‘She was so confused.’
‘I know,’ he reassured her. ‘She was confused, and she was sorry. That’s the thing with Paulina; she’d screw up then she’d be really sorry. She called me up crying so many times, begging to be friends again. I hung up on her. I should’ve forgiven her sooner.’
‘I should’ve visited sooner.’
‘Please don’t cry.’
‘Don’t you cry.’ Judy laughed weakly. ‘I’ll hold it together if you do.’
‘I really did love her. She was my best friend.’
‘I know.’ Judy’s voice cracked. ‘I just wish she could’ve had it all. She deserved to have it all. She deserved a man who loved her as much as I do.’
‘No offence, but I don’t think that’s possible. You’re a hard act to follow, eh.’
Judy gave him her number after that, ‘just in case.’ Jesse couldn’t think of any case where he’d need it, but he thanked her anyway, then forgot all about her. Until a month later, when he found himself single again and on the last beer of a six-pack.
‘Jesse. What a surprise.’
He had the horrible thought he’d woken her. ‘Sorry. Is it a bad time?’
‘Well …’ She laughed sheepishly. ‘I fell asleep in front of the telly.’
‘I can call another—’
‘No, this’s fine.’ There was a shuffling on the other end. ‘This is nice. I never know what to do on Wednesday nights. I used to see my therapist, but she’s moved to Katoomba. Now Wednesdays are a big nothing.’
That was so depressing, Jesse didn’t know what to say.
‘Sorry. I sound like a head-case.’ She laughed again. ‘It’s not that bad. I kept threatening to pull the plug. I was running out of things to say. Four-and-a-half years.’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I guess it has been that long.’
‘Gawd knows what I’ll do for the five-year anniversary. Slit my wrists, maybe?’ She gave a small squeak. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean that. I’ll bring her some flowers. How are you, Jess?’
‘Yeah, good. Well, not good. I broke up with my girlfriend.’
‘Oh, the flight attendant? Sorry to hear that.’
‘Yeah. Well. She broke up with me, really.’ His throat tightened. ‘Not that there was anything to break up. I misread the situation. I’m an idiot.’
‘Now, that’s not true.’
‘She basically called me an idiot, for thinking there was anything there. I was just a layover. Literally.’
‘A man in every port? Sounds like a nice life.’
‘She had a fiancé back in Auckland the whole time.’ Jesse’s blood boiled. ‘I was talking about coming to visit her; I wanted to spend some real time with her? And she just points to this diamond ring and says, “You know I’m engaged?” Like I was a total fuckwit.’
‘You didn’t notice she had a diamond on her finger?’
‘I dunno. I just thought it was a ring she liked to wear.’
Judy stifled a giggle. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. Men, though. You lot aren’t very good with details.’
‘Thanks. That’s helpful.’
‘Sorry.’ Judy turned solemn. ‘I’m sorry you’re going through that, Jess. She should’ve told you. Even if she had the Hope Diamond on her finger, she should’ve come right out and said, “I’m engaged. No strings attached, okay?” That would’ve been the right thing.’
‘Yeah. I don’t want no-strings, though. I’m so desperate for strings, I’m tying myself in knots. I’m an idiot.’
‘No you’re not. You’re a wonderful boy. You’re going to make some girl very happy someday.’
‘Yeah, but. This thing she said …’ Jesse felt a pressure behind his eyeballs. ‘I was so angry. I asked, “what kind of chick screws around when she’s getting married in two months?” and she goes, “You’re just something I had to get out of my system.” Out of her system. Like I’m a disease.’
‘Take it as a compliment. She chose you for her last hurrah. That’s something?’
Jesse choked a laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m something. I’m the halfie island boy who works in his dad’s meat shop. No wonder they’re lining up around the corner.’
‘So what? A job’s a job.’ Thoughtfully, Judy added, ‘Besides, you’re an artist, too. You’re very lucky, to have that.’
‘Yeah,’ Jesse mumbled. ‘Lucky.’
