by Don Zelma
Chapter Thirty-five
Lola’s door opened and Joe felt the warm air stream out of the house.
He immediately noted her blank face. ‘What happened?’ he said, reaching out and touching her arm.
‘Someone broke into my house,’ she said.
He stepped in. ‘Where? When?’
‘Half an hour ago,’ she said. ‘He was in the kitchen.’
Joe stomped in through the lounge and out onto the linoleum.
‘He’s gone, sweetie,’ she called from the lounge. ‘I came down the hall and saw him going through my bag at the table. He was about sixteen and ran out the back door.’
‘Little rat,’ Joe muttered. He turned and saw her enter the kitchen. ‘Where was Buddy?’
‘He was asleep on my bed but the door was closed. He started barking.’
Buddy entered the kitchen and started circling, sniffing with his head down.
‘Is anything missing?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I startled him.’
Joe opened the back door and walked out onto the deck. The screen door closed behind him and he looked back through the fly screen. ‘Are you alright?’
‘I’m OK.’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘I’ll lock the back door from now on.’
‘I mean, about tonight. Are you OK to sleep here?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ she said. ‘I think so. He won’t come back.’
He reached out and opened the door. ‘I’ll come and sleep in the lounge.’
‘Oh, that’s kind of you, Ducky,’ she said. ‘But you don’t need to do that.’ She walked up and gently rested her hand on his shoulder. ‘You want to do something for me?’ she asked. ‘Come on… I need a drink. Let’s go out.’
He hesitated, then felt it wasn’t a bad idea. ‘Sure,’ he said. He stepped in and Lola started towards the hall.
‘It’s cold outside,’ she said, disappearing into her bedroom. ‘I’ll put something warm on.’
Joe slowly locked the door and sauntered back into the kitchen. He rested his hands up on the sink and looked out the window. He saw the wide brown river sweeping around the bend in the afternoon light and he started to calm down. ‘Little bastard…’ he mumbled. Then loudly, ‘He must have come through the nature strip and up the back stairs.’ He glanced at the hall, waiting for a response, then looked back at the river.
‘Probably,’ she said from her room. He watched an anchored yacht as it pulled steadily on its mooring rope, its aft pointing inland. The river was filling with tidewater and the sun was low in the moderately overcast sky. The soft shadow of the yacht was long and faint on the water.
‘What are you doing!’ she called from the room.
‘Nothing,’ he said. He looked at the hall: ‘I’m sorry you had to go through all that.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly!’
His eyes flicked to the refrigerator and he saw a Polaroid camera up on top. ‘The stupid bugger didn’t even see your camera,’ he said. He walked across the room, took it down and his fingers started playing with the buttons. He heard Lola moving around somewhere in the house, then saw her step into the kitchen wearing a thick woolly sweater. She seemed different – her eyes were a little soft and reflecting the light. ‘You look cute in that, sweetie,’ he said. He reached out and touched the sweater.
‘It’s very old but thanks, Ducky, for your compliment.’
‘Hey…’ He put his arm around her, gently gripping her shoulder and reached out with the camera. ‘Smile.’ He pushed the trigger button, the engine started to wind and the tongue of the photograph appeared.
She picked up her bag, hanging over a chair. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s get that drink.’
‘Hang on… the photograph’s not ready,’ he said.
‘Bring the camera,’ she said, ‘and let’s use up the film.’
The couple entered Café Elite on the river down the levee from the house. There were three tables and about eight stools, and the room was small and still empty. Joe felt good and, as they approached the bar, pulled the photograph from his jacket pocket. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘the photographs developed.’ He held it up. They were both smiling and it was a good snapshot. ‘Great pic,’ he said.
They sat at the end of the bar near the brick wall.
‘They do good tapas here, Ducky,’ she said.
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes, it is right.’
He put the photograph down on the bar and chuckled. ‘We’re sniggering like a pair of stupid school kids,’ he said. The barman approached and smiled because they were laughing quietly and he was curious what the joke was. Joe tried to order their drinks but started chuckling and Lola burst out laughing and eventually they both buried their faces into the hands.
‘Sorry, mate,’ Joe said to the barman. He looked at Lola. ‘Gin and tonic? A gin and tonic for the lady,’ he said, ‘and – what the hell – give me one too.’
Lola winced. ‘It’ll be funny to see you drinking that.’
‘Ah, why not…’ he said. ‘Listen, Kooky, I forgot to ask you – how’s your mother?’
‘Oh, thanks for asking,’ she said. ‘I talked to her today. She’s very sweet and worries about me. I told her things were going well and that I had found someone to look after me.’
‘Buddy?’
She reached out and pushed him. ‘No, silly,’ she said. ‘But, seriously, I told her about you.’
