Chasing Chaos

2009

Though there were several matters that needed addressed in terms of Peter and I, there was one thing I was sure of. Peter’s fatherhood was an endearing thing, I’d decided. It gave him a level of depth that childless guys didn’t have. It hinted at responsibility and dependability. And there was something reassuring about that. Peter was an almost sure-fire safe bet in my book. It felt arrogant to think of him this way, to think that I was the one with the control in this relationship. Maybe because I’d felt so helpless in every other relationship I’d ever had.

After the pizza incident on Tom’s birthday several weeks prior, I’d promised Peter I’d make it up to him. One Friday at work, Peter suggested that I bring pizza over that night. Em would be staying with him for the weekend but this did not seem to bother him. I agreed eagerly, intrigued at the idea of spending time with him in the company of his young daughter. I wondered if this was a major step for us or if I was making too much out of it.

When I entered his flat, Peter kissed me soundly and took the pizza box from my hands. “I jus’ got cheese; I didn’ know wha’ Em liked,” I said.

“Cheese is good,” he stated. “She’s a good eater. She don’t like a lot of veggies but I didn’ eat anything green ‘til I were twenty. An’ still… ‘M a straight carnivore.”

I laughed. “I’ve an uncanny fondness for broccoli… Oh, I love asparagus too.”

As we went to the kitchen, he looked at me with curious surprise. “Asparagus? No one likes asparagus.”

“Sure, they do… Lots of people like asparagus.”

He shook his head while stepping through the doorway. Em was at the table, her blonde hair in two adorably messy pigtails. She was scribbling with a purple crayon on a sheet of white paper. “Wha’d yeh think, Em?” Peter posed to the girl. “Wha’d yeh say ‘bout asparagus?”

She looked up at us, most specifically me, with wide brown eyes and then she dropped her crayon. She stared at me intently. It struck me what a pretty child she was, all round features and pink skin.

“Don’t pull the shy card, Emily,” Peter hummed. “Yeh were babbling away a minute ago.” He turned to me. “She’ll come around after a little while.” He started getting three paper plates and a stack of napkins from a cabinet.

I took a seat beside Em at the table; she was still studying me with uncertainty. “Ello, love,” I greeted gently. She gave her father one more glance before picking up a crayon, this one orange, and thrusting it towards me with a tiny smile. This was her peace offering, acknowledging that she was alright with my presence. I took the crayon jubilantly from her small hands. This felt like a success.

Peter placed a plate for each one of us and put the pizza box in the middle of the table. He then portioned a small piece for Em and laid it on her plate. She understood that this was for her without question and she silently went to work at it. Peter proceeded to grab several pieces for himself and held the box open for me as I got my own. There was something really exciting for me about this meal. And though there were things that still troubled me when I let myself think for more than a moment, I tried to enjoy the moments with Peter and Em.

A foreign feeling struck me. It was a wanting, longing feeling from my stomach. When I thought about it, I realized what this want really was. I wanted this set-up in my own life. Maybe not immediately but at some point, I wanted to sit at a table with an affectionate, dependable man and a beautiful child, both of them all mine. We would be smiling and happy. I wanted such a life so terribly just then. I’d never had this desire before but after feeling it once, I knew I had to have it. This would be my life. Some day.

Throughout dinner, Em began brightening to me. It started very small with giggles as I tried to entertain her. It progressed into asking me to get a cup of juice for her. By the time the three of us were finished eating, Em was tugging on my hand and telling me that we were going to watch the Little Mermaid. Peter explained to me that the Little Mermaid was Em’s latest favorite movie, that she watched it at least twice a day. I told him that I rather enjoyed the movie and I didn’t mind watching it with her as long as he didn’t mind. He seemed thrilled.

I sat down with Em in the living room as Peter set up the movie. She told me all about the toy her mother was getting her for her birthday, which was coming up. She excitedly declared that she would be three. She was a rather intelligent girl and extraordinarily well spoken for two years old. I positively adored her and there was something very pleasing about the way Peter looked at us together.

She fell asleep against my arm. I hadn’t noticed her eyes fluttering closed or her breathing even out. But when she stopped talking, I knew she was sleeping. I looked up and Peter was already making to scoop her up. He picked her up deftly; he had done it many times in the past, I was sure. I remained seated on the sofa while he took her to bed.

With them out of the room, things felt dimmer, a little drained of its life. This diffused feeling washed over me entirely and suddenly I was thinking of too many things at once. I needed definitions and clarifications and a check list of things that were going too fast or too slow. I was flooded with worry about what was really happening with Peter and me. I was reminded of the things I didn’t know about him, things alluded to by a certain someone. I hated the pessimism left in me, especially after the nice evening we were having. But it crept in no matter what I did.

