The Newcomer

by Laura Elizabeth Woollett

  ‘Oh, Jess!’ Paulina sprawled on the floor. ‘I’m in love!’

  ‘Great.’ Jesse let himself get mown down by pixelated gunfire. ‘I guess you won’t mind moving out, then.’

  ‘Did ya hear about that girl who got killed drunk-driving?’ Flick asked her, sneaking a smoke before work Monday morning,

  ‘Sad, hey.’ Paulina blew smoke toward the skip. ‘Did ya hear I dropped Loh-rent?’

  Flick’s dull blue eyes sparked. ‘So he’s … single?’

  ‘Go for it.’ Paulina flicked her ash. ‘Just, for your information? Guys who look like that don’t try at all.’

  ‘He’s still at Camel’s?’

  ‘Yeah. And still in my bed.’ She checked Flick’s face for envy. ‘Get this: Camel wants me to move out, not Loh-rent. Says it’s too “complicated” since I’ve been there. Whatever! I’m done with boys.’

  ‘You gonna move back in with Merle, then?’

  ‘Nah.’ Paulina dragged. ‘I’ve got something else in the works.’

  Rabbit came in at noon, dressed in chinos and a short-sleeve button-down shirt.

  ‘You’re dressed different!’ she greeted him, loud enough for Flick and Rita and the lunchtime shoppers to hear. ‘Still a gentleman, though.’

  ‘You’re dressed differently too,’ he replied, more quietly. ‘Different uniform.’

  He passed her a plastic bag with her Fairfolk Tours uniform in it. She took it out, breathed in the crisp smell. ‘Mmm! Oh, babe, I’ve still got your shirt.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ He looked around. ‘I bes’ get back to work.’

  ‘Aren’t you gonna buy anything?’ Paulina rubbed the uniform. ‘Women’s Weekly?’

  Rabbit blushed into his collar.

  ‘A drink for me? Diet Coke, pretty please?’

  Obligingly, Rabbit strode to the fridge.

  ‘Flick!’ Paulina called out. ‘Thirsty?’

  ‘Fanta, please!’

  ‘And a Fanta for Flick.’ Paulina giggled. ‘Rita?’

  Nothing for Rita; she was marching off like she had more important business elsewhere.

  ‘You’re too kind, babe.’ Paulina lowered her eyes coyly as she scanned the drinks and took Rabbit’s money.

  ‘Let me cook you dinner,’ he blurted out. ‘Friday night.’

  ‘Geez, Friday?’ Paulina ran her fingers up and down the Coke bottle. ‘Guess you don’t miss me as much as I miss you.’

  ‘Wednesday,’ he corrected himself. ‘Wednesday?’

  ‘You mean “hump day”.’ She kept a straight face, though Flick was choking on her Fanta. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘Neither can I.’ His blush deepened. ‘I hope you like my cooking.’

  ‘Babe, can you do me a favour?’ Paulina leaned forward on her elbows. ‘I don’t have time to go to Fairfolk Tours today. Reckon you can return my uniform?’

  ‘Uh, sure. No problem.’

  She’d only drunk half her Diet Coke before Merlinda came stomping into Foodfolk, tomato-faced.

  ‘Rabbit?’ She tugged Paulina’s ponytail. ‘You’re with Rabbit White?’

  ‘Ouch!’ Paulina laughed. ‘Never knew I liked the taste of rabbit till now, hey.’

  She was plucking her eyebrows on the porch after work when Jesse parked his Commodore and said more words than he’d said to her since Mutiny Day.

  ‘Your old man came into Camilleri’s today.’

  ‘Ric?’ Paulina grabbed Jesse’s arm. ‘You saw Ric?’

  Sitting, Jesse stole a sip of her Pine Brew. ‘He ordered a chicken. For Wednesday.’

  ‘Ric’s making me chicken?’ Paulina clutched her heart.

  Jesse furrowed his brow. ‘What happened to “meat is murder”?’

  ‘I’ll eat chicken for Ric. No red meat, but.’

  ‘Jesus, you really like this guy? Daddy issues, much?’

  ‘He’s a fine wine, Jess. Better with age.’

  ‘Yeah, but. He’s like … sixty.’

  ‘He’s not even fifty.’

  ‘Ask my dad. They’re schoolmates.’

  ‘He’s younger than Joe. And he’s in way better shape.’ Paulina skimmed her eyes over Jesse’s midsection. ‘I reckon he’s in better shape than you.’

  ‘He’s in better shape than your eyebrows, eh. What the fuck’s going on there.’