He shrugged. ‘I see…That’s good, I think. Yeah, I guess I like that.’
The barman put two tall glasses of gin and tonic down onto the bar and walked away, smiling.
‘Hey,’ Joe said. ‘You didn’t tell her about… you know – the tearoom?’
She smiled, and glanced down at her drink. ‘Not all of it, Ducky. Don’t worry – that’s our secret. It’s a beautiful story, though.’
Joe looked down and started gently kicking the side of the bar. He remembered the supernatural courage that had possessed him that evening and it still surprised him.
Lola picked up her gin and tonic. ‘Hey, you, what are you thinking about?’
Joe pouted. ‘Nothing.’ He picked up his glass and gestured at hers. ‘How’s your drink?’
Lola started sucking the straw. ‘It’s yummy,’ she mumbled, with the straw in her mouth. She took a big long sip and drank half the glass.
‘Easy tiger,’ he said, ‘It ain’t a milkshake.’
She giggled and almost spat some out. She coughed like she was choking then eventually cleared her throat. ‘Cheeky little boy coming into my house.’
‘Who? Me?’
‘No!’ She pushed him again. ‘The little monster.’
Joe waved his hand dismissively. ‘Are you still thinking about that?’ He reached out and patted her leg. ‘Don’t worry about it, Kooky.’
He turned on his stool and his eyes scanned the room. A couple walked in and started heading for the table near the window. The bar was a quaint heritage house with traditional high ceilings and an old wooden floor. He could see the river through the windows, the boardwalk lights and the flat surface of the water. He heard Lola slurp, turned and saw her glass empty.
‘You alright, you alcoholic?’
She put her palm over her mouth and began chuckling, threatening to spit out her drink.
‘God damn it – you’re an animal…’ Fluid began leaking out between her fingers... ‘It’s like watching feeding time at the zoo.’
Lola chuckled and put both hands over her mouth and eventually swallowed her mouthful. She cleared her throat. ‘That was close!’ she said. ‘That was very naughty of you trying to make me laugh.’ She glanced up at the barman. ‘I think I’m ready for another, thank you, Mr. Barman.’ She looked at his glass. ‘Why aren’t you drinking, you pansy?’
‘Because I need to look after you. Hey...’ He picked up the Polaroid camera, extended his arm and snapped. The camera flashed in their eyes – temporarily blinding him – and
the two started laughing. There it was – that laugh again. You just couldn’t escape it. ‘Sooosh,’ he said. He looked around and the couple at the window were staring at them. He glanced at the camera and watched the photograph slowly develop. Finally, it revealed Lola sipping her drink with the stupidest expression he had ever seen.
Joe signalled to the barman and ordered more drinks. In due course more people entered the room and, as time passed, the bar slowly filled and soon there were no empty tables or stools.
‘I know I’m crazy sometimes, Ducky,’ she said; she was a little drunk, now. ‘But we’re having fun, aren’t we?’ She was in a great mood and he liked it. She smiled and, as usual, it prompted him to join her – she had an incredible effect, an incredible power.
He reached out with the camera, snapped yet another photograph and they slurped their drink, watching the picture develop. It was a good one – the broadest smile Joe had ever seen anyone give. It was genuine happiness – something you couldn’t invent. They laid each photograph on the bar, one after the other, in the order they had been taken, and began commenting on each stage of their drunkenness, noting their smiles broadened as they followed the pictures along.
Joe leaned back and glanced up at the ceiling. God, he thought, I just feel wonderful.
He looked down at Lola and saw her wide brown eyes then, he thought, momentarily, right into her soul. It was very weird. Her heart, he thought, was one that had suffered much and yet had overcome these difficulties. Lola had strength and character.
She saw he was thinking deeply and looked down at the bar. She was so beautiful and defenceless at this moment and he knew, now, he was truly spellbound by her. He stared at her, felt his jaw falling loose but didn’t try drawing it up. Eventually, he looked away just to get a grip of himself.
‘Sh—t,’ he thought, ‘every time I glance at her I sink a little deeper and I know I can’t control it.’
His hand, quite naturally, reached out and touched her hand. ‘You’re lovely, Kooky,’ he said.
She leaned in and gave him a firm hug. ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘You know I could see you as a dad.’
‘Really?’ he said, and looked at her. ‘I had never pictured it.’ But that wasn’t true; he had – on the boat glancing into the cockpit glass. The picture of his future with her was as clear as the photographs on the bar.
‘Hey, listen,’ he said quietly. ‘I have to tell you something.’
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Shoot.’