Judy sighed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not on her side. But I get where she’s coming from, with that “out of her system” thing. I mean … if I could do it all over again. I was a teenager when I married Paulina’s dad.’
Jesse settled back against the couch cushion. ‘Jesus.’
‘It was too young. He was twice my age. I resented him for having this whole other life before me. He had another family. Did Paulina ever tell you that?’
‘She mentioned a half-sister, yeah.’
‘He was married when we met. He moved his wife and daughter to the other side of the world, then abandoned them for me.’ Judy laughed bitterly. ‘I felt very powerful. It didn’t last, though. I had all these miscarriages. I thought God was punishing me.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Of course, then Paulina came along, and I was smitten. I spent all day with her, every day. Then she started school and suddenly I had hours of just me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I … cheated. Constantly.’
‘Yeah?’ Jesse said, like it didn’t shock him, though it did.
‘For about a year, I cheated. I didn’t feel bad about it, either. It was like a hobby, seeing what I could get away with.’
‘Yeah.’ Jesse’s head spun. ‘Right.’
‘It was the seventies. It was a very “me-me-me” time,’ she explained. ‘I thought I was in control. I never had affairs, only once-offs. I was always waiting at the school gate to pick up Paulina at three o’clock.’
Jesse imagined a Paulina he’d never known, small in her school uniform, chattering to her mum about her day.
‘I was reckless,’ Judy continued. ‘It kills me, to think how reckless I was. I could’ve gotten a disease. I could’ve been killed. This one time, I met these two guys at the beach. I went into their van with them and … Anyway, it was stupid, stupid.’
Jesse listened to her breathing, the heartbeat in her breath.
‘Why did you stop?’
‘Well, I went too far. Caro’s husband.’
‘Jesus!’
‘Yes. Well,’ Judy murmured. ‘Really, she was better off without him. He was a Phys Ed teacher. Had flings with his students. But, still.’
Jesse’s pulse quickened.
‘She came crying to me one day. Caro, crying, can you imagine? She was pregnant. She felt very unattractive. She was convinced he was cheating, and I …’ Judy’s voice thinned. ‘I came out with it. Her face changed right away. She didn’t talk to me for years. She moved to Perth to get away from me.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Yes. It’s amazing we’re friends now. She’s a better person than me.’
There was nothing in the universe but the phone in his hand, the hush of her at the other end. ‘You’re not a bad person, Judy.’
‘No. I know,’ she said quietly. ‘I was confused, that’s all. That’s what I mean, with the flight attendant—’
‘Areta,’ Jesse supplied, though he’d almost forgotten her name.
‘Don’t take it personally. It’s bad that she hurt you like that, but it doesn’t reflect badly on you. Any woman would be lucky. You’re a wonderful boy.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, unconvinced.
‘You’re a wonderful boy, Jess.’
Wednesday became their night. ‘I should start paying you by the hour,’ Judy joked, but if anything, it was him who owed her. All he did was mumble. She was smart. Really smart.
Li
ke when he saw Bunny was back on the rock for the summer, back at Foodfolk, and felt the guilt like a corkscrew in his gut.
He tried talking to her once while she was stacking shelves. Another time, he saw her at Wetties — she was old enough to drink legally, now — wearing low-slung jeans that showed off her tramp stamp, and tried to approach her, but her lame friend Hine blocked his way. Another time, she was walking alone after dark, the sky inky-blue and spitting, the wind squalling through the pines. He slowed down, offered her a ride. She refused. He offered again — it was raining, Christ, she’d slip. Again, she refused, walked faster, and he saw her trip over a pine frond, carry on regardless, face frigid, arms swift and straight. ‘Sorry,’ he said, understanding he’d scared her, and drove away.
‘I wrote her this letter,’ Jesse told Judy, after filling her in. ‘I was wondering—’
‘Of course, Jess. Go ahead.’
Jesse read the letter aloud, stumbling a bit, translating bits he’d written in Fayrf’k.
‘It’s good, Jess,’ she said, when he was done. ‘Very expressive.’
‘So, you think it’s okay to give to her?’
‘Well, not exactly.’ Her voice cut him, delicately. ‘Jess: why did you write this?’
‘To … let her know I’m sorry.’
‘But you said “sorry”, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, but. I didn’t get a chance to explain.’
‘You used her and now you feel bad about it. Does she need to know the specifics?’
‘Yeah. I mean, I need her to know I’m not that guy anymore—’
‘Do you want a relationship with this girl?’
‘No. Just, I don’t want her to think I’m a kuka plana forever, you know?’
‘But you were a …“kuka plana”? She may see you that way till the day she dies. You can’t take back what you did.’
‘But—’
‘Jess,’ she said, soft as a caress. ‘When Paulina was drunk-dialling you, did that make you forgive her any faster?’
‘No.’
‘What made you forgive her, in the end?’
‘I dunno. I missed her. I got sick of seeing her around and not talking.’
‘Well. There you go.’
‘But …’ Jesse trailed off. ‘You’re really smart, eh.’
Judy chuckled. ‘No I’m not.’
‘You’re smart. Really smart.’
‘I’m not smart; I’m just a receptionist.’ Judy laughed. ‘I certainly won’t be saying anything smart, if I stay up much longer.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. I hope I’ve helped?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You could’ve called sooner, you know. I do exist on other days besides Wednesday.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Stop apologising!’ Judy scolded him gently. ‘I’m just saying. I’m happy to talk whenever. And I know you’re not that guy anymore, just so you know.’
Three nights later, he called her up to wish her a happy new year.
‘Oh, thank you, Jess!’ she effused, in a voice so warm and inviting he wanted to nestle inside it and stay there forever.
And then he went and dreamed about her. One of those dreams.
He didn’t remember much. Just a delicious frenzy of movement, pressure, panting. But it was definitely her. There was no mistaking her.
The next time they talked, he was sure she knew. Her voice was so knowing; sexy. He couldn’t focus on her words. At some point, she stopped talking, waiting for an answer. He latched onto the only thing that made sense: his name.
‘I like it when you call me that.’
‘“Jess”?’ Judy laughed incredulously. ‘It’s your name!’
‘I like it when you say it, but.’
‘Jess.’ She giggled. ‘Jess?’
‘I’m all embarrassed now.’
‘Don’t be embarrassed, Jess. It’s a lovely name. I like saying it.’
‘I like hearing you say it. I like your voice.’
‘I should hope so. I’d hate for your ears to have been bleeding this whole time.’
‘You have a really nice voice.’
‘That’s my great talent, sounding nicer than I am. Other people get to be talented artists … I’m just talented at sounding nice on the phone.’
‘You are nice.’
‘No, not really. After everything that’s happened? No.’ Judy sighed. ‘But talking to you is nice. I almost forget how bitter I am, talking to you. I like your voice, Jess.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Although, you never say my name.’
‘Judy.’
‘Yes, that’s the one.’ She laughed again. ‘It’s so dated, I know.’
‘You’re talking to a Fairfolk Islander here. We’re like thirty years behind.’
‘How convenient!’
‘I like “Judy”.’ Jesse couldn’t help himself. ‘It’s … cute. Classic.’
‘So we like each other’s names,’ Judy said solemnly. ‘Good to know.’
She knew. Did she?
‘Judy.’
‘Jess?’
‘Nothing.’ He combed a hand through his hair. ‘I just feel like your sister’s gonna bust in and tell me off for calling you the wrong thing.’
‘Caro doesn’t know we talk,’ she said wistfully. ‘She wouldn’t approve.’
‘She doesn’t like me.’
‘It’s not that. She’d just think it’s weird.’ She thought for a moment. ‘It is weird.’
‘Yeah.’
He could feel her straying, overthinking. ‘I dreamt about you last night.’
‘Oh?’ She didn’t seem pleased, as he’d hoped she’d be; nor did she seem especially shocked. ‘What was the dream?’
