Heyy people! I am bombarding you with yet another story- this one for the ZA Angels Write Off Theme number 4- A friend in need is a friend indeed. Get writing!
Number 1
Thou shalt not wear skirts longer than thou knees
I have a best friend called Taylor. We wrote the The Commandments when we started dating boys. I had decided to pinch 'The Commandments' in order to write a really witty article for 'Zoom!" magazine in the hope they might actually publish it and pay me pittance.
Pittance being better than my current wage as a sandwich girl. I can try and glorify it all I like- 'Caterer's Assistant', 'Deli-Counter Extraordinaire'- but at the end of the day, I make sandwiches.
Luckily I don't have twenty types of bread to choose from like some of the New York Deli's I've heard about. We only serve white, brown and granary in bread, bagels and baguettes.
The favourite sandwich? Chicken-mayo baguette. Maybe closely followed by cheese and coleslaw…
Anyway, Taylor, my BFF (best female friend) comes in at least twice a week and we hold the queue up with our gossiping. Frank, the owner of 'Bun in The Oven' (quirky huh?) has threatened to sack me eight times. This month.
Still, the customers love me so he puts up with my submission into the grapevine every now and then.
And so, here we are, another Tuesday. The sun is…well hidden behind the clouds when in walks the light of my life.
This guy is dreamy. Not that tall, fairly well built with brown hair and those twinkly kind of eyes (hazel) we all love in a man. I practically swoon.
He asks for his usual- corned beef on brown bread- with salad.
"You've got a very pretty face," he smiles flirtily.
I look up, firstly to make sure he's talking to me and secondly to make sure he doesn't end the sentence with 'pretty ugly'. He is. He doesn't.
"Oh thank you," I blush.
I'm wearing the most disgusting uniform known to man. Peach polyester, clingy in all the wrong places and even though I admit I am small, the damn thing practically comes down to my ankles.
"And a great figure," he adds with a wink.
I practically burst with joy. I beam uncontrollably.
"You're okay yourself," I say shyly. Stupidly.
You're okay? What is with that? He's a little more than okay. He's damn fine!
He pays and leaves with a smile.
"Wassup?" My BMF (best male friend) has just walked in to see my face- no doubt looking like a smacked ass.
Troy and I have been friends for 17 years, a whole lifetime. Ever since we were ten and almost gauged each other's eyes out in a wrestling match in my muddy back garden, we've had a quiet respect for each other. We stopped fighting when I grew boobs at twelve. Troy didn't seem to notice but he did start noticing other girls so we used each other to get information on the opposite sex.
I smile as I remember the old days. We would go camping in the woods in the dead of night. We'd climb trees, play computer games, and kick a football around. We even built his tree house together.
We kissed once. When we were fourteen at the school disco and everyone else was snogging so we just looked at each other and went for it. But my lip got caught on his braces and there was blood everywhere. I was mortified. So was he.
We didn't try it again after that. The fact that I've known him longer than Taylor ( I met her when I was fifteen in high school) says a lot about me. I'm a total tomboy, one of the lads.
I look at Troy to answer him, finally.
"Some guy just said I was pretty and have a nice figure," I tell him with a smug smile.
He frowned, his top lip curling. "In that dress?"
I pin him with an unimpressed expression. If I wasn't stuck behind the counter, I'd punch him in the stomach. Not that he'd feel it. Troy is five-ten, pure muscle. He has shaggy brown hair and surprisingly blue eyes.
For obvious reasons, women flock to him, fall at his feet and yes, they totally love him. I guess he doesn't say things like that to the girls he dates.
"What's up with this dress?" I ask, then, "Okay, it's awful but maybe he wants to see me out of it!"
"Well yeah, that's a thought," he muses, appearing disturbed at this image. "Can I get some food at some point today?"
"Usual?" I ask and he nods, and I take my time about it.
Troy and Taylor both have better jobs than me. Taylor works in a massive office block as a PA to the Director. She hates the idea that she's on-call all day to the boss but she loves the perks. She has an all-expenses-paid account and a studio apartment on the river along with a sporty car and a clothing allowance.
As you can tell, coming in 'Bun in the Oven' twice a week is a bit of a slum for her.
Troy is a mechanic. Not just any old grease-monkey type. A proper, specialist mechanic who is employed by Tracton, the local tractor manufacturer. He fixes anything from tractors to combine harvesters. I saw him tinker with a helicopter once but that wasn't official business.
He comes in for lunch every day and picks up lunch for his work mates. Today, he seems quiet.
"Are you okay?" I check, concerned.
"Mm?" He looks up, pulled out of his reverie. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine."
"You're not and you should know better than to lie to me," I tilt my head and smile.
He looks surprised, as though after all these years I've only just grown a brain.
"Can we talk tonight?" He asks.
"Ok, I'll come by after work," I agree. Our friendship has no barriers; we have keys to each other's apartments and everything.
He semi-smiles, pays for the food and exits-sharply.
Odd.
I've never seen him move that fast. Something is definitely up.
/
After another busy day with bread, I hang up my apron and head out.
The plus side of working with food is that after lunch, nobody wants to eat so you get to start early and finish early. I walk towards Troy's, enjoying the peace until the shrill ring of my mobile shatters my thoughts.
"Tay?" I ask, irritated.
"My boss just asked me out."
I actually choke. "What?"
"Chad…he just said 'I'd like to take you to dinner'," she elaborated.
"And you said…"
"Well, I kind of said yes," she admitted.
"Oh my god," I actually stop in the street, flabbergasted. A cute guy walking a dog gives me a funny look. "People are staring at me," I hiss.
"Why?"
"Because they think I'm choking."
"How is that my fault?" Taylor reasons.
"Ok, don't panic, you can change your mind," I assure. "Just say you're busy…"
She's quiet.
"I don't want to," she admits.
This is not a surprise to me. Ever since I met her she's known what she wants and gone for it.
"So you called me to get advice on what to wear?" I check.
Apparently I guessed correctly.
She spends the next twenty minutes discussing the pros and cons of a suit (Pro: business-like, con- business like) against a dress (Pro- feminine, con- too flirty) and such the like.
I swear to god why do they get you study Shakespeare when you can analyze something a cute guy said down to the inflection in his voice/text/email?
Anyway, I end up at Troy's place an hour before he's due back. I decide on a little nap. He has the best sofa in the world.
Troy's flat is fairly modest, ground floor, one bedroom. I saw his room once when we were having a pillow fight and it's messy but I like that. Not that I make a habit of sleeping with men at their houses, but if the bedroom is too pristine, it usually gives away how they are in bed- not very passionate.
He has a small living room which the heavenly sofa dominates; with a chair, coffee table and TV. The kitchen is bright and welcoming and-can you believe it?- his kitchen is fully stocked all the time! With butter and gravy and paxo stuffing. I even found a cheesecake mix once in his cupboard. I love cheesecake.
I must have woken myself up muttering about cheesecake because Troy is watching me, smiling secretly as he asks if I'm hungry.
I frown. "I have been here a while," I defend.
He ruffles my hair. "I'll make us dinner."
I hate it when he does that.
Anyway, with so much in stock, I'm always surprised to get chips, or omelets or beans on toast at Troy's house. Tonight it's Macaroni cheese, from a tin.
Oh well, its warm.
He leans back in the sofa, opening his arms for a hug. I crawl over and oblige.
"What's wrong?" I ask straight away.
"Can I stay at yours tonight?" He asks, his voice strained.
"Of course…but why?" I wonder.
He's trying to explain why, I can see. But it hurts too much. He's scaring me now; my heart actually begins to palpitate.
"I don't want to be here tonight," he concedes. "And I don't want to be alone right now."
"Troy?" I look up, fearing the worst.
"My mom came round last night. She's ill. Terminally." He drops the bombshell weighing him down.
I am shocked. And hurt. I ache to take his pain away and forget my own. I kneel up a little and bear hug him. I don't even try to say I'm sorry. He's crying now, sobbing against my t-shirt.
He calms down, wipes his eyes a little, embarrassed.
"I'll get my stuff together," he husks, standing to do just that.
Wow. This is big.
/
Back at my pokey little maisonette we curl up on my double bed. I don't know how I got a double bed in there either, it was pure fluke.
I hold Troy to comfort him.
It's daylight before I realise what is happening.
Number 2
Thou shalt not give anyone else a key to one's flat.
This of course, isn't number 2. Number 2 is 'Thou shalt pig out every weekend'.
This is what I thought when I hear my mother shouting my name up the stairs at nine am on Saturday morning.
Yes, you are wondering what happened from Wednesday until now. Unfortunately life is mundane. The only thing that hasn't changed is Troy sleeping over. All week. And now my mother is ascending the stairs and before I have a chance to peel Troy off me, to try and make the scene appear as innocent as it is, she's opened my door.
Incredible.
"Mom, it's customary to knock," I accuse. Especially as this is the first time you've been to visit in six months…
"Oh my lord!" She gasps.
Yes, my mother is a drama-queen. You should have heard her when I came home from hospital with a broken arm.
"Mom! Please shut the door, I'll be down in a minute…"
Troy, understandably, wakes up with the commotion. He rubs his eyes.
"I guess I've gotta go home," he smirks.
"I think, for your own safety, that might be best," I sigh.
Did I mention that it is punishment from the gods to have to deal with your mother before lunch? (Or at least without coffee or alcohol.)
"Are you sleeping with him?" She demands as I come down stairs. "Are you using condoms?"
Oh pur-lease.
"Mom, I'm twenty-seven," I remind her.
"Hi Mrs. Montez," Troy says in his way down the stairs.
"Come here, Troy Bolton," she commands.
I cringe. "Mom, please, just let him go…"
"It's okay, 'Brie," he shrugs.
I flick him a look. He always calls me 'Brie but I still don't know why.
"Have you had sex with my daughter?" Maria asks.
"No." Troy answers- impressively calm in my opinion. I just want to take out my tennis racket and smack something really hard and here he is, perfectly composed.
My mother is taken aback by his answer.
"If you did, would you use a condom?"
I die of shame, right there. The fact that Troy has known my family for 17 years does not make this any less excruciating. My mother has finally lost the plot!
"I would indeed, ma'am," he assures with a straight face.
"See you later, 'Brie. Mrs. M," he grins and heads out.
That's the first time I've seen him smile since Wednesday. I turn to my mother.
"Mom, his mother is dying. He came here because he didn't want to be alone. I hope you feel ashamed of yourself," I snap before heading upstairs to shower.
/
The phone rings and I hurry to answer it before my mom does.
As it turns out she has left, anyway. I am secretly hoping it's the guy from the shop. He asked for my number on Thursday. His name is Guy, he works in an office near the shop and he wants to call me!
It's not Guy. It's Taylor.
"Hey," I greet her. "How d'it go?"
"It was wonderful, Gabi, he's…not what I expected."
"That's...good," I offer tentatively.
"Yeah, too good. I can't date my boss, right?" She sounds gutted.
"I suppose."
"How are you?" She changes the subject.
"Well I found out that Troy's mom is sick and my own mother decided to let herself into my flat this morning and found me and Troy in bed," I summarise.
"Oh my god!" Taylor squeals.
I life the received away from my ear.
"No, not like that. Though that's exactly what my mom thought and then she asked him if he'd used a condom…"
"Oh, that's bad," Taylor sympathized.
"Yeah."
"Is he okay?" She checked.
"Not really, but how would you deal with the news your mom is dying?"
/
It's 4pm on Sunday afternoon. I'm on the phone to Guy.
Yes, he actually called! After four days admittedly but still, he called. He's telling me where we can go for dinner on Tuesday. I keep hoping 'Burger-King' gets mentioned but it doesn't.
Ding-dong.
Oh great, now there's someone at the door. Can't be my mom, she'd let herself in…
"There's someone at my door," I tell Guy politely.
"Is that the queue of men asking you out?" He flirts.
I open the door. It's Troy.
"No, not a queue," I tell Guy, then to Troy, "Are you queuing to date me?"
He looks disgusted. "No way." He confirms.
He's loaded down with bags full of munchies. Not only does he stock his own fridge, he's starting to stock mine.
"Come in then," I tell Troy. "It's my best friend," I tell Guy.
"Oh, cool. Tell you what, I'll pick you up at seven and surprise you." He decided.
"Okay then, until Tuesday," I agree.
Until Tuesday? I must sound like a complete dork, I muse.
No sooner have I ended the call than my cell rings again. Troy is in the kitchen apparently emptying the treats into bowls. Not much of it actually goes in the fridge. He looks a little drunk.
"Hi."
"Matt?"
"Yeah. Hi, sis."
Matt is my eldest brother. Just think, he had to put up with our mother for a whole two years before Ben was born. Then came Nathan and finally me. We did have a dad. He was in the army. He used to visit every time he had leave but he died. Not in battle. He had a heart attack when I was five. Anyway, I'm like a hotline for my brothers. Want your car cleaned? Ask Gabi. Want a blind date? Ask Gabi.
"What do you want?" I ask in the appropriate tone.
"Mom's here," he whispers. "I'm concerned about you and Troy…"
I actually laugh at this. "There's no need to be," I counter.
"Are you sure? Is there something going on?" He enquires nosily.
"There's nothing going on," I promise. "I'm sure," I add.
"Okay fab, now can you tell me where I can get a decent suit? I'm going to a ceremony next week- I'm becoming a partner in the company."
"You're what!" I gasp. "Matt that's great! Congratulations!"
Troy sticks his head around the door. "What's happened?"
"Matt's gonna be a partner!" I enthuse.
"Oh my god, we have to celebrate," I tell my brother.
"We will, I promise. But first I need a suit…"
/
Okay, so Troy was halfway through the food and had the X-Box warmed up by the time I finished talking, but man, I was so proud!
