There was glass embedded in my fingertips, and I kept trying to steal the stem, rolling it over my palm and back. Peter took it away each time, frantically standing and crouching, trying to decide between not leaving me alone, and getting help.
His hands shook my shoulders, but I wanted to watch the greyed glass.
“Mella. Jesus. Mella!” I glanced up, his face was white. “Get up, drop the glass and come with me.” I could head the struggle in his voice, the impatience. It hurt, knowing that I was an inconvenience; he’d want to get back to the party, to Cassie.
I thought quietly, rolling the stem back and forth, back and forth, until he snatched it from me.
“For Christ’s sake, Mella, get up.” His voice was low, a grumble the hurt more than the shouting did. I could hear the voices from the lights, the people laughing and talking together, and wanted to go home. As I stood, he sighed, wrapping an arm around my waist and holding my hands in front of us.
I shook the arm off, turning to where I thought my car had been, it was almost morning, the grey fog of night lifting off the cars. I couldn’t see mine, and the heat of the sun had started already, its sickly stickiness making my head ache.
“Come on, Mella, the first aid kit’s this way.” He tugged my elbow carefully, trying not to jerk my hands too much. I scowled, ripping my arm from his grasp. “Mella!”
“Go away.” I could hear the drip of blood on the pavement, and I wondered how it got there, that sound. It got louder, the splatter of red bigger somehow, and I wondered if there would be a pattern, if I just looked hard enough. It felt like a cough each time, a shudder of my body as the red spilled from my finger’s lips.
His hand clutched my elbow again, tight whiteness covered his knuckles and his body pressed against mine. “Mella, don’t be stupid, come with me.”
I’m never sure what stupid even means, I could look it up, work it all out, but then it would be a trial. They use it against me, in looks and in words; don’t be stupid Mella, that’s stupid, I’m not sure they know what it means either. They is the other, you know, they who you never see and never know, they hide away and mutter advice in the ears of others until all of a sudden, they’re everywhere.
I pushed him back, bloody hands smearing his blue shirt. The glass slipped further into the skin, slicing deeper, I thought I ought to scream. I did, in my mind, so long and so loud I thought my eyes would break for the force of it. He stood there, staring at me with that empty horror people get sometimes.
“Jesus” he murmured. “Jesus Christ.” I don’t know what he thought; I couldn’t see his eyes because they clouded with a shocked mist. I wondered if now I could leave, so I did. I turned and turned and turned but never moved.
His hands wrapped around my waist and when I turned I could smell the scent of perfume and vodka spiralling around me. He made motions with his mouth that I couldn’t hear, and looked at me with eyes I didn’t want to see.
“Mella, gorgeous Mella. Stop now.”
Daryl. He made me angry, feeling his arms wrapped around me tight like a woollen wrap. Thick and musky, I breathed him in while I tried to break free, the slick of the perfumed vodka pushing through my nose and down into my spine. It felt like I was being crushed by him, by them. Cassie stood there, fish face agape, her sister behind her, to the right a step or three.
The world was blurring at the edges now, spinning around and tilting down. He kept me floating, head above water, with a hand on my wrist and an arm around my hips. Then he danced me into Rojas, melting colours screaming to be heard at my waltzing back.
I thought I spoke, I thought I said it clearly. “No, no, no! I need to understand.” But we danced on and up into the room that only had one door. As he laid me on the couch, his hands brushed over my body like fireflies of light, sparking heat at each touch. I squirmed, but he made me sit up against the couch arm and looked at my hands.
“Leave me alone.” They were sticky with blood, making it hard for him to keep them in his own. Each time I jerked away, he swore again, a tight frown creasing his forehead.
“Amelia. Sit still. We have to get you cleaned up.”
“I’m fine. Why won’t you leave me alone?”
There were bandages next to us, on the table, piled so they tumbled against each other. Antiseptic in a clear bottle wavered as his back moved, I couldn’t get my hands free. I’d look at Daryl when his face was concentrating on my fingers. Some of the blood was dry, rusty and dark against my skin, the newer blood blurted over it, making it wet again. I wanted to take my hands back so he’d have to look at me, but his hands were tight.
“You are not fine, Mella. Look at your hands. We need to fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix. It’s not broken, is it? You’re such a mother.”
“Someone has to be.” He still didn’t look up, back straightening when he realised what he’d said.
“Someone does have to be.”
“Mella... I didn’t mean.”
“Someone has to be. Daryl. Someone does.”
I stopped struggling and let him work; he was gentle now, not pulling me anywhere. The antiseptic didn’t sting like I thought it would, but dabbled over the cuts until I could see the spiral of my prints. He was handed a bowl, though I didn’t look to see who gave it to him, dipping my hands in and out again until all the last red was gone. The water was pink with it, murky and sparkling with fallen glass. Daryl didn’t speak; he didn’t look at me or motion anywhere other than my hands.
The tweezers made me jerk back, I didn’t want them anywhere near me, starkly metallic and dangerous. His hands wrapped around mine trying to still them while keeping the antiseptic soaked cloth over them.
“Jesus. Stay still for Christ’s sake.” A hand touched my shoulder and I looked up into Peter’s face, I could see Cassie wavering behind him, nervous and unsure. When I tried to shrug him off, they both growled at me. Daryl took my distraction as a go ahead and the tweezers yanked a slice of glass from my palm.
I gasped as he wiped the glass off onto a piece of cloth on the table, taking his relaxed state for granted, I ripped my hands from his, clutching them together at my chest. They stung and I felt the tears rise in my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them free with the boys around. They just wanted to hurt me more.
“Oh, fuck. Mella, look, I have to get the glass out.” He was looking at me now, frustration lining his face. Peter’s hand gripped my shoulder tighter as he knelt to see my face.
“We need to make sure the glass is out so we can wrap your hands, do you understand?” It was all so patronising. I knew what they wanted to do, they wanted to rip my hands apart with their little silver toy, it’d just hurt more. I could hear the shuffle of Cassie behind me, infuriating me with her pathetic nervousness.
“I’m not going to fucking bite you, Cassie. Why is she here?” Peter looked startled, and the shuffling stopped.
“She wanted to see if you were okay, Mella. We’re worried about you.”
“Well stop then. For fucks sake get her out of my face. They looked stunned, like I’d slapped them both with all my force. “All of you just get out.”
There was a growing stain on my blouse and my hands were shaking. No one had moved, the sounds of people dwindled downstairs and light scattered in from the window. The door opened just as Daryl started to speak.
“Mella –“
“You’re all making this bigger than it is.” I ignored whoever had come in, trying to keep my hands against my throat, now that my shirt was ruined. It felt odd, the slick movement of my hands against my bones, my skin. “If you would just leave me alone.”
“What’s happened? Is that blood?”
“Rob!” I flung myself into his arms, hugging him and trying not to get blood on his shirt.
“Jesus, Rob, get her to sit still, will you? We need to patch her up.” He hugged me back, rocking back and forth slightly as I buried my face against his neck.
“Melly, what’s going on? You’re all bloody.” He was so calm and relaxed, he didn’t shout and let me just sigh against him.
“I wanted to understand.” He nodded as if he understood, moving me back so that he could look me over.
“You’re a mess. What would mum say?” I almost felt Daryl’s flinch from behind me. “She’d tell you that you needed a cleanup, she would.” He smiled so carefully at me, letting me sink into the couch and watch his hands as he looked over the things on the table. I dropped my hands into my lap, waiting quietly.
Peter and Daryl stood awkwardly to the side, moving so that Rob could kneel comfortably in front of me. He lifted the bloody bowl at Peter.
“Could you fill this again? Clean?” His hands slowly turned mine as he looked them over, always careful and gentle. “What have you done here, you’re all mangled.” I tried to pull my hands back then and he let me, turning to pick up a towel and stare at Peter. “Well?”
“Right. Sorry.” Peter turned, walking into the kitchen without really watching where he was going. Daryl had moved to stand with Cassie, his hands on her shoulders.
“Will you be needing us? Or can we sit down?”
“Make them go, Rob.” He looked at me, then back down at my hands. “Please?”
“I won’t need anyone after Peter brings back the bowl, thank you though.”
They waited tersely on the sidelines, neither looking anywhere but at Rob’s slow hands as he patted mine. It wasn’t long when Peter had returned, his soft steps met Peter’s knees as he handed over the bowl.
