KNEE DEEP
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TWO

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I SMELL OF HIM, I only realise that the reminiscences of Paul's aftershave lingers on my neck as I notice my dad linger a little longer in our normally two second hugs.

He greets me in the entryway of the house I spent the summers of my youth in. A soft smile on his lips that is identical to the one that curves on my lips.

It's been a couple months since I've seen him. We cross paths, but he's always leaving LA when I'm returning. Or I'm in London and he's here in Ireland — and now being at the age of twenty five, there's no court mandate that gives us specific times to see one another.

We talk on the phone every other day, even if it's just few minutes to make sure we're both still alive. But it's always been like this, there's never been a regular schedule like one of the others girls who I confided in when my parents separated.

There was no knocking at the door of my mom's house every other weekend. There was no awkward conversation where they spoke how I'd been for the fortnight since he had seen me.

Instead, it was every other weekend pushed into six weeks of the summer. As soon as the weather became nice in England I was sent to wherever my dad was. Sometimes here, sometimes LA or some other place that wasn't home.

I like to pretend that he lingers just because he's missed me more than he usually does. I like to pretend that he won't ask why I was late when we sit down for lunch and I'll regurgitate some excuse that I use all the time in some sort of new form.

I like to pretend a lot recently.

" how are you sweetheart?" he hums, and I nod and pull back. Letting my hands fall down to my side, offering a gentle smile.

" yeah, yeah I'm good." I say , not sure whether I'm saying it to convince my dad or myself. We haven't really seen each other since Freddie.

The breakup that was pending from the day we met yet still tore me apart. my first relationship, which led to almost my first everything.

Boarding school bonds you, I would probably relate it to some kind of rich kid love island. We're stuck in each other's presence all day — every feeling grows stronger in a shorter time span and everything is intensified. Every argument whether between friends or a partner feels like the end of the world.

There is no escape, no ditching school and staying at home to distance yourself. And it didn't translate into the real world, at least for me and Freddie.

Dad's brow furrows as I roll my eyes " dad, we're not having this conversation before I've even gotten into the house." I hum.

I walk further into the house, ignoring that I hear my dad's deep exhale. " where's Aiden?" I ask, walking into the kitchen. Glancing around for my younger brother.

I turn around and look at my dad who leans in the doorway " went out with some friends."

Humming in reply, looking at that look he gives me " dad, don't look at me like that-"

He puts his hands up in surrender " like what?"

" Like you're walking on eggshells around me." I say, slipping onto one of the barstools by the kitchen counter " we don't need to talk about Freddie, it's over, donzo!" I clarify.

And he gives me this small smile, because I can tell he doesn't believe me. And I wouldn't believe me either — it has never been 'donzo' between me and Freddie.

Not since I was year ten and set my eyes on him for the first time. And not like it was the first time I had ever seen him because I had known him since I was ten, but the first time I looked at him and thought I saw everything. Past, present and future rested in the Iris' of his eyes.

My present and future to be specific. When I first kissed him in the corner of some party like I had been telling my friends all week I would when I was seventeen.

When he used to wink at me on the rugby pitch on a Saturday when come rain or shine I would stand there watching him. When I spent the night with him, when I let all my guards and barriers down.

I even knew then that if it ever ended, it would never actually be over.

And my dad looks at me, with this hopefulness that makes me think he wants it to be the truth as he exhales.

" Ci, that's what you said last time." he hums, folding his arms. Ten months ago to be specific — I ran from London to LA, sobbed to my dad in his trailer that I hated him and couldn't understand what I ever saw in him.

I said it was over. Told my agent to arrange him moving out of the apartment, told my friends not to cave in when our him and his friends would ask for them to help 'get me back'.

And for a few months it worked, I went back to London — I went to auditions and even an odd date. And I thought it was finally over, that I'd escaped the vicious cycle I've been trapped in since I was seventeen.

It took one late night text declaring he missed me in as minimal words as possible to bring me back in. It only lasted a week or two — one of the much shorter spans of time we got back together for.

The exhale of breath that leaves my lips is genuine, as I feel my phone buzz in my Jean pocket. I shake my head at my dad before reaching to grab it.

Feeling my lips shift upwards as I read the notification.

IMESSAGE

PAUL MESCAL 😌

paul mescal 😌
just showered

paul mescal 😌
can still smell your perfume on my skin and my clothes

paul mescal 😌
fuck, you're so addictive

" I know." I say, letting my eyes linger on his messages as I cough up something that isn't there in the first place. Placing my phone back into my jean pocket,

" but believe me when I say it this time."

Dad gives me a skeptic look, because I know he can read in my face the truth. That whether I'm right or wrong, I believe it this time too.

ELLIE SPEAKS🪄
saw gladiator and my love for this Irish man reignited — welcome back ciara murphy!!!