It kind of hit me in the solar plexus that while my brother was making partner, I was making sandwiches.
"Hey, I know that look," Troy reads my face. "You make good sandwiches," he passes me a large slice of chocolate cake and some Pringles.
"It's hardly what I envisioned," I say sadly.
"Then let me help you find your dream job." He suggests.
"It's not that easy."
"Maybe it is…what do you want to do?"
"Journalism maybe…writing of some kind," I consider.
"Duly noted. Now…tell me about this date you have…" He smiles.
I do and its midnight by time we're stuffed and X-boxed out. Troy takes the couch this time. He's asleep by the time I bring a blanket down. I can definitely smell alcohol.
/
Number 3
Thou shalt wear matching jewellery and underwear.
I remember this one because we read about the underwear thing in 'More' magazine. The only matching underwear I have doesn't match my outfit and as I'm curvier than Taylor, I have to make do with 'same colour' underwear instead. Well the bra is black; the pants are dark navy from being worn and washed so many times.
Taylor is at my house. She is helping me get ready for my date. She has picked out some black trousers and a turquoise silk shirt I bought last year for a wedding and never wore.
The jewelry, matches. The make up is smoky. Even I think I look passable.
Guy is three minutes early. He looks impeccably stunning in a well-cut navy suit. God knows what he thinks of my humble abode. I don't give him time to think about it, I am out of the door like a shot.
Guy is opening the car door for me. Wow, he really thinks I'm classy. Although how classy a girl who works in 'Bun in the Oven' can be, I'm not sure. I try not to think about it.
"Did I mention how beautiful you look?" Guy asks.
I smile. "Thank you."
I'm more than a little nervous. I'm sure someone once told me 'Never date a guy who's prettier than you'. This is ringing slightly true, however I ignore the advice and carry on regardless.
"You look very nice, too," I say, feeling like a total salmon.
The restaurant he has chosen is amazing! I feel out of my depth. All the women here are wearing backless dresses.
Guy takes my hand, nods at the waiter and seats me (!) at our table.
"You should have said, I could have found a dress to wear," I protest.
"Don't be silly. It doesn't matter what you wear. Anything other than your uniform is a bonus," he grins.
"Ah yes, polyester, so flattering," I muse.
After a nervous dribble of small talk we order and I try to eat my starter as slowly and delicately as possible, like you do at a wedding. I'm not really one for savouring food to be honest; normally I shove it in like it's going out of fashion. Still, I manage to convince him I'm from the civilized world before they bring out the main course.
"What did you order?" He asks, his eyes smiling.
"Steak," I reply. "Do you want to try a piece?"
And so I am feeding the man of my dreams! It feels like I shouldn't be here. I'm Cinderella (pre-makeover), he's the Prince. But he seems to appreciate my company which surprises me seeing as we've already had a few funny looks after I said 'shit' and 'ass' when I got my shoe caught around my bag strap. So the 'fuck' I come out with is almost unnoticed, apart from a wince from our waiter, Eugene.
The cause for my foul language this time, is the piece of steak heading for Guy's mouth has actually fallen in his wine.
I feel like crying. This wasn't how it was meant to be. Guy laughs.
"Cut another piece," he insists.
I do. He picks it up and eats it with his fingers. I think I'm in love.
After a delicious dessert, Guy drives me home. He walks me to my door and kisses me on the lips.
"I'll call you."
I doubt he will after my shameful antics but it was worth it just to spend the night with him. (Note: happy smile intact.)
/
Number 4
Thou shalt act like a lady at all times.
Okay, so I go training with Troy every now and then and we have a boxing session. Taylor comes along to make sure we don't knock each other's brains out and fun is generally had all round.
Well that is until the guy (Guy!) you are dating happens to train at the same gym. And witnesses said boxing match. According to Taylor, this is something like it happened:
Guy sees two people boxing in the ring and realizes one of those people is me. He asks Taylor if she knows me and she says 'Yes that's Gabi and Troy, my two best friends."
Well, that isn't strictly true because she doesn't get on with Troy, but that's another story.
Anyway, Guy says: "That's Gabi Montez?"
Taylor: "Yes, do you know her?"
Guy: "Yes, I'm Guy."
Taylor: "Oh my. Nice to meet you…"
Apparently he got a funny look on his face at that point.
Guy: "What if she gets hurt?"
Taylor: "Oh, they're only gentle. They've been fighting since they met, it's harmless."
That moment, is when I catch sight of Guy outside the ring. Troy and I never punch above the chest but somehow in blocking my shot and during my lack of concentration, his glove catches my cheek and I go down; onto my knees.
"Oh shit!" I curse as my cheek instantly stings.
