A Beautiful Forever

chapter 8

Elliot

It’s almost ten o’clock on a Friday night, and we’re standing around, not quite lined up, outside a nightclub in the midst of a bunch of

18-year-old girls shivering their butts off in tiny skirts and way too much make up. At 27, I’m really starting to feel too old for these

places but Petra is only 20, and she loves the club scene, so her farewell – her choice.

This is supposedly her favourite place. It's called Fabric, and as she tells it, there are three different rooms where DJs play all night –

it sounds enormous, and really, really loud.

The doors open and Petra leads us all straight to the door where we get to jump the cue, she’s booked a table on the mezzanine

level for all of us, so we can either sit and drink or get down and dance in the sweaty pit of people expected below. Personally, I’d

rather not go down there; this night club is bigger than any I’ve ever been in. My idea of a crowded night club is obviously nothing

compared with the reality of a club in a big city with twice the population of Sydney.

Once upstairs, a waitress comes to our table and takes everyone’s drink orders, returning quickly and handing them around. The

mood is high as I watch everyone’s smiling faces while they attempt to interact with each other to the tune of some house music that

mutes their voices to everyone but the ear they’re yelling in.

Paige is keeping her distance from me as she stands at the railing, attempting to talk to Petra while she holds her drink and looks

out over the room. She’s bouncing her knee to the beat and attracting the attention of a few of the guys at another table. I can see

them ogling her arse while they unashamedly and very obviously talk about her.

As the night wears on one of the guys goes over to ask her to dance, she’s talking and smiling at him, and it’s really hard for me to

watch, even though she’s obviously refusing him. She shakes her head ‘no’ more vigorously when he inclines his head to the dance

floor for a second time. When he puts his hand on her arm to try to coax her again, I’ve reached my limit and stand up to walk over

there.

Her brow furrows as she looks from him to the hand he’s using to coax her and pushes him away from her. This guy is such an idiot

that he tries to grab her around the waist and dance with her where they stand. My blood starts to pump through my ears as I shake

my head at his actions, I don’t care how drunk you are; you don’t touch a girl when she’s saying no to you – this guy just earned a

punch to the face, and I don’t give them out very often.

As I approach, I see Paige push him back, there’s a fire in her eyes as she flicks her glass, splashing the contents all over the guy’s

face. I halt my advance as in one swift move, she grabs the guy’s shoulders and jams her knee into his crotch, stepping back and

brushing away the back splash of her drink from her dress.





Paige


What a jackass! I said I didn’t want to dance, and I meant it. I hate people touching me when I don’t invite them to. As I turn to walk

back over to the table, I'm faced with Elliot standing in front of me with his mouth wide open, eyeing the crumpled guy I just kneed in

the groin.

“I think I’d better go,” I say close to his ear, needing to yell over the music.

His mouth spreads into a smile, “That, was awesome!” he comments, nodding his head appraisingly.

“Thanks,” I laugh, “but I still think I should go, tell Petra and Naomi good bye for me?” I ask as I go to move past him.

“Paige, wait – I’ll go with you.”

“Elliot, I don’t need you to. As you can see I don’t need protecting.”

“That may be true but I’m not into night clubs anymore. I've had enough of them – Besides, you’re supposed to be staying with us

tonight, and I have the keys.”

“Fine, let’s go,” I agree. We stop off at the table and interrupt Shane and his girlfriend while they make out, to let them know we’re

leaving. Who knows if they’ll remember, they seem pretty smashed right now.

To be on the safe side, Elliot pulls out his phone and texts the others to tell them we’re going - hoping that at least one of them will

check their phone before they leave.

We flag down a cab, not wanting to ride a train again and Elliot gives the driver the address to the flat.

After a good five minutes worth of driving in silence Elliot starts laughing, “I can’t believe you kneed that guy in the crotch.”

I chuckle a little as I look out the window and think about the look on his face as he went down, “Well, he shouldn’t have been so

grabby with me.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you. My fist really wanted to have a conversation with his face after watching the way he was treating you,” he

says bluntly.

