‘Yes, it hurts. But I like it, Mr Carr, really.’
He groaned. He was finished. ‘Oh, my little Sarah. You always know what to say.’
‘Sarah?’ Jamie asked. It was Friday night and they were sprawled on Jamie’s living room couch. MTV was on, but neither of them was watching it. Sarah was reading Madame Bovary and Jamie was flicking through Rolling Stone.
‘Mmm?’ She did not look up. Jamie hadn’t said more than two words to her since the Emily Dickinson presentation yesterday. She wondered if he was finally going to ask her about it.
‘Wanna drink?’
She sighed. ‘Nah.’
Jamie left the room and came back with a can of coke and a bag of Doritos. He sat on the floor, opened his drink and took a swig, then opened his chips and crunched through a handful. ‘So,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘You and Mr Carr are really…’
Sarah’s heart skipped. She closed her book and sat up. ‘Yeah. I told you.’
He nodded. ‘I thought… Um, so you… you kiss and stuff?’
‘Yeah.’
Jamie took another drink. ‘Have you done it with him?’
She nodded.
‘Fuck.’ Jamie stood up and kicked a bean bag. ‘Fuck, Sarah, this is… he must be forty!’
‘No. He’s only thirty-eight.’
‘He’s a teacher!’
‘We’re in love.’
Jamie sat down and picked up his magazine. After a while, Sarah returned to her novel. She felt let down by him, but wasn’t sure why. What did she expect? Congratulations? She tried to imagine how she would have felt if the situation was reversed, but the thought of Jamie doing to a woman the things that Mr Carr did to Sarah was just too bizarre. She would be surprised if Jamie had even heard of some of the stuff she did with Mr Carr. But then, she had never known about any of it before Mr Carr had taught her. A couple of months ago she was as innocent as Jamie; now she doubted that anything about sex could shock her.
‘Are you angry?’ she asked Jamie when she was leaving.
He shrugged. ‘Who else knows?’
‘Just you. You won’t tell anyone will you?’
He shook his head. Sarah thought she saw a tear forming in his left eye but he turned away before she could be sure. ‘Goodnight,’ he said, and closed the door, not offering to walk her home for the first time ever.
5
Sometimes he was so much the English teacher that it drove her crazy. While he was locking the change room door, she let slip that she had finished Madame Bovary last night, and now he wanted to waste precious alone time talking about it.
‘We can talk after.’
He smiled. ‘Anxious, aren’t you?’
Sarah shrugged her school bag off her shoulders. ‘The weekends are so long. By Monday afternoon I’m just so–’
‘Horny?’
She felt herself blush. It was the sort of word the girls who shared smokes in the toilet block used to describe the boys they drove around with on Saturday nights. Sarah did not think it was the proper word for what she felt.
‘It’s not that. I just miss you.’
‘So hurry up and sit down.’ He pointed to the stainless steel bench that ran through the centre of the room. ‘Talk to me.’ He sat himself at her feet, looking up at her. ‘I want to know what you thought of Emma Bovary.’
Sarah sighed. ‘I don’t know. I sort of hated her, especially how she treated her kid, but I felt sorry for her, too.’
‘Tell me why.’
‘Well, because she was searching for something amazing, for ecstasy. But her husband’s such a plodder, so she falls for the first guy who offers her a bit of excitement and he turns out to be a pig and then the next guy is this awful coward and it just seems the more she searches, the worse things get for her.’
‘And this makes her deserving of our sympathy?’
‘I just think it’s sad she never found what she was looking for.’
‘Do you think what she was looking for even exists?’
Sarah nudged him with her shoe. ‘Yes.’
He took hold of her foot. ‘And what makes you think you’re not as deluded as poor Emma?’
‘You do.’
Mr Carr frowned up at her. ‘Ah, Sarah,’ he said, and started to untie her shoelace.
‘You didn’t say if you missed me on the weekend.’
‘Didn’t I?’ He continued untying her shoelaces.
‘No.’
‘Do you want me to say it?’ Mr Carr slipped off her shoes and placed them on the floor beside him.
