The Unspoken

by Don Zelma

Chapter Eleven

  Ken from the workshop shouted in his ear. ‘Joe!’ he said. ‘Sorry for the hold up!’ He was an hour late but never saw the point of nightclubs anyway. Eagar to drink, he cupped his hands and shouted an order at the barmaid.

  Joe glanced out at the club, heaving with people scantily dressed for summer. Christmas was three weeks away and it was getting pretty hot. It felt great. A group of men watched the dance floor, like lions patiently waiting to move on their prey. Joe knew he had time to kill, so turned on his stool and leaned back against the bar. He remembered scaling the levee as he headed in for the bar and the smell of the pinewood as he passed the old sawmill. He felt good as he readied his game, sitting in his favourite spot.

  A door opened and a streetlight flashed across the bar. He looked around with his glass to his lips and watched a female silhouette slowly descend the few steps to the floor. He pulled his glass from his mouth and his eyes followed her into the crowd until she reappeared at the bar, her white dress flashing with disco light. He leaned around Ken and got a better look then she meandered into the crowd.

  ‘Here ya go, son,’ Ken said, holding two drinks.

  ‘Ah, great,’ Joe said. He took his glass, sticky with rum.

  Ken wiped his hands on his trousers and shouted into his ear. ‘I was just watching you,’ he said. He nodded at where the girl had been. ‘I hate coming here with you. I just want to drink and chat but you can’t help chasing the ladies.’

  Joe shrugged.

  ‘You’re funny,’ Ken said. He leaned forward and placed an elbow on the bar. ‘I know what you’re thinking, but it ain’t bad being married. You should try it.’

  Joe sipped his rum and cola. He enjoyed the drink very much and often liked to look down into its black oiliness. The alcohol was hitting nicely and the music vibrating through his chest seemed to energise him. The club was almost full and he felt good and straightened up.

  ‘How many drinks have you had?’ Ken asked.

  ‘This is my fifth,’ he said.

  Ken nodded. ‘I remember hitting it hard,’ he said.

  Joe smiled and looked out at the crowd. The girl with the white dress passed close by, perhaps seeking a friend. She veered around a table and Joe caught her eye. He nodded respectfully and she looked down then back again and provided a wry smile.

  ‘Hey!’ Ken shouted.

  Joe turned and saw Ken’s face was red.

  ‘I’m sick of this!’ he said, gesturing at the girl. ‘Why did you invite me here?’

  ‘Oh, don’t get sore,’ Joe said.

  But Ken was done. His athletic frame turned and he angrily marched away into the shadows. Joe waited, watching the dark where Ken had gone. He felt a little guilty. Ken had finished up standing near the lions where, being married, he surely hated to be.

  Joe placed his glass on the bar and looked down into his drink. He watched it rippling to the beat of the music.

  ‘I should make no apologies,’ he told himself. ‘Ken will just have to wear it. I am single and have done nothing wrong. I just want to live.’

  Her name was Tara and they stumbled, laughing towards her front door. He didn’t remember shedding his shirt or trousers but was suddenly in her bed and the rest was automatic. This was his world and he was comfortable and confident. She turned her back towards him and, naked, he suddenly eased forward. She yelped like a kicked puppy. Her hair began to stick to his stubble and he smelt her shampoo. He gripped her hair and the hairspray crunched like a bag of crisps in his hand. She reached forward for the bed-head and her necklace began glinting between her shoulders. He noted her long rippling vertebrae and the room was hot and the air still and her skin grew slippery with sweat. A dog barked outside in the street and he grew conscious of their moans.

  Joe dressed. He remembered his location from their walk through the suburbs and now planned his route back to his house. She was nice but did not necessarily want to date him – she was just like him and it was good to find someone like that. She was smiling in the dark and did not mind him leaving. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek and walked quietly out of the room.

  Minutes before sunrise, Joe opened his front door. He slipped off his T-shirt, smelling the cigarette smoke from the club in the shirt. The room hummed and he bumped into the wall and felt his way towards the bedroom. He stepped through the doorway, sensed the turbulence of the electric fan and saw the blades shimmering in the moonlight. Yearning the cool breeze, he strolled towards the bed, reached out to the mattress and felt her foot. Sue was in the air stream; her pyjama sleeve fluttering up and her arms cuddling a pillow. He waited, staring at her. He slowly slipped off his boots and jeans and sat on the edge of the bed. Locks of her blonde hair were waving around like streamers. His clammy skin began to cool and he laid down in the breeze.

  I don’t know what to think anymore, he thought. She knows what I’m like but assumes I’ve changed because she now sleeps here.

  He turned over and stared at her soft young face.

  Sometimes you could kid yourself and think – maybe I should see how this one goes, but deep inside you knew the truth.

  He thought ahead to the inevitable break-up. It was coming as sure as nightfall and she had no idea. She would become a casualty just like all the others.

  Joe rolled over to the edge of the bed, looked down at the floor and felt the room begin to turn. He recognised in himself, for the first time, a sense of real restlessness. His eyes stared blankly at the carpet and he felt the head of the bed begin to sink, as if he were lying on the deck of a listing ship. Suddenly, her leg twitched and her breathing rhythm changed. Moments later, he felt her soft lips press against the bare skin of his back. Something like mosquito wings fluttered on his skin – Sue was awake, blinking.

  ‘Hello, handsome,’ she murmured, sleepy but happy. ‘It’s nice to have you home.’

  He waited and felt her softly kiss him. Her spittle clicked in her mouth and seconds later she was breathing quietly and rhythmically. He looked up and gazed at the wall. He kept thinking about what he was doing here.

  She’s so content and innocent, he thought. I wonder what that’s like.

  And just then, in those fading moments before sleep, Joe Judd knew that he envied her.