I look over at him, studying his profile as he stares ahead stoically, “Where you going to rescue me Elliot?” I ask.

He looks at me and smiles, “I don’t know what I was going to do really, I just didn’t like the way he was touching you.”

We lock eyes for a moment, quietly regarding each other. I’m not sure how I feel about this man being protective of me. I’ve been on

my own and fought for myself for so long now. The thought of someone else willing to do it for me… well…it feels kind of… nice.





Elliot


I offer to pay the cab fare but Paige insists on splitting it. Once upstairs in the flat I put the kettle on and make us both a coffee, I’ve

had maybe four drinks over the course of the night, so I could do with a little pick me up – even if it is midnight.

Paige is sitting at the kitchen table, her shoes off by her chair and her feet tucked underneath as she leans her elbows on the table

and watches me as I carry our mugs over.

“Thanks,” she says, blowing on her coffee and taking a tentative sip before sitting back in her chair and looking at me. “Elliot…were

you annoyed with me tonight?” she asks, dropping her eyes to focus on the warm mug she’s cradling in her hands.

I watch her until she lifts her eyes to meet mine before I answer. “I wasn’t annoyed Paige. I was just giving you space, I guess. You

seem to want me to back off, so…” I shrug my shoulders and pull my lips up to the side a little before taking a gulp of my coffee, now

wishing I had tested it before I took such a big mouthful. It’s really hot on the way down and my eyes water slightly from the burn.

Paige notices and stifles a giggle.

“No Elliot, I don’t want you to back off entirely. I like being around you, I just… I guess I just need you to understand that it can’t go any

further than friendship.”

“Why not?” I find myself saying.

“Because it can’t,” she says bluntly.

We sit across the table, our eyes locked as she refuses to elaborate. I’m the first to look away as I run my hands over the top of my

head in frustration and look toward the ceiling. Something tells me I’m more likely to find answers up there than I will from Paige.

“So, do you think you’re going to do any weekend trips at all while you’re here – Europe’s just over the pond, you know?” Paige says

when the silence stretches out between us, in an attempt to change the subject.

Dropping my arms to take up my mug again, I stretch my legs in front of me and look at her pointedly. “Paige, do you think we could

have a conversation that has a little give and take to it?”

She shifts in her seat, looking into her mug instead of at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I ask a question – you answer it with actual information. Then you ask a question, and I answer like I normally would

because compared to you – I’m a sharer.” I stare at her unblinking, eyebrows raised, watching as she thinks.

She puts her mug down and sits more upright on her chair as she scratches at something real or imaginary on the table, refusing to

meet my eyes again. “Fine, but I don’t have to answer everything or elaborate if I don’t want to.”

“Deal,” I say mentally preparing my first question. As she adjusts herself in her chair, sitting even straighter than she was before. It’s

as if I can actually see her defences go up, her glare has an edge to it, warning me not to push too hard.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Miranda.”

“A shire girl huh? You don’t sound like one when you speak.”

“No. I don’t. Where did you grow up?”

“Bondi. Where did you go to school?”

“Danebank.”

“Did you like it there?”

“It was a school. How about you?”

“Sydney Grammar. First job?”

Watching her, she is clearly uncomfortable talking about herself, her arms folded protectively around her waist while she watches me

as if she is ready to shut down at any moment. I could just end this now, let her be, but I can’t.

“Sex toy.”

I simply sit and stare back at her trying not to react to this one, there’s a challenge in her eyes, and I feel like she’s trying to shock me

or test me to see how far she can push before I’ll stop. When I open my mouth, I force my voice to stay even as I speak. “Sex toy?”

She shifts in her chair again and sighs, but continues eye contact, “Salon hand.”

“How old were you when you lost your family?”

“Fifteen.”

“Then what happened?”

“My life changed.”





