Displaced Prince

After finally dragging ourselves out of the shower, we head into Wellie. I’ve left the bike at John’s so I can have a drink later, and after a couple of hours of pleasant aimless wandering, we end up in the park.

Sam smiles at me as she walks away, that shy, smile she has now that’s all mine, that lets me know she’s thinking of last night. I smile back, and she flounces off in search of ice-cream. Lying back on the grass, I’m thinking this is the most relaxed I’ve been since I hit town, and that really makes me wonder. I roll onto my stomach, and play with a piece of grass. I hadn’t intended to fall asleep last night, was gonna stay awake, didn’t want to risk hurting Sam, but the dream I had? Wasn’t nearly as intense as the others lately. It was manageable, and I’ve had to admit to myself that maybe there’s an external force intensifying my nightmares.

Since moving in with Dave, they’ve been escalating faster than they ever have before. Dave .... how could he be affecting me? I snort at the thought. Affecting me? Being close to him is like putting my hand into fire, and God, I wanna let myself burn.

When I think of his touch on my skin, I get this heat in the pit of my stomach, and the thought of his fingers tangled with mine … why that? Why does that image have the power to make me wanna groan out loud lying here in the middle of the park? I look down at my hands, now full of shredded grass, and remember them covered in blood. I can’t take the chance that one kind of intensity won’t lead to another. I can’t take the chance of hurting him, just so I can be with him.

I look up and see Sam at the ice-cream stall, flirting with the vendor, she looks so happy, and I’m suddenly feeling guilty. I swear she’s not second best, not a substitute for something I can’t have. She’s different. Warm and soft and open and honest, and I need that right now, need her, but that doesn’t stop me craving someone else. And if I was brutally honest, if things were “normal”, who would I be with right at this moment? Gah! I can’t go there! Not with her smiling at me as she makes her way back to me, but I should have told her I’d be taking off next week before we … well, before last night. I’m coming back; I’ll tell her that, too … least I hope I’m coming back. And maybe I’ll be alone. I’d always thought that would make me happy, to be rid of him, his troubled thoughts and dreams, but I don’t want to lose him like that, I don’t want to watch him die.

She hands me my ice-cream, smiling, and we sit close together on my jacket, talking about where to eat later, which movies we want to see. And I don’t tell her I’m leaving, because that would make the smile slip from her face, and just for this one more day, I need to feel her happiness. I’ll tell her tomorrow …

One trip to Uncle Changs for amongst other things the best pot-stickers I’ve ever tasted, one visit to the movies to see Troy, glad Sam chose that over Van Helsing for one particular reason, and a final stop at the Firkin later, where I introduced her to Gareth, who flirted mercilessly with her, even though we all know she’s not his type, our cab pulled up outside John’s place, and I walked her to the door. The lights were on, and I guessed John was waiting up for her, so we lingered over a kiss, and she smiled when I said I would be over in the morning for the bike, saying she would make sure there was coffee on.

I wandered down the drive, giving Leelu an affectionate pat on the way past, and jumped back in the waiting cab.

Sitting here on the stairs, beer in hand, staring out into the darkness is the almost perfect way to end this evening. One thing is missing that would make it totally perfect, or rather one person.

Sam.

She looked gorgeous when I arrived to pick her up on the bike. She climbed up behind me, and I reached back and pulled her closer, giving her hand a squeeze as I put her arm around my waist. It felt good to have her warm against my back.

Sam’s so enthusiastic about everything, it’s infectious. She’s so beautifully open and honest, nothing hidden beneath the surface and I found myself opening up to her more than I have to anyone in a long time. It felt good. I can’t remember what was on my pizza, or what we had for dessert. All I remember is being with someone who made me feel comfortable talking about myself, who made me laugh and smile.

We talked about family. So I told her about growing up in Auckland, how my Dad taught us Aikido almost as soon as we could walk, how my Mum has a thing about the Odyssey and the Iliad, and almost called my older brother Hector. My Dad had objected, and I’ve often asked him where he was when I needed him! Sam laughed, and said she likes my name. I think I blushed.

She told me about Jessica and Daniel and growing up in Sydney. About being involved with the drama group in school, playing Juliet, which I thought she would be perfect as (her turn to blush) and she had me in stitches with tales of the more experimental projects they worked on.

She asked if I’d ever visited Australia, so I made her laugh with stories about the family road trip from hell we took there when I was 17. Being woken by my Dad at 6.30 every morning so we could get back on the road and drive to the next place in the middle of nowhere that none of us had heard of. How the three of us, Steve, Helen and me, sat in the back of the truck, devising ways to escape. The best one involved a sign that said “Help, I’m being kidnapped”, and a gagged Helen holding it against the back window of the car, gesturing frantically. 30 minutes later, we were all standing by the side of the truck, explaining to the police exactly what had happened! We giggled together as I told her about the look on my parent’s faces as the police explained why they had been pulled over.

I didn’t tell her that visiting Ayres Rock later that week had been a turning point in my life, that since the first night we spent there, I’ve never felt truly alone, that the dreams and nightmares started that night and have never left me. I didn’t tell her that.

Instead, I told her things that made her laugh and smile, and reach over and touch my hand. Things that made her eyes sparkle. And I asked her about her life. I heard about the camping trips she loved taking with her friends, how she missed the nights spent out in the open, watching the stars. When I asked her if she would like to go camping in the mountains some time, she flashed me one of those killer smiles, and her hand rested on mine for a little longer. And she told me about college, and how she had given up the social work course after realising it wasn’t really what she wanted to do. I said it took guts to follow her heart like that.

As we walked back to the bike, my hand brushed against hers. She slipped her fingers around mine, and I felt something catch in my chest, and a huge grin break out on my face. We walked back to the bike in a comfortable silence. I didn’t want to let go, so pulled her towards me, giving her every chance to stop me, knowing she wouldn’t, and I kissed her. It was sweet and soft and new at first, her arms snaking around my shoulders, and I held her closer, my hands losing themselves in her hair, her lips hot against mine, opening, letting me sink into her …

I refused her offer of a coffee when I dropped her off at her place. Would have felt a bit weird, being in John’s place, with John’s daughter, but promised I would ring her. And I will. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease with someone. This place is making me restless, breaking down defences it’s taken me years to build up, and that terrifies and exhilarates me all at the same time. I feel like I’m caught in some sort of whirlwind, and don’t think I could escape it if I tried.