‘Only if it’s true.’
He removed her socks slowly, using both hands for each foot, then laid the socks on top of her shoes. ‘Of course I missed you, you silly little thing.’ He raised her left foot to his mouth and kissed each toe in turn. ‘It’s intolerable to be away from you for so long.’ He kissed the top of her foot and her ankle. ‘Excruciating.’
‘I don’t see why we can’t meet on the weekends. I’m sure I could–’
He stopped kissing his way up her shin. ‘I’m sure you could, Sarah, but I could not. I live in the grown-up world and grown-ups have responsibilities. Obligations to other people. I can’t just turn my back on my family because you’re having urges.’
Sarah bit her lip. She hated it when he used his teacher’s voice on her. More than that, she hated it when he talked about his family. She knew they were out there – sleeping in his bed, eating at his table, laughing at his sticking up hair first thing in the morning – but it made her chest hurt to think about them. She wished she’d never brought up the damn weekend.
‘I’m sorry.’ She reached for his face and ran her palm over his smooth forehead, then the invisible, scratchy hairs on his cheek and jaw. ‘I forget there are other people who need you. When I’m with you, I forget that there’s anything else in the world. Please don’t stop kissing my leg. I like that so much.’
‘She is all States, and all Princes, I. Nothing else is.’ He smiled without teeth and lowered his head. His lips touched down on her knee for the briefest moment and then he looked up again. ‘Source?’
‘Donne. Um, Sunne Rising?’
‘Good girl.’ He began to lick the inside of her thighs, pushing her skirt up little by little. He moved slowly. Unbearably so. She was almost in tears by the time he reached the top. He groaned into her crotch, pressing his face into her underwear for a moment, before pulling back.
‘Take your pants off. And your skirt.’
She stood and did as he asked, while he sat below her looking up between her legs.
‘Now lie on the bench. On your back with your–’ He pushed at the inside of her knees. ‘A leg on either side. Yes. Good girl.’
The steel was cold beneath her, but she didn’t complain. In a few minutes he would be inside her and she could be lying on broken glass for all she’d care.
He knelt at her left side and took her hands. ‘I’m going to show you something, Sarah, and I want you to pay attention. When you’re feeling lonely–’ He took her left hand and placed it firmly between her legs. ‘When you’re missing me–’ He took up her right hand and positioned it over her clitoris. ‘This is what I want you to do.’
Sarah closed her eyes and let him move her. It was her hands, her fingers, but it was Mr Carr making her moan and shake. He kept control, nudging her to go further, move faster, make smaller circles. ‘You’re nearly there, darling,’ he told her and she started to tell him she wasn’t, but he shushed her. ‘I want you to clench your muscles really tight. Try and squash your fingers.’ Almost right away, she was coming, the clenching bringing on the waves, which made her muscles contract, which brought on more waves.
She sat up, and the blood returning to her head made the room spin. She closed her eyes until the dizziness stopped. When she opened them, she saw that Mr Carr was looking up at her with a toothless smile.
‘Well, I’d say that was a success.’
S
he touched his lips with her fingers. ‘What?’
‘You did a fine job. You don’t need me anymore.’
‘No.’ She rubbed her hands over his face and lips. She slid to the floor, kissed his lips and tasted herself. ‘I do need you. I need you. I need you.’
‘You managed pretty well with your own–’
‘Shut up! You think you’re so smart, but I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.’ Sarah was kissing him, wrestling with his trousers, pulling off her own sweaty shirt. ‘You can’t make me not miss you. Having a stupid orgasm is nothing. Okay? Nothing. God, you’re so stupid! I’m always, always on my own. I could have a thousand stupid orgasms a day if I wanted. But it would just make me more alone. Can’t you understand that? If I touch myself it reminds me that I’m not touching you. I don’t want to touch or be touched by anyone else. I need you. You! Okay, do you get it, you stupid old man?’