  ‘I’m making myself perfect, for Ric.’ She rubbed the pinkness where she’d been plucking. ‘Not a hair out of place.’

  ‘What hair? You plucked them all.’

  ‘I’ll wait till tomorrow to shave my legs. And my pubes. I’m gonna be so perfect. He won’t be able to live without my rabbit trap.’

  ‘Did you just call your vagina a “rabbit trap”?’

  ‘He-he-he. Oi, why’s he called “Rabbit”, anyways?’

  ‘You know that Jefferson Airplane song, “White Rabbit”?’ Jesse smirked. ‘He’s named after that. He was a real hippie back in the day.’

  ‘Nooo!’ Paulina dug her nails into Jesse’s arm. ‘Please, no!’

  ‘Jesus! Are you gonna cut those claws before your date? He’s an old man; his skin’s probably really breakable, eh.’

  ‘Jess.’ Paulina put down her mirror and tweezers. ‘This is serious, okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I get it. Daddy issues.’

  ‘The way he looks at me …’ She sighed. ‘Jess, he’s serious.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jesse shrugged. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Did he ask about me?’

  ‘Um. He asked if you’re on the rebound.’

  ‘From Loh-rent? Pfft!’

  ‘Yeah. Um.’ Jesse rubbed the fading hickeys on his neck. ‘He also asked … about us.’

  Paulina looked at him blankly. Then she laughed, loud and fake.

  ‘Bloody hell, just cos we’re housemates?’ She took a nose-fizzing gulp of beer. ‘Gawd, blokes get so territorial. You told the truth, right?’

  ‘Truth?’

  ‘Like, obviously, there’s no us. If there was, I’d be sleeping in your bed by now.’

  ‘Um. Yeah. Obviously.’

  ‘Don’t worry; after tonight, Ric’s gonna be begging me to move in with him. I’ll be out in two weeks, tops.’

  ‘Calm down. You only just met the guy.’

  ‘Jess. I really think he might be the one.’ She contemplated the Pine Brew in her hand. ‘You know, beer doesn’t even taste as good, since I met him?’

  The smashed glass and metal had been cleared off the road by the time she was driving to Rabbit’s, but there were mountains of flowers, and a makeshift cross reading ‘TIFFANY KING’, and a school picture of the dead girl, blonde-brown hair scraped off her face, her neck toothed by a shell necklace, smiling like her life depended on it. Such a bloody downer. Paulina reached into the glovebox for her flask, then into her handbag for her Tic Tacs.

  ‘Oh. You.’ Her face fell when Bunny answered the door. ‘Where’s your dad?’

  ‘He’s cooking.’ Bunny rolled her eyes. ‘For you.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Paulina perked up. ‘You gonna piss off to your room and give us some privacy? Hope so!’

  Bunny led her to the kitchen. ‘She’s here.’

  Rabbit stopped slicing carrots and smiled. ‘Oh! Good.’

  As Bunny withdrew, Paulina poured herself into Rabbit’s arms, dipped her tongue in his mouth, and passed him a bottle of Sav Blanc. ‘I know you don’t drink … but I heard we were having white meat.’

  ‘Oh.’ Rabbit’s smile diluted. ‘None for me. But you go ahead.’

  ‘Cheers, babe!’

  While Rabbit fetched her wineglass, Paulina snatched a bit of carrot. ‘Geez, how’d you cut these carrots so skinny? It’s like a restaurant.’

  ‘Chef’s secrets.’ Filling her glass, Rabbit looked at her like she’d
sprinkled fairy-dust in his eyes. ‘God. I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, but here you are.’

  ‘Do you like my dress?’

  He watched her pose and turn. ‘Beautiful.’

  ‘It’s nice dressing up for a change. Like my shoes?’

  His eyes travelled down her legs. ‘Beautiful.’

  ‘Like my earrings?’ She came closer, moved her hair off her neck. ‘Teardrops. See?’

  ‘I like them.’ He inhaled her perfume. ‘I like everything.’

  ‘You haven’t seen everything … yet.’ Paulina moistened her lips. ‘Later, though. I went to a lot of effort, you know.’

  ‘I appreciate it.’

  Laughing, Paulina took in a mouthful of wine and kissed him. His dick went hard against her tummy. ‘I’ll never get dinner on the table, at this rate,’ he sighed.

  Paulina nuzzled him. ‘Guess we’ll have to go to bed hungry, then.’

