Fairy Tale of New Lawke (NaNoWriMo)

Chapter 8 - Elliot

I messed up, again, Elliot thinks, his head in his hands. His ex girlfriend's voice still rung in his ears as though she were sat next to him. Leaning back into his worn leather sofa, he knew she was right. His place was a tip with furniture holding on for dear life, clothes thrown carelessly across the mismatched armchairs. Nothing had a home, residing instead wherever he let it fall. His washing up was still piled in his sink from three days before; he despised the chore so much he'd seriously contemplated eating from plastic plates. It was no wonder his ex was so angry with him, giving him so much grief. He wasn't exactly setting the best example to anyone. 

He hadn't always been the lazy man who spent countless hours watching mind numbing television, shovelling snacks into his mouth instead of cooking a proper meal. When they'd been together, Elliot had been so attentive, everything was well looked after - his home, himself and his girlfriend. He'd tried to do everything right for her. He had still failed. Without her living with him he very quickly gave up. He thanked his parents for their genetics, his unhealthy lifestyle not having impacted his physical shape or health. He knew he needed to change, wanted to. Especially now she'd come back into his life. Adaline. She'd aged gracefully, no longer the giggling girl he'd spent a night with but a real woman. Mature. Independent. Uninterested in him. He could hardly blame her, not when he'd been so cruel treating her, and countless other women, as they were little more than his plaything. 

He wanted to be able to show Adaline he was a changed man, to show her she could trust him, but she was so disinterested he saw little point in pushing. Seeing her for the first time in so long had been a huge shock. Having never met her parents or even bother to find out her surname for that matter, he hadn't known Dottie and Adaline were related. Not that Jones was an uncommon name. After he'd spoken to her on the phone, he'd expected something, someone else entirely. He wasn't entirely sure what, but it wasn't Adaline. He'd known it was her right away, the small curved scar above her right eyebrow something he wouldn't forget any time soon. Not when he had caused it. He grimaced at the memory of his friends gloating that Adaline had taken the painstaking journey home on foot after he left her, falling into a brush trying to avoid a cyclist and hitting her head against an uprooted log. She'd carried on, bleeding and tired and he'd allowed that. He'd joined in with his friends' laughter, uncaring at the time. It was as he entered his adulthood that Elliot reflected on the behaviour of his younger self and hated the person he had been. It was a significant part of his reasoning for trying so hard with his ex girlfriend. She was his opportunity to right his many wrongs. 

I've got to call her, Elliot thought, his mind unable to sway from Adaline. If I can just talk to her, explain myself, apologise, maybe she'll forgive me. Reaching for his phone he stopped himself. He knew it was wholly unprofessional to ring his service user's family members when he wasn't at work. Hell, it was unprofessional to find yourself so incredibly aroused by their daughter but that hadn't stopped him laying awake at night hard at the thought of her. He'd considered resigning from his job, finding a new one so that he might try again with her, but he wasn't quite sure if the risk was worth taking. Heaving himself off the sofa, Elliot moved a pizza box with his foot before taking three steps into the adjoining kitchen. The sound of the kettle boiling filled the silence. For the first time in two years, Elliot craved a cigarette. Something, anything to calm his nerves and stress. With a steaming cup in hand, Elliot headed to his bedroom, a strong need for a change of scenery starting to get to him. Making a mental note to sort his life out and tidy his flat, Elliot took a large gulp of coffee, cursing as his taste buds became painfully numb as a result. 

His bed, bottom sheet barely hanging on to the edge and duvet crawling from its cover, was surprisingly comfortable. God I must be exhausted, he almost laughed to himself. It was only Monday and he already couldn't wait for the weekend, wait to have a lay in and not have to see Adaline scurry away from him whenever he entered the room. Flipping open his laptop, he searched for Indeed and began looking at job prospects within a sixty minute drive of his home. There were a few retail and driving opportunities that he saved, hoping that they would fit alongside his Open University course. He'd never taken further education seriously when he'd been in college, thinking degrees for nerds and uncool people. It was a decision he had come to regret. Older now, he wanted to make something of his life, to really have something to offer in the future. He'd worked hard for a year and a half, studying English Language and Literature in the hopes of becoming a teacher. He'd always excelled at English when in school, though he would act the fool in front of his peers. It seemed the best choice for him to try and help young children who have the mindset he had, to show them that their teenage choices could have a huge impact on their future self. He'd been able to achieve high grades, his lowest grade being the equivalent of a 2:2. 

While his mother had been proud of the determination her son had shown, his father still refused to acknowledge his existence at all. On the rare occasion that Elliot visited his family home, his father would always be out - either playing golf or with Elliot's brother or sister and their families. It almost hurt Elliot to know his father saw him as no more than the family disappointment, the college drop out next to his lawyer brother and midwife sister. "Respectable careers," his father had boasted at Elliot when he'd managed to secure a job as a palliative care worker. Their non-existent relationship had always been strained, with Elliot's dad certain he was not the biological father. Though Elliot's mother swore she'd been with no other man, he'd thrown his rage and jealousy onto Elliot from a very young age. While his brother and sister received stacks of gifts at Christmas, Elliot was lucky to have a stocking hung at the end of his bed with a few oranges inside. His mother had never tried, at least to Elliot's knowledge, to defend her son nor had she thought to buy her youngest gifts when his father did not. It had been a lonely and miserable upbringing for Elliot and he had little doubt it had impacted his life in ways his family couldn't understand.

Angry at his family's intrusion into his thoughts and determined to prove them wrong, Elliot opened his university work and began to ferociously type an essay due the week later. The clacking of the keyboard soothed him until all that was on his mind was Shakespeare. His coffee had become lukewarm as he put it to his lips again, with a grimace he swallowed the drink in one mouthful and shuddered. His stomach growled, wanting something of substance, but still he did not stop typing. The words appeared almost without effort as he lost himself in the analysis of Macbeth. He wasn't the biggest fan of Shakespeare, finding his works to be dull and tedious, but he knew being a secondary school teacher meant he was required to have an excellent understanding of the texts and the devices used throughout. Looking at the notes he had made the night before, he chewed the nail around his thumb. He didn't have much left to write and the thought of submitting his work always left a shallow feeling in his gut. The fear of another person thinking he wasn't good enough, wouldn't amount to anything. 

Unable to write any more without surpassing the leeway given on his word limit, Elliot closed his eyes and hit submit. That's it, another one down. Laying back on the bed, Elliot pulled his arm over his eyes, finally ready to submit to sleep. He'd be up early the next morning to shower and change before heading to Dottie's. He'd grown fond of her over the months, feared each morning that he may find her unresponsive somewhere in her home. He knew he'd cry. She felt more like a mother to him than his own had, despite her best efforts. It was Dottie who asked how his weekend had been, politely reminded him when he needed a hair cut and smiled at him as though he meant something. It had been an odd experience for him the first time he'd met her, with her large smile and kind eyes. She'd welcomed him in and treated him as though she'd known him his entire life. He loved hearing the stories of her youth, her childhood in the war and her experiences being evacuated away from her parents. She'd make him lunch and they'd sit together, chewing noisily and laughing at one thing or another. No. He couldn't stomach the thought of losing her. Didn't want to have to pick out a suit to say goodbye to the one adult who had shown him genuine care.  

His phone lit up beside him, his ex again. Letting out a loud groan he answered and hit speaker phone.

"Hi daddy, I miss you" a little voice sounded up at him. Elliot smiled, maybe he hadn't messed up after all.

"I miss you too sweetheart. Are you being a good girl for mummy?"