Just for Now (27 page)

He came back to bed to find her nestled under the duvet. She
pulled an edge back, invited him to slide in next to her.

“Was that what you had in mind?” she asked with a little smile.
“For your Unbirthday present?”

He pulled her to him, gave her a long, slow kiss. “That
was,” he promised. “It was brilliant. Absolutely the best Unbirthday present
anyone’s ever given me.”

“I’m so glad. We aim to please.”

“And you do,” he assured her. “You do please. So bloody
much.”

“I’ve spent a fair amount of time thinking back on how you
looked that first night, in those black stockings,” he went on, running his
hand down her back. “But I know which picture I’m going to be taking on tour
with me.”

She froze for a long moment. “What?” She shoved herself away
from him, pulled herself up to sit, the shock like a dose of ice water. “What
did you say?”

“Just now. In the mirror. What? You couldn’t tell how much I
liked it?”

“But you . . . you took a picture? Finn. You can’t take my
picture, doing that.” She realized that her voice was rising, lowered it with
an effort. “That’s not OK,” she hissed furiously. “You have to erase that.
Where is it?”

“What?” he asked blankly.

“Where
is
it?” she demanded. “It’s not . . . it’s not
a tape, is it? Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t do that.”

“What are you
talking
about?” he asked. Sat up,
stared across at her. “What tape?”

“What you just said!” she snapped. She got up, grabbed her
dressing gown and pulled it on, clumsy in her haste. “Give it to me.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Hang on. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick.
I was talking about the picture in my
mind
. Course I didn’t take a
picture of you. Much less a tape. Bloody hell.”

“Oh. Thank God.” She sat down on the bed again, weak with
relief.

“Hang on, though,” he realized. “I said that, and that’s the
conclusion you jumped to?”

“Men do those things. I’ve read about it. They
do
do
that. Show them around. Put them online, even. And I need to tell you, that
would kill me. I’m a private person. I couldn’t handle that.”

“And you think I’m the kind of bastard who’d do something
like that,” he said, his face settling into its hardest lines. “That I’d show
your photo to my mates. Put it on the bloody Internet.”

“Just forget it, OK?” she sighed. “I’m sorry. It was a
stupid misunderstanding.”

“Yeh, it was. I have a
daughter,
for God’s sake
.
And
a bit of common decency too, I hope. Good to know what you really think of me.
How much you trust me.”

He got up himself, pulled on underwear and a T-shirt, his
anger clear in his jerky movements.  

“I can’t just assume you’ll do the right thing, though!” she
protested.

“Why the hell not?”

“I did that, remember? I found out the hard way. And I’m not
doing it again.”

“Because I’m a man?” he demanded. “That automatically makes
me a dickhead? Or because I’m a football player, maybe? I’m not your bloody
ex-husband. How hard is it to see that?”

“But that’s not something I can forget,” she argued. “He
lied
to me. He cheated on me!”

“Which happened to me too! And I can still judge you for who
you are. Not for who Nicole was.”

“It’s different, though,” she pleaded. “You don’t
understand. I was married to someone who said he loved me, but who didn’t even
care enough to tell me he was having sex with men, so I could have protected
myself! He didn’t care if he
killed
me. The first thing I did, the first
day,
was to get myself tested, see if I had HIV. How do you imagine that
felt?”

“I don’t, by the way,” she said bitterly, interpreting his
startled look. “I got tested twice to make sure. You’ve got nothing to worry
about. And I’m sorry.” She busied herself retying the sash of her dressing gown,
tried to hide the tears she couldn’t hold back anymore. “I’m sorry that I
insulted you. And that I’m . . .” she gestured helplessly. “Damaged. Whatever.
Sorry.”

She headed for the door. “Forget it. I’m going to bed now.”

“Jenna,” he said wearily. “Hang on.”

“No. I can’t.” She lifted a lapel to wipe her face. Remembered
her discarded underwear, went to pick it up. “I need to go to bed.”

He was gone to the gym by the time she got up the next
morning, Jenna found with relief. She couldn’t imagine how she was going to
face him again. It had taken her hours to get to sleep the night before,
replaying the scene in her mind. How had one of the most exciting nights of her
life gone so sour? And why
had
she jumped to that conclusion? She’d
really insulted him, she realized. But she wasn’t sure how to make it better.