There was so much blood pounding in her head it was clouding her vision. She couldn’t see the expression on his face when he knocked her over, but the sound he made as he drove into her was frightening. Then there was no question of them not needing each other; they couldn’t seem to disentangle, couldn’t stop clutching and clawing, couldn’t not be one. By the time Mr Carr rolled off her, panting and gasping so badly that Sarah’s own heart began to flutter in fear for his, it was dark inside and out.
Sarah’s mother was in the front room when Sarah got home. ‘Where have you been?’ she asked, without looking up from her book.
‘Jamie’s.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Sarah. Jamie called for you over an hour ago.’
Sarah’s legs and back ached. She needed a hot shower and a soft bed. She leant against the wall, as far away from her mother’s chair as she could get without leaving the room. ‘I was just hanging out with some friends. I lost track of the time. I’m sorry.’
‘Your sister tells me you’ve been coming home late for weeks.’
Sarah closed her eyes. Why the hell did her mother suddenly care what she was doing? Sarah would have killed for this much attention a year ago, but now she wanted to melt into the wall. She wanted to be invisible to everyone except him.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I don’t have anything else to tell you. I was with friends and I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.’
Her mother put down her book. ‘I know what’s happening here. You’re fourteen; you’re trying to assert your independence. You’re testing the limits of your personhood. That’s a perfectly healthy, natural impulse for someone in your age group.’
‘I’m not an age group, Mum.’
‘Of course you’re not. You’re Sarah Jane Clark. An individual. I see you.’ She smiled. ‘You’re an individual who needs to know where her boundaries are. So, let’s negotiate.’
She wished her mother could be normal, just yell for a couple of minutes and cut off her pocket money or something. Instead everything had to be done according to how The Research said it had to be done. Every parenting decision was made in line with Expert Opinion. The book her mother was reading was probably called ‘Professional Parenting.’ It probably instructed her to Empower your child by Negotiating rather than Demanding. Allow your child to own his or her behaviour.
It would go faster if she played along. ‘Okay, I would like to be allowed out until nine on week nights and twelve on weekends.’
A laugh. ‘The first rule of negotiating: Always ask for more than you expect. Right, I refuse that offer and propose that you come straight home from school every day. Weekends will be negotiated on a case by case basis depending on where you are going and with whom.’
‘I can’t come straight home every day. My English teacher is tutoring me after class.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m struggling a bit. I only got a B for my last assignment.’
Her mother nodded. ‘Fine. Study with your teacher, but be home by six-thirty.’
‘Can I go to bed now?’
‘In a minute. We need to decide on your punishment. Something commensurate. What’s fair, do you think?’
‘I thought negotiating boundaries was my punishment.’
‘How droll.’ She sighed. ‘Fine, I’ll decide. You’re grounded for a month. You’ll go to school and you’ll come home. For one month. Okay?’
‘Marvellous. I don’t want to go anywhere but school anyway.’
‘Yes, Sarah, I’m sure. Good night.’
Sarah began to move away, taking care to walk normally and to stay to the shadows. If her mother noticed her limping or, worse, the scratches on her throat, her life would be over. When she got to the doorway she snuck a peak at her mother, just to make sure she hadn’t noticed anything. She needn’t have worried; her mother was already reabsorbed in her book.
6
Sarah smiled when Mr Carr walked into the classroom. He hadn’t shaved this morning, and the tiny hairs she often felt on his face at the end of the day were visible. She might ask if she could pluck a hair out with her teeth, or maybe he would let her shave him.
She wasn’t only smiling at the stubble; his whole appearance was funny today. Usually he wore his hair spiked up with a little gel, but today it lay flat against his skull. His nose was red, as though he’d spent the previous day at the beach, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked old and like he would smell of cough medicine and mothballs if you got up close. She could hardly wait to tease him about looking like a bum. He would tease her back, because she too looked like hell. Their mutual raggedness was a consequence of what took place in the boy’s locker room last night, and knowing that made her hot all over. She was busting with joy just from looking at how changed he was. Look at what my love has done to him, she thought. My love is so strong you can see it.
