Deeper Water (20 page)

‘I don’t know what you want, Mema.’ He sounded stranded, alone.

I didn’t know how to explain it. I was humming so bad by then I couldn’t fathom he didn’t hear it.

‘You got to touch me,’ was all I whispered in the end, but it seemed to be enough.

I sat there, quivering, feeling all those pebbles beneath my skin, the water lapping softly at my legs, and he reached out a hand and ran it along the length of me. From my collarbone all the way down, over my breast and belly, across the patch of my hair and down further still along my leg, until his fingers hit the water. In my mind I could see his hand, brown and firm with its bristly dark hairs.

‘Like that?’ he asked, his breathing hard. He leaned over to kiss me, tentatively, like I might become like that slippery eel and slide away.

‘Like that,’ I said against his lips, ‘but more.’

He slid his fingers back up my leg, stopping then at the base of me, where all my liquid pooled. He pushed the back of his hand against me, firm but questioning, and then he turned his palm over and pressed his fingers inside.

‘You’re so wet,’ he groaned against my neck. ‘Fuck.’ But he didn’t touch me the way I wanted, so I shifted a little, wiped the pebbly soil from my fingertips against my thighs, and touched myself, his fingers there beside mine, pressing still into my wetness. He turned on his side towards me and I could feel the hardness of him against my leg. It had bothered me before, his erect flesh a kind of intrusion, but in that moment I liked it.

He pushed his fingers deeper inside, and as I touched myself everything built around me. The feel of the bank beneath my body, the air against my breasts, the water slippery against my legs, and the darkness of the sky above. It all pressed in against me, and his body too, until I was lost somehow in the feel of things.

‘Baby,’ he sighed out, all low. ‘Baby.’

It was a little odd to hear my nickname in amongst that eddy of feeling, but it didn’t bother me.

‘Climb up on me,’ he whispered.

And I didn’t see why not.

In no time at all that hard part of him was inside me, and I looked up at the sky, dark and starless, my fingers still touching that nub, his breath coming hard and fast against my breasts, and somehow, despite the absurdity, it felt right. I rocked against him, and the humming built, and I could hear myself making sounds like his, until it all burst, like it had the night before, even without the rain.

He quietened then, as I sat on my knees astride him, my body liquid and shuddery, him still hard and throbbing inside me. He listened, his breathing unsteady. Running his hand down my side, he grasped my foot, my wonky misshapen foot, holding it like a treasure in his hand.

‘I don’t want to come inside you, Mema,’ he murmured. ‘That was bad of me last night.’

I wasn’t sure what to do about that—it not being my area of expertise.

‘I brought condoms this time.’ He squeezed my foot between his fingers. ‘But I left them in the pocket of my pants.’

I looked towards the bank where our clothes were and I didn’t much feel like swimming across. Neither, I guessed, did he.

‘Up you get,’ he lifted me off him and lay me back on the pebbles of the bank. My limbs were heavy and the feel of the stones against my back was soothing. He knelt between my legs, looking at me under that sliver of moon, running a hand down my body just like I was the clay.

‘I’ll pull out,’ he said, before he pressed himself inside. He moved hard and fast then, shoving against me like I was a keyhole he couldn’t unlock. And I waited, sated and still. A little sore. In the end he pulled out, like he said he would, sprinkling himself over my belly in a final groan. And I hugged him, ’cause it seemed a small miracle in that moment that he should care about me so.

When his breathing slowed he lifted his head. ‘I don’t want to get you in trouble.’

I thought about that, just for a second. ‘Us, you mean. It’d be
our
trouble.’ But I knew it wouldn’t, I knew it would only be mine. ‘We’ll know in a few days.’ I pretty much bled like clockwork.

I slipped out from beneath him and back into the water. It was colder the second time around, less welcoming, and I ducked under, trying to brush all the sprinkles and pebbles from my skin. Hamish’s ochre-painted face flashed in my mind. I felt hollow when moments before I’d felt full. I thought back to the press of the pebbles, Billy’s hand stretching down the length of me, trying to hold it all in my mind.

Scrambling up the bank, I shook off the drips, pulling on my singlet, shivering a little.

Billy clambered up beside me, shaking the water from his ear.

‘Don’t rush off,’ he said, reaching out a hand. ‘I’ll walk you home.’

‘It’s alright.’ I leaned forward and gave his fingers a squeeze. ‘It’s in the wrong direction.’

He pulled on his clothes, not looking at my face. In a minute he was ready.

‘Mema?’

I couldn’t think what he might possibly want to say.

‘I could cook you up that eel. I know how to cook them right.’

Fishing was one of my least favourite things.