He felt nervous all of a sudden and that reaction surprised him. There were many feelings – among them, a fear that this thing with her was all too good to be true. And yet there seemed to exist a tacit agreement that they would try anyway, despite the risks it might go wrong. Slowly, the noise of the room seemed to dissipate. He stared at her eyes and it was literally like time had stopped. A person like Lola, he acknowledged, gazing, was impossible to find and yet he had stumbled upon her. He had to ask himself had he really been so lucky?
Yes – he had.
‘You know, Kooky,’ he said. ‘I want to say something profound here but I now realise it’s beyond my ability to express it.’
She looked down into her drink then her fingers started playing with the lemon slice. ‘You don’t need to, Joe,’ she said. ‘I can feel it. I know it.’
He was silent, then suddenly he felt the hair on his arms rise up. He felt a tingling down the back of his neck. He had visualised a moment like this many times in his youth and here it was – materialising. He was literally living a dream; he actually felt the floor moving like they were sitting on the deck of a gently rocking ship. Lola looked up from her drink, perhaps feeling the same seaward motion. He noted her bottom lip was loose and her face completely blank. He wanted to gently reach out and touch her cheek. His hand rose, hesitated, then softly touched her bottom lip. He didn’t give a damn about the people around them. He resisted kissing her – it was not quite the time – then leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, keeping his lips away. He debated what to do, gently kissing her forehead. He closed his eyes and breathed against her temple and felt her arm come around him.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked. ‘Where did this all come from?’
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.
He paused, listening to his breathing against the side of her head. He opened his eyes and saw her black silky strands gently bending to his breaths. Her hand came up from his shoulder and began rubbing his neck. Then he saw her lips floated up towards his, or was it his to hers? And their mouths touched. Her lips were soft like cotton wool. His hand gently touched the back of her head and he felt his fingers shaking. It was a short kiss then they gently hugged.
‘I love you, Joe,’ she whispered.
The declaration hit him like a thrown brick – like all other strong feelings he had ever experienced were simply childish trials in comparison. The sound of those words passing her lips… It was, without exaggeration, the most extraordinary moment of his life.
‘Whatever we do from now on,’ she said, ‘we must remember our honesty, our foundation.’
He glanced at her eyes and they were full of water. He smiled and suddenly started laughing. ‘Look at us!’ he said – it was pretty funny.
She reached up and wiped her eyes. ‘I know,’ she said, and they both laughed quietly.
Joe stood. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, intending to head for the men’s room. He turned, keeping his eyes on her, and ran straight into the wall. ‘Ouch!’ he said. Not surprisingly, she laughed out loud. He reached up, holding his head, lost his balance and tripped over a stool. Lola was laughing, shaking her head. He spun around and walked away, his smile pulling at his face. Every patron in the bar had turned and was looking at them, some wincing a little, but he, and he knew Lola, didn’t give a damn.
Joe wandered into Lola’s hallway and switched on the light. The wall clock showed two in the morning and his ribs had grown sore from laughing. The cold wind had picked up outside and he could hear it blowing hard against the house. It had been a tiring walk home fighting it.
Lola closed the door and the house went quiet. ‘Lord,’ she said, ‘it’s freezing out there.’ She walked past him towards the bedroom and he stayed still in the hall, watching her, feeling a little insecure. Nothing had been said, but you knew something was going to happen. He slowly followed and eventually stopped in the doorway. For the first time in his life, the possibility of sexual contact with a woman caused real and genuine anxiety. Lola was his friend and had now evolved into something like a holy shrine to him – something you couldn’t mess with. After the physical barrier had been crossed, would his shrine then crumble? Would he want to wander off like all the times before?
He followed her reticently into the room and pulled up just inside the door. She began removing her coat then looked at him wearily.
‘I’m so tired,’ she said. ‘Switch off the light, sweetie.’
His heart started racing, just as if someone had jumped out and frightened him. His fingers slowly switched off the light and the room went pitch black. He waited and could hear her undressing in the room, then slip in under the sheets.
‘Oh, I love my bed,’ she murmured. ‘My Egyptian cotton.’ She was drunk, but sweetly so.
He slowly slipped off his shoes and shirt. He reached out, slowly climbed across the mattress and laid next to her with his jeans on. Her face was just visible in the moonlight and she seemed already asleep, her head nestled in a nest of shiny black hair. Eventually, he grew comfortable – the pressure to act had been taken from him – and he smiled to himself.
Suddenly, her head turned as if she was looking at him but he wasn’t quite sure. Then, very slowly, her face came closer and he felt her quickly kiss his cheek. He didn’t know what to do and remained still. She rested her head on the pillow and, he guessed, closed her eyes. He waited, lying there, looking at her. He was dumbstruck at how he felt – calm and yet very secure and almost floating. H
e now realised that she had become the most important thing his life. An emotional surge suddenly swept up through his body then very slowly dissipated. Then, it came again but stronger. His mouth had to say something but eventually all that popped out was a muttered, understated sentence. ‘I like being here with you,’ he said. He waited. ‘Goodnight, sweetie,’ he whispered.
