Meant To Be

Chapter fifteen

Reds and oranges glossed above Ronnie like a bonfire. The only thing missing was smoke, and the crusty smell, and the instant heat that bled from burning. Ronnie dunked the brush into the thick paint and dragged the bristles over the edge of the tin, cutting off the excess.

The withered wood drank the white paint like it were juice, big gulps at a time. Ronnie shuffled on her knees towards the upper end. Cocooned in calmness as nature grew drowsy, a void banged in the depths of Ronnie's being. She thought about Patrick and Hayley, giving her beautiful features and an elegant style. She imagined them working on the home she left behind, screwing a safety gate on the stairs, covering the smooth marble edge of the fireplace with soft foam, painting the small room - yellow. Ronnie remembered telling Patrick she loved the name Alex for a girl or Frankie. Patrick laughed. They're such boyish names he had said. Ronnie corrected him, their unisex, like mine. He seemed to like them better then. The memory taunted her about why they were having the conversation in the first place. She had been drunk at a family wedding, years ago, close to the beginning when they were new to their twenties. Ronnie was certain she had told him they would have beautiful babies one day.

The blobs of paint got bigger. Ronnie splattering the grass as well as the boards. Specs of paint splashed her face; t-shirt; shorts; legs. Ronnie jerked. Her vision sliced in half. Water pumped into her eye as she held a hand over it, rubbing it abusively. She could feel the redness, the sting instigating pinch like pain. Letting her eyelid open to the fresh air, the water leaked over the edge. Ronnie fired the paint brush towards the mountains, screaming.

*

Jacob stared at the word with four sounds. It made the whole sentence too chunky to dissect but he refused to Google it because he'd seen it somewhere before. The pen sat on the corner of his lips. He chewed it every now and again. His concentration broke when the back door opened. Zac walked inside. He never spoke. Jacob copied, rereading the sentence in full. He stalled on the same word again and glanced up at Zac raiding the bread cupboard. He tried to reread the full paragraph. The grind of the clumsy meat knife, its teeth on the glass chopping board made the hairs on Jacob's neck stand. He didn't reach the big word this time. Helen walked into the kitchen with the washing basket filled with laundry. She saw Jacob. She saw Zac and stopped.

"How did the counselling go?" she asked.

Zac dropped the knife into the sink. "Fine," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Did you see many people in town?" Helen set the basket on the chair and went to the kettle, filling it under the tap. Jacob noted the dirty teacup on the worktop. The full pot of tea they had drunk together with an oat cake each, only an hour ago – if even. Zac said no, heading in the direction of the back door. His jaw stiff as he chewed.

"What's the name of your councillor again? Maggie thinks it might be Sandra's daughter," called Helen after him. "She moved home from Chicago not too long ago and bought herself a nice place in town. It has a back garden and everything."

"I need to feed the horses."

Jacob looked up at the clock hanging above the door. 10pm undressing the lie. Helen said nothing. When Zac left, she turned to Jacob. "Did you know Casey was a councillor?" Jacob recognised the child like expression on her face. It was tinted with envy at being kept out of the loop. The thing was, they all had their own wee loops these days, but Jacob didn't have the heart to say it aloud. For whose benefit, he wasn't sure.

"Is she really."

Helen's lips scolded without saying a word. She went to the worktop and grabbed the dirty tea towel, throwing it on top of the load. Guilt swarmed Jacob like a hive of bees. "Mum, it could be worse. At least you know where he is," he said.

Helen thought about it as she picked up the washing basket. "That is true. And he does seem to be getting on better this last while." Jacob wondered if they were still talking about Zac. "But then again, how long will it last?" She rallied in one tight breath. "Casey has magically pulled him back from the brink but there's too much water under that bridge. It's only a matter of time."

"To what?"

Helen's brow furrowed, unable to tell if Jacob was being serious or not. "You never did tell me what you think about Casey being back." Helen set the washing basket down on the table again.

"You never asked me."

"I'm asking you now. Do you think it's odd?"

"Odd how?"

"Casey left because of Zac, the whole town knows that Jacob! What if she's back because of him too?"

"You need to stop."

"I'm just saying."

"You shouldn't be listening to town gossip. And Casey being back isn't a bad thing whatever the reason is. She's the only one that can get more than a few words out of him. I wouldn't like to think how he'd be if she wasn't here."

The memories of Zac's teenage years withered Helen's face. "Zac broke her heart."

"It's not as black and white as that. And what does it matter anyway? It was years ago."

"How can it not matter?"

"I don't know," said Jacob, lifting his shoulders. "Zac tells me nothing."

"Do you think she still loves him?"

"Not like that she doesn't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Casey isn't someone who takes second best."

"Jacob!"

"It's not wrong to say it just because Dena's dead." Jacob leaned hard on his pen, scribbling his name in thick letters. Helen's heart emptied of whatever peace she had mustered up that morning, seeing the grief they tunnelled through every day suffocate her baby without shame.

"You need to realise Jacob, Zac's trying to protect you. He doesn't want to dump all his suffering on you, especially when you're going back to college soon."

"Who said anything about college?" Jacob watched Helen as she glanced down at his textbook on the table, his notes all in blue ink, highlighted in random places in bright green. Conflicted between appreciating her bringing college up and it being forced upon her.

"I don't want you staying here because of me or Zac. You have your own life and you've been an amazing support since your dad died and through all of this, but being here isn't helping you anymore. Zac needs more time, and you need your space."

Jacob started filling his things together. His rapid hands making a mess of it. The pages sticking out all over the place. "If only it was that easy."

"Please don't be angry at me Jacob, I'm trying to do my best for everyone."

"In case it isn't clear Mum, so am I." Jacob's chair whined as he stood up. "How can you expect me to leave you here with him?"

"He's not an animal Jacob."

Jacob shoved his pen behind his ear. "You know what gets me the most? We're doing everything we can to make things better for Zac, but deep down, he blames us for keeping him here."

"This isn't about him being here Jacob, it's about Dena not being here," said Helen. "All I ask is that you give him more time."

"So what, I'm being too hard on him now?"

"That's not what I'm saying. Stop twisting my words."

"I'm not twisting your words."

Helen sighed. She placed a tender hand on Jacob, but he pulled away. Helen's arm shrivelled up against her body.

"Just let me be mad. I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Alright then." Helen lifted her washing basket, watching Jacob put his clump of papers and textbook under his arm. "Good night baby," she said, as she moved into the utility room with the dirty laundry and closed the door behind her. Jacob clenched his fist. He thought about going in there after her and apologising, knowing they would both end up tossing all night. But he didn't. Jacob moved through the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom.