Tim Winton (19 page)

In Utah new avenues of litigation were plotted, but things got ugly between Sando and the old man and Eva began to feel like a medico-legal experiment. There was a vicious quarrel and the couple flew out to Australia in the hope of some respite. Sando took her west where he'd surfed in the sixties. They bought a piece of coastal bush and he started building a house but before he could finish it Eva convinced herself she was better and they flew back across the Pacific for the new season. But the knee hadn't come right. The first moment she was back in skis she sensed weakness, but told herself she'd manage. Yet it only takes a sliver of doubt to make you vulnerable. When you're fifty feet in the air your only armour is conviction. Regardless of how hard you've trained, the moment your self-belief wavers, you are in danger. And because she was anxious she hurried slightly. That's all it took - rushing the manoeuvre - and she nearly got away with it. But the landing was heavy and unbalanced, so that one leg took the bulk of the impact - wrong angle, wrong leg - and the knee collapsed. She cannoned, wailing, into the crowd. She hadn't skied since.

Eva said that the moments before she landed were her last happy ones. I didn't want to believe her, but she was adamant. She wanted me to understand. Being airborne. Sky and snow the same colour.

Her skis a defiant cross against the milky blur.

When she spoke about those ghostly, quiet moments she wasn't bitter or wistful, but the awe in her voice unnerved me.

I miss being afraid, she said. That's the honest truth.

In time there was neither much sex nor talk to be had at Eva's.

We smoked hash and gazed out at the rain and I wondered if she'd decided that she'd already said too much. For a while there'd been such angry, urgent passion and then a lightness between us, as though Eva's rage had subsided. It was then that I got to know her better, when she began to tell me about herself; I felt I'd been chosen all over again. I was enlarged by her trust. It felt like love - or friendship at least. But our fellow-feeling grew thin. Eva became restless again, and mean along with it. She needled me, she seethed and provoked. She took more pills, smoked so much hash she seemed absent half the time. If she looked my way she made no effort to disguise her indifference. Those rare occasions when she took me back into her bed she shouted Sando's name in my face. We fucked until I was in pain and she was in tears.

One Saturday morning, after such an unhappy encounter, she got out of bed to go to the bathroom and when she returned I saw the shape of her belly. There was a new tilt to her pelvis. She saw me staring.

What?

Nothing.

I'm puffy, she said.

Nah.

It happens every month.

Really?

Jesus, Pikelet, don't you know anything?

No, I conceded miserably. I don't know anything.

Poor baby.

Well, I know you're bored with me.

Yeah, she said. But it's not really your fault.

I felt tears coming. I clenched my teeth against them.

Listen, she said as though offering me a lifeline. I have a game we can play.

From the bottom of the wardrobe she brought out a strap and a pink cellophane bag. The strap had a collar and a sliding brass ring. I snorted nervously, waiting for the joke, but Eva handled these new props with a reverence that brought a falling sensation to the pit of my guts.

I don't get it, I said.

I'll show you, she murmured.

What if I don't want to?

Then I'll be disappointed, I guess.

Eva sat on the bed beside me. She drew the leather across her thigh while I lay there considering the likely ramifications of her disappointment.

So, I said. Show me.

You know how to hyperventilate, right?

I nodded warily.

Well, it's kinda like that.

I looked at the padded collar and the brass ring that did the work of a slipknot. From where I lay I could smell the sweat and perfume in the leather.

You hang yourself?

Sure. Sometimes.

Fuck. Why?

Because I like it.

But why do you like it?

Because, little man, she said flipping it at me playfully. It makes me come like a freight train.

Far out, I muttered.

She smiled. I tried to take it in.

So, how do you know when to stop?

Practice, I guess. You should know.

Me? Gimme a break.

Come on, Pikelet, she said soothingly. I've heard you guys talk.

Spots, stars, tunnel vision.

You want me to . . . hang myself?

No.

Well, there's no way.

Of course not.

So, what then? What d'you want me to do?

