Fic: Tears Of My Heart [Part Two]
Author: miss_peg
Artist: tromana
Link To Art: Here.
Word count: 27206
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Lots of swearing and a bit of violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins...ah well.
Summary: When Cook gets out of prison having served time for absconding, he moves in with Naomi, Emily and Gina. After the death of his mother, Cook is faced with questions about his past. With Naomi's help, they go on an emotional journey which results in a revelation that could change both of their lives.
Notes: I was so excited to take part in the skins_bigbang and I am so glad that I finally took the time to write this story. I'd had it in my head for over a year and began it once, before realising that it needed more time than I was able to give it. I'm so proud of finally finishing it.
A massive thank you to tromana, who has literally been my everything throughout this whole process. My beta (you makes me a better writer), my cheerleader, my ideas bouncer, without you I don't think I'd have got through. Nor would I have the amazing art that you made for me. It's been a pleasure to do all of that for you too, in return. I can't wait for us to 'swap' art.
You should all check out her awesome skins_bigbang, which was her first proper Skins fic, not that you could possibly tell. Tick Tock.
Part One
Part Two
He’d lost the feeling in his foot twenty minutes ago when he’d hit it with the spade, but as he always had done, he kept on working. The garden wasn’t going to get dug up on its own and though Gina helped him a little, she seemed happier arranging the seeds and flowers ready for planting. He didn’t think he liked gardening. He’d never had any opportunity to do it.
‘You sure you want the whole place dug up Gina?’
‘Yes,’ she said, separating a group of flowers they’d bought from the garden centre an hour before. ‘I usually take a few out and replace them, this year I want to start from scratch.’
‘It’s hard work,’ he noted, wiping his face with the back of his hand, something he regretted as he felt dirt stick to his face.
‘You’ll get paid James, I already told you that.’
He hesitated, resting his body weight against the spade which sunk slowly into the earth. Payment didn’t matter; really, the work he did on the garden was the least he could do for having a roof over his head. Gina had made it clear that she didn’t expect him to pay his way with money; after all, she knew he had very little.
‘I know and I appreciate it like,’ he mumbled, pressing down on the spade with his foot as he turned over the dirt. ‘It’s just tough.’
‘Young man like you with muscles like that,’ Gina raised an eyebrow at him and he couldn’t help but smile.
He’d done nothing to deserve her kindness, except make her the odd brew. He wondered if she’d wanted to help out, or whether Naomi had influenced her decision. Naomi had once told him that Gina loved a house full of strangers and that she opened it up at least once a year to waifs and strays.
As each breath became harder and his heart raced along in his chest, he dropped the spade down on the ground and sat on top of the pile of dirt he’d built.
‘Should probably lay off the fags.’
‘We all have our vices,’ Gina uttered, standing the spade back up in the ground.
‘Not you. Naomi says you don’t smoke and only have a drink at Christmas.’
‘Everyone has vices. I drink more cups of tea in a day than most have in a week and I have a biscuit tin hidden in my wardrobe full of Garibaldis.’
‘Ain’t they Naomi’s favourites?’ he asked, pulling his shirt over his head until the gentle breeze reached his skin and his body temperature cooled considerably.
‘Who do you think gave her them in the first place?’
‘Classy.’
Gina watched him struggle with every breath; she should have expected it really. Kieran had smoked like a chimney and always ended up in the same sorry state whenever she asked him to help out around the house. She finished organising her flowers before taking a look around the garden. He didn’t have much left to do.
‘When you’re done with the flower beds we should go inside for a snack, I don’t want you keeling over.’
‘I’m fine, really I am,’ he said, wiping his hands with his shirt and throwing it onto the concrete slabs covering the patio. ‘Wouldn’t mind a drink though.’
‘You get back to work and I’ll go make us some tea.’
‘Nah, nah, Gina,’ he protested, holding his hands up demandingly. ‘I don’t drink tea. Purely coffee.’
‘Surely you know by now that I don’t have coffee in my kitchen.’
‘Then what the fuck have I been drinking all week?’ he gasped, a feeling of sickness sitting in the bottom of his stomach.
‘Probably one of my blends.’
‘Ain’t it all just leaves and shit?’
‘You could put it that way.’