She focused on the kids, glad to have something to take her
mind off her confused, circling thoughts. She was leaving the showers with them
after their swim lesson when she heard her phone ding with a text. Pulled it
out of her bag and glanced at it. Finn.

Can you get kids a playdate.

 She swallowed her dread, rang Siobhan.

“I can take them now,” her friend decided. “Not later this
afternoon, unfortunately. Dentist. What a way to spend the last Friday of their
holidays, eh. But drop them by on your way home, and I can keep them till two
or so. That suit you?”

“Thanks,” Jenna told her with relief. Whatever it was Finn
had to say, at least it’d be over with quickly.

“Finn?” she called as she stepped into the villa half an
hour later. “I’m home.”

He came out of the lounge to meet her. “Where are the kids?”

“Siobhan’s. Till two.”

“Want to go for a walk with me, then? We could have lunch.”

“Finn.” She was still holding the heavy bag with the kids’
swimming gear, she realized. Set it down on the tile floor. “If you’re going to
fire me, just do it, OK? I can’t handle waiting for it.”

“What?”
He stared at her. “Why would I fire you?”

“Because I was unreasonable, last night. I know I was. That
I insulted you in the worst possible way.”

“Jenna.” He came to her, put his hands on her shoulders. “I
was planning to apologize for losing my temper. I’m not too good at that,
apologizing. Took me a while to work up to it. But I thought, once I did, we could
talk about it.”

“Oh.” She swayed towards him in relief. Leaned into him as
he pulled her close.

He kissed the top of her head. “Oi,” he said softly. “Are
you crying again?”

She nodded against his chest, sniffed. Hugged him to her. “I
was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Reckon we were both wrong,” he sighed. “And that we should
take that walk.”

“Let me start,” she told him as they set out on the track that
led to the top of the Mt. Eden Domain. “I thought about it a lot last night.
And I don’t know why I jumped to the conclusion that you’d do something like
that. My mind just . . . yeah, it jumped. Just like that. It was in my head,
all of a sudden. And I was terrified. I did realize, afterwards, that it wasn’t
the kind of thing you’d do.”

“I thought about it too,” he said. “I’d like you to trust
me. But I can see that your marriage may have shaken your faith. I’d like to
think I’m not much like your ex-husband, though.”

“Nothing like him,” she assured him. “In any sense.”

He glanced down at her. “Well, in one sense, anyway, let’s
hope. But . . . why would you assume all men are like that? Liars. Users. Why
would you assume that about me?”

“Because I’ve never known any men,” she tried to explain.
“Look at me. I’ve been a Year One teacher my whole career. Not exactly a
male-dominated profession. How many male primary teachers do you know?”

“None,” he admitted.

“That’s right. My friends are all women, have always been
women. We didn’t even have many couple friends. Guess why.”

“Your dad, though?” he asked. “What about him?”

“No dad,” she said briefly. “Well, of course I must have had
one,” she corrected herself. “But I didn’t know him.”

“Buggered off, eh.”

“Never there to begin with, actually. I don’t even know who
he was,” she confessed.

“Your mum never told you?” he asked, shocked.

“My mum never knew. She said she was ‘partying’ at the time,
when I asked her. So, yeah. She had boyfriends, while I was growing up. Plenty
of those. But they never took much interest. Which is just as well, probably.
She didn’t have great taste in men. I doubt they’d have enhanced my view of the
gender any.”

“So,” she sighed. “I’m doing my best here. But I don’t have
much to work with.”

They’d reached the top of Mt. Eden now. Stood quietly for a
minute, looking out at the Harbour, the dotted green volcanoes and
neighborhoods that made up Auckland, the Waitakeres rising to the west.

“Don’t know quite what to say to all that,” he said finally.
“I could say, trust me. But I’m not sure that’s going to help much.”

“But I do!” she protested. “I do trust you. As much as I
can. If I didn’t, I’d never have slept with you in the first place.”

“Thought it was because I was so irresistible.” He smiled
down at her at last.

“That too,” she smiled back. “But also because you’re . . .
who you are. A good man.”