Eva became girlish for a moment. She put her fingers through my hair.

I just want you to watch.

Geez, Eva.

It feels better; I can't tell you.

I dunno.

And it's safer. Like having a dive buddy.

180

181

TIM WINTON

I sat up in bed, anxious and revolted. I hated the sharp leather smell already.

I can't, I said. You shouldn't ask me.

She sighed. Okay. Sure.

Eva swept her props off the bed and began to dress. I felt the sudden weight of her disappointment. The day was over already.

I'd be home early.

I'm sorry, I said.

Sure, she murmured, pulling on a tee-shirt.

It's just -I'll make do on my own, Pikelet. I'm a big girl.

But it's not safe.

Well, no guts no glory, huh?

Sensing that I'd been dismissed already, I watched her rake a brush through her hair.

What'll you do?

I have a mirror, she said, misunderstanding me. I can watch myself.

Does Sando do this with you?

She turned back to consider me.

I don't have to answer that.

But how did it start?

I'm not going to answer that either.

She grabbed the end of the rumpled sheet as though she might yank it off me. I caught the ravishing curve of her breasts beneath the tee-shirt and felt a rush of panic at the idea of being cut off from her.

I don't want you to kill yourself, I said.

I won't. Not if you don't let me.

I took a handful of the sheet and jerked it so hard that she staggered a little. Her bad leg gave way and she braced herself against the bed. I reached up beneath her shirt and held her breasts and we stared at each other a moment before she took down her pants and lowered herself to me.

I love you, I whispered.

We'll see.

But not the belt.

Okay, honey. We hardly need it.

She pulled her shirt up and put a nipple to my lips and I fixed on it greedily, certain that I'd won a moral victory. But once we'd raised a sweat Eva disentangled herself, reached down beside the bed and brought up the cellophane bag.

I wasn't much of a partner in her game. I was mostly the audience, little more than a bit of bodyweight and a steady pair of hands. There were whale songs on the stereo now - otherworldly moans and clicks and squeaks. Eva lay on the pillow and pulled me back into her until we were panting again and then she pulled the bag over her face like a hood, twisting it tight against her throat so that it filled and shrank with every breath. The plastic was pink and translucent and behind it Eva's features looked all out of focus. Pretty soon the bag fogged up and I could only see the contours of her nose and chin and the deep indentation of her mouth with each indrawn breath. She worked hard to get air.

A sheen of sweat lay across her sternum and her labouring neck and the shine became beads and then runnels while the ghostly whales rumbled and squealed in the house around us. At her signal I did what I'd been told to do. I lay on her chest. And then I gently throttled her.

Before she began to shudder I thought of boys falling to the ground in swoons. Mottled faces. Blue-white lips. The stiffened limbs of the poleaxed. Like steers given the bolt in the killing yard.

And I remembered the way all sound and light shrank to the fineness of copper wire.

The muscles of Eva's pelvis twitched and clamped and I came before I saw that she'd lost consciousness, before I tore the bag away, before I even let go her neck. Only the dog stirred me into action.

I didn't even hear the poor creature come in but something had roused it from slumber down beside the stove for it was suddenly there on the bed, growling and butting and snapping at my arms.

The bag came away with a hank of Eva's hair. She was white-eyed and drenched. Her neck rippled with tiny tremors and I began to shout over the mad, scrabbling dog.

Eva! Breathe!

I was fifteen years old and afraid. Sex was, once more, a confounding mystery. I didn't understand love or even physiology.

I was so far out of my depth it frightens me now to recall it. Yes, I was scared but not nearly scared enough. I didn't understand just how perilous Eva's predicament was. With the dog there I didn't dare slap her or shake her. I simply yelled.

There was, at last, a snagging noise deep in her head. It was not unlike the sound the old man made in the middle of the night.

Then there came a gasping spasm. Eva's arms flew out so hard and suddenly that I took a blow to the ear. Her legs jerked. She began to whoop in air.