‘I don’t eat meat.’ Around here it was hard to explain that particular aversion.

‘Vegetarian?’

‘Yep.’

In the moonlight I could see him shake his head. That had put a spanner in the works.

‘They’re just animals, Mema.’

I nodded. ‘We all are.’

I thought of the way he’d held my foot, held it like it was the best part of me. It made me want to give him something then, something nice to say goodbye. I patted my pocket, the secret one sewn into my skirt. There was a rock, a little heart-shaped stone I’d found somewhere on my travels. I unzipped the pocket and pulled it out.

‘Here.’ I pressed it into his hand. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He turned it in his fingers in the dark, bemused.

‘Thanks,’ he said, though I don’t think he knew what it was.

I turned around and headed up the hill. And on my way I thought of how everything had pressed in against me, how it had seemed for that moment that some kind of barrier had collapsed, particles had merged between the world and me, and I wondered if Billy had felt like that too.

It was very hard to tell.

When I rose from my bed the next day, there was a mound of fine brown pebbles on the pillow that must have fallen from my hair as it dried. I looked at it in the bright morning light and a part of me felt faintly disbelieving. It was as though I had split into two people. My days and my nights somehow coming unhinged. After I’d dressed I pulled the sheets from the bed and put them in the washing machine. I’m not sure why, but it bothered me, this evidence of what I’d done.

I started my morning rounds—feeding Thor and the pup, sweeping the floors, letting the chickens out—and by the time I came back inside, Mum was already in the shed, pottering. In a week or so we’d head off to the market, sell some mugs and pots, replenish our supplies. I looked out the window of the kitchen at the roll of the hills, wondering about Anja and where she could be. There didn’t seem to be anything else for it, I’d have to go into town. Hunt her down. I needed to get a lift, but I couldn’t decide who I’d rather ask—Mum or Sophie. I was pondering it when I heard Rory’s voice, bright and springy at the back door.

‘Mema, I’m here!’ He liked to announce himself. I picked him up to hug him and he snuggled in against my neck.

‘You smell funny.’ He wrinkled his nose.

Still holding him, I sniffed at my arm, same as yesterday—creek water with a touch of earth.

‘Do I?’

He wriggled out of my arms and onto the floor as Sophie stepped through the door with Lila.

‘Mummy, Mema smells funny.’

Sophie laughed at that. ‘You little bugger, leave your auntie alone.’ But when she looked across at me, I felt caught in her gaze. I held out my arms for the baby and Sophie handed her over, leaning in towards me to take a sniff.

She smiled then, kind of sad-eyed. ‘Mema’s like a flower.’

‘What?’ Rory said, peering up at me.

‘She’s in bloom.’ Sophie said, scuffing up his hair.

My face was suddenly hot.

Rory seemed to consider Sophie’s words, but he didn’t say any more.

‘Maybe I better have a shower.’ I leaned down and kissed Lila’s plump little cheek, and she smiled all gummy mouthed.

‘I’m coming!’ Rory cried out, jumping on the spot. It was one of his favourite things, to watch me in the shower.

‘Do you mind?’ Sophie asked, studying my face. ‘You can say no if you do.’

I’d never minded before so I couldn’t see how this time was different.

‘It’s fine.’ I handed Lila back to Sophie. ‘Come on boy-o.’

There was a small stool in the bathroom, just the right size for Rory, and he rushed inside, snatched up a couple of his toy dinosaurs from the edge of the bathtub, then perched himself on the stool, ready to go. I’d never really thought much before about Rory seeing me naked—it had never felt strange. Just a natural progression from him being the baby I took into the shower with me, to him being a toddler who scrambled about in the bathroom, watching the whole affair. Part of the fabric of things as they were. But suddenly I felt self-conscious. I turned on the water, letting it heat up before I took my clothes off.

Rory chatted away to himself, doing the voices of the dinosaurs. I stripped down quickly and climbed under the spray. The cane toads were back, squatting in the corner. They made me think of Hamish. I wondered where he was, if he was still in town. I wondered if he’d leave without saying goodbye. I wondered if Anja was still stalking him, like some kind of starved dingo. And deep down I wondered what he thought of her, whether he’d be able to resist. It was bad enough imagining him and all those invisible girls, but thinking of him with Anja was unbearable. It made that place between my breasts start hurting, and I pressed it hard, pushing against the bone.

‘Mema?’ Rory called out then, still sitting on the stool. ‘Can’t
see
you.’

I guess I’d pulled the shower curtain too tight. Usually I left it open a little and we chatted. I turned around and smiled but I wasn’t feeling much like playing.

‘You sad?’ His little voice was croaky, his fingers clutching at the dinosaurs, turning white.

