Second Chance Hero (2 page)

“I don’t want to own a bakery. I want to bake cakes,
that’s different. And maybe I want to do that in the city”

He laughs a loud bellowing laugh that is so un-Deacon.
I’m hurt and offended.

“You’re no city girl, Jen.”

There’s a long silence. Deacon is my best friend;
silences are never awkward, but tonight his actions say more than words ever
could. Tonight, when I need him to talk to me, he leaves us in a suffocating
silence and stares out at the sea. Each crashing wave and moment of unspoken
words break my heart a little more.

Deacon has just broken our friendship for something
that meant everything to me and absolutely nothing to him.

 “I need to go home.” I mutter over the raging
crashing of the waves.

“What, now?” He sounds shocked, “But we’re having
fun.”

“No.” I shake my head slowly. I just want to be
home, in my bed that hasn’t changed since I was a kid, and to pretend I don’t
feel torn to pieces, “You’re having fun. I’m tired, cold and I need my bed.”

I slide off the wall and make my way back up the
road to my parent’s house. I can hear Deacon catching up with me, but I don’t
slow down. Until I come to an abrupt stop when I slip on some ice and fall to
the floor. Deacon is at my side in an instant, helping me up, but I don’t want
his hands on me.

“Thanks.” I mumble pulling away, “You can go home
now. I can see my house.”

“I always take you to the door.”

He sounds confused and I can't work out how he can't
understand what he’s done.

“Just go. I need you to go.”

I walk away from him. I know he’s following me, but
I don’t look back, walking straight up my path. I open the door, close it and
go straight upstairs. I see from my bedroom window that he waits outside the
house, before shoving his hands in his pockets and continuing up the road to
his.

Deacon - April 2013

“I’ve got the specs in front of me, but there’s no
information on sustainability, or on the budget. I can't take on a contract and
hire out subcontractors until I’ve got the full brief.”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. Today has been one
of those days where I wish I could climb into one of the holes the boys have
dug, and not come out until my shit’s together.

“Yeah, that’s great,” I mumble to the guy on the
other end of the phone. To be honest this project is more trouble than it’s
worth, but someone’s got to do it, “Fax me over a draft when it’s done, and
we’ll talk over lunch next week. I’ve got to go, another call.”

I press end, and answer my mother’s call.

“What’s up, Mum?” I balance the phone between my ear
and shoulder and tap at my computer.

“Hi, darling. I’m just checking that you’re coming
to the Rivera’s tonight. I need to get back to Mindy with numbers.”

“I don’t know if I can make it, I’ve got a load of
stuff to take care of here.”

“Don’t do that.”

Here we go.

“Do what?”

“Avoid your commitments. Don’t use that company to
get out of things. Mindy has been like family these last five years, and she
deserves your gratitude.”

“Okay,” I sigh, and grip the back of my neck, “I’ll
be there.”

I can't see the point in going; I’ve no urge to be a
part of that family any more, and there’s nothing that attracts me to that
house now.

“Super. I’ve organised a suit to be delivered to the
site, so wear that.”

“I’ve got plenty of suits.”

“This is a nice one. No arguments. I’ve got errands
to run. Be there by seven.”

And then the line is dead. I take a deep breath. I
haven’t stepped a foot in that house in over five years. I don’t think I’ll be
welcome; Mindy probably just invited me because she invited Mum and Brad. Fuck.
I scrape my hand through my hair, flick to today’s date in the diary, and stare
at the page that I keep empty every year. Just in case.

There’s a bang on the door, and I slam the diary
shut. Mike comes in and wipes his feet on the mat inside the door.

“What do you need, man?”

“Need to order some more supplies. The boys didn’t
tell me we were running low.”

“You can't just go to the merchant?”

“That’s a two hour round trip Deac. I’ll get nothing
done today and it’s Friday. The missus has booked dinner for tomorrow so I need
to make something today -”

“Fine,” I throw my hands up. Anything but to hear
about his materialistic naggy-as-hell wife, “What do you need?”

“Studs, hurricane clips and some sinkers.”

“Fucking hell.” I fight the urge to grab fistfuls of
my hair, “I can't get it in until Monday, Mike.”