I

knew Eva was expecting me but I didn't go back next day.

Instead I got up early, limp with fatigue, and wandered through the forest in the misting rain. No one was about and I was grateful because I was a mess. The longer I walked and the hungrier and tireder I got, the angrier I became.

I'd been an idiot; I saw it now. It wasn't Eva's fault her life had gone the way it had, and I didn't blame her for whatever it was that she couldn't or wouldn't explain. She was what she was and I loved her. But I couldn't kid myself it was mutual. She might require me now, but she didn't love me. It had only been a matter of weeks but already I couldn't think how it had begun. Had it been an accident, this thing between us, or did she plan it, right down to the advent of the cellophane bag? And why me? Because Sando wouldn't play her game? He was a hellman but maybe there were things he just wouldn't do -- and here I was, too young and stupid to refuse her.

How could he hold out so long? Eva Sanderson was not an easy person to deny. Did he resist out of love, or from discipline? Either way I admired him for this at least. I loved his wife. And I wished he'd come home and save me from her.

I called her from school on Monday and at first she was peevish and then she cried. I'd rung to say it was over, that I couldn't come out anymore, but I couldn't get it said. By the time I hung up I felt like a bastard for making her cry.

Next day the VW was out on the street at lunchtime in the shade beyond the gym. My heart jerked at the sight of it.

I'm sorry, Eva said when I drew up to her window.

I'm sorry too, I murmured.

Let's go for a drive, huh?

I looked over my shoulder a moment. There were kids kicking a Fanta can across the netball courts.

I've only got half an hour.

Sure. Get in.

We drove to the war memorial and looked out across the sound and all its islands and bays and sat for a time in silence. It seemed to me that she was working her way up to saying something important.

And then she reached across and put a hand in my lap.

You're kind to me.

Kind?

Nobody's as kind as you, Pikelet.

Really?

Really.

She unbuttoned my pants and drew out my aching cock and went down on me there in the noonday carpark. Within ten minutes I was back at school.

I

didn't call again all week but when Saturday came around I rode straight out to Eva's. The dog seemed leery of me but she was smiling.

I feel like walking, she said. You want to hike?

What about your leg?

I want to push it some.

Well, I said. If you reckon.

We hiked out across the wooded hills toward the cliffs with the dog darting ahead. There were no roads. We were unlikely to meet anybody out there but it was careless of us. Eva seemed relaxed. Her limp was only slight when we set out but by the time we got to the ridge overlooking Old Smoky she was in real pain.

You okay?

Fine.

It doesn't look good.

I said it's fine.

But we stopped at the edge of the windswept ridge and went no further. I stared out at the bombora, that day just a dark, intermittent lumping of swells in the distance.

Kinda stupid thing to do, huh?

Walk here, you mean?

No, dummy. Paddle out there a mile to go surfing. Alone.

Yeah.

But I guess you need it.

She was right but I didn't respond. I didn't really want to talk about it.

I understand you, Pikelet. And I understand Sando. But he's never had anything precious taken away.

Eva -—

But you, she said taking my hand. You're different. I can see it in your face. You've got this look. Like you're expecting to lose something - everything - every moment.

When she took my hand I felt electrified. I wanted to pull down her jeans and spread her legs and reach into her. I wanted to press her against the stony ground and fuck her until she called out my name. But she kept on talking and nothing happened and I stood there throbbing and half listening until she was yanking my arm and saying c'mon, let's go back.

Halfway home she couldn't walk anymore. Her face was white.

For a while she leant against me, bracing, hopping, until even that was too much and I was forced to piggyback her across the wild, uneven country. The first few seconds, when she hitched up and clamped her thighs around my waist and pushed her breasts tight to my back, I was delirious with pride and lust and a stupid sense of triumph. In my mind I was carrying her home like some warrior prince. She rested her hot cheek against my neck and I could smell the pear scent of her hair as I stepped it out. But the feeling only lasted a minute. She was heavy. I remembered how far it was to the house.