I shook my head but it was a lie. Standing there, exposed before him, I could have dissolved into tears.

‘You’re a flower, Mema!’ His eyes were big and black, widening as he watched me under the spray. ‘Mummy said.’

I nodded as I soaped up my hair. I could feel the bits of pebble there, gritty against my fingers. I thought of the weight of Billy against me, his fingers pressed inside, and my nipples tightened there under the shower spray. It felt wrong then that Rory should be watching, but I didn’t know how to get him out. I turned my back, washing away the soap and fumbling with the conditioner. Glancing around, I saw Rory had taken up his game with the dinosaurs, distracted for a few seconds at least. I finished up as quickly as I could, wrapping myself in a towel.

‘You ready?’ I said to Rory and he looked up at me in surprise.

‘Finished?’ He didn’t much like a break in routine. ‘You didn’t do the swirly bit.’

‘What swirly bit?’ I asked, but I knew what he meant.

‘The swirly.’ He dropped the dinosaurs on the ground and smoothed his hands across his little body, demonstrating. ‘That bit.’

‘You missed it. You were too busy playing.’

He looked forlorn. ‘That’s the goodest bit.’

I held out my hand. Reluctantly, he took it.

‘Next time,’ I coaxed. ‘I’ll do the swirly bit next time.’ I said it, even though I didn’t know if I should.

When I came out, Sophie was standing at the window, baby on one hip and a steaming cup of tea in her opposite hand. She was watching something, staring.

‘Mum told me she’d been walking down the driveway every day. Trying to get her knees working properly, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.’ She motioned out the window. ‘But there she is, heading down. Mum. Doing
exercise
. I never thought I’d see the day.’

I walked over and stood beside her, still wrapped in my big old towel. Rory let go of my hand and attached himself to Sophie’s leg.

‘I missed the swirly bit,’ he said, and burst out crying.

‘Aw, baby,’ she murmured, hiding a smile. I reached out and took Lila from her so she could give him a hug. ‘Did Mema go too quick for you?’

I guess it was a bit comical. Lila was smiling too.

‘She’s happy today,’ I said, bouncing her on my hip, hoping I wouldn’t lose my towel.

Sophie picked up Rory and he wrapped his arms around her neck, snuffling.

‘I know.’ Sophie looked at me over Rory’s head. ‘What a little trooper she is. This one’s been all over the place.’ She kissed Rory on the head. ‘Guess he’s missing you know who.’

The mongrel. ‘You heard anything?’

Sophie looked at the floor, shaking her head. ‘Guess I could have held it together better,’ she said quietly. ‘Probably made it worse for him.’ She squeezed Rory tighter. ‘I just didn’t see it coming. I mean, he only went to the shops.’

I nodded, bending my head to give Lila an Eskimo kiss, rubbing my nose against her nose. The baby swiped out at my wet hair with her dimpled fingers. I thought of my sister’s bruised forehead, the night I first brought Hamish home.

‘Rory’s alright.’ I didn’t see that Sophie beating herself up over things would make them any better.

I glanced out the window then, still snuggling Lila, and suddenly there were two figures walking back up the hill—Mum and Frank Brown.

‘What do you know,’ Sophie said with a sideways smile at me. ‘He’s come back for another try. He’s keen, this one.’

As they got closer I could see Mum was holding a bunch of crucifix orchids. It was my guess she’d busted him trying to leave the flowers down the bottom, like he had the time before. In the spot he always used to leave the bags of avocados, near the letterbox.

Frank was clutching his hat in his hands, and even from this far away he looked a little nervous.

‘Poor guy,’ Sophie said, but she was grinning now. She gave Rory one more squeeze and then slid him back down to his feet. ‘You had brekky yet, Mema?’ she asked me. ‘I might make Rory some toast. Bit of distraction. You want some too?’

I nodded, but I was still watching Mum. There was something about her I couldn’t quite place, some kind of agitation. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think Frank could be the cause of it. When they stepped up onto the veranda and through the door, I saw she had something else besides the flowers in her hands. There was a card, a postcard, and she passed it to me without saying a word. On it was a beach scene, some far-away town. Still jiggling Lila on my hip I flipped it over, scanning the handwriting quickly. It was from Max. My oldest brother. And there was a return address. None of them had ever sent us something in the post.

‘He’s up in North Queensland,’ I said and Mum nodded, holding that big feeling tightly inside her.

‘He says we should come and visit.’ We hadn’t heard from him in years. I was having trouble believing my eyes.

Mum turned then and started fussing with the flowers at the sink. I was worried she might break down and start sobbing.