~

I feel so overdressed for dinner at the old harbour
side house that used to be my second home. Mum sent an entire ensemble, and
there is no way I’m wearing a tie and jacket for a dinner in someone’s barn
dining room. So I’ve worn the trousers and shirt. No tie, no jacket.

I knock on the door quietly. If they don’t hear me,
I can say I tried. Esteban Rivera answers the door as I turn to leave.

“Where you going, son?” He asks, and I turn around
to greet him.

Esteban hit sixty last month and although his hair
is grey and only a small tuft remains on the top of his head, he looks good for
a man with three adult kids and an energetic granddaughter. The brown eyes all
of his children inherited smile up at me and steps aside, gesturing for me to
come in.

“Hi, Mr. Rivera.” I say, shaking his hand to avoid
going into the house so soon.

“Esteban.” He corrects and beckons me in again, “Entrar,
son.”

I clear my throat, take a deep breath and follow him
inside. It always amazes that this place looks so small from the outside; a
tiny little house sandwiched between two more tiny little houses, but it’s huge
inside. I take another deep breath, and my nostrils fill with the familiar
smell of baking. My heart stops. Shit.

“Hey, bro,” Bradley slaps me on the back as he comes
down the stairs, “everyone’s out back. Grab a bottle.”

“I can't remember if I locked the gate. I’m gonna go
back and check.”

“Mum will kill you.”

“I couldn't give a fuck. This is torture.”

“It’s cake, Deac. Stop freaking. Come on.”

He pushes me into the kitchen. It’s empty, except
for the smell of food, and some sort of floral smell.

“Perfume.” Brad says, opening up a bottle and
handing me one, “It’s a little more subtle when women with taste wear it.”

I grind my teeth, but drink the beer, finishing it
quickly and popping another open with my teeth.

“Where’s Riv’s whiskey?”

“He’ll cut your fingers off.”

I spot the bottle sitting on the cabinet and after
peeking outside, undo the lid and pour some in my empty beer bottle. I down it
and throw the bottle straight in the bin. The burn in my throat, quickly
settling in my stomach numbs me temporarily, until I hear laughter. Real laughter.
Not the kind of laugh you get from people who feel sorry for you so they laugh
at your shit jokes.

“Let’s eat.” Brad stops at the door when he realises
I’m not following, “It’s just dinner.”

Exactly. I’m about to be trapped at a table for
three courses of the home-cooked food I used to eat here weekly. My feet follow
Brad before my brain realises what I’m doing, and by the time it catches up,
I’m at the door of the barn, and can see the group of people inside.

I don’t recognise her straight away. I haven’t seen
her for over five years, and she’s changed so much. But here she is; Jenna
Rivera, surrounded by people wishing her happy birthday. I recognise them all:
Jade, Steve and their daughter Phillipa, Jonas and his latest girlfriend. He
brings home so many, I won’t even try to remember her name. Mindy and Esteban,
their parents. My mum and brother.

“Ah,” Mum says, approaching me with open arms,
“Deacon, you’re here.”

Why does she sound surprised? She made me come. Sent
me on the guilt trip she knew would lead me here.

“I can’t stay long.”

“Nonsense.”

“Now we’re all here,” Esteban announces, pecking his
daughter on the cheek “vamos a celebrar.”

Everyone sits down, and I try and sneak in between Mum
and Brad. She hasn’t noticed me yet. She looks so different. She’s wearing some
sort of skirt suit with a shiny shirt. Nothing like the jeans and short
t-shirts she used to wear. And she’s dyed her hair blonde, what’s with that?
Her long brown waves used to remind me of home when we were at uni together;
and she’s tied it up in a weird ball on top of her head. She looks like a city
snob. That’s not the Jenna I know.

“Deacon, we have place settings.”

Of course we do. And I’ll bet – Oh look I’ve been
conveniently placed next to Miss corporate-birthday-girl.

This is why I’ve kept this day free since my time
began. I would always spend Jenna’s birthday with her before, and I never gave
up hope that we could do that again. I just didn't want our reunion to be here,
like this.

“Hey, Jen.” I say as casually as I can, although my
heart is racing and I’m nervous as hell.

She turns and looks at me as if I’m a stranger.
Recognition hits her face; she gasps and looks away, twirling the stem of her
wineglass.

“Hi Deacon.” She replies, looking anywhere but at
me.