Tea never appealed to Cook, he had been brought up by a mother who loathed a day without coffee. When he lived with his grandpa in the summer they’d survived mostly on beer, even if he was only twelve. His lips curled at the edges as he considered the boxes full of various brews that he’d helped organise with Gina the day before, he couldn’t even remember half the names she’d come out with.
‘Ever tried brewing weed?’
‘All the time when I was your age.’
‘Wouldn’t happen to have any in that magic tea cupboard of yours?’ he asked, itching for something stronger than the tobacco in his cigarettes.
‘I stopped smoking it when I got pregnant,’ Gina informed him, she turned away, uncomfortably. Not once had she lectured Naomi about the dangers of weed, she knew her daughter well enough to know that she, too, would one day give it up for a more adult lifestyle. ‘You’ll realise eventually James that responsibilities are more important than getting high.’
‘Fuck that,’ he snapped, agitated by her been there, done that attitude. That had been the biggest challenge with being inside, having people constantly ramming their experiences down his throat, like he fucking cared. ‘I’d rather splash about.’
‘As long as you’re looking for a job and will pay your way, you can do what the fuck you please.’
She wasn’t so bad really, Gina. She knew how to treat a person like an adult without forcing them to see things her way. He knew she hadn’t meant it quite like that. He had to remind himself not to allow his buttons to be pushed. Violence had no place in the Campbell house; it wasn’t prison, after all. He was free and Gina was more than willing to accommodate that.
‘Always knew you were a top bird Gina.’
xxx
‘Let’s go fucking mental!’
Cook stood up and poured his drink down his throat, not caring that half of it trickled down his chin and landed on his shirt. He picked up a second and did the same, waving his arms around as he jeered loudly.
‘I’ve fucking missed this I ‘ave.’
‘Being in a pub?’
‘Nah Emilio man; drinking, being with mates, getting fucked!’
There was no doubt that the night would be big. The longer they sat watching Cook down beer and shots, the harder it was not to laugh. The last year had been different, quieter than any of them would have liked, not that they admitted it. Everyone missed Freddie and Cook and once in a while they gathered together to have a drink in their names, but they hadn’t taken things to the extreme in the same way that Cook did. Emily rolled her eyes as he did three shots in a row and lifted his shirt over his head like a footballer.
‘Put it away,’ Naomi groaned, poking him in the stomach.
‘Yes James,’ JJ began matter-of-factly. ‘Contrary to popular belief on your part, your body is not a temple and you are not irresistible to everyone. In fact, out of the six other people here tonight, at least half of us wouldn’t ever think of your body as anything. I’m pretty sure Katie has always been repulsed by you, which leaves Effy and Karen. Both of them have been there and done that. I suspect neither would be willing to go back.’
‘Shut up Jaykins.’
‘Okay.’
The group went silent and Cook dragged Naomi away from the table, she resisted at first until he gave her a small nod. She removed Emily’s arm from her waist, kissed her hand and moved out from the table. He’d always looked up to them as the most stable relationship in his life, even when they were effectively apart, they were technically together. Despite wanting to shag Naomi, he knew what really mattered and that was her relationship with Emily.
‘Don’t forget the crisps,’ JJ shouted after them.
Cook tapped the bar impatiently with his fingers, alternating between them and his knuckles in rhythm. He'd never really been nervous before, not since his court date twelve months earlier. He smiled at Naomi, hoping that she'd understand from such a small glance. She smiled back and reached a hand across the bar, taking hold of his fingers and squeezing his hand gently.
'What can I get you Cook?' Uncle Keith asked, raising an eyebrow at the joined hands between them.
'Nothing if you’re gonna keep calling me that.'
'Don’t be a tosser,' he said in response, shaking his head. 'You’re Cook, getting out of prison ain’t gonna change that.'
'Fuck off.'
'James,' Naomi rested her hand on his shoulder, recognising the direction the conversation was going. They didn’t have time for pissing about and Naomi wasn’t going to let him regret the night.
'We need to ask you about Reggie.'
'Who?'
'Don’t play dumb Keith,' Naomi warned, resting her money on the bar. 'We need another round and anything you can tell us about James's real mother.'
'I don’t know what you’re talking about love, Ruth was his mother. That's all anybody needs to know.'
