Summer Skin

by Kirsty Eagar

  ‘He doesn’t smoke.’

  ‘What if it’s not that?’

  ‘He’s a prostitute.’ Leanne raised her can to her lips, her words sounding tinny: ‘Doesn’t want to confuse sex with intimacy.’

  Jess grimaced. ‘What if he’s not having sex with you either?’

  Leanne started to cough, spurting beer everywhere. Jess whacked her on the back until she eventually managed to wheeze, ‘Virgin?’

  ‘I’m probably the only girl in the world he hasn’t slept with.’

  ‘So you’re friends?’

  ‘No, he’ll touch me. But that’s all we do. There’s been no sex, and no kissing.’ Jess gave the squashed can a moody kick. ‘Touching, though? That’s fine. Touching’s safe.’

  ‘That is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever—Ow!’ Leanne glared down at Jess’s fingers, hooked deep into the sleeve of her jersey—or rather, Julian’s jersey.

  ‘That’s it,’ Jess told her, wide-eyed. ‘Touching is safe.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘No idea.’ Jess prised her fingers out of Leanne’s arm. Sighed. A gust of wind made it over the siding, causing a flurry of sparks.

  ‘You want my professional opinion?’ Leanne asked, and then burped. Jess thought that might have been it, but then she added, ‘The only thing you can do is stop wanting things to be different. Because you can’t change people. You can’t help people. And you definitely can’t save them. They have to do it themselves.’

  Jess frowned. ‘You’re doing psychology.’

  ‘That’s what makes it so good. Feel better?’

  ‘Not one bit.’

  •

  But when she returned to her room that night, the first thing Jess did was make her bed, then she got back into it and slept like a baby, so perhaps she did feel better. She didn’t regret talking to Leanne until four days later, when she returned home from work to find a gift-wrapped package on her desk.

  Inside was a hot pink vibrator with ‘8.5 inches of sensuous glitter’.

  Along with a card that read: With compassion. For your phoenix.

  CHAPTER 29

  RENDEZVOUS

  Late on a Thursday morning towards the end of second term, Jess was tapped on the shoulder by a stranger during the break in her lecture. He was standing on the walkway behind her—the Abel Smith theatre having been designed to be filled from the top down, the lecturer’s podium at a subterranean level. Students were streaming in through the entranceway behind him. Unlike them, Jess hadn’t gone outside. It was too chilly.

  ‘Are you Jess Gordon?’ he asked, sounding suspicious, as if she didn’t meet the description he’d been given. When Jess nodded, he held out a folded piece of paper. ‘This guy outside asked me to give it to you? Said you’d be sitting in one of the back rows? Said he’s afraid of heights? Well, not heights, exactly. More of a structural thing?’

  Jess forgot to thank the guy. She’d reached the point where she hadn’t expected to hear from Mitch again, so she was in shock. She opened the note grim-faced, expecting some kind of tidying up. Instead, what was there made her laugh. Which was worse.

  Dear Miss Gordon,

  GREAT ENTRANCES, UNFORGETTABLE EXITS

  is available for collection. You can pick it up after your lecture.

  Yours cordially,

  The Co-op Bookshop.

  After she read it, Jess sat very still. She felt hot, her breathing too shallow. And she remembered what Leanne had said during their conversation on the roof, all those weeks ago. Was it possible Mitch had changed? She smoothed the note out and placed it carefully between the pages of her notepad, like you might press a flower, because if he hadn’t, that note had just become a souvenir.

  •

  She found Mitch lurking in Young Adult fiction. RÜFÜS were on the sound system and the music made the moment seem cinematic, as did the fact that Mitch’s eyes widened when he saw her, taking in her high-heeled boots, her black pencil skirt, her fluffy mohair sweater, her beating heart—no, that would be the push-up bra—her hair, clean and glossy, styled in an artfully messy side braid. She’d finished the ensemble with an extra spray of the perfume she favoured, Dolce and Gabbana’s Light Blue, and Mitch probably saw that too, because he was looking damn hard enough. Maybe he didn’t recognise her. Any other day, she may well have looked like shit.