"'Brie?" Troy realizes what he has done. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry…"
He throws his gloves off and takes me toward the dressing rooms.
"I hope you're happy," Guy says to Troy as I'm being ferried.
"What?" Troy looks at him, puzzled.
"Hitting a woman like that? You're an animal!"
Troy and Taylor exchange glances.
"Troy, this is Guy," I introduce them. "Guy, my best friend, Troy."
They glare at each other. Troy continues towards the sinks and finds a first aid kit.
"Oh really, it's just a cut," I sigh.
"I've seen worse," Taylor adds to break the tension. "Remember that time you lost all the skin on your shin from shimmying down that tree?" She posed. "The first time you jumped out of it and broke your arm!"
"And my leg," Troy joined in. "When you fell on me."
I smile as Troy tends to my cut/graze/whatever I have on my face.
"That's great, really. Thanks guys," I tell my friends.
Guy is looking a little off about the whole thing (or so Taylor tells me after).
"Shall we finish our match another time?" I suggest to Troy. He's still eyeing Guy like a lion in a pride protecting his cubs.
"Sure."
"Tay, let's go shower," I grab her hand and hope to god the two men don't have a fight while we're gone.
/
It's back at Taylor's while she's plastering my face with some gunk 'to stop it scarring' and while I'm trying to read her twelve-year old brother's Spiderman comic that she tells me what happened.
"I know you like him, Gabi, but it seems obvious to me he's not into an independent woman," she hedges.
"Just say tomboy, Tay. It's what you mean…"
"No, its not. I spar with Troy on occasion; I don't hear my boyfriend making waves."
"You don't have a boyfriend," I reason.
"My last boyfriend then."
"He was just surprised, that's all," I excuse.
Really, no-one was going to make my dream man look bad.
"It was an accident," she insists. "He didn't have to go mad at Troy like that."
I thought about that. "No, he didn't. I'll apologise to Troy. And talk to Guy," I promise.
"Does he know the real you, Gabi?" She wondered.
And you know what? I really didn't know what the answer was.
/
It's during a fishing trip with Nathan, the youngest of my older brothers, that I spill all about the horrific episode at the boxing ring.
"I think, for any man, seeing a woman get hurt brings out your basic protective instinct," he says with remarkable insight.
This is a guy who most days, can be found carrying a water pistol.
"Why doesn't Troy get like that then?" I wonder.
"Well, he did didn't he?" Nathan points out. "He fronted up to this Guy dweeb and took care of you. Classic protectiveness."
"But he was boxing me," I mutter, not comprehending.
"Well, I could tell you what I think that means but I'm not sure you want to hear it," Nathan muses. "Plus I charge for psycho-analysis now I've graduated…"
"Oh really?" I swipe him. "Become a snob more like."
"Have you caught a fish yet?"
"No, I hate fishing."
Nathan chuckles. "It's nice to catch up, though."
"That's true. How's Natalie?" I ask of his latest girlfriend. He goes through girls like most men go through socks (weekly).
"We split up."
"God forbid…"
"I can't help being irresistible!" He reasons.
"Or a big-head," I admonish.
I'm still trying to work out what Nathan meant when he said there was a meaning to the boxing. It doesn't really sit well with me that he thinks I don't want to hear it.
/
To:
From: MontezGabreeWright&
My brother is weird.
To: MontezGabreeWright&
From:
Why?
To:
From: MontezGabreeWright&
I'm at Matt's office by the way. He's set up an email account for me! Nathan said there's more to the boxing than well, just boxing.
To: MontezGabreeWright&
From:
You're right, he is weird; go find something else to do- like a fit male secretary.
To:
From: MontezGabreeWright&
There are none, I've scoured the building. I'm seeing Guy tonight!
To: MontezGabreeWright&
From:
Good luck…
When your best friend wishes you luck on a date, something must be bad. Still, I'm never one to dwell on things so I dismiss it from my mind while I get ready to have dinner at Guy's house (!).
/
Number 5
Thou shalt not have sinful sex and enjoy it.
I have to say, Guy made a good attempt at keeping dinner regimented, considering we were both giving each other the eye as soon as I arrived. He apologized for any bad feelings he had caused; he even gave me flowers.
I'm not one to jump in bed with any old guy but by the time I'd had four glasses of wine, we were all over each other.
His lips were strong and commanding and his arms were holding me at the same time his hands seemed to be everywhere. I haven't had a make out session in…well, forever frankly. It was amazing. Not exactly romantic or spontaneous but I needed to use up some pent-up sexual energy.
And so I did. I had sex with Guy. Only it wasn't exactly the experience I was expecting. All in all…well, it was a bit of a let down. Great at foreplay, but way too practiced, like he was going through the lines of a well-rehearsed play. And in the morning I found out why.
