bold is japanese
"Mom?" I ask, listening to slight rustling and commotion on the other end. My attempt to contact my mother and somehow get her approval seemed to be simple, but I knew she'd be everything but problematic. I don't know why I still tried; she'd not supported me whatsoever before. why would she now? Because of a promotion? I doubted it.
"Belle?" She speaks, though muffled. Eventually it seemed to have calmed down slightly, before she spoke once more. "How are you, dear?" Slowly, I played with the hem of my hoodie, it suddenly felt really tight to my throat.
"Well..." I began, trailing off. "I've got good news-"
"Oh, sorry honey, I can't hear you too well, I'm in Ohio at the moment with a client." She says, though I can hear her crystal clear. Although I don't want to doubt her, part of me wondered whether she was lying and simply wanted to talk about herself. "You know, he reminds me of you. He is so closed off, and worried about everything. God-" She began. I'd felt a little offended by her first comment. There had been a reason I was the way I was, she of all people had known that.
"Anyway, so the case involves his ex, they broke up years ago, but he is still hung up on her. I said to him you'll have to meet my daughter! I think you'd get on well." Mom laughed down the phone, and I felt a weight gain on my lungs. Of course, this was all she'd thought of me.
"Mom!" I practically shouted, causing her to stop chattering away. "I called to tell you, I am professionally dancing now. In an elite performance group." I said, praying she'd care somewhat.
"That's great honey, but you really shouldn't shout like that-"
"And, I have a therapist now, I'm getting better." I stated. She was silent on the line for a few moments; I thought she'd hung up.
"I thought you couldn't afford that?" She asked. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before responding.
"George is paying for it."
I wasn't sure what I had expected her response to be like - I'd least expected silence. But, that was what I'd gotten. It had to be about a minute of my heart beating so fast I thought I was going into cardiac arrest, and another minute of thinking I was going to have a seizure if she didn't say anything.
"You're seeing him again?" My mom wasn't known to be quiet. Which is why, after this sentence, I was practically shitting myself. The question had came out a mere whisper.
"No, I mean... physically, yes. He came to my show with Lake, and they all stayed over afterwards, Jane too. He wanted to make amends after seeing me again, so offered to pay for therapy."
"You can't be serious, Belle. It's been four years of constant sadness, of stress, loneliness, and you're doing this to yourself? What happens when he leaves you again? I think- I think you might actually kill yourself if that happens."
"He's just paying for my therapy, mom."
"You're fucking crazy, Belle. If you're doing this, I'm not being a part of it. Don't call me until you get rid of him - and aren't depressed about it."
She hung up. Breathing in, tears rimmed around my eyes and I held back sobs. I had to be stronger than her.
Fuck it.
I scroll through my contacts, clicking George's number. It rang once, twice, and on the third, he picked up.
"Hey Belle." He answered. I sniffed, trying to keep it together. "Are you okay?" He sounded concerned.
"Yeah - I mean no - but it's okay. Are you free right now?" It wasn't the best way to deal with my feelings, though I didn't care.
"I'm with Art at the moment- hold on." He paused, and I could hear Artemis' Japanese the other end of the phone. "He said you can come over, I'll text you the address. Is that okay?" He asked.
"That's great, thank you Joj."
Hanging up, I tugged on my sweater and wiped my eyes. I looked like I had just done crack, but both of them had seen me like this multiple times. I picked up my car keys, and left.
-
"Hey!" Art answers the door, smiling. I return the expression, although feeling shitty.
"How are you?" I ask, hugging him.
"Great, thank you. Come in."
"She is here already?" George questions, glancing over to me. I shoot a weak smile, and he gestures beside him on the sofa to sit down. I gladly take a seat beside him, letting myself sink into the leather. His house was nice, clearly decorated by a woman. Everything matched, with dark brown and white tones throughout the living room.
"Now, what's up?" George broke the silence, and Art briefly left the room.
"Just... my mom." I looked up at him, seeing his eyes placed directly on my face, but feeling uncomfortable, I glance at the floor. "I called to tell her about dance, and she just compared me to a mentally ill client she has... so I told her therapy and she just flipped out."
"She flipped out because you're getting therapy?"
"No -" I stopped myself, as I saw Art walk through the door once more, holding a glass of whiskey. He handed it to me, then sat in a chair opposite to us.
"She's driving." George seemed annoyed, but Art just shrugged.
"One won't hurt." He replied, and looked to me. "Continue with your story."
