California Dreaming

Chapter Twenty Four

   “Outside there’s a box car waiting, outside the family stew. Out by the fire breathing, outside we wait ‘til face turns blue,” Gabes lent over me, singing into my ear, his voice catching in places. This was the reason he told me he was not a good singer, because his voice could turn rough in places. I turned the album cover over in my hands, running my fingers over the thick, card casing, as I inspected the original artwork, before flipping it over to see what tracks were listed. “You’re so hipster,” Gabriel chuckled, swinging my hips from side to side in time to the Lou Reed song playing in the record store. I looked at him over my shoulder and stuck my tongue out, scrunching up my face. 

   “You’re so funny,” I said sarcastically, sliding the record back into the box and continuing to flick through the selection of old vinyl. “I can’t believe you’ve never got into records, the sound of mp3s just can’t compare,” I spoke subconsciously, more focussed on finding an Elvis or Frank Sinatra album. 

   “What do you want to do tonight?” He kissed my neck, his wispy brown hair brushing against my cheek, making me giggle. I put all the albums back in their places and grabbed hold of Gabriel’s hand, skipping happily and leading him out of the small store. 

   “My mum’s home for a few days,” I explained, “I’ll probably have to stay at home, have dinner with her and my dad.” 

   We got into his car and turned off onto the freeway, the flat, white sand beaches, stretching on one side, visible through the small spaces between palm tree leaves and spindly branches. I rolled down the window and held my hand out of it, squinting against the Californian sun. 

   “Would you,” Gabriel started, biting on his bottom lip, before trying again. “Would you mind if I stayed and ate with you guys? My dad’s out of town and my mum’s round at my aunts, I know it’s hard to predict what Harry’s going to do, but, I mean, I think I’d feel better if I was around people.” He sounded nervous, scared of what he was asking of me, as if it was something horrific. 

   “Of course,” I nodded, watching Gabriel’s profile as he kept his eyes steady on the road. 

   “Thanks.” 

   “I’m worried for him, you know,” I confessed, pulling my hair back off my face. We slowed down outside my house and Gabes cut the engine, turning to look at me curiously; he frowned, prompting me to explain what I had meant. “Harry,” I looked down at my lap, slightly ashamed of what I was saying, “he’s just so sick.” I felt tears biting at my throat, changing the tone of my voice, making it harder for me to breathe. 

   “He’s twisted,” Gabriel agreed. 

   “No,” I shook my head troublesomely, “he’s ill, it’s a disease.” 

   “Jia, why are you trying to protect him?” I know he didn’t mean to sound critical, he couldn’t help it, I was defending the boy who had almost killed us, the boy who had broken into our school just to torment me. 

   “I’m not!” I exclaimed, jumping out of the car and meeting him round the other side of the car, leading him up the front path. “I’m just,” I paused, taking a deep breath of the fresh air as I tried to find the words to explain what I was feeling. I pushed open the front door and found my parents cuddled up on the sofa. 

   “Hey mum,” I went over to her and hugged her over the back of the couch, inhaling the smell of her perfume as it clung to the collar of her shirt, to her milky skin. “Gabes is staying for dinner, is that okay?” I gave her a kiss on the cheek, standing upright. 

   “That’s fine,” she nodded, “but me and your dad are going to see a movie later, so get him to stay late.” 

   “I’ll look after her, Mrs Cheung,” Gabriel called from the hallway, making my mum smile. 

   “I know you will, Gabriel,” she replied, “dinner at six.” 

   “Okay,” I started up the stairs, hearing Gabes following close behind. We went into my room and fell down onto my bed, collapsing besides each other as the sun shone through the window and onto his face, turning his hair golden. 

   “Continue?” He prompted. 

   “Sorry, what?” I pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about. 

   “What’s bugging you, Jia, I’m not going to judge you, or challenge your feelings, I promise?” 

   “I just,” I curled up into a ball, muffling my voice against the white bed linen, “you didn’t know him before all of the madness. He was sweet and caring and genuine and smart!” I closed my eyes, rubbing at them and fidgeting awkwardly. I felt Gabes wrap his arm around my waist, curling up besides me. “Back in England, I only saw the bad, I saw the fact he had stabbed me and the fact the had stalked me and made me feel unsafe, but here,” I paused again, “there are flashes, where I see the old him. The him who lived me has no idea of what he has been doing to hurt me, do you get what I’m saying?” 

   “Yeah, I mean, I think so,” he whispered, kissing my cheek. 

   “I hate him,” I said flatly, bitterly, “but Harry’s not there anymore, this isn’t him.” 

   “I get it,” he agreed, moving his fingertips in patterns over the nape of my neck. I turned to face him and smiled, wrapping my legs around him and sitting on his stomach, smoothing my hands over his chest and leaning down to kiss him before I heard my mum calling us down for dinner. 

   “You’re so incredible, Jia,” Gabriel admired, as I climbed off his chest and stood by the door, waiting for him to follow me. 

   “I still want to kill him,” I said truthfully, “but I know the real Harry is still in there somewhere.” 

   “Everything will work out, I promise,” Gabes stood up and came to where I was standing in the doorway, leaning against the archway and bending down to kiss me, pushing me up against the white woodwork. “I love you.”