‘Uh. I dunno,’ he bluffed. ‘It was a nice dream, though. I heard your voice.’
‘Well, that figures. All these late-night phone calls.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Maybe it’s a sign we’ve been talking too much.’
‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘I like talking.’
‘It’s late, Jess.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Why are you apologising?’ Her tone was exasperated. ‘I don’t want you losing any sleep because of me, that’s all.’
‘Too late for that.’
‘I don’t want you losing any sleep. I want you to dream of other things.’
If she was trying to discourage him, it wasn’t working.
‘I’d rather dream about you every night, eh.’
‘Jess!’ Judy cried. ‘What’s come over you? You’ve gone dotty!’
‘It was a nice dream.’
‘You can’t even remember it!’
Jesse remembered, with an agonising squirm, her hands, her mouth. ‘I remember … you.’
Judy sighed, and he was sure in that instant that she knew; that she was thinking of a polite way to tell him to get out of her life.
‘I think you need some sleep, sweetheart,’ she said, hesitating on ‘sweetheart’ like it was a shade of lipstick she wasn’t sure about. ‘Just sleep. No dreams, okay?’
‘Yeah,’ Jesse mumbled. ‘Okay.’
As soon as he hung up, he knew what Paulina would say.
What, so you’re trying to root my mum now? Mummy issues, much??
Jesse left it to her to call next, though he craved her voice like nicotine. He smoked too much. He thought about her on his smoke-breaks; at work, slicing steaks. The first time he saw her, adrift in the storm of her grief, in bed in his Bauhaus T-shirt. Dressed up for court, touching his arm outside Foodfolk. Walking up from the cemetery, all wind-battered, rumpled. In his car, so close he could smell the tang of her sweat beneath her perfume.
He thought about her
so much, he almost took the tip of his finger off, and his dad had to close up shop to take him to Dr Jimmy for stitches and a tetanus shot. Later, looking at his bandages and bloodied T-shirt, Joe frowned and asked if he had rocks for brains.
‘Sorry. What a week!’ Judy apologised, when she finally rang. ‘It’s summer enrolment. The phones have been ringing nonstop. I’m worried I’ll lose my voice.’
‘Don’t lose your voice,’ Jesse protested. ‘Have, like, some tea or something.’
She laughed. ‘I’d rather drink this wine, thanks. How are you, Jess?’
‘Yeah, good. Well, sore. Almost lost a fingertip, eh.’
He told her a version of the story. She wasn’t amused.
‘Jess,’ she chastised him. ‘You need to be more careful!’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘I mean it. You’re working with dangerous equipment. It’s not funny.’
‘Yeah.’ He made his tone as frustratingly flat as hers was fussy. ‘Yeah.’
‘Don’t “yeah, yeah,” me. I worry.’
‘Yeah, don’t. ’ He touched his tetanus-shot bruise. ‘You don’t need to.’
‘I do, though.’
‘Yeah, but. Don’t.You’re not my mum, okay?’
‘Fine.’ She waited. ‘If you’ve had enough, I’ll go.’
‘No.’
He heard her pick up her glass; the tap of the rim against the receiver.
‘Don’t go,’ he pleaded. ‘I’m a fuckwit. I’ve got rocks for brains.’
‘Do you, now?’
‘Aye.’ He laughed helplessly. ‘Live on a rock long enough, your brains turn into rocks.’
‘Well … you can always come to the university, if you want to improve your brain.’ There was a smile in her voice. ‘I can help you enrol!’
She laughed at her own joke, way more than it deserved.
‘How much wine have you had, Judy?’
‘Oh, shush. I’m not the one slicing off fingers.’ She sighed. ‘Really. You should study. Finish your fine arts degree. You’re wasting your talents on that rock.’
‘I’m too old to study.’
‘You’re what, thirty?’
‘Thirty-one.’
‘Take it from an almost fifty-seven-year-old. That’s nothing.’
Jesse hated when she mentioned her age. It made him feel like he was in chains, condemned to a life of hard labour.
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