  Viewed that way, you could say it was fortunate Mitch had decided to resurface on the one day of term when Jess had a date. Otherwise you’d have to concede it was fucked. She was due to meet Darwin, a PhD student who shared Erin’s office, for coffee at twelve-thirty. Unfortunately, as soon as Jess had read Mitch’s note, she’d known she wouldn’t make it.

  ‘Hey, so you look … wow.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jess said briskly. ‘You look good, too.’

  Mitch was in jeans, his Timberlands, and a Knights jersey identical to the one she’d stolen, and he actually looked so handsome it was ridiculous.

  ‘How’s the head?’ he asked.

  ‘What? Oh. That was ages ago.’ Jess lifted the book he was holding so she could see the cover. The Book Thief. ‘You know what would be funny? If you actually stole that.’

  ‘Yeah, that would be funny.’ Mitch shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘How was micro?’

  ‘Two hours of a foreign language.’

  He nodded. She nodded. He shelved the book. ‘Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.’

  Jess said nothing. She wasn’t trying to make Mitch uncomfortable, although it seemed to have that effect, she just knew that whatever he said next would tell her all she needed to know.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Things have been really hectic, hey. Didn’t even realise it’d been so long, but then—’

  ‘It’s all good.’

  Mitch laughed, shaking his head. ‘Now I know I’m in trouble. When you say that.’

  Jess gave him a half-smile. Relaxed. No, resolved. ‘You’re really not.’

  Mitch frowned, looking for the catch. Frowned again when he realised there wasn’t one. Jess’s eyes were clear, her face open. Her smile stretched a little more in sympathy.

  ‘Jess?’ he said, uncertainty in his voice, and there was the same little pull between his eyebrows that she’d first noticed in the photograph of him and Julian.

  ‘Oh, hang on. I’ve just got to …’ Jess pulled her phone from her tote and started composing a text. ‘Sorry,’ she said apologetically, typing as she talked. She took a deep breath, trying to release a sudden constriction in her chest.

  ‘Who’s so urgent?’ Mitch asked, with a hint of disbelief.

  ‘Darwin.’

  ‘That’s a name?’

  ‘Maybe he was conceived there. I’ve never asked.’ Jess glanced up at him with a smile. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting him for coffee in fifteen minutes,’ she explained, and Mitch’s eyebrows signalled some kind of adjustment. He seemed even more surprised when she admitted, ‘It’s a one-off. Besides being too old for me, he’s also a bit too economics.’ She turned her attention back to her phone.

  ‘I wondered why you were all dressed up.’ Mitch seemed to reconsider, adding, hurriedly, ‘I mean, not that you don’t look good normally, but …’

  ‘It’s okay, I knew what you meant.’ Jess hit Send, snapped her phone case shut and gave him another smile. It was easy really. Leanne had been right. The only person you could change was yourself.

  ‘So where are you off to instead?’

  ‘Oh! I just assumed you had something in mind.’ Jess laughed. ‘That was a bit presumptuous, wasn’t it?’

  Mitch stared at her. When he spoke, he sounded subdued. ‘Not really.’ He patted his pocket and there was the crunch of keys. ‘Adrian’s away for work—for real this time. He’s in Melbourne and I rang this morning to check he’s still there. I thought you might want to come over to the flat with me. But maybe I’m the one being presumptuous.’

  ‘No, not at all. That’d be good.’ Jess’
s voice was untroubled, as regular and even as her breathing. ‘Where have you parked? I’ll meet you there. I’ve just got one thing to do first.’

  CHAPTER 30

  HIGHSPEEDS

  Jess took the path that led past the main lake, where spray from the fountain fanned gracefully in the wind, and much of the water’s surface was covered in water lilies. As she neared Sir William MacGregor Drive, she could see Mitch up ahead, sitting on the bonnet of Adrian’s car; a sleek-looking shark of a vehicle set against a backdrop of gracious old trees and the river. He got to his feet when he saw her. Jess felt like she was in a movie.

  ‘You took a while,’ Mitch said when she reached him, opening her door.

  You took six weeks. ‘Had to buy something.’

  A round of nervous throat clearing from Mitch. ‘Just thought you might have changed your mind.’

  Once they were on their way, he asked, ‘So what have you been up to?’