"I'm married." Guy tells me solemnly whilst stroking my belly.
Yes, the cheeky bastard was still copping a feel even though he's married. I don't know what to say, quite.
"You ass hole," I swear, as I get out of bed and get dressed.
"Gabi, please. We can still have this," he offers, getting out of bed as well.
I smirk, pull my arm back and punch him in the eye.
"Try explaining that to your wife!" I say and promptly leave.
It's not until I'm at Troy's house that I realise I'm actually crying. I haven't even knocked on his door and he's brought me inside.
"What happened?" He asks.
At first, I can't answer.
"Did he hurt you?"
I manage to shake my head, before blurting out the truth.
"He's married," I sob.
Out comes Troy's favourite ice cream-choc chip cookie dough- and I know I must be in a state for him to offer me that.
"I'll get fat," I wail, knowing full well I'm already heavier than I should be so what on earth am I crying about?
Troy pulls me into a hug. A warm, safe hug.
"I'll call Taylor," he says, not letting go while he does so.
/
Number 6
Thou shalt not purchase items when angry/upset.
Only your BFF can convince you to try on the sluttiest dress and then parade around the shops in it. The cleavage is audacious, the skirt is beyond short and the looks we are getting are abundant.
Old women look horrified and every male looks positively gleeful. Taylor has a corset on with a mini-skirt and we look amazing. We are indestructible.
That is until McDonalds move us on because they think we are soliciting.
"I'm sorry he was an ass," Taylor says on the way home.
"Me too, but you knew and so did I deep down."
"Your phone's going," Taylor notes, pulling over to my flat.
I get out and say goodbye, then answer the incoming call.
"Troy, what's up?"
"It's my mom. We're at the hospital," he gulps back tears. "I don't think she has much longer…"
Fear grips me around the heart and I suck in a breath. "No!"
"Will you-"
"Anything," I say instantly.
"Will you come and sit with her for a while? I have to call relatives…"
"I'll be there in ten minutes." I assure.
Okay, so when your best friend calls you in an emergency and they need you there, like right now, you don't always stop to consider the details.
Like, are you dressed suitably for the hospital?
Still, it was more important for me to be there that worry about what I was wearing. Maybe they could lend me an operating gown or something.
/
Troy is a broken man. He's hunched over and he's crying. As it turns out the nurse has called the relatives so I awkwardly head over and sit down, instantly realizing how short this dress is and inappropriate I look. If Guy could see me now…
I hold Troy's hand and he puts his head in my lap so I just hold him and stroke his hair while he cries away his pain.
When he finally looks up, he looks puzzled.
"Are you wearing a dress?"
"Uh…yeah," I blush.
"You look...different," he surmises.
"Me and Tay went to town…it was just for fun, really…"
He cocks his head. "You look good," he says, surprised.
Typical Troy. Even when his mother is dying he's still insulting me.
"It's just the dress," I assure.
He looks taken aback, but he doesn't say anything else. As his family starts arriving, I sneak out and ask the nurse for something else to wear. They only have a box full of lost property but I decide I have no choice but to have a rummage.
Number 7
Thou shalt not eat when angry or upset.
This I realise when none of the women's clothes actually fit. How many donuts can you eat in a week I ask myself? After the embarrassment of being dressed like a hooker in hospital, it seems like donuts are the only thing that will help.
Of course, when the day of Margaret's funeral arrives, I have nothing to wear that actually does up. So I have no option but to wear this knitted loose-fitting black dress my brother bought me two years ago. If I were a midget, the skirt would fall below the knee, but seeing as I'm not an actual midget (just petite) I will now officially look like a slapper at the crematorium.
I choose a long black coat to cover it and button it up all the way. The sleeves always drown my hands but its better than flashing my legs.
Needless to say, the funeral is a somber affair. Some of my family even make an appearance but I'm not standing with them. Troy asked if I would stand with him and he hasn't let go of my hand yet.
The ceremony passes and Troy is completely blank. I haven't spoken to him today and I can see that he appreciates it. I've held him time after time since Margret passed and his family is here to comfort him too.
Back at the house where the wake is taking place, I am busy making tea. Troy walks into the kitchen and walks right into my arms. My brother chooses that moment to appear behind him and waggles his brows at me and I frown at Nathan to hopefully cast him away.
How dare he insinuate a thing like that at a moment like this? But then…well, there is something. Something in the way Troy is holding me; is not entirely for comfort. He's pressing his body to mine and his arms are wrapped around me. I can sense there is more to this than friendship and the idea is surprising, to say the least.