“OK,” he said. “And for the record. I’ve never made a sex
tape. Never taken naked photos of a woman either. Always more interested in
what was happening at the time.”

“You shouldn’t even have to tell me that,” she said,
ashamed.

“But can I just say,” he went on, pulling her close, “that
if I
were
the kind of bloke who took photos, I can think of a few I’d
like to have? Starting with last night.”

“It didn’t ruin it, then? What happened?” She rested against
him, snuggling close to fend off the chill of the wind, always strongest here
on the peak.

“Nah.” She could feel the rumble in his chest as he
chuckled. “It didn’t ruin it. I don’t think a nuclear blast could’ve ruined
that for me.”

“It worked pretty well for me too,” she admitted. “It’s an
adventure, being with you.”

“Is that the only set you bought, yesterday?” he asked. “Or
is there anything else you have to show me?”

“Maybe,” she teased, light with relief now that the crisis
was over. “Want to see?”

“You know I do.” He looked at his watch. “Noon. When do we
have to get the kids?”

“Two.”

“Mind if I don’t take you out to lunch, then, after all?
Would you settle for a sandwich, later?”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “Are you telling me you want
me to model the other outfit? No photos, no tapes? Just you and me?”

“Yeh.” He bent to kiss her. “You and me. You missed your run
today, eh. Race you home.”  

“Can I ask you a question?” Jenna asked Natalie on Monday.
They were sitting on the floor in front of Nat’s coffee table, eating a dinner
that Natalie had been especially grateful for, this first day back after the
holidays. Finn had taken the kids to school that morning, Sophie complaining vociferously
beforehand as always about the end of the break. Fortunately, the Year One
students Jenna had worked with today had been more excited about being back at
school again, if a bit boisterous after two weeks off.

“Sure.” Natalie took another bite of quinoa salad and waved
her fork in Jenna’s direction. “Shoot.”

“Well. As you know, Jeremy was gay,” Jenna began.

“Not likely to forget that, am I. Made a bit of an impact,
at the time. Is that the question?”

“No. I’m not exactly sure how to ask this. But OK. If you’re
with someone who
isn’t
gay. Someone straight. What’s . . . what’s
normal? I mean, do you have sex all the time, think about it all the time? Or .
. . or what?” Jenna ended lamely, seeing the surprised look on Natalie’s face.

“I can’t ask anyone else,” she said apologetically. “I’m not
asking you for a report or anything. I mean, on your relationship now. Just . .
. in general. It would be helpful.”

“Doing a bit of research, are you?” Natalie asked, eyes
gleaming with amusement. “Or do I take it you’ve entered the land of the
living?”

“Just tell me, OK?” Jenna asked desperately. “In general.
What’s normal?”

“Well,” Natalie said judiciously. “If you read the research,
they’ll tell you, two, three times a week. For Kiwis, anyway. But that’s an average.
At the beginning, yeh, you tend to do it more.”

“More than twice a week,” Jenna said. “Every day? Or even
more? Do people do it that much? And do you mind saying, do you think about it
more? More than you do it?”

“Well, yeh. More than I do it. Not like I walk around in a
fog or anything, or even do it all the time, when I’ve got a partner, like now.
That’s more when you’re a teenager. You remember, when it’s all you can think
about. All you want to do.”

“I don’t, actually. Remember, that is,” Jenna said gloomily.
“I met Jeremy when I was nineteen. And didn’t date all that much before then.
Nobody I really fancied.”

“So what is it you’re worried about now?” Natalie asked.
“That you think about it too much? Or not enough?”

She sat upright suddenly, pointed her fork at Jenna. “Oi! Finn!
That’s
what this is about! I
thought
there was something
different about you tonight. What did you get up to, while I was on holiday?
Are you telling me that’s gone somewhere at last?”

“Well, yeah,” Jenna admitted, feeling her color rise. “Yeah,
it did. It has.”

“And how is it?” Natalie asked eagerly. “Good? Worth all the
agonizing I know
you did first?”

“Yeah.” Jenna smiled across at her ruefully. “Worth it.
Really good. I know, I don’t have a basis for comparison. But I can’t imagine
anything better.”

“Ah.” Nat stood up to gather their plates. “And how’s your
heart?”