Cook tensed beside her and she reached out just in time to stop him climbing over the bar, his fists flying. The older man walked away, shaking his head, passing their order across to the barmaid.
'You’re on probation James, one person calls the police and you’re back inside, don’t be a cock.'
'Fuck off Naomikins, this whole thing's a fucking joke.'
His chest ached with the anger fighting for his attention. He shrugged Naomi's hands off his shoulder and stalked out of the bar. He couldn’t handle any of it without fucking up. What was he supposed to do? Keith was his only hope and he'd fucked him over. He'd waited eight months for this, for the freedom to find out who gave him up as a baby. Why couldn’t Keith understand that? Of all his family, he was the one person who usually looked out for him.
'What's going on?' Emily asked from across the room, loud enough for him to hear as he pushed the door open. He needed fresh air, he needed a fucking spliff.
'James,' Naomi shouted, leaving the pub behind him with that same concerned look she'd had on her face since he got out. He tried to ignore it, she was Naomi after all. She'd always looked after him but even she could piss him off at times.
'Don’t,' he shouted before she could even open her mouth. 'Don’t fucking say anything. Nobody gets it, nobody will ever fucking understand. He thinks he's protecting me, load of bollocks Naomikins. I need to know. I fucking deserve answers.'
'I know,' she whispered, that look again.
'Stop fucking looking at me like that, fucking shit,’ he spat, pointing his hand towards her chest. ‘I won’t take it from anyone and I especially won’t take it from you.'
'I’m sorry.'
'Yeah, everyone's fucking sorry. I don’t care that you think you should have gone down too. Nobody gives a shit. I’m 'ere, trying to get my life back and people are looking at me like I’m a piece of crap.'
‘Nobody thinks you’re a piece of crap Cook, not least me.’
‘James.’
‘Sorry.’
They sat on a picnic table smoking cigarettes, a slight downpour falling around them. He’d not felt rain properly in months. The last time he remembered it raining, he’d stood by his window staring out across the courtyard, watching puddles form on the uneven surface below. Droplets splashed on his head, his face and his hands, soaking his hair and seeping through his clothing. Naomi tried to get him under the smoking shelter, but he didn’t want to move. He sat back on the picnic bench and looked up at the sky, his eyes closed, just feeling it. When the shower disappeared and the clouds in the sky had blown away, he stood up and joined Naomi at a dry table under the shelter.
‘Why doesn’t he want me to know?’ Cook asked, knowing she had as many answers as he had, but asking the question anyway.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I need to know Naomes; I need to know who I am.’
They both looked up as the pub doors rattled open and the tall, large man they’d spoken to earlier exited with a stern look on his face. He stopped a few feet from Cook and rested two drinks on the table.
‘You shouldn’t be asking questions, they ain’t gonna make you happy. But if you insist on doing this, you wanna speak to your Uncle Sam.’
xxx
‘Talk to me,’ Emily whispered as she wrapped her arms around Naomi’s chest. They barely seemed to be spending any time together, the only time she could really get Naomi alone, was in bed.
‘There’s nothing to say,’ Naomi shrugged, turning onto her side with her back to Emily. ‘I’m fine.’
A brief silence followed and Emily gritted her teeth with frustration. The last time they’d really sad down and talked was before Cook came out of prison. She understood Naomi’s insecurities surrounding that, more than Naomi really gave her credit for. But what she didn’t understand was why Naomi had suddenly began pulling away from her.
‘You’re doing it again Naomi; I don’t want anything to come between us.’
She could hear the clicking of Naomi’s tongue as she passed a judgement on Emily’s concerns. She hated that anything was coming between them, even more so when Naomi couldn’t admit the reality of their current situation.
‘Nothing will,’ she sighed.
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes,’ Naomi said, assertively before she let out a less confident sigh. ‘I, I don’t know.’
‘Please,’ Emily begged her; desperate to talk about what was going on.
‘I’m fine,’ Naomi tried again, but the seeds of doubt had already been implanted.
‘Is this about Cook?’
‘Yes, okay, is that what you want to hear?’ Naomi snapped, turning back to face Emily.
Naomi had always been a self-confessed loner and though she didn’t mind the company, sometimes, she also missed her independence. At certain times she wanted the peace and solitude to gather her thoughts and process her feelings. With Emily, she always had to voice them before she was ready. When she finally looked into her girlfriend’s eyes, she lost all need to be alone and found herself all too willing to open up.