It suddenly clicks what Nathan was trying to say about the boxing. Sexual sparring.
Maybe so, but I'm such a heifer at the moment; I couldn't turn a light switch on. Let alone a poor, grieving Troy.
That night, Troy did try to kiss me. I'm sketchy about the details because he was drunk and we were on his sofa and he just kind of went for it, but it wasn't exactly pleasant. I know why he did it, though. Because he's grieving.
Number 8
Thou shalt not use MBF for sex.
I kind of made this one up. It used to be 'Thou shalt not have sex with MBF' but that was ridiculous so I changed it to keep me on the straight and narrow.
As tempting as it was to give into Troy; in his current emotional state it just wasn't fair to selfishly fulfill my desires. More than that, it was just plain wrong.
In fact before last night, the thought of me and Troy wasn't even on this planet let alone in my mind so all this was crazy talk from somewhere very new.
But something had kinda changed that day he glared at Guy. I saw something else in him the way he tended to my cheek. Only now was not the time to do anything about it.
And I didn't know if that time would ever come.
/
It's been two weeks since that night. Troy hasn't called or visited. I've tried to call him, but he's not taking my calls either.
I sort of miss having him in my bed; having something to hug at night. I definitely miss seeing him at the sandwich shop to break up my day. His colleague Dan was coming instead and it just wasn't the same. Dan didn't insult me the same way Troy did.
It was with some surprise then, that one Sunday morning at six am, a hammering on my door reveals Troy on the other side.
He's groomed, dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt. I, on the other hand, have donut belly spilling out of pajamas and look like an old hag with my hair wiry and mussed.
"Hi," he says, hands in pockets.
Taylor once told me guys do that to stop themselves touching you if they like you.
"Hi," I reply. "It's early."
"Yeah, I'm sorry," he says.
I blink sleepily.
"I'm sorry I haven't called and I'm sorry I made a pass at you."
"Oh." My face drops. I am gutted.
"No, I mean…" He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for the way I made a pass at you…"
I'm confused.
He takes his hands from his pockets and frames my face as he steps into my doorway. He kisses me like I've never been kissed.
Wow…just…wow.
"Are you drunk?" I ask suspiciously.
He grins. "No."
"Oh."
What now?
"Oh, fuck it," I mutter and grab the back of his head and pull him down for another kiss.
This. Is. Truly. Amazing.
His body melds to mine; he kisses me as though his life depends on it. Forget Guy.
"Should we do this?" I ask suddenly, noticing that my neighbours have a fantastic view of our kissing session.
"Ah…" Troy looks hurt.
"In the doorway I mean," I add.
He grins again. Since when did he get so friggin' handsome?
He steps further in, shuts the door with his foot and looks at me.
"Are you okay?" I ask, probably the first thing I should have said I realise in hindsight. But right now, it's a delay tactic. I'm not sure I can handle more kissing. Those kisses should come with a warning.
He shrugs. "Losing my mom made me realise a few things," he admits.
I know what he means. Being away from him for two weeks made me realise a few things, too. Like how my real dream guy was right here in front of me all along.
"I missed you," I tell him, meaning it, too. I really had.
He smiles and bends down to hug me. "Me, too, 'Brie."
I stroke a hand down the back of his hair. He pulls away, a smile playing about his lips.
"Can I kiss you again now?"
"On one condition," I measure, assuming that if my donut belly was putting him off in any way, he would have mentioned it by now.
"Okay…"
"You have to box with me still."
And then just like that, we're kissing again. As though that was the way it had always been.
/
Number 9
Thou shalt not steal thy best friend's thunder.
Troy and I, we're taking things slow. We went on our first date just a few days after the kiss and I kind of fell in love with him that night.
He took us for fish and chips and we talked for hours in the bandstand at the park, we held hands, we kissed and he even spent the night but we didn't have sex that night.
But…well…things happened (naturally) and somehow, we ended up spending all of our time together from then on. We were just wondering how to tell everyone about this new development when Taylor calls me to tell me she's engaged. To her boss. Now, my mother has never liked Taylor (surprise, surprise) and so this news goes down well with her. Not.
"Honestly, Gabi, she has no morals…" Blah, blah, blah…
I figure telling her about Troy might send her over the edge. She'll think we've been lying all along. So we keep it a secret a bit longer.
It's one summer's day, when Taylor's having her engagement party that we slip off to have a secret make-out.
"I feel like a teenager," my beau whispers against my neck as he wraps my thigh over his hip and presses his rather impressive arousal against me.
I take his spare hand from my back and place it against my breast. He seems to like this action. We kiss again.
There's a gasp, a flash and a squeal as we realise Taylor has just brought some guests into the garden to witness Troy and I getting frisky!