She made herself look away from him, gazing down at her book so it would appear she was smiling at something written there. Not that anyone would be watching her, except Jamie who would know who her smile was for anyway. She glanced up again, looking straight into Mr Carr’s eyes. Oh! How could eyes be so green? She had seen every inch of his body and been surprised and delighted by what certain parts of it could do, but his eyes were far and away her favourite part. His eyes stripped her completely; under his gaze she was naked in a way that had nothing to do with lacking clothes.
He cleared his throat. ‘Before we start, I have an announcement to make.’
Oh, she loved his voice, too. Maybe even more than she loved his eyes. It was so hard to look at him and not be able to touch him. She clenched her thighs and stared at the top of her desk.
‘As I’m sure you’re all aware, we have just under three weeks left of this term.’ He waited for the cheers to die down before continuing. ‘Which means you only have to put up with me for another fourteen periods.’
Sarah looked at him. He was looking at the back wall, not smiling.
‘When you get back from the break you’ll have a new teacher, who I know will enjoy teaching this class as much as I have.’
Sarah willed him to look at her. She needed to know what this meant. She had to see his eyes.
‘Did you get sacked?’ Jerry Gleason called out. Everybody laughed, except Sarah who was now certain that this was exactly what had happened.
‘Incredibly, enough, no.’ He smiled, but it wasn’t real. ‘I’m transferring to Brisbane.’
Still he wouldn’t look at her. Brisbane? It couldn’t be true. She tried to take a deep breath but there was no air. A hand closed over her arm. ‘You okay?’ Jamie whispered. She shook her head no.
‘Why the sudden move?’ Jamie asked.
‘It’s not sudden at all.’ Mr Carr addressed his answer to the back wall. ‘My wife’s family is in Brisbane. We’ve been planning the move for some time. I confirmed my new position with the department this morning.’
Sarah’s stomach contracted, and her throat filled with bile. Covering her mouth with her hand, she pushed her chair back and ran from the room. She
heard Jamie say her name, then Mr Carr said ‘What’s the mat–’ Then Jamie said, ‘You fucking creep.’ She made it to the garbage bin in the hallway just before her breakfast came up. When she finished vomiting, she found that Jamie was standing beside her and the classroom door was closed.
‘Fucking creep,’ Jamie repeated.
‘Go fuck yourself, Jamie.’ Sarah wiped her mouth and headed back to Mr Carr’s classroom.
One day, for pleasure simply, we were reading
Of Lancelot, and how love overpowered him;
Alone we were, and free from all suspicions.
Often that reading caused our eyes to meet,
And often the colour from our faces went,
But it was a single passage that overcame us:
When we read how the desired smile was
Kissed by one so true a lover, then this one,
Who from me never will be taken,
Kissed me, his body all trembling, on the mouth.
…And no more did we read that day.
Sarah handed the slip of paper back to him. ‘What the fuck is this?’
‘Dante Alighieri. It’s from Inferno, Sarah. You haven’t read it yet, I know, but you will. You’ll read it after I’m gone and you’ll think of me. You see Francesca and Paolo–’
‘I won’t read it.’ She tore the paper from his hand, ripped it in two, then in four. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this.’
‘Sarah, last night was insanity. You know that don’t you?’
‘I thought it was… I was happy.’
He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. ‘Try and understand… I walk in the door at nine-thirty when my family have been expecting me since six. My shirt is ripped. I have bite marks on my chest. I have blasted scratches all over my back. My wife starts crying and I can’t get her to stop. Then my…’ He took three deep breaths. ‘The girls were still awake. They were crying too. It was…’ Mr Carr pressed his forehead against the blackboard. ‘I had to make a choice, Sarah.’
‘What about me? Do I get a choice?’
He was quiet for too long.
‘So that’s it?’ Panic was rising in her. Her mind scrambled for something – anything – that would change his mind. ‘All that–everything you, we, did and all those things you said to me. I don’t believe you didn’t mean it. I know you did. Our souls are joined! I know they are. I feel it every time we, God, I don’t even know what to call it. But we are one in it. You know this is true.’
Taming the Beast Page 3