I glanced down at the brown liquid, tipping it into my mouth and swallowing it all quickly. I hated the burn, but I had appreciated the alcohol.
"She got mad that you're in my life again." I said, refusing to look up and see their expressions.
"Oh." George replied, shifting in his seat. Reluctantly, after a few moments of silence, my eyes finally shoot up to see him. He looked sad, and clearly guilty. "How about another drink?" Art stood up, leaving the room once more. He clearly felt awkward.
"If you don't want me to be around you, you need to tell me, Belle. I don't mean any harm." He said, quietly.
"I want you, George." I was a little to eager, and I realised shortly after that it was clearly an innuendo. "I mean-" I look over to him, trying to save what I said, but he was smiling.
"I know what you mean." He said, lifting an arm and putting it around me. "You helped me with my problems, and I'll help you. At least, I'll help you feel better."
I felt warm inside knowing he cared.
"You'll have to walk me home if I'm drinking." I stated playfully as the bottle and three glasses were brought out. I watched as George took the brown liquid, taking off the cap and pouring us each our ration. We instinctively brought all glasses together, saying "kanpai!" before necking it. Smiling after drinking, I looked over the two males, feeling safe at last.
"I guess that's cheers to the wedding then?" George spoke, looking to Art. In reply he simply nodded, pulling a small grin to himself.
"You're getting married?" I practically shout, in shock. He laughs, nodding once more.
"You can come as my plus one." Joji whispered. I turned back to him, shocked.
"Really?" My excitement was clear by the tone of my voice. "I love weddings." I turn back to face Art, who already has his phone out knowing I would ask to see a picture of her. And when he turned the screen, I wasn't surprised. She was beautiful, and exactly the type I would have guessed.
"Cook?" I question, and he nods as rubbing his stomach.
"I've put on a few pounds."
"We're all old people now." I reply, earning small sniggers from both of them.
After a while, it began to get dark. Nearing to Winter now, the nights seemed far too long; leaving barely enough space for the day. Christmas made it worthwhile, though. We were just leaving, as I realised the comment I had made earlier. George and I had both been a little drunk despite it only being around six or seven.
"Isn't your house completely the other direction of mine?" I asked. I noticed a slight slur in my words, but ignored it. Mentally I felt I could sober up if I tried hard enough. Joji hadn't given me a reply, only laughing in response.
Step after step, I realise how far his apartment was on foot, and how I would have to walk this again tomorrow to get my car back. George walked close to me, his steps slightly larger than mine.
"Do you regret leaving?" I blurted, the whiskey seemingly aiding my curious side.
"To Aus?" He asked, though we both knew what I'd meant. "No-" He stammered. "I don't."
I had to admit to my disappointment. Part of me had hoped he would be saying 'oh yes, how I regret leaving you' - but that was never going to happen. Still, he was back now.
"Why did you return?" I interrogated.
"I guess..." He trailed off, large steps turning to small in thought. "I missed it."
I laughed. "Missed the dirty streets, alcoholics and drug users?"
"A lot of what I missed was just nostalgia. Now I'm back, it seems like what I thought I enjoyed was because of how it was in that time of my life where I'd enjoy almost anything. I was young and thought more of what little experience in life I'd had."
Although it seemed a bit too deep for being drunk, I appreciated that he'd been honest with me.
"This is me, then." I said, feeling a little disappointed the 'trip' was coming to an end. I'd also felt the alcohol had somewhat worn off as I'd lost the warm feeling in my stomach, and felt a little more nausea.
"I'm glad you came, Belle." He said, taking my shoulders in each of his hands. I smiled up at him, noting that he'd had a few more than me, hence him still being tipsy. We stare at one another for a while, the silence feeling comfortable. It had almost made me feel sleepy, feeling his arms around me, looking to his eyes. The only problem being that over time I'd realised he was slowly leaning inward. Naturally, I reciprocated his movements, leaning in and stopping when his lips were on mine. We kissed once, lightly, before he pulled away abruptly. Confused, I looked up at him. He was taking more than a few steps back, away from me.
"I'm sorry, it just felt natural." He said, in clear disgust. He rubbed his lips with the top of his wrist.
"Don't be sorry-" I began, but he interrupted.
"Belle, I can't - I'm so sorry." He turned away from me, quickly walking away. I was left out on the cold sidewalk, but I didn't want to go inside. I felt frozen, unable to motivate myself to move over the intense stinging and sinking feeling in my stomach.
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