Nathan has the camera, my mother has gone white. Nobody looks surprised.
I look at Troy. "I love you," I murmur as I start to unwrap myself from his body to face the music.
He grabs my hand. "Hey, I love you too," he murmurs in my ear so that my mom doesn't hear. The poor woman already looks like she's about to faint, I don't think she can cope with mushy declarations right now.
"Mom, it's okay, we used a condom," I tell her; smirking at my own joke.
/
You're probably wondering what the last rule is, well I think you can guess.
Rule Number 10: Thou shalt get married in a meringue dress and a tiara and have beautiful angelic babies.
Well, for one, I hate meringue dresses (it was Taylor's idea to write that) and for a second, me and Troy only just got together! We're not getting married yet. Well, if he wants to marry me ever that is. I hope so.
As for the babies, well…this one might be coming true sooner than I planned. In fact I'm kind of skipping part 1 which is sort-of sacrilege but seeing as the commandments aren't religious, I think I can ask Taylor to let me off this time.
I'm pregnant, see. The little stick told me I am. I just haven't told Troy yet. Or my mom. I know that Troy will be sort-of okay about it; he gets this funny look on his face when he picks up someone else's baby and it's so adorable, it really makes me want to squeeze the air out of him. It still surprises me that I can, too. Squeeze the air out of him that is. Not that I would in a bad way; I just mean hug him real tight.
I do that a lot.
"Are you okay?"
Speak of devil and he shall appear! Troy wanders in – we're sharing his place now, yeah I know, living together!
"Uhm…" I'm not sure, really. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Depends how this goes down.
"Hey, what's up?" He sits beside me on the sofa, taking my hand so I turn to face him.
"I'm pregnant, Troy," I blurt, with no softening of the blow.
I feel like a grenade could go off in the following seconds and it wouldn't be as loud as the silence.
"Seriously?" Okay, he's smiling. That's good, right?
"Yeah…I don't know how-"
"Wow," he grins and I'm surprised, truly. I half expected him to freak out. Mind you, he never freaked out much before so I wasn't sure what I was basing that reaction on but still, there was always a first time for everything.
"Yeah, wow…" I hedge gently, checking his face for signs of disappointment. There are none.
"This is amazing!" He enthuses finally, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me strongly for a moment.
"We have to tell my mom," I reveal my reticence at the 'good news'.
"Oh," Troy purses his lips.
"Yeah, oh," I muse. My mother really was such a darling…
Troy's lips curved mischievously. "Can I be the one to tell her? Pretty please?"
I take one look at his face and I can't help breaking into giggles.
"You'll be the death of her!" I gasp through my laughter.
He kisses me some more.
"I love you, so much," he rests his forehead against mine.
"I'm sorry your mom won't be here to see it," I offer sadly. "But we'll make sure our baby knows about her."
"I guess I ought to think about proposing," Troy pulls away, speaking with his usual lack of romance. Although, I have to say, some things he does are so romantic, it more than makes up for his jokey remarks.
"Gee, I'm glad you don't feel pressured or anything," I poke him in the chest to retaliate and he chuckles.
"So will you?" He arches a brow.
"Marry you?" I check. "After that, not likely…"
"We'll be having a child out of wedlock…"
"Better than a child born into a rushed marriage," I retort.
"What will your mother say," he arches and I know then that he has got me. Hook, line and sinker. I squint tempestuously but my fake anger has no effect.
"Come on, 'Brie, you could do worse," he smiles innocently, baring his teeth as if showing himself off like a prize pony.
"I could do a lot better, too," I murmur under my breath, then smile just as innocently back. "Well, seeing as you asked first, it would be rude to say no…"
Troy grins and grasps me around the waist to pull me down onto the sofa with him; his celebratory mood set for the night.
"I believe we have to consummate the engagement," he teases, rubbing my nose with his.
"That's the marriage, you moron," I roll my eyes, but soften to his kisses anyway. He always knows just where to kiss to dissipate my anger.
"Ah well, let's practice," he shrugs and I giggle as his kisses continue; long into the night.
/
p.s. my wedding gown was not a meringue it was an elegant, beautiful flowing dress. In ivory.
/
p.p.s. I'm a writer now! I write movie reviews for the local paper and I get credited as Mrs. Bolton! Yay me!
I still make sandwiches for Troy though. Because I love him :) and our beautiful daughter Annabelle, born healthy to us two; ridiculously happy goofballs.
Nathan bought her a water pistol already and he uses it to bathe her! I seriously give up…and by the way, he's in love. At last. With a girl named Karen. I'm glad it happened, he needed a woman to settle him down
Troy just told me to stop working and well, who am I to argue? Goodnight world, see you around…
/