‘I’m worried about him, he’s so fucking depressed and not himself and I don’t know how to help him.’
Emily reached a hand up to her cheek, cupping her face and brushing her fingertips along the contours of Naomi’s forehead and nose. She closed her eyes and tried to get lost in the feeling of skin touching skin.
‘He’s been in a confined space for twelve months,’ Emily reminded her. ‘It’s going to be an adjustment. Not everyone gets it right away.’
‘It’s not that, he’s fine with that.’
‘Right.’
She tried and yet, sometimes she felt like she tried too hard with the wrong things. If only Naomi would be honest with her, then maybe she could actually help her. Instead, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, wishing and hoping that Naomi would stop keeping her in the dark.
‘There’s something I haven’t told you, that I can’t tell you. About Cook.’
‘Right,’ she muttered, coldly.
‘I want to, believe me I do,’ Naomi cried out, begging for forgiveness with her voice. ‘But I promised him.’
‘If I didn’t know you so well,’ Emily sighed. ‘I’d be lucky to meet you; you’d be the best friend anyone could ask for.’
‘But I’m lying to you.’
‘No,’ Emily whispered, trying to gather her thoughts enough to believe her own words. ‘You’re showing Cook that he can trust you.’
‘But,’ Naomi said, cut off quickly by Emily.
‘It’s none of my business really.’
‘You deserve better.’
‘You deserve to not feel so bad about this,’ Emily assured her, despite doubts niggling her.
‘I hate keeping things from you.’
Well, she hated disappointing Emily or making her doubt her. But keeping things? She wished she could do that more. Not to hurt her, but because she didn’t want to have to go through every thought process inside her mind. She hated to think, let alone voice, many of the things battling with her brain.
‘Just promise me something,’ Emily muttered, edging closer so that her mouth was almost touching Naomi’s ear.
‘Anything,’ she smiled, rolling over to meet Emily’s gaze. Their lips sat inches apart as she watched Emily speak.
‘Promise me that the moment you can tell me, you will?’
‘Of course.’
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
[ Parts Six - Ten]
Artist: tromana
Link To Art: Here.
Word count: 27206
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Lots of swearing and a bit of violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins...ah well.
Summary: When Cook gets out of prison having served time for absconding, he moves in with Naomi, Emily and Gina. After the death of his mother, Cook is faced with questions about his past. With Naomi's help, they go on an emotional journey which results in a revelation that could change both of their lives.
Notes: I was so excited to take part in the skins_bigbang and I am so glad that I finally took the time to write this story. I'd had it in my head for over a year and began it once, before realising that it needed more time than I was able to give it. I'm so proud of finally finishing it.
A massive thank you to tromana, who has literally been my everything throughout this whole process. My beta (you makes me a better writer), my cheerleader, my ideas bouncer, without you I don't think I'd have got through. Nor would I have the amazing art that you made for me. It's been a pleasure to do all of that for you too, in return. I can't wait for us to 'swap' art.
You should all check out her awesome skins_bigbang, which was her first proper Skins fic, not that you could possibly tell. Tick Tock.
Part One
Part Two
He’d lost the feeling in his foot twenty minutes ago when he’d hit it with the spade, but as he always had done, he kept on working. The garden wasn’t going to get dug up on its own and though Gina helped him a little, she seemed happier arranging the seeds and flowers ready for planting. He didn’t think he liked gardening. He’d never had any opportunity to do it.
‘You sure you want the whole place dug up Gina?’
‘Yes,’ she said, separating a group of flowers they’d bought from the garden centre an hour before. ‘I usually take a few out and replace them, this year I want to start from scratch.’
‘It’s hard work,’ he noted, wiping his face with the back of his hand, something he regretted as he felt dirt stick to his face.
‘You’ll get paid James, I already told you that.’
He hesitated, resting his body weight against the spade which sunk slowly into the earth. Payment didn’t matter; really, the work he did on the garden was the least he could do for having a roof over his head. Gina had made it clear that she didn’t expect him to pay his way with money; after all, she knew he had very little.
‘I know and I appreciate it like,’ he mumbled, pressing down on the spade with his foot as he turned over the dirt. ‘It’s just tough.’
