Where the Streets Have No Name(18)

“No, sorry.” Lifting her into his arms, Daniel carried Amelia to the sofa lining the wall across from the table/bed where he set her down gently. “I’m sorry, Amelia. My head…it’s not in any right place at the moment.”

He looked into her eyes. Where he expected anger he saw understanding.

Did she know?

No. She couldn’t.

“I think we should make up some pizzas, get drunk, and go to bed,” Amelia said. “Can you pass me my laptop?”

He’d never seen such a small computer. Like a book. His Ma and Da couldn’t afford a computer when he’d lived with them.

Daniel handed her the laptop and set about heating up two pizzas for them. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he watched her fingers fly over the keys. What was she doing? What did she do for a living? Was she a student? She said she was twenty-five which meant she could be.

No matter. If he asked, she’d tell him, but he kept his nose from her business. Not that he didn’t want to know, but to give her some privacy. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him. Right?

Damn his head and the mess inside.

I should apologise again.

But what did he say?

“Amelia…”

She couldn’t hear him. She’d put on a set of headphones, blocking him out.

Serves you right.

With a sigh, Daniel turned his attentions to the pizzas in the oven. The timer was set, but he’d never cooked a meal is his bloody life, save for toast. Ma wouldn’t let any of them near the oven for fear they’d burn the house down. Now he wished she’d given him just a cursory lesson. What if he burned the pizzas?

There was the crux of it all. He was nothing but a pathetic waste of space. Amelia was everything good and sweet and beautiful. He had no right touching her, kissing her, even wanting her. But damn it all, he did.





Today the skies were overcast but the clouds looked high and fluffy and bright. Daniel woke with a thick head, a stiff cock, and a sweet sleepy lass in his arms. The previous evening came back to him in short burst. Flashes of memory.

Burning the pizzas.

Aye, he had done. Not too bad. They were still edible.

Too much whisky.

Holding the lass while she cried over her Poppa.

Daniel swiped a hand over his aching brow. Shite…what else had he done?

Amelia moaned, burrowing her face into his chest. Silky-smooth locks brushed under his nose, scented like wild flowers and berries. He inhaled deep, preserving her scent to memory.

“My brain hurts,” she whimpered and hid her face deeper in his chest.

Resisting the urge to laugh took all his strength. His head wasn’t faring much better this morning. “Hard spirits’ll do that to you.”

“The room is spinning… I feel… Ugh… I…”

Ah shite – she was about to be sick!

Daniel jumped from the bed, searching for something she could be sick in. His foot landed in a big plastic bowl. Perfect.

Just in time, he brought the bowl to Amelia and sat her up, holding her hair back and her face over the bowl in his lap. Her share of the pizza came back up. Her body tightened. She retched again. Groaned.

“Oh God…sorry!” She slumped against his chest, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry, Daniel.”

He kissed the top of her head, ignoring stabs of pain in his head and clenching in his gut. He wasn’t faring any better than her at the moment. “Don’t you worry, lass. I’ll get rid of this and be right back.”

He’d dealt with his fair share of sick as a lad, helping Ma look after the girls when they were ill. But where to get rid of this? Down the loo? In a caravan? He didn’t know enough about plumbing and wasn’t about to wreck the thing. He hadn’t the money to pay for a new one.

Outside. Aye, he’d dump it outside and let the pouring rain wash it away.

Careful not to get splashed back with it, he dumped the bowl out the door and let it fill with a little rain to rinse, then brought it inside and cleaned it in the sink. Never know, he thought. Might need it again.

He dried the bowl and filled a glass with water, bringing both back to the small bedroom with him. At what point did they get to bed last night? And how did they end up together? Hadn’t he planned on staying away from her so he wouldn’t attack her again?

“Drink this, Amelia.” He wrapped her hands around the glass, bringing it to her lips.

Slowly at first, she sipped the entire glass down. “I feel awful,” she mumbled, settling into his arms.

Daniel held her in his arms, letting her hair fan out over his chest. Peace settled in his heart for a moment and he held her closer, like holding onto her was the glue keeping the cracks in his heart together. She turned in his arms, burying her face in his chest, curling her body around his.