  ‘Same old, same old. Basketball starts after the break. That’s good.’

  ‘Basketball, hey? Are you any good?’

  ‘Why do people always have to be good at something? Why can’t they just do it because they like it?’

  ‘I was only asking.’

  They were halfway to Adrian’s before Mitch spoke again: ‘Are we going to talk, or what?’ And his voice was so hostile that Jess, staring out of her window, was startled. She looked across at him, but he was focused on the road, changing lanes, and she realised how fast he was going.

  ‘Can you slow down, please?’ she asked. When he did, she said, ‘I’m not playing games, Mitch. I just think we should cut back on the talking, that’s all. Otherwise we’re kind of colouring outside the lines, don’t you think?’

  Mitch was looking at her like she’d changed shape. Again. But if she had, it was partly his fault.

  ‘Fine. Have it your way,’ he said, and he jabbed the radio on, and Elliot Moss filled the car, and he sped up again, and Jess didn’t bother telling him to slow down this time, just wound her window down and let the cold come rushing in.

  •

  ‘Curtains open or closed?’ Mitch asked.

  ‘Sorry, do you mind if we close them?’ Jess put her bag down. ‘Make it a bit darker.’

  ‘Don’t mind at all. If you’ll stop saying sorry.’ He pulled the curtains closed, a thick layer of clotted cream, his movements terse. The room became gloomy, not dark.

  Jess unzipped her boots and pulled them off. She dropped her skirt and peeled off her sweater. For once, she was wearing Big Occasion underwear: champagne satin and lace; French knickers that matched her push-up bra. When she reached these last two items of clothing, she just stood there, rubbing her arms. Mitch was on the other side of the bed, still fully dressed. His eyes flickered over her lingerie.

  ‘So straight into it, then?’ he asked, not sounding happy about it.

  Jess nodded, and he peeled his jersey and T-shirt off as one item. He pulled off his Timberlands and socks. But when his hands went to his belt, she said, ‘I’ll do it, if you want.’

  He came around to her side of the bed and stood in front of her, too close. It was meant to intimidate, nothing else.

  Jess unbuckled his belt. Had trouble unbuttoning his jeans. ‘Sorry, can you …’

  ‘Enough with the sorry shit.’ Mitch unbuttoned and unzipped, then dropped his hands back to his sides. Jess knelt, pulling down his jeans until they were bunched at his ankles. Then she carefully manoeuvred his black trunks down to join them. He lifted one foot and then the other while she pulled them off.

  She glanced up at Mitch, but he was staring across at the mirrored wardrobe. Jess looked too, and saw the scene they made, knew why he was growing hard. But when she took hold of him, moistening her lips, Mitch’s hand gripped her hair, jerking her head back so he could frown at her.

  ‘That’s where we were up to,’ she told him, wincing.

  He exhaled, letting her go, and said in a sour voice, ‘Fine then.’

  Jess began. She wasn’t super experienced, but she’d done it a few times for Brendan. The hard way, she realised now, courtesy of Mitch’s hand-job lesson. She licked her palm and used it, too, and it made things easier, and she eventually established a rhythm. After a while, Mitch groaned, sounding helpless, and he touched her hair again, but gently now. And even though her jaw was hurting, Jess might have enjoyed herself then—if everything else had been different.

  Still it was hard not to feel choked at times. At one point she gagged and had to stop. She breathed for a moment, looking down at the thin rug separating her from the floorboards. Rough on the knees.

  Mitch lifted her chin. ‘You all right? Stop if you want.’

  ‘No, I’m okay,’ she said, eyes downcast.

  ‘You sure you want this?’

  ‘I’m doing it, aren’t I?’

  ‘Yeah, and if you keep doing it, I’ll come, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve enjoyed myself.’

  Jess met his gaze. ‘I want to do it,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s symbolic.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You wanted me on my knees when you first met me. And here I am.’

  ‘Oh, fuck you, Jess,’ Mitch spat angrily, pushing her away. He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand pressed to his groin. ‘Don’t put this on me. You’re doing it to yourself. You won’t talk to me, but you’re straight into giving me a blow job? Who are you?’