“Here. Is there... can I do anything?” I noticed his right foot slide in on an angle slightly.
“No, thank you all, though. If you could give us some time? I’ll clean her up.” Peter’s feet shifted away while Rob laid the towel over my lap, setting the bowl on top. The click of the door met with the cool feeling of my hands in the water. Again, the pinky tinge soaked up the sides of the bowl, though there were no glass slivers this time.
“Melly, what’s happened?” He lifted my hands and took the bowl away in one movement, picking up the tweezers in another. My hands shrank back into me, grabbing my throat, as I saw the tweezers.
“Hey, don’t worry. It’ll hurt, but not for as long as your hands would, if I didn’t get that glass out, okay? Come on, show me your hands.”
“It hurts, though; I’m tired of it hurting, Rob.” He smiled then, the sad smile his mum had, too.
“I know, it’s okay, it won’t hurt forever.” My hands met his and he stretched them flat, gentle as the tweezers met skin.
I realised halfway through, as he worked on my palm, that I was crying and the tears hit my skin in a different way the blood did. They smashed themselves like suicides on the sea, breaking with a swift grace that I’d never noticed before.
“I was trying to understand the light. And the glass. You know how mum always said that listening was so important and that I had to listen or I’d never understand?” He nodded quietly, still pulling glass from my hands. “I tried to listen, but then I killed the light’s voice, you know?” My hands tried to show him, to move and wave with some sort of emphasis, but his careful hands kept them still as I talked at him. “And it was lying there all broken and it made me so sad, because I can’t understand if I don’t listen. But I don’t know how to listen without understanding, you know? How do you listen to a glass lying in the gutter, Rob? It’s crazy. I know they think I’ve lost it, but the lights and the sounds and the noise... I didn’t belong here tonight and I didn’t want to be here. Now I’ve killed a soul.”
“Whose soul?” Rob had my hands clear of glass, and was using the antiseptic to disinfect, always looking up at me when he spoke at all.
“The lights. And the glasses, I suppose. I didn’t mean to, Rob. But they had things to say and I couldn’t hear them because... I don’t know. Because I wouldn’t listen or something.” He had started wrapping my hands in gauze, instead of wrapping my whole hand he took the time to wrap so that my fingers could move. “I got closer, and tried to move it so that I could hear. But I couldn’t and it hurt.”
“What hurt?” The fold and twist of the gauze was relaxing to watch and he moved so easily, letting me be free.
“The glass did. I think I held it too close.” I wanted to touch my ear and see, but Rob was just finding a clip to hold the first bandage in place. “I think I cut my ear. Can you see?”
His hands clipped the bandage and lightly turned my head, picking up the antiseptic dampened cloth to wipe my ear. He picked up a bandaid and stuck it on easily, not making a sound as he moved back to start on my left hand.
“Oh. Rob.” He looked up at me, eyes full of that awful sadness they had. “I’m so glad you’re here.” I cried harder, then, letting the tears slide down my chin.
He left my hand, moving up to hug me close, murmuring things into my hair that I couldn’t hear but that made me feel so safe and comfortable. We’d been friends for so long, he knew me better than anyone else, since making biscuits with his mother, and the funeral for mine.
“I miss her.”
“I know, Melly. Really. I know.” His hug was hard, solid, and made me want to cry harder because I hadn’t hugged him in so long. I’d been off around the world while everyone worked, living off inheritance instead of my own merits.
“I’m sorry, Rob, I’m so sorry.” He just held me closer before pulling back and working on my bandage again.
“You can’t hurt yourself like this, Melly. It’s not good for you.” I looked away, trying to ignore the unhappiness in his voice.
“I know.” It was a hoarse whisper when I got it out. “I know.”
He finished in silence, moving everything off my lap and sitting up on the couch with me. I moved into him, letting his arms hug me close, and sighed against his chest.
“Sleep, Melly. You’ve had a too rough night.” My heart sped in panic; I didn’t want to wake up here, on the couch on my own again. “I’ll be here when you wake, I promise.
I let my eyes close, sinking into his warmth.
“Thank you. So much, Rob. I love you.”
“Love you too.” He kissed my hair as I felt myself slip into sleep. “I love you too.”