“She’s out cold,” Peter said, reentering the living room several minutes later.

Still stuck on my manic train of thought, I looked at him, blinked and said “Can I ask yeh a question?” I hadn’t really been meaning to discuss anything serious; the night had been going so well.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure, o’ course.”

I’d already jumped in headfirst to the conversation; I was obliged to finish. “Would yeh say yeh’ve a bad temper?”

“Wha?” He took a seat next to me and studied me seriously. “Wha made yeh ask that?”

“I jus’… It’s, well…” Some days, there were still traces of my awkward adolescence.

“Anna?”

“’S jus’ somethin’ that Oli said—“

“Oli?” He turned a nasty shade, displeased at where this conversation was headed.

I immediately began trying to dig myself from the hole I was creating. I strung my words into long rambled sentences, “I jus’ wanted to know what the deal was between yeh both and yeh still ‘aven’t told me and I figured yeh would eventually. But yeh aven’t. An’ all I know is wha’ Oliver said and I know ‘e ain’t the most reliable o’ fellas… But ‘e said yeh’ve a terrible temper and that yeh broke ‘is nose after wha’ever happened with yer sister…”

His disgust seemed to fade into regretful understanding. “Oh… yeah.” He nodded his head and took a breath. “Yeah, I more than broke ‘is nose… tore ‘im up proper good. Bloody deserved it though,” Peter murmured. His tone unsettled me. Maybe Oli was correct to label Peter’s temper as a nasty one. “But,” Peter continued. “Tha’ were a long time ago… Was right after Em was born and stuff with…” He didn’t say Em’s Mum’s name in front of me, not ever. “…stuff with Em’s Mum was gettin’ weird. Was a rough spot for me. An’ back then, my temper WAS awful. I’d been thrown from two or three pubs for fightin’ that month…” He told the story very earnestly and I knew that he was leaving nothing out. “Tha’ wanker Oli picked the wrong time to fuck up with Julie. An’ I lost it. Went totally mental over it.”

“Oh.”

“I coulda handled it better, I know that now… But I was a prat back then, yeh know?” He shrugged. “I’ve calmed down quite a bit since then. I’ve ‘ad to settle down, for Em at the least. I ‘ad to grow up eventually.”

He was so reasonable and collected about everything. Of course any worries I had about the matter were dissolved in an instant. He spoke with such a mature and wise delivery that I felt completely foolish for letting anything Oli said get to me. Peter’s swift and precise explanation was the absolute perfect answer. Slightly embarrassed, I decided a quick and painless subject change was in order. “So…” I uttered nervously. I could come up with nothing quick or painless.

Peter took note of my intent to switch topics and flowed with it; he smiled and said “I think Em likes yeh.”

“Really? Wow.” I sighed in relief. “Good—that’s good.”

“She better get used to yeh,” Peter added, taking my hand and pulling me closer to him. He brushed a kiss across my forehead as I stared up at him, keen to know why Em would need to get used to me.

“Yeh want me around ‘er more?” I asked tentatively.

He looked a little anxious and his hand twisted around mine impatiently. “Well, I want yeh around ME more. An’ yeh see, me and Em are a bit o’ a package deal.”

I leaned into him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll take yeh both then,” I said cheerfully and he beamed back at me.

“It honestly don’t bother yeh?” He questioned.

“No, I rather like it actually… Seein’ yeh with ‘er is amazin’. Yeh light up. An’ it shows ‘ow good yeh can be.”

“Tha’s really great, Anna. I… I dunno what to say.” Excitedly, he kissed me harder, with eager force. A bubbly happiness cause me to reciprocate his enthusiasm. It was a light sort of affection, not the fiery painful affection I’d known in the past. It was sweet and not at all demanding. Ever so pleasantly, he pressed his forehead to mine and grinned. He was captivating in his amiable appeal. Simply pure and honestly good.

“So, wha’s this mean?” I wondered aloud. “I’m goin’ back to Birmingham in a month…”

“Ef yeh don’t mind, I don’t mind. I think we could make it work as a, yeh know, couple.”

I was almost surprised at the elation I felt with this statement. It was so brisk and light. Simple. I smiled wide at him and his warm brown eyes were so inviting. “We can definitely make it work.

I liked the idea of having a boyfriend. I’d had less than a handful of boyfriends and only one that lasted longer than six months. Immediately, I was having long term fantasies, like earlier with my dinner table delusions. Only this time they included aisles and anniversaries. It was a strange, eager happiness; it was a future that excited me. I’d never realized how apathetic I was about school and work and forever; it was all just black and white. But the Peter prospect colored this future with reds and blues and greens.

I hadn’t been so hopeful in years.

