer had fallen in front of her, but she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. ‘Oh, this is too hard.’

  ‘We’re only at question one and you’re giving up?’

  ‘No, I’m just saying it’s too hard.’

  ‘Watch what you say, your thoughts and words become your reality, you know.’

  ‘They do? Okay, I’d love a million bucks and a holiday to Europe.’

  Zac shook his head with a chuckle. ‘I can see we’re going to be here all night.’ Question one and they were already getting off topic. He was going to have to pull the reigns. ‘Did you know we’re only supposed to spend a short amount of time on each question?’

  ‘Oh. Okay. Sorry. Right, my answer is …’ She drummed her fingers on her knee.

  ‘I’m waiting.’

  ‘Geez, impatient pain in the arse you are.’

  ‘I do my best.’ Zac shrugged. Then he leaned a little closer. ‘You already thought of someone, didn’t you? But you didn’t want to say.’

  April’s eyes widened. ‘Mind reader. They must teach you well in the army.’

  ‘Nah, it’s all in the body language. I read lots of books remember?’

  She sighed. ‘Alright then, I did think of someone, but it’s a silly answer.’

  ‘No judgement here, just say it.’ He relaxed his posture deliberately to help her feel comfortable.

  ‘I instinctively thought of my ex-fiancé, Kyle. There.’

  ‘Oh?’ Zac had been expecting her to say some B-grade celebrity. But this surprised him.

  ‘Not that I’d be able to have dinner with him, and not that he’d be in a position to be a dinner guest, because of the … anyway, it’s more that I never really got to say the things I wanted to say to him. When I said goodbye. I just basically cried and was a blubbering mess. Wasn’t pretty.’ She scratched the back of her neck and looked away.

  His heart ached for her and what she must have gone through—losing her leg and then her fiancé, though intrigue surfaced at what her other answers would reveal. He had the feeling there was a whole lot more beneath her assertive, honest, outgoing personality. ‘What would you say to him? If you could.’

  She looked up, her chest rising tightly, as though she’d thought her answer was over and done with and they could move on. ‘That’s a bit personal.’

  ‘Yeah, but maybe it’ll help if you get it out in the open.’

  She scoffed. ‘But he won’t hear any of it.’

  ‘I’ll hear it. And you’ll get it out of your head. It’ll feel better.’

  She eyed him with caution, and Zac knew she was trying to determine how much she could trust him with her personal thoughts and feelings. ‘Look, all I’d say is that even though he ended up a quadriplegic, I still would have followed through with my promise to be his wife. I would have supported him. Somehow. I would have stuck with him.’

  Zac nodded slowly. ‘I’m sure he knows that, even without you telling him.’

  ‘But it’s like I didn’t get to express it properly, and I didn’t get to talk to him about the things we’d been through together, the times we’d shared, thank him for the memories. It was like our life was in some alternate reality or was just a dream, and the accident woke us up.’

  Zac processed her words, his gaze running over her face with its rounded cheekbones, and the furrows between her eyebrows that deepened when she spoke of things that upset her.

  ‘Anyway, your turn,’ she said, exhaling a whoosh of air.

  ‘Write him a letter.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Kyle. Write him a letter. Get it all out, once and for all. So you can move on.’

  ‘After all this time? It seems silly. And I don’t want to bring up the past for him when he’s probably just getting used to his new way of life.’

  ‘Then don’t send it.’

  ‘What? What’s the point then?’

  He shifted his position on the couch, draping his arm over the back of it. ‘The point is it’ll help you. Free up your mind and heart for other things.’ Like … him? Was he unknowingly trying to help her move on so she would consider him an option? It was crazy, and he should stop it right now. He was in no way ready for anything with anyone, and would in no way surrender to the possibility. Thirty-six questions, deepen their friendship, enjoy some interesting adult conversation for once, and that was it.

  Her eyes went distant for a moment. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Good. Okay, my turn.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Who would I have for a dinner guest, hmmm.’

  ‘The Dalai Lama?’

  He smiled. ‘Don’t give me ideas, let me think for myself.’

  She made a show of zipping her mouth shut.

  ‘Megan Fo
x.’

  April looked at him with eyebrows raised in disbelief. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Why not?’ He chuckled. ‘Okay, I’ll choose again. My mother. My real mother. I’ve never met her.’

  ‘For real? So you’re adopted?’

  Oh, how he’d longed to be, in the past. But no one ever made that commitment to him. He shook his head. ‘Grew up in foster care, had a few different families. My mate Johnny,’ he cocked his head towards the mantle, ‘he got lucky, found two awesome parents after we both stayed in the same foster family for a while.’

  But his friend’s luck hadn’t lasted.

  ‘So that’s how you met him?’

  ‘Yep. His new parents made sure we kept in contact and hung out over the years, which was great. I used to wish they’d take me in too, but they only wanted one apparently.’ Or they simply hadn’t wanted him. ‘So I guess I’d ask my mother lots of questions and just kind of hang out, to see what it would be like.’

  Would she be like him? Had he inherited some of her traits? Had she somehow impacted on the person he was now?

  April nodded. ‘Maybe you’ll get to do that one day.’

  ‘Maybe. But it’s probably best to leave things be.’

  ‘Or you could write her a letter. With all your questions.’

  Zac picked up a cracker and topped it with cheese. ‘Good advice. How’d you come up with that?’

  ‘Heard it somewhere.’ She waved her hand around.

  After they’d answered questions about whether they’d like to be famous, if they rehearsed telephone calls, and what would constitute a perfect day, Zac asked April question number five: ‘When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?’

  April swallowed stiffly. ‘I don’t sing.’

  ‘Surely you’ve sung at some point. In the shower, while doing housework, at work?’ Zac sang to himself all the time. Lyrics floated of their own accord out of his mouth, like the poetry floated from his fingertips onto the computer screen.

  ‘Well yeah, but I don’t anymore.’

  Zac moved his hand around in circles to encourage her. ‘So … when was the last time?’