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Chapter 2 Part 4
“Ah!” She’s looking quite chipper, a cardboard cup tray dangling from her fingertips in a way that makes me so sure she’s stabbed her nails into the bottom to hold it still. “I was hoping you lot would be up! Coffee?” She plops it down rather unceremoniously. I find myself looking closely as Damon lifts one with his name scrawled on the lid, but it doesn’t seem to have any puncture holes through the bottom. Strange, considering how perfectly she’d sat the thing on the tips of her fingers. I take one. No crows today.
“What milk is it?” The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until Damon asked quietly. Now that I’ve already had a few mouthfuls and the aftertaste is rather strange, at that, I wonder if the crows have left us be not because of good fortunes but because they’re afraid of the smell after I’ve soiled my pants.
“What do you mean what milk?” She’s staring up at Damon with a coy smile, slowly setting her own coffee down.
“I mean what milk is in the
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Foster Chapter 3 Part 1
December 6th, 2012 Morning “How’s Bertrand?” Tami flicks her cigarette at me with a cruel, small smile. She’s about as fuckable as they get. Blonde bombshell. Though the type with a rather thick Yorkshire accent and smoker’s teeth. Dark brows. A deep tan. Bright blue eyes. That winning, albeit dull smile. A bog-standard cockthrob. “Bert.” I say, stiffly at that. “Like Bert is any better.” She struggles with the T’s. James buts in now, all dark hair and dazzling blue eyes. “’You reckon he’s off fucking Ernie right now?” They laugh. I laugh with them. I’ve got to. My pride is at stake. “Shut it, wanker, you wouldn’t know if you’re on foot or horseback.” James doesn’t take kindly to this. His charming bright smile falls. Suddenly, he’s glaring at me. He doesn’t mean it. He never does. “Maybe, maybe not,” Now, he stands. Takes a cigarette from Tami. Does that little walk
Foster Chapter 3 Part 2
“You’re looking a bit better.” He’s staring at me while I settle into my seat. Eyes so keen and dark and unreadable. So closed-off to the public. To everyone, really. I haven’t a clue what’s going on in there. He doesn’t mean that he likes the way I look. For some reason, I must remind myself that. I’ve got a bit of colour, mum would say. She would pinch my cheeks and smile at the pink. If she was here, she would compliment the freshly dyed hair. Tell her I looked like grandma. We would dance and sing together about superstitions and princesses. All would be right in the world. “Did you eat yesterday?” “No, but I wasn’t up and about much, either.” I stare into the empty glass of table water. My throat is feeling rather dry. Somehow, I don’t think water will help. “Last time you were having nightmares you weren’t eating. Or sleeping.” Why is he so closed off? He stares into my eyes as though he’s talking to a patient, rather cool and matter of fact.
Foster Chapter 3 Part 3
December 1st, 1999 Afternoon Damon “Chloe?” The house is silent, bar the click of the front door closing. Awfully so. A draft comes through the living room, so brittle I swear it could knock me off my feet. An alarm clock is ringing. She’s slow to stop it, the sound lofting around with that cool breeze. Or maybe she’s not home. I shrug off my coat. Lay it across the back of the couch on my way to the window. The rattle of a door in its frame stops when the window slides shut — I hadn’t noticed it, either. Somehow, the house is more silent now. “Chloe!” “Damon!” She pops around a corner, flaming hair twisted up at the crown, strands billowing around her face. She’s wearing an especially well-worn cardigan, the skin around her eyes dark and sunken. She hadn’t been sleeping. I can see that. She’s in the bed with me each night, breathing steadily, what does she do for those hours? Stare s
Foster Chapter 3 Part 4
June 8th, 2011 Morning The sky whips around us. The trees have sprouted leaves again. The countryside is a bright green. The sky a brilliant blue. The air has warmed, though not by much. It’s strange, the sensation of beaming sun on my bare legs. Fills me with sleep but invigorates me all the same. I hug my cardigan tighter. “Where are we going?” I’m almost afraid to ask. The not knowing is most exciting. “I’m sure you’d love to know.” He reaches over, squeezing my hand. His skin has turned already. A deep, warm bronze. Hair mousy and bright. Tousled. Untouched. He wears jeans. A thin button-down. Wild chest hair peaks through the top. Sometimes I wish I was his biological daughter. If only to be that beautiful. “I would.” He grins. A cheeky, bright smile. “That’s too bad, Isn’t it?” And drops my hand again. “The beach?” “No.” “The harbour?” “Isn’t that the s
Foster Chapter 3 Part 5
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Foster Chapter 3 Part 6
“What?” Tami is at my side, yelling between us. “His wife moved in again after like ten years, apparently they separated but never divorced?“ I pat at my jean pockets, looking for my card. I need another shot. “You reckon he killed someone?” Tami somehow sounds more British than usual. “He had a kid?” James seems to be concerned for different reasons. “Well, he didn’t deny it when I asked — he said that they all know how the kid died and who was responsible. Bobs your fucking uncle. Another tequila please!” I think the bartender is eavesdropping, she’s already looking when I sway in her direction. I need both arms to hold myself up. “On the house.” Probably shouting me a drink for the entertainment. “Damon would never.” Tami is frowning. I’ve always thought she wouldn’t mind boinking him. She did seem to fancy Damon, actually. And why wouldn’t he? I’m a bit more interested in my shot. It’s gone quite
Foster Chapter 4 Part 1
December 16th, 2012 Evening Last night is still a little bit… foggy. In layman’s terms. Lost in the endless and ever-consuming abyss of binge drinking is probably the more technical way to put it. Temporary anterograde amnesia. Limited impairment of the ability to form new memories. The anterior of my head is hurting, I can tell you that much. Worst yet, I can smell a lecture coming on. “Big night?” Damon cocks a brow, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter. The mere thought of it churns my stomach, let alone that acrid smell. But I’ve got to play the part. “No, pretty boring, actually.” I can see my reflection in the coffee. It ripples with my breath, I’m closer than I had realised. But the smell oddly enough is doing wonders for my nausea. I almost feel mentally and emotionally prepared for a meal. Mind you, I’ve still got some work to do on that. “Is that why you’re
Foster Chapter 4 Part 2
December 16th, 2012 Evening Damon She hardly stirs when I drop her a little more suddenly than I intended to. Of course, her bed is unmade. It always is. And she’s got a pile—mind you, a somewhat tidy one—of clothes in the corner of the room. “You need to change.” As I speak, I wonder if she’ll pretend to sleep. But she opens her eyes a couple of centimetres. “I need to sleep.” Her eyes are closed again. “Unless you want to be changing your sheets bright and early tomorrow, you need to change.” “Change me, then.” Her eyes are still closed, and a good thing at that. I’m afraid I’ve gone a bit pink. At least, I feel I have. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate,” “Why not? You’re my dad.” She rolls over. And part of me wants to accept the offer just to see her in her underwear. And another, somehow worse, part of me hopes that she doesn’t have any on. “Gues
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