---

2005

The first time wasn’t great per say, for some obvious sort of reasons, most notably my apparent innocence in the sex department. Of course, it had its moments; Oli certainly knew what he was doing and made it as painless as possible for inexperienced me. But I enjoyed it; it worked to get rid of the empty chest feeling. Though it wasn’t a porn-worthy performance, it hinted at a quite promising future.

The second time proved this hint. Chill and scream inducing. Nails racked across heated flesh. Teeth sunk in. Skin slick with sweat. Sublime and somehow saccharine.

And after that, I couldn’t stop. I’d never known the feeling of melting into someone. It was an unbelieveable thing; it was a feeling of perfect connection. I hated being as attached to Oliver because of it; I knew I would only get myself into trouble feeling as such. But he was making me believe he liked our stuck-like-glue attachment.

Even when we weren’t having sex in that first week, his hands were always on me. Running fingers through strands of my hair or gripping my hips or brushing his thumb across my cheek. And always always always holding my hand. He would wrap his arms around my waist whenever we were still for more than a moment and he would peck a kiss onto my lips whenever he would be leaving my side even for an instant. He made the whole charade seem so real.

His friends were even starting to grow curious about what was going on. When we arrived at band practice one evening, he was whispering something in my ear that broke me into a series of giggles and just as everyone caught sight of us entering, Oli was kissing my forehead. Kean abruptly halted his bass playing and Nicholls, who had Gracie at his side, let his mouth hang open in confusion.

“Wha’re yeh lot lookin’ at? I’m not late again. ‘M ten minutes early,” Oli immediately began defending himself. They all very quickly went back to their business, tuning guitars or drinking Red Bull and occasionally throwing glances our way.

I took a seat beside Gracie on one of the couches in the practice space. She eagerly took a hold of my hand and began chatting with me. “’Ave yeh heard ‘bout this Visible Noise business?”

I nodded but didn’t say that I’d known for weeks. “Aye, I heard.”

“Isn’t it bloody brilliant? I nearly peed myself when Matty told me.”

“I did pee myself,” Curtis interjected as he hooked his cord under his guitar strap.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Gracie quipped.

“Oh come on, Gray,” Curtis frowned. “We’ve agreed to not talk about tha night.”

“I’ve agreed to nothin’ of the sort. Ef yeh lot are gonna get so trashed that yeh vomit and urinate on yerselves while I’ve to take care o’ yeh… I can talk about it as much as I please.” Gracie grinned and then as an aside to me said “Glad yer around to help me babysit these blokes, Annie baby.”

“Dunno ‘ow good o’ a babysitter I can be… I’m younger than all o’ ‘em.”

“But yer twice as mature, so the age difference balances out.”

I shrugged. “Somethin’ like that.”

Gracie tugged on my hand. “Let’s get a beer.”

“What?” I questioned as we stood.

“Lemme buy yeh a drink ‘round the corner. Ef I gotta hear ‘em play Traitors one more fuckin’ time, I’ll shoot myself in the face,” she said with her most cheerful voice and it was hard not to laugh. No one had really heard us talking about leaving so when we began walking out the door, hands still linked, Oli immediately asked “Where are yeh two goin’?”

Gracie responded “We’re headed to Vegas to get married.”

“Is tha’ legal?” Kean inquired rhetorically.

“Really though,” Oli continued with a frown. “Yer leavin’?”

“Jus’ for a few minutes,” she explained.

“O’reight,” he allowed tentatively and stared firmly as we left. I waved a bit at him while we went.

As we made our way down the street, Gracie walked fairly swiftly, considering the four inch neon stilettos she was sporting. To be honest, she did not so much walk as she did strut to the pub; her strides were practically runway ready. And when, after several minutes, we arrived, she made such a large entrance that everyone turned to look at us as we took our seats on the high stools.

Being with Gracie was like being with a celebrity. Everyone stared and everyone was too afraid to talk to her. If it were me, I would be a self-conscious wreck over these things. But Gracie took it in stride; even opting to blow kisses at gawking strangers. She no longer intimidated me with her brazen attitude; instead it reassured me. She ordered both of our drinks, not even regarding my preferences. I didn’t mind. She had good taste in things and I trusted her judgment. I gladly drank the Gracie-approve lager.

She didn’t waste much time before beginning with probing questions, questions I’d had a suspicion were coming. “So, Annie, tell me somethin’.”

“Tell yeh what?” I replied, anxious as to what her inquiry might be.

“Tell me ‘bout Oli…”

“Wha about ‘im?” I decided to play this one by ear, not revealing anymore than she asked.

“Wha’s ‘e like?”

“I don’t know—“

“Yeh know exactly what I mean, Anna Lucille. I mean wha’s ‘e like. Is ‘e as big as ‘e o’ways says?”