‘Young man like you with muscles like that,’ Gina raised an eyebrow at him and he couldn’t help but smile.
He’d done nothing to deserve her kindness, except make her the odd brew. He wondered if she’d wanted to help out, or whether Naomi had influenced her decision. Naomi had once told him that Gina loved a house full of strangers and that she opened it up at least once a year to waifs and strays.
As each breath became harder and his heart raced along in his chest, he dropped the spade down on the ground and sat on top of the pile of dirt he’d built.
‘Should probably lay off the fags.’
‘We all have our vices,’ Gina uttered, standing the spade back up in the ground.
‘Not you. Naomi says you don’t smoke and only have a drink at Christmas.’
‘Everyone has vices. I drink more cups of tea in a day than most have in a week and I have a biscuit tin hidden in my wardrobe full of Garibaldis.’
‘Ain’t they Naomi’s favourites?’ he asked, pulling his shirt over his head until the gentle breeze reached his skin and his body temperature cooled considerably.
‘Who do you think gave her them in the first place?’
‘Classy.’
Gina watched him struggle with every breath; she should have expected it really. Kieran had smoked like a chimney and always ended up in the same sorry state whenever she asked him to help out around the house. She finished organising her flowers before taking a look around the garden. He didn’t have much left to do.
‘When you’re done with the flower beds we should go inside for a snack, I don’t want you keeling over.’
‘I’m fine, really I am,’ he said, wiping his hands with his shirt and throwing it onto the concrete slabs covering the patio. ‘Wouldn’t mind a drink though.’
‘You get back to work and I’ll go make us some tea.’
‘Nah, nah, Gina,’ he protested, holding his hands up demandingly. ‘I don’t drink tea. Purely coffee.’
‘Surely you know by now that I don’t have coffee in my kitchen.’
‘Then what the fuck have I been drinking all week?’ he gasped, a feeling of sickness sitting in the bottom of his stomach.
‘Probably one of my blends.’
‘Ain’t it all just leaves and shit?’
‘You could put it that way.’
Tea never appealed to Cook, he had been brought up by a mother who loathed a day without coffee. When he lived with his grandpa in the summer they’d survived mostly on beer, even if he was only twelve. His lips curled at the edges as he considered the boxes full of various brews that he’d helped organise with Gina the day before, he couldn’t even remember half the names she’d come out with.
‘Ever tried brewing weed?’
‘All the time when I was your age.’
‘Wouldn’t happen to have any in that magic tea cupboard of yours?’ he asked, itching for something stronger than the tobacco in his cigarettes.
‘I stopped smoking it when I got pregnant,’ Gina informed him, she turned away, uncomfortably. Not once had she lectured Naomi about the dangers of weed, she knew her daughter well enough to know that she, too, would one day give it up for a more adult lifestyle. ‘You’ll realise eventually James that responsibilities are more important than getting high.’
‘Fuck that,’ he snapped, agitated by her been there, done that attitude. That had been the biggest challenge with being inside, having people constantly ramming their experiences down his throat, like he fucking cared. ‘I’d rather splash about.’
‘As long as you’re looking for a job and will pay your way, you can do what the fuck you please.’
She wasn’t so bad really, Gina. She knew how to treat a person like an adult without forcing them to see things her way. He knew she hadn’t meant it quite like that. He had to remind himself not to allow his buttons to be pushed. Violence had no place in the Campbell house; it wasn’t prison, after all. He was free and Gina was more than willing to accommodate that.
‘Always knew you were a top bird Gina.’
xxx
‘Let’s go fucking mental!’
Cook stood up and poured his drink down his throat, not caring that half of it trickled down his chin and landed on his shirt. He picked up a second and did the same, waving his arms around as he jeered loudly.
‘I’ve fucking missed this I ‘ave.’
‘Being in a pub?’
‘Nah Emilio man; drinking, being with mates, getting fucked!’
There was no doubt that the night would be big. The longer they sat watching Cook down beer and shots, the harder it was not to laugh. The last year had been different, quieter than any of them would have liked, not that they admitted it. Everyone missed Freddie and Cook and once in a while they gathered together to have a drink in their names, but they hadn’t taken things to the extreme in the same way that Cook did. Emily rolled her eyes as he did three shots in a row and lifted his shirt over his head like a footballer.