‘Who?’ Sophie was preoccupied, looking in the fridge. ‘Hi, Frank,’ she added as a kind of afterthought. ‘You want some toast?’

Frank stood awkwardly in the kitchen, like he didn’t know where to be. I realised I hadn’t even said hello, but I was thinking of my brother and that card, and what it all meant.

‘Max,’ I replied to Sophie, grasping the postcard hard between my fingers. ‘Max sent us a card.’

Sophie stood up straight then and looked at me, forgetting the fridge and the toast.

‘Max?’

He was the brother closest to her in age. They had the same dad. There must have been a time when it was only those two.

‘Yeah.’

My sister stepped over and took the card from me, quickly scanning the back. We both looked across at Mum, still tussling with the flowers.

Frank stepped towards Mum then, taking them from her hands. He pulled down a vase from the top shelf, and standing there beside her, filled it up with water and carefully placed the flowers inside. He did it real slow and then he put the vase on the kitchen bench, just out of Mum’s reach.

‘Naomi,’ he said, steadily enough. It was the strangest thing to hear my mother’s name. She still didn’t turn around, but stood, back to us all, clutching the sink.

‘Mum?’ Sophie’s voice was high, worried. ‘It’s good, isn’t it? We know where he is. He probably knows where the rest of them are. Maybe they’re all there?’

‘He says we should come and visit.’ I heard myself saying again. I’d forgotten about Rory but he was there, pulling on my leg.

‘Toast, Mema!’ He looked up at me with pleading eyes.

I handed the baby back to Sophie, and holding my towel in place, I leaned down and looked in the open fridge. All the jars of things right where they always were—Vegemite, peanut butter, honey, jam, but I couldn’t seem to make sense of them. I kept thinking of the white sands on the postcard and Max’s scrawled words. His address. I don’t know why something so small should seem so important but it did.

‘Naomi?’ Frank said again behind me, and I could hear Lila start up grizzling.

‘Jam, Mema, jam!’ Rory insisted, standing close and pulling a little on the corner of my towel.

‘Okay.’ I nodded down at him, getting out the jam and butter and moving across to the toaster.

And then it happened, that thing I thought I’d never see. My mum turned and Frank opened his arms and she leaned into him, and he hugged her there in the kitchen, everyone standing around. He held her and she cried a little, her big body soft in his arms. There must have been something between them already, some progression of events I’d been too distracted to perceive.

I didn’t know where to look so I concentrated on the toast. Sophie had sat down at the table to feed the baby and we were all quiet, even Rory, while Frank whispered to my mum in his soothing way, slow and gentle.

I buttered the toast and smothered it in jam, then cut it into triangles, the way Rory liked. And when I was done I put it on a kiddy’s plate we’d picked up from the markets and set it on the table, delaying the moment when I’d have to look up and see her, my mum, held like that in such a loving embrace. There was something Frank knew about my mum, something vital and deep. It seemed like the most private of moments, and it made all that I’d done with Billy feel pale. Suddenly I felt cold and exposed just wrapped in that towel, and leaving them all there I took off to my bedroom to get dressed.

When I came back out, the bright beach postcard was stuck up on the fridge with a magnet and Mum was off in the garden showing Frank Brown our attempts at growing vegies. I peered out the window to see Rory bouncing along beside them, pulling out the odd weed, chattering away. I figured I’d best ask Sophie about a lift into town.

She took one look at me and sighed, swapping Lila from one hip to the other. ‘Mema, what’s going on with you?’

I stood there in the kitchen looking from Lila’s bright little face to hers, trying to figure out how to begin.

‘Something happened with Anja and now she’s not coming around.’ I didn’t know where to start but Anja seemed as good a place as any.

‘What happened?’

I told my sister about the kiss, my cheeks getting hot even saying the words. I thought Sophie might laugh but she didn’t. She didn’t even smile.

‘And now she’s out stalking what’s-his-face, right?’

I nodded. That was about the size of it.

Down on the floor beside me, Thor had climbed into an empty cardboard box just a tad too small for him. He was always squeezing himself into places he didn’t quite fit, and usually this sort of display had me grinning, but not today. He looked up at me, yellow eyes defiant, and then sank his teeth into the cardboard ripping off a piece and coughing it onto the floor.

‘He thinks he’s a dog,’ Sophie said, looking down. ‘What a duffer.’

He kept on tearing away, till the floor was littered with scraps of cardboard.

‘He likes that box,’ I said, watching him. ‘Why would he destroy it?’ It made me think of Anja, of how Mum said she’d tear everything down.

‘But she’s barking up the wrong tree, isn’t she, Mema?’ Sophie asked, like she could read my thoughts. ‘Anja? You haven’t seen the flood guy for days.’