“Oh, uh, I…” I rubbed my hands together and spouted “‘Ow’d yeh know we’ve…”

“’S so bloody obvious. Yeh fuckin’ glow like a lightbulb.”

“Oh.”

She thought about it more and added “Oli too for that matter.”

“Really? Oli too? Yeh think?”

“Oli especially. Wish yeh could see the way ‘e looks at yeh.”

“Eh?”

“’E ain’t never looked at a girl tha’ way.”

“I doubt tha’s true…”

“It is. ‘E mostly jus’ gives ‘em the bedroom eyes and then doesn’ look at ‘em again… An’ ‘e can’t stop starin’ at yeh,” Gracie blathered, making me tremendously uneasy. “Yeh must be special. ‘S awful good to see ‘im with a girlfriend.”

“Oh, we aren’t, uh… ‘s not like that.” Though I had been saying this for some time in reference to Tom, to say it in regards to Oli felt off somehow. Something didn’t click.

“Bullocks, Annie. ‘S definitely like that.”

“It is not. It’s total nothin’. We’re friends.”

“Friends who fuck?”

Embarrassment colored my cheeks rosy. “I… I guess so.” I didn’t like how that sounded. It seemed sort of trashy saying it like that.

Gracie let out a harsh laugh at my discomfort. “Love, yer above that.”

“Above wha?”

“Above tha’ sort o’ thing. Yeh ain’t a sleazy lass; yer a nice lass. A proper sweetheart.”

“Thanks?”

“I mean it. Yer fabulous, Anna and Oli knows that. Least I think ‘e does.” Gracie swigged her beer. “’E better know it.”

“Gracie, please…” I pleaded.

“Wha? I’m jus’ sayin’…”

“Please don’t though. Don’t make it somethin’ more.”

“I’m not makin’ it anythin’ it’s not. Jus’ tellin’ yeh wha’ I see.”

“Gracie, I can’t think it’s somethin’ more. I jus’ can’t. Tha’s dangerous.”

“How is something that’s true dangerous?” Gracie edged carefully.

“It can’t be true; yeh know Oli as well as I do. Oli isn’t interested in me.”

“Not interested,” she snorted. “’Ow naïve can yeh really be, Anna?”

“It would be naïve to want a relationship with Oli Sykes. To think it’d even come close to happening is naïve.”

“Stranger things ‘ave happened, I’m sure.”

I groaned softly. “Stop it. I’m nothin’ special to ‘im.” I recalled what Tom had said several weeks before. The thought of him saying what I had just repeated to Gracie was biting; it still stung as if it were a fresh wound.

She just laughed and responded “O’reight. ‘Ow ‘bout yeh take note o’ the way ‘e treats yeh. Watch ‘im humour yeh and then think ‘bout ‘ow Oli don’t cater to anyone else like ‘e does you…”

This was interesting to anticipate and difficult to think about. Did he actually treat me any differently than anyone else? As Gracie drank her three beers to my one, I considered Oli’s behavior since we’d had sex. He was ceaselessly sweet, often staying for hours in his bed lying next to me, kissing my bare shoulders and burying his face in the curve of my neck. It really was enchanting. If he had been my boyfriend, I’d consider him a good one.

Gracie and I made our way back to the practice space. Her, in her florescent green heels and skin tight jeans. Me, behind a layer of auburn curls and jitters. I wondered what people saw when they looked at Gracie and I: Would they see two equally alluring girls or just one impossibly cool girl and her uncomfortable friend?

The boys didn’t stop playing when we stepped back into the room. They instead tried to finish their song, which ended with Curtis messing up his part, bursting into laughter and then replacing the final piece with a foreign riff.

“Fuckin’ Metallica,” Oli murmured into the mic before letting it fall to the ground. The rest of them, panting and sweating, seemed to give up as well. Nicholls dropped his sticks onto the head of his snare, stood up and went straight to Gracie. She shrieked and attempted to escape his sweaty grasp. Kean and Curtis were jamming together, trying to pick a song they both knew while Lee sat and told them that they were doing it wrong.

Oli walked to me with a frown. “Yeh were gone awhile.” Like every other time he was near me within the last week, he took my hand.

“Aye,” I responded. “Flights to Vegas are long,” I teased.

“Where’d yeh really go?”

“To get a drink down the street.”

“Oh… I jus’…” He wiped his sweat-slicked forehead. “I jus’ like knowin’ where yeh are… So I don’t worry.”

“Worry? You?” I smirked, shook my head and stood on my toes to peck his lips. “Yer funny.”

“Why am I funny?” He asked in entire seriousness.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to one of the sofas. “Because yeh don’t got a worried bone in yer body, Oli.”

But the furrowed brow stare he gave me shouted otherwise.