  ‘I would have thought that makes me your perfect woman.’

  Mitch made a harsh coughing sound, his blue eyes boring into her. ‘You’re unbelievable. That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve changed.’

  ‘No, you’ve just learned something, that’s all!’ Jess realised how angry she sounded—how angry she was—and she dropped her head, rocking back on her heels and staring down at her hands, now folded in her lap.

  ‘Hey, what’s going on?’ Mitch’s voice was gentle now. He leaned forwards, taking hold of her shoulders, trying to pull her up. ‘God, you’re freezing. Come here. Look, I know I shouldn’t have left it this long, but things have been pretty full on with training and games and assignments, and we’ve been doing a bit of pre-season training for Knights, as well, so—’

  ‘Stop it.’ Jess pulled away from him abruptly. ‘You don’t have to explain yourself. This is not a relationship.’

  ‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t missed you. Like crazy, actually.’

  ‘Mitch, please,’ Jess begged, all the frustration she felt compressed into those two words.

  Mitch studied her, the little crease present on his forehead.

  She sighed. Stood up.

  ‘You’re not going,’ he told her, as she crossed the floor to her bag.

  ‘No,’ Jess said. Strangely, she felt calm. She rummaged through her tote until she found the packet of condoms she’d bought at the university pharmacy, and then turned back to him, pulling off the plastic wrapping.

  Mitch’s voice changed abruptly, from coaxing to abrasive: ‘What the fuck’s that?’ Jess took out a single foil and threw the rest of the packet onto the bedside table. Then she slipped off her underpants and removed her bra, and as she was doing it, Mitch was moving away from her, scooting backwards until he couldn’t go any further, pressed up against the headboard. She clambered onto the bed, kneeling in front of him.

  ‘It’s an ending,’ she told him, holding the foil in her fist. ‘I want you to fuck me. Now. Right now. If we’re lucky, it’ll be awful.’

  Mitch made a disbelieving noise at the back of his throat. ‘Are you kidding?’

  Jess looked away, and then back at him. ‘Kiss me then.’

  ‘Jesus, Jess, for the last time, I don’t do that!’ he snapped, his voice rising, but he looked uneasy.

  Jess rubbed at her eyes, teary all of a sudden, but they were angry tears, hot tears, the result of months of feeling stuffed around. She was a long way from calm now. ‘Well
, they’re your only two choices. You can kiss me, or you can fuck me. But there’s no more talking and no more touching, no more safe. So if you won’t kiss me …’ She tried to hand him the condom.

  Mitch knocked her hand away. ‘When it’s like that, it’s about as personal as a wank. You don’t want that.’

  ‘That is exactly what I want—’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  ‘—because you will use me like a tissue and throw me away and I won’t have to feel anymore.’

  Mitch rubbed a hand over his face, his voice grim. ‘I’m not sleeping with you, Jess.’

  ‘Why? Aren’t I good enough? Oh, that’s right. I’m not. “I doubt it”—that’s what you said, wasn’t it? That day in the laundry. Because I’m not hot enough, or slutty enough, or whatever it is that you want.’

  ‘Can you hear yourself?’

  ‘Yes, I can! And I hate the fact that you’ve reduced me to worrying about shit like that. But that’s what you’ve done to me, Mitch. You have reduced me. I just got down on my knees and sucked you off to make a point, for fuck’s sake!’ Jess slapped him in the chest, once, twice, tears running down her face now, dripping from her jaw, and he grabbed her wrists. Her voice rose: ‘And I used to like myself before you came along, but now I can’t even—’ She howled, the noise coming from deep down in her chest, something primal and awful about it.

  Mitch shushed her, trying to pull her into a hug.

  ‘Don’t shush me.’ Jess pulled away from him, feeling like she was about to be overcome by great wracking sobs, fighting the feeling as hard as she’d ever fought anything in her whole life.

  And she won. Regained some kind of control. She took a deep, shuddering breath, wiped her face with her hands, and then spoke without looking at him. ‘I’d like to go back now. Please.’

  Mitch touched her shoulder. ‘Jess, I’m just trying to do the right thing.’

  ‘By who?’

  He dropped his hand.

  CHAPTER 31

  OBLIVION