by Les Zig
‘You need to work this out,’ Luke says. ‘One way or another.’
‘What do you think?’ I ask.
‘I believe anybody can cheat given the right circumstances. People are fallible, and some are stupid. But, fuck, you found a condom. And that’s the only evidence you have. There’s not a single other sign she’s screwing around. That should be good enough for you.’
I don’t tell him about the two little bruises on her butt. There’ll be logic for that, just as there’s my doubt.
It’s 6.47 when Jane comes in. I know because I check the time on my phone. She’s dressed in knee-length skirt and sleeveless blouse, and her hair’s been tied back in a girlish ponytail. There’s something wrong about the way she looks, and it’s not until she exchanges greetings with Luke and he mentions it that I realise.
‘Hey, Jane,’ Luke says. ‘That the way you dress for work?’ His looks sidelong at me.
‘No, I went home to shower and change,’ she says. ‘You wouldn’t believe how hot our office gets.’
Luke finishes his beer. ‘I should get going anyway.’
‘Why don’t you join us for dinner?’
‘That would be great, but I have a date.’
‘Luke has a girlfriend,’ I say.
‘Really?’ Jane asks.
‘Yep. I’m one of the fallen.’
‘We should all do dinner one night.’
‘Sure.’
‘Or you can drop in, you know. We hardly ever see you.’
‘Maybe I’ll do that. I’ll see you.’ Luke kisses Jane on the cheek. Then points at me. ‘And you, me, and Stephen—book it in.’
‘Sure.’
He leaves.
There’s an interconnecting door Jane and I use that goes through the gaming room on the way to the restaurant. It’s better air-conditioned in here. People sit at the poker machines, mindlessly shoving their money down the slots. The machines ring and flash. I’ve never understood the fascination of playing a game you have so little control over.
‘So how’d you get here?’ I ask as we reach the small foyer that precedes the restaurant.
‘Taxi,’ Jane says.
‘How’d you get home?’ I ask.
‘Kai dropped me off.’
We enter the restaurant and stop at the podium to wait for service. I can’t help doing the mathematics. Jane takes about forty minutes to shower, do her hair, make-up, and get dressed. It’d be a ten-minute drive here from our house. Maybe five minutes to wait for a taxi if she booked it in advance. That’s an hour. She got here at 6.47. So she would’ve got home—if all my calculations are correct—about 5.47, which is normal.
Wailing fills my ears. It’s a kid, probably no more than four, beetroot faced and screaming, tears pouring down his chubby cheeks, heels digging into the carpet as his mother tries to drag him along. She has another kid in her free arm, this one probably only two or so, with curls and pigtails, bearded in ice-cream—cute, despite her messiness, but that’s probably the furthest thing from her mother’s mind right now.
The mother rolls her eyes at us as she hauls the kids past. I arch my brows at Jane, as if to acknowledge the insanity, but she’s still watching, longing on her face, until the trio disappear through a door into the toilets. Jane melts into me, runs a hand down my chest, then smiles, although there’s no real happiness there.
I kiss the top of her head. ‘We’ll get there,’ I say.
She clenches my hand.
A waitress arrives. She’s stunningly tall—taller than me—with a dark mane and a busty figure that threatens to burst her uniform of slacks and shirt at the seams. She seats us at a table in the corner and, when she leaves, I have to make a concerted effort not to watch her, occupying myself by picking up the menu.
‘She was very pretty,’ Jane says.
‘I didn’t notice,’ I say.
‘No?’
‘I was surprised at how tall she is.’
‘Hmmm.’ Jane’s smile is knowing as she picks up her own menu.
The Andion’s bistro is functional more than anything else. You don’t come here for a fancy night out but simply to be fed. There are booths against the back wall, rows of tables down one end to accommodate families, and smaller tables for more intimate groups. There’s also a room with claw and arcade machines for the kids.
Jane and I look through our menus. I barely read what I’m seeing and decide on calamari even before I find it and check the price. Jane goes through the menu page by page, although she’ll probably end up choosing from one of her regulars.
‘Beth at school today?’ she asks.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘What happened yesterday? Did she tell you?’
I know I shouldn’t be censoring myself with Jane, but I’ve already omitted that I visited Beth yesterday. Now there’s the bruises on her wrists. Beth tried to hide them. One day she might tell me about them. But right now it feels like a confidence I should keep.
‘She said she had such a huge fight with Roger on Monday night, and on Tuesday morning she decided to leave him,’ I say. ‘But by then, he was promising her the things she wants.’
‘So where’ve they left it?’
‘She says they’re going to talk about it tonight.’
‘I think they’re incompatible.’
‘Really?’
‘From what I’ve seen, he’s this materialistic, egotistical wanker, and she’s this spiritual, creative person who has no interest in his goals.’
‘Then why did they get together? Why have they stayed together?’
‘People can stay in relationships a long time before they realise they’re not right.’
‘Mine didn’t work out that way.’
‘Never?’
I shake my head. ‘They all unravelled for one reason or another—they dumped me, or I didn’t feel right with them … and then they dumped me.’
‘So what made me special?’
I think about that. ‘From early on, I was comfortable with you—it was always like we’d known each other for years.’