‘Put it away,’ Naomi groaned, poking him in the stomach.
‘Yes James,’ JJ began matter-of-factly. ‘Contrary to popular belief on your part, your body is not a temple and you are not irresistible to everyone. In fact, out of the six other people here tonight, at least half of us wouldn’t ever think of your body as anything. I’m pretty sure Katie has always been repulsed by you, which leaves Effy and Karen. Both of them have been there and done that. I suspect neither would be willing to go back.’
‘Shut up Jaykins.’
‘Okay.’
The group went silent and Cook dragged Naomi away from the table, she resisted at first until he gave her a small nod. She removed Emily’s arm from her waist, kissed her hand and moved out from the table. He’d always looked up to them as the most stable relationship in his life, even when they were effectively apart, they were technically together. Despite wanting to shag Naomi, he knew what really mattered and that was her relationship with Emily.
‘Don’t forget the crisps,’ JJ shouted after them.
Cook tapped the bar impatiently with his fingers, alternating between them and his knuckles in rhythm. He'd never really been nervous before, not since his court date twelve months earlier. He smiled at Naomi, hoping that she'd understand from such a small glance. She smiled back and reached a hand across the bar, taking hold of his fingers and squeezing his hand gently.
'What can I get you Cook?' Uncle Keith asked, raising an eyebrow at the joined hands between them.
'Nothing if you’re gonna keep calling me that.'
'Don’t be a tosser,' he said in response, shaking his head. 'You’re Cook, getting out of prison ain’t gonna change that.'
'Fuck off.'
'James,' Naomi rested her hand on his shoulder, recognising the direction the conversation was going. They didn’t have time for pissing about and Naomi wasn’t going to let him regret the night.
'We need to ask you about Reggie.'
'Who?'
'Don’t play dumb Keith,' Naomi warned, resting her money on the bar. 'We need another round and anything you can tell us about James's real mother.'
'I don’t know what you’re talking about love, Ruth was his mother. That's all anybody needs to know.'
Cook tensed beside her and she reached out just in time to stop him climbing over the bar, his fists flying. The older man walked away, shaking his head, passing their order across to the barmaid.
'You’re on probation James, one person calls the police and you’re back inside, don’t be a cock.'
'Fuck off Naomikins, this whole thing's a fucking joke.'
His chest ached with the anger fighting for his attention. He shrugged Naomi's hands off his shoulder and stalked out of the bar. He couldn’t handle any of it without fucking up. What was he supposed to do? Keith was his only hope and he'd fucked him over. He'd waited eight months for this, for the freedom to find out who gave him up as a baby. Why couldn’t Keith understand that? Of all his family, he was the one person who usually looked out for him.
'What's going on?' Emily asked from across the room, loud enough for him to hear as he pushed the door open. He needed fresh air, he needed a fucking spliff.
'James,' Naomi shouted, leaving the pub behind him with that same concerned look she'd had on her face since he got out. He tried to ignore it, she was Naomi after all. She'd always looked after him but even she could piss him off at times.
'Don’t,' he shouted before she could even open her mouth. 'Don’t fucking say anything. Nobody gets it, nobody will ever fucking understand. He thinks he's protecting me, load of bollocks Naomikins. I need to know. I fucking deserve answers.'
'I know,' she whispered, that look again.
'Stop fucking looking at me like that, fucking shit,’ he spat, pointing his hand towards her chest. ‘I won’t take it from anyone and I especially won’t take it from you.'
'I’m sorry.'
'Yeah, everyone's fucking sorry. I don’t care that you think you should have gone down too. Nobody gives a shit. I’m 'ere, trying to get my life back and people are looking at me like I’m a piece of crap.'
‘Nobody thinks you’re a piece of crap Cook, not least me.’
‘James.’
‘Sorry.’
They sat on a picnic table smoking cigarettes, a slight downpour falling around them. He’d not felt rain properly in months. The last time he remembered it raining, he’d stood by his window staring out across the courtyard, watching puddles form on the uneven surface below. Droplets splashed on his head, his face and his hands, soaking his hair and seeping through his clothing. Naomi tried to get him under the smoking shelter, but he didn’t want to move. He sat back on the picnic bench and looked up at the sky, his eyes closed, just feeling it. When the shower disappeared and the clouds in the sky had blown away, he stood up and joined Naomi at a dry table under the shelter.