Paige


I feel like we’re playing a game of battleship in this rapid-fire question and answer session, but he’s getting more turns than I am as

he moves towards the area of my life I really don’t want to talk about. It’s time for me to focus more on him.

“Tell me about your family, are they good to you?” I urge him, trying to get him to talk about himself, so I don’t have to refuse him an

answer. As much as I’ve had enough of talking about me, I don’t like the thought of him being upset with me.

He sits forward, taking a drink from his mug now that it’s had some time to cool down. “Does it upset you - talking about other

people’s families?”

I laugh; he is playing me at my own game, “Are we only going to ask questions now?”

“Are you finished answering questions?”

“Are you still asking them?”

“Would you like a Tim Tam with your coffee?”

“Touché, Elliot,” I laugh, “You just played the chocolate biscuit card, and you won – yes I’d love a Tim Tam.”

He smiles slightly with only half his face. It's not in any way cocky; I get the feeling he’s been trying to show me what it’s like not to be

given answers. I watch him as he rises gracefully from his chair, the muscles in his arms rippling as he reaches up and pulls a

packet out of the cupboard, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet room as he slides the biscuits out of their packaging and places

the tray between us.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says quietly. “Does it upset you?”

“No, it doesn’t. I actually like hearing about other people’s lives – their families, their friends, their interests. It’s part of what I love

about my job, these people come in and share so much about themselves, and my gift to them is an understanding ear and little

extra confidence in their looks. So please, I’m now begging – tell me about your family.”

“Well, my mum is fantastic,” he starts. I sit and listen as Elliot gives in and talks about his family, he’s an only child and his parents

divorced when he finished school. I can tell from the way he talks that he adores his mother and step dad, but he doesn’t say much

about his father.

“So where’s your father now? Do you have much to do with him?”

“We don’t talk much anymore. He wanted me to be a barrister and when I threw in the towel and altered my career path – he threw in

the towel and stopped caring about me.”

“Do you miss having him in your life?”

“I don’t know - he was very controlling. I hated being a solicitor, but he was so intent on having his son follow in his footsteps that he

wouldn’t listen to me. We’ve never really had much in common besides work and now that’s gone so…” he shrugs, letting his

shoulders drop heavily, as his sentence trails off unfinished.

“Are happier now though? I can’t really imagine you confined to desk in an office.”

“I am much happier now. He’ll get over it eventually, or not… I don’t know; it doesn’t really matter I guess. My mum and step dad are

very supportive, so I can’t really complain.”

A squeal of laughter filters in from the stairwell and we both turn our heads toward the door, listening to the noise of everyone else

coming home. Bursting through the door, laughing and falling all over each other, they immediately start babbling on about how

much fun they had.

“There she is! The Cock Smasher!” Shane slurs, pointing at me as the others all burst out laughing, I can’t help but smile along with

them as I watch their faces all screw up with drunken laughter.

“I can’t believe you dropped that guy,” Naomi laughs as they all gather round the table. There’s a flurry of hands in front of me as the

Tim Tams are snatched up and devoured in seconds.

“God I love these things,” Petra says through the chocolaty goodness in her mouth. “When I get home I’ll send you some more

packets.”

“You’d better,” Brian tells her. “It’s an unwritten law for a returning Aussie you know.”

“What is?” I ask. “Sending Tim Tams?”

“Hells yeah,” answers Naomi. “Every time one of us goes home, they have to send back a box full of things we can’t buy here like

Tim Tams, Vegemite, Minties, Milo – stuff like that. Our families send things too but we kind of do it as a farewell gift for each other.”

“They don’t have Milo here?” I ask surprised. Milo is a staple in almost every Aussie household.

“No, they drink Ovaltine instead,” Petra puts in.

Brian gets up and starts making coffee for everyone as we continue talking about the differences between Australia and here,

laughing and joking together as we do. I look around the table, taking in all the smiling faces and suddenly feel a sense of belonging.

I haven’t felt a part of something in such a long time. Smiling inwardly, I think I’m really going to like living here.