I shake my head and reach for the impressive red
that Esteban has no doubt had shipped over from his father’s vineyard in Spain.
I pour myself a glass and offer to pour one for Jenna, as Mindy gets up and
leaves the table. She has to look at me now.

“Thanks.” She mutters, and I see it then. The mask
she’s wearing. I see the Jenna I’ve known forever in her eyes, even if the
outside is telling me she’s someone else.

“You made your own birthday cake?” She looks at me
confused, “I could smell it as soon as I walked in the door.”

Why is she looking at me like I’m a stranger?

“Yeah. I tried a new recipe; thought tonight would
be perfect research.”

“It smells good.”

She nods, biting the inside of her cheek, like she
has done since we were kids.

“So how is everything?”

“It’s going well. I’ve opened up my second cake
store, just hired a couple of managers so I can take some time out.”

“That sounds...nice,” This is so awkward. I used to
be able to talk to her about anything, and everything. I used to be able to say
nothing; too lost in the sound of her laughter and her sparkling brown eyes
conveying a world of love and passion. Now it feels weird just asking her how she
is.

“You left.” She whispers before taking a sip of
wine, and I see something flash across her eyes. It’s gone the minute she looks
away from me, and at her parents who are carrying huge plates of tapas. Her mum
sits down straight away, halting any conversation Jenna and I were going to
have. Maybe that was her plan; to throw that out there, not let me explain, and
then ignore me.

Because that’s what she does for most of the evening.
Every few minutes she looks over, as if she is expecting me to disappear, but
looks away as soon as our eyes meet. I can't figure her out. We hadn’t drifted
apart. We’d been torn apart by my idiocy, her stubbornness and the death of my
father that Christmas. But she’s come back as the person I never thought she
would be. She checks her watch constantly as if she’s on her lunch break, can't
sit still and enjoy the company without shifting restlessly, and she sits like
she’s got a plank tied to her back.

Jade and Steve are the first ones to leave, needing
to get Phillipa home to bed. Then Bradley and Jonas head out for drinks with
Jonas’ squeeze in tow. They don’t bother to invite me, they know I won’t go.
But they don’t invite Jenna either. Maybe because it’s her party and she should
stay or maybe they too have noticed the stranger that has returned to Folquay.

The red velvet is delicious, and I’m on my third
slice when Jenna turns to me.

“It’s cream cheese,” She says, her voice clipped and
void of all emotion.

I hate cream cheese. She knows I don’t like it.
Clearly I just
thought
I didn’t like it, because I’ve devoured two and a
half helpings.

“I hate cream cheese.”

“Apparently not.” She looks down at my plate.

“I’m not the only one who left.” I bite back, and
excuse myself from the table.

The truth is we both left. She returned to London
the day after Boxing Day, refusing to come out with us, or even tell anyone but
her mum that she was going back so soon. Mindy hasn’t really spoken to me
since. And I didn’t go back to London, because the night Jenna left my father
died in a car accident driving on the icy narrow roads on the way back from the
site. The site I now own. I never returned to university to finish my business
management degree, and I never called Jenna to tell her about my dad, or to
apologise for what I said. It seems that she is indeed the city girl I never
thought she wanted to be. And I’m the country bumpkin I accused her of being
destined to become.

I sit on the wall at the end of the path that leads
to Jenna’s house and decide what to do next. I can't leave, knowing I’ll be the
bad guy if I ditch her again. But how can I stay when she’s made it perfectly
clear she isn’t interested in a conversation that doesn’t involve mocking my
dislike of dairy products, or that I went off the rails a bit when my dad died?

“Hey.” She says, joining me on the wall and making
me jump. She’s wrapped in what looks like an entire sheep dyed black, “I didn’t
know you would be coming. I didn’t even know I was until last night.”

“Was I supposed to not come?” I don’t know if she
was apologising for being rude, or excusing herself because I shouldn’t be
here.

“I don’t know, Deacon. I didn’t know you were here.
There is no should or shouldn’t, it just caught me off guard.”

“I didn’t know you would be here either. You haven’t
been back in years, and there was no reason to think any differently.”

“Then I guess it’s just a misunderstanding,” She
shrugs, as if she doesn’t care, but the expression on her face tells me
otherwise.

“The cake was good.” I say after a silence and I
can't believe that’s all I have to say.