‘Why doesn’t he want me to know?’ Cook asked, knowing she had as many answers as he had, but asking the question anyway.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I need to know Naomes; I need to know who I am.’
They both looked up as the pub doors rattled open and the tall, large man they’d spoken to earlier exited with a stern look on his face. He stopped a few feet from Cook and rested two drinks on the table.
‘You shouldn’t be asking questions, they ain’t gonna make you happy. But if you insist on doing this, you wanna speak to your Uncle Sam.’
xxx
‘Talk to me,’ Emily whispered as she wrapped her arms around Naomi’s chest. They barely seemed to be spending any time together, the only time she could really get Naomi alone, was in bed.
‘There’s nothing to say,’ Naomi shrugged, turning onto her side with her back to Emily. ‘I’m fine.’
A brief silence followed and Emily gritted her teeth with frustration. The last time they’d really sad down and talked was before Cook came out of prison. She understood Naomi’s insecurities surrounding that, more than Naomi really gave her credit for. But what she didn’t understand was why Naomi had suddenly began pulling away from her.
‘You’re doing it again Naomi; I don’t want anything to come between us.’
She could hear the clicking of Naomi’s tongue as she passed a judgement on Emily’s concerns. She hated that anything was coming between them, even more so when Naomi couldn’t admit the reality of their current situation.
‘Nothing will,’ she sighed.
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes,’ Naomi said, assertively before she let out a less confident sigh. ‘I, I don’t know.’
‘Please,’ Emily begged her; desperate to talk about what was going on.
‘I’m fine,’ Naomi tried again, but the seeds of doubt had already been implanted.
‘Is this about Cook?’
‘Yes, okay, is that what you want to hear?’ Naomi snapped, turning back to face Emily.
Naomi had always been a self-confessed loner and though she didn’t mind the company, sometimes, she also missed her independence. At certain times she wanted the peace and solitude to gather her thoughts and process her feelings. With Emily, she always had to voice them before she was ready. When she finally looked into her girlfriend’s eyes, she lost all need to be alone and found herself all too willing to open up.
‘I’m worried about him, he’s so fucking depressed and not himself and I don’t know how to help him.’
Emily reached a hand up to her cheek, cupping her face and brushing her fingertips along the contours of Naomi’s forehead and nose. She closed her eyes and tried to get lost in the feeling of skin touching skin.
‘He’s been in a confined space for twelve months,’ Emily reminded her. ‘It’s going to be an adjustment. Not everyone gets it right away.’
‘It’s not that, he’s fine with that.’
‘Right.’
She tried and yet, sometimes she felt like she tried too hard with the wrong things. If only Naomi would be honest with her, then maybe she could actually help her. Instead, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, wishing and hoping that Naomi would stop keeping her in the dark.
‘There’s something I haven’t told you, that I can’t tell you. About Cook.’
‘Right,’ she muttered, coldly.
‘I want to, believe me I do,’ Naomi cried out, begging for forgiveness with her voice. ‘But I promised him.’
‘If I didn’t know you so well,’ Emily sighed. ‘I’d be lucky to meet you; you’d be the best friend anyone could ask for.’
‘But I’m lying to you.’
‘No,’ Emily whispered, trying to gather her thoughts enough to believe her own words. ‘You’re showing Cook that he can trust you.’
‘But,’ Naomi said, cut off quickly by Emily.
‘It’s none of my business really.’
‘You deserve better.’
‘You deserve to not feel so bad about this,’ Emily assured her, despite doubts niggling her.
‘I hate keeping things from you.’
Well, she hated disappointing Emily or making her doubt her. But keeping things? She wished she could do that more. Not to hurt her, but because she didn’t want to have to go through every thought process inside her mind. She hated to think, let alone voice, many of the things battling with her brain.
‘Just promise me something,’ Emily muttered, edging closer so that her mouth was almost touching Naomi’s ear.
‘Anything,’ she smiled, rolling over to meet Emily’s gaze. Their lips sat inches apart as she watched Emily speak.
‘Promise me that the moment you can tell me, you will?’
‘Of course.’
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
[ Parts Six - Ten]