  He was serious about cooking, though, because soon after, he called Bunny into the kitchen. ‘Why don’t you show Paulina around the house.’

  ‘But Daaaad.’

  ‘That wasn’t a request, Bunny.’

  ‘Look at your dad, laying down the law.’ Plucking her wineglass from the counter, Paulina linked her arm with Bunny’s. ‘I like a man who can do that.’

  Bunny tore her arm away once they were in the hallway.

  ‘That’s the front door.’ Bunny pointed. ‘Want me to show you how to use it?’

  ‘Har-har.’ Paulina trotted in the opposite direction. ‘Oi, who’s the baby in that picture? She’s pretty chubby.’

  ‘… Me.’

  ‘You haven’t changed much.’ Paulina smirked. Then a terrible thought occurred to her. ‘Wait: Ric doesn’t have any more bunnies running around, does he?’

  ‘Just me.’

  ‘Phew!’ Paulina clutched her heart. ‘Never know, though. Men are sneaky like that. I never knew about my half-sister till Dad’s funeral. Oi, is this Ric when he was young?’

  ‘Duh.’

  ‘Gawd, he’s good-looking. What’s with the costume?’

  ‘He played a redcoat soldier.’ Bunny looked embarrassed. ‘For the BBC.’

  As Paulina cracked up, Bunny clomped ahead to the lounge room.

  ‘Here’s the bookshelf. It’s where books are kept. For r-e-a-d-i-n-g.’

  Elbowing Bunny aside, Paulina ran her fingers over the book spines. ‘Cooking, acting, reading … Ric’s pretty cultured, hey?’

  ‘He’s the Fairfolk Island Minister of Culture.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Paulina had no idea what that meant, but it sounded impressive. ‘Not too cultured for me, but.’

  A black-and-white cat stalked into the room, tickled Paulina’s legs with its tail.

  ‘Aw!’ Paulina scooped it up and read its collar. ‘“Anastasia”! She’s Slavic, like me.’

  ‘You’re Slavic?’

  ‘Why? You got something against Slavs?’

  ‘No.’ Bunny frowned. ‘My mum’s Russian, for your information.’

  ‘No shit? Guess Ric’s got a type.’ Paulina lowered her voice. ‘Oi. Why’d they split?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘Whatever. Ric’ll tell me, when he’s ready.’ Narrowing her eyes, Paulina sipped her wine. ‘Let’s see your room.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Yes way. Want me to tell Ric how rude you’re being?’

  ‘Ugh, fine!’ Bunny led her upstairs, opened the door of her room. ‘Here.’

  Paulina pushed inside, headed straight for the bed.

  ‘Comfy! Your dad’s is bigger, but.’ As Bunny sat at her desk and opened her school books, Paulina drank more wine. ‘What’s that, maths? Want help?’

  Bunny didn’t answer. With a shrug, Paulina dug under the mattress.

  ‘What’s this, your diary? Dear diary: sorry I haven’t written in a while … Bah-ha-ha! Like anyone cares.’

  ‘Dooon’t!’ Bunny jumped to her feet. ‘That’s private!’

  ‘Pretty obvious hiding place, no offence.’ Primly, Paulina gave it back. ‘Oi, is that a photo of your mum? Gawd, he does have a type. Oooo, what are those trophies for?’

  ‘Archery.’

  ‘No shit? Where’d you learn that?’

  ‘Dad’s been taking me since I was six.’

  ‘Ric does it too?’ Paulina swooned. ‘What can’t this man do! Oi, what’s that instrument?’

  ‘Clarinet.’

  ‘Lame! Why don’t you play guitar or something? Oi, where do you keep your CDs? Your room’s really boring, no offence. Do you even own a mirror?’

  Bunny rummaged in her drawer, pulled out a compact, and threw it. ‘Here!’

  ‘Cheers, babe!’

  Paulina was examining her crow’s feet when Rabbit rapped on the door. His eyebrows went up, seeing her so comfy on Bunny’s bed, and Bunny quietly doing her homework, and Anastasia licking her paws.

  ‘Look at this! All the girls together!’

  ‘Yeah.’ Paulina beamed. ‘I was just helping Bun with her algebra.’

  The chicken was all splayed and flattened, like roadkill, but with herbs and lemon and stuff.

  ‘Aw, you made the butterfly one?’ Paulina gushed. ‘Cute!’

  Rabbit smiled proudly. When he saw her remove the skin, though, he frowned.

  ‘Too much fat, you know,’ Paulina explained.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘Mmm, the veggies look good! What’s this?’