She answered immediately. ‘Good night.’
A strong feeling he couldn’t define was swirling around in his gut and became so powerful it was painful. He looked up at the wardrobe and stared, absorbing the moment.
He glanced at her. ‘Hey, are you asleep?’
There was a pause then Lola quietly giggled. ‘Of course not,’ she said.
He chuckled then suddenly laughed loudly. It broke the long-held silence in the room. He reached out, hugged her and suddenly, without planning, they briefly kissed. Then it became clear that this might be the moment. He thought he could feel her heart beating then they really kissed. He reached up and, with both hands, gently held her neck. His every move was gentle like handling a kitten. He rolled her onto her side and it was a long time before his hand moved lower then things finally happened and everything was OK.
The next morning it was quiet outside the house but for the wind gently moving against the window. He opened his eyes and saw Lola was asleep, her face lit by soft morning light. She turned in her slumber, putting her back towards him, and for the first time since he had known her he saw the tattoo she had once talked about on her right shoulder blade. Its tone of quiet desperation was out-of-place on such a secure, confident person and said volumes about what she said had happened to her. It was one word, written in italics. It simply said ‘Hope’.
Suddenly, her fingers slipped out from under the sheet and she gently rubbed her nose. She didn’t know he was watching and he slowly smiled. She opened her eyes, glanced back and saw him looking. She grinned ever so slightly then turned over to face him and shuffled her hip towards him. She seemed a little shy, even embarrassed, then stuck her face down in between his jaw and chest.
‘Hey, look up,’ he said. ‘I want to see you.’
‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘My makeup’s smeared.’
‘You’re not wearing makeup,’ he said. ‘Give me a look.’ He moved his head back and she slowly looked up. She smiled then put her face down onto his chest.
‘I look ugly,’ she said.
‘No, you don’t.’
‘What do you want?’ she said.
‘Stop being difficult,’ he said. ‘Look up.’
She didn’t. He reached out with both hands and made a tiny smile on her face by pulling up her cheeks. He pretended to make her talk by moving her mouth. ‘Joe, you’re wonderful,’ he said, mimicking her with a high-pitched voice. ‘I like you very much.’
Finally, her lips began to curve and she smiled totally. She burst out laughing. ‘Ha!’ she said. ‘You’re a lunatic!’
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I can’t sleep. Let’s do something. Let’s eat breakfast somewhere.’
‘Breakfast on the boardwalk?’ she said. ‘OK, Ducky, but how about a shower before we go? You can wash my hair.’
‘A shower?’ He thought about it – it wasn’t a bad idea. ‘OK.’
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘But close your eyes.’
He did.
‘It’s cold,’ she said, ‘so we’ll have to run.’
He felt the blanket move then sensed she had left the bed. ‘Here’s your towel,’ she said, and he felt something land on his face. He opened his eyes and glimpsed her running out the door. He jumped from bed and chased her into the bathroom. It was really cold and they started fighting for the shower door. ‘It’s freezing!’ she shouted, stepping inside. He followed her and the couple held together. ‘Turn on the water!’
There was a lot of light and the walls were cold. The water came out chilled and she jumped back.
‘Come here,’ he said. He pushed the shower head away and held her until the water warmed. He tested the flow then eased her forward. ‘Here you go, Kooky.’
She moved in under. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ she said. She closed her eyes and her black hair went wet and very flat. He brought the shampoo down from the shower basket. He saw that she was laughing with her eyes closed under the foam. She turned and brought her chin up to the showerhead and the bubbles started flowing down her face. It was a magical moment and he remained still, wanting to preserve every morsel. Then she started telling a story – she was so, so relaxed he leaned back against the tiles and simply watched her.
‘I’m having such a good time,’ she said. He listened to the quiet music of her voice and to the running water. ‘I like my life, Joe,’ she said. ‘Do you like yours?’
‘I guess,’ he said. ‘For sure… especially now. Yes.’ But he wasn’t listening – all his senses were preoccupied by the image in front of him.
‘Things have turned out so well for us,’ she said, ‘and I am very lucky. Do you trust your instincts, Joe?’
‘Yes, I do,’ he said. He watched as she guided her wet hair – thin as a cat’s tail – around her neck. Her soapy face sought the falling water and he watched the foam clear from her eyes. Just then, it occurred to him that he had forgotten his concerns from the night before – about crossing the physical boundary. His shrine had not crumbled. It had actually been reinforced. He didn’t want to run – he merely wanted to remain there, talking about her life, their instincts and any other random thought that came into their heads.