‘That’s it?’
‘You made me feel …’ I search for the word, thinking there has to be something profound, but in the end, say, ‘Right. I hadn’t felt that in a long time.’
She leans across, kisses me. ‘That’s sweet.’
‘I try.’
‘Maybe your radar’s better for what you need. I had a couple of long-term relationships. People change. Not entirely. But they overlook little things about their partners to be with them and keep the peace.’
‘What do you overlook about me?’
‘Nothing.’ Jane puts her hand on my knee. ‘We’re good. I’m talking about Beth and Roger. I’m sure she overlooked that he’s this career-driven bastard because she hoped he’d come around to her side. And he probably overlooked that she’s a low-paid art teacher, thinking he’d mould her into a trophy wife. But people get comfortable.’
‘I’m not sure Beth’s comfortable.’
‘I mean despite their circumstances. It’s safer staying with what you know than looking for something new, because new is scary. Look at how you didn’t move out of home until we got engaged. Your dad was a functioning but declining alcoholic, in a dysfunctional household, and you stayed with him.’
‘You think I was comfortable, too?’
‘I’m not criticising you. I think sometimes we go with what we know, even if it’s not what’s best for us. Sometimes the path we’re meant to take is the scarier one.’ Jane taps the menu. ‘I think I’ll get the risotto. Calamari?’
‘How’d you guess?’
‘You order the food, I’ll get the drinks. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
We get up. Jane grabs my hand and kisses me.
‘I hope I didn’t upset you bringing up your dad.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Not at all.’
I get in line at the counter, but keep my eyes on Jane as she goes to the bar. Luke’s ri
ght. There’s no evidence other than the condom—and that’s been explained.
I need to move on.
Jane and I chat until our food’s delivered. She laughs in all the right places, shows interest the way she always does in some things (like Maya’s artwork) and tries to disguise glossing over others. It’s like it’s always been.
Although I’ve been given a fork, I eat my calamari with my bare hands. Jane mows through her risotto.
‘So what’s happening with your picture?’ she asks.
‘My picture?’ I don’t make the connection.
‘The blank page back at home.’
‘Oh. I’m waiting for inspiration.’
‘Why don’t you draw Wallace?’
‘I’ve drawn Wallace. I want a masterpiece.’
‘Wallace is a masterpiece.’
‘Yes, Wallace is. But I need something new, something to come from me.’
Jane finishes her risotto, and takes my last few calamari.
‘Hey, since when do you eat calamari?’
‘I eat calamari.’ She pops one into her mouth.
‘Not usually.’
‘They looked good. I have an idea.’
‘What?’
‘You could draw me.’
‘Really?’
‘I could pose for you.’
‘Naked?’
Jane laughs. ‘If you want.’
The idea fires my imagination. It wouldn’t be explicit. Maybe she could lie across the couch, her back partly to me, a sheet strategically covering her. That’s always more alluring—what’s held back from you, rather than what you see.
‘Where’s this come from?’ I ask.
‘What do you mean where’s it come from?’
‘In all the time we’ve been together, you’ve never offered to model for me.’
‘You need inspiration. Here I am.’
‘Oh, that’s sweet.’
Jane smiles. She’s got a great smile. It’s crooked and lights up her eyes. ‘It’s obvious, I guess, isn’t it? It’s amazing we’ve never considered it before.’
It is. But I haven’t felt capable of drawing anything other than small, inanimate objects. Wallace is as ambitious as I’ve got. A whole person? I like the challenge. I don’t know if it’ll be my masterpiece, but it’s a logical step from where I am.
‘I actually want to go home and start this now,’ I say.
‘Really?’
‘If you’re serious.’
‘I’m up to it if you are.’
‘Let’s finish our drinks.’
‘Okay …’
Beth and Roger stand at the podium. Beth’s still in a long-sleeved blouse and a frilly little skirt. Roger’s in slacks, shirt, and is still wearing a tie.
Jane follows my gaze and sees them. Then Beth sees me. Her surprise and reaction—a big wave—is overdone. She points us out to Roger. Roger doesn’t smile. There’s one small tilt of his head, like he’s indifferent.
They come over. I exchange a handshake with Roger, a kiss on the cheek with Beth. Jane exchanges kisses on the cheek with each.
‘Fancy seeing you two here,’ Beth says, although I told her we were coming here for dinner.
‘Casper and I just finished dinner,’ Jane says. ‘How’re you two doing?’
Now it begins—the sidestepping. Beth will know I share some of our discussions with Jane, but have no idea how much. Jane will have to know that Beth knows that. Roger will be oblivious, although there is yesterday—if he mentions that I came over, Jane will be pissed off that I left that out. Then it’ll look like I have something to hide, although all I have to hide is that I felt I really needed to talk to Beth about that condom. I could tell Jane that, but that would be even more insulting given Jane had explained it. Then it’s clear I don’t trust her.
‘We’re doing well.’ Beth opens her mouth but it’s Roger who speaks. ‘We thought we’d have dinner out tonight. We don’t do that enough. Do we, Beth?’
‘No,’ Beth says.
‘How about we join you?’
‘They’ve finished, Roger,’ Beth says.