  ‘Sauteed carrot and zucchini in honey vinaigrette.’ He watched as she scooped some onto her plate. ‘Homegrown. Except for the honey. That’s Fergal’s Farm.’

  ‘You grew them?’

  ‘The taters, too.’ He nodded at a bowl of baby potatoes. ‘This weekend’s harvest.’

  ‘Wow, Ric.’ Paulina shook her head wistfully as she took up the bowl. ‘You’re a man of many talents.’

  ‘Fairfolk soil.’ Rabbit shrugged. ‘Everything grows here.’

  ‘You don’t get pests?’ Paulina shot him a sly look. ‘Rabbits?’

  ‘No rabbits on Fairfolk.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Not since the Great Rabbit Cull of 1965. That’s how I got my nickname, actually …’

  Bunny groaned. Paulina didn’t, but she was tempted, once he got going — it was a bloody long story. Partway through, she clapped her hands and laughed.

  ‘That reminds me! I totally have a rabbit-killing story, too!’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘So, like, my cousin Bronson had this bunny, Lappy? Really cute white bunny-rabbit.’ Paulina topped up her wine. ‘I was maybe six and Bronson, ummm, three? Anyways, our mums left us alone — they were probably getting high, bloody hippies — and Lappy had this cage, and every time I lifted the door, he’d try to run out and — BANG!’

  She slammed her hand on the table, cracked up again.

  ‘Oh?’ Rabbit repeated.

  ‘I guess I did it so many times he got a brain haemorrhage? Poor Lappy!’ Paulina glugged her wine. ‘Anyways, I blamed it on Bronson. Mum and me still joke about how he’s a serial killer, they just haven’t found the bodies yet.’

  Bunny started coughing; hid her mouth behind her serviette.

  Rabbit smiled politely. ‘That’s quite a … different rabbit story.’

  ‘Yeah, but kinda the same?’ Paulina giggled. ‘We’re a match made in heaven, hey.’

  ‘I don’t think rabbit killers go to heaven,’ Bunny choked out.

  ‘Well, your dad’s worse than me.’ Paulina slit her eyes at Bunny. ‘I was just a kid. How old was he when he culled all those poor rabbits?’

  ‘Twenty-one!’ Bunny recovered. ‘He was twenty-one in 1965. Thirty-five years ago.’

  Rabbit pursed his lips. ‘T
hank you, Bunny.’

  Paulina felt a bit like throwing up. But the feeling passed with her next gulp of wine.

  ‘Don’t be embarrassed, babe.’ She stroked Rabbit’s leg. ‘Age is just a number.’

  Bunny stood. ‘Can I go to my room?’

  ‘Go on,’ Rabbit said.

  After Bunny left, they sat playing footsie, till Paulina’s foot ventured to his crotch and he cleared his throat, stood to clear the table. Picking up the near-empty wine bottle, Rabbit frowned, before carrying it out with the dirty dishes.

  Cheeks burning, Paulina finished her glass, then followed him to the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ he protested as she started filling the sink. ‘Sit. Relax.’

  ‘I’ll wash, you dry?’

  ‘You’ll chip your nail polish. Let me find some gloves.’

  Under the kitchen lights, she could see Rabbit’s hair was thinning on top, and longed for her wine. But she kissed him when he rose; felt giddy as he helped her into the pink rubber gloves at the sink.

  ‘Talk about royal treatment! Those boys I live with expect me to do all the dishes … and they definitely don’t own pink gloves.’

  Rabbit’s face reddened.

  ‘Does that make you jealous?’ she asked, sinking her gloves into the steaming water. ‘Me living with those boys?’

  ‘A little bit,’ he admitted. ‘Yes.’

  Paulina sighed heavily — though she was smiling on the inside.

  ‘I don’t wanna make you jealous, babe. I don’t wanna be living with those boys. That’s not how I saw myself living, at twenty-eight.’

  ‘Oh?’ Rabbit took a soapy plate from her hands. ‘Where did you see yourself?’

  ‘Well …’ She set down a bundle of clean cutlery. ‘Somewhere like this. Doing dishes with a gorgeous man who knows how to take care of me. Is it too soon to say that?’

  ‘A little bit,’ Rabbit repeated, laughing. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I’m saying it.’

  There were butterflies in her tummy as she scrubbed the chopping board. Rabbit moved her hair off her neck and kissed it.

  ‘Oh, gorgeous. This is all happening so fast.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel fast to me.’ Paulina turned to face him. ‘It feels just right.’