‘We don’t mean to be rude,’ Jane says, ‘but we were about to go.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Roger says. ‘How about one last drink?’
Jane looks at me. I can’t read what she’s telling me. She doesn’t like Roger. She doesn’t really know Beth. So she has no tie to stay. I want to go, although now I’m concerned about Beth.
‘Okay, one more drink,’ Jane says.
‘I’ll get it,’ I say, jumping to my feet. ‘Another wine?’
‘Sure,’ Jane says.
‘I’ll come help you,’ Beth says. ‘Roger, Scotch?’
‘Sure.’
‘Maybe you should grab some menus while we get the drinks,’ Beth says.
‘Certainly,’ Roger says.
I exchange another look with Jane. She arches her brows. I shrug. Then I go to the bar to get the drinks.
Beth and I stand in line at the bar.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Beth says. ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen.’
‘It’s okay.’
I glance back at the table. A waiter—a young guy with a big white smile—clears plates. Roger returns with two menus and sits down. He and Jane begin to talk. Jane laughs in a way I don’t like—too delighted. Roger doesn’t deserve such a response.
‘It’s not,’ Beth says. ‘I used you.’
‘What?’
‘What’ll you have, folks?’ the bartender says.
We order—a red wine for Jane, a white wine for Beth, a Scotch for Roger, and I have an iced water, since I’m pushing the limit. The bartender sets about getting our order.
‘I wanted to get out and talk to Roger. You mentioned The Andion so it was the only place I could think of. I knew you’d be here but I shouldn’t be intruding.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘I panicked because I wanted to get out.’
The bartender returns with our drinks. I hold out a twenty-dollar note, but it doesn’t cover it. Beth reaches for her purse, but I grab another ten out of my pocket and pass it across to the bartender.
‘Look, sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you this way,’ Beth says. ‘You and Jane finish your drinks and go.’
‘We can stay, if you want.’
Roger says something. Jane lifts her head and laughs again. Roger pats her on the thigh, his hand there a moment longer than it should be—if it should be there at all. Jane brushes his hand aside abruptly. Roger continues speaking as Jane draws herself up.
I don’t like the contact. It flares up the paranoia. Jane told me she gave Roger her card. Maybe he called her, they met, and something happened. Beth said Roger works late—maybe he’s not working late some of those times. I hate the narrative unfolding in my head. Jane’s never been late, although she does have the occasional girls’ night. The insecurity grows. It’s not just Roger, but the existence of possibilities.
‘No,’ Beth says. ‘I really feel bad now. And I want to talk with Roger. That won’t happen if you and Jane stay with us.’
The bartender hands me my change. I stick it in my pocket without counting it. Then I grab my and Jane’s drinks, while Beth grabs hers and Roger’s.
‘Have your drinks and go,’ Beth says. ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yeah.’
I nod and we rejoin Jane and Roger.
My fear that Roger will mention I dropped in to check on Beth is unnecessary since he can’t stop talking about himself. He tells us about a civil suit he’s leading against a drug manufacturer whose antidepressants have severe side effects in a number of users. He expresses no compassion—it’s about the payout.
He then segues onto Jane, saying he’s still meaning to touch base with her about the possibility of a website dedicated to himself. When he questions Jane about what that would entail, he overdoes his curiosity as Jane talks about technical specs
and quotes some prices. Occasionally, he reaches over and pats her hand.
I want to break my glass of iced water right over his head that he has the temerity to flirt with Jane right in front of me. Even Beth seems surprised, remarking several times that Roger should stop talking shop.
Jane takes her last sip of wine. She’s gone through it quickly. ‘We should really get going,’ she says, when Roger pauses long enough for her to get a word in.
‘You sure you won’t stay?’ Roger says.
Jane gets up. ‘We both have really early starts. Beth, Roger, it was great to see you. Maybe we can have dinner one night.’ The offer doesn’t contain an iota of the sincerity it did when she suggested it to Luke.
Farewells are exchanged—Jane kisses Beth and Roger on the cheek, Roger giving her a sharp embrace; Beth kisses me on the cheek; Roger tries to break my hand.
Then we can’t leave quickly enough.
I’m driving home. Jane is animated in the passenger seat, her seatbelt holding her together.
‘What does she see in him?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What did you talk about at the bar?’
‘What?’
‘You and Beth were talking at the bar. It seemed pretty deep. What were you talking about?’
‘She said she’d come out to talk to Roger and apologised for intruding on us. I said it was okay and offered to stay—in case. She told me to have our drinks and go.’
Jane runs a hand through her hair. Her eyes are fixed on me. My eyes are on the road.
‘What do you mean “in case”?’ she asks.
‘What?’
‘You going deaf? You said you offered to stay in case. In case of what?’
‘I don’t trust him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s something … I don’t know. You said it—he’s cavalier …’
Jane waits for elaboration, turning to face me, her back against the passenger door.
I shrug. ‘Cruel, maybe.’
‘Did you see Beth’s wrists?’
‘Beth’s wrists?’
‘They’re all bruised. I’m surprised you didn’t notice them. She’s done a good job of covering them with make-up, but you can still see the bruises.’