‘But—I wasn’t sure if you wanted…’
‘That’s crazy.’
Bethany’s chin quivered uncontrollably.
‘Let me take you home,’ he said, taking her by the arm.
‘Get off. Don’t touch me. I’ll get the tram, thanks.’
Jimmy took the wrapping off his new doona, and arranged it over his bed. He crawled in, and reached over to the box of lukewarm pizza. Goat’s cheese, spinach, smoked salmon, capers. He ate the entire pizza and washed it down with Diet Coke. He lay down, knowing he should get up to brush his teeth, and knowing he wouldn’t. The doona was snug. He’d provided himself with basic comfort. Warmth. That was his achievement for the week.
Bethany. Fahd’s hand. That almost nude curve. He sat up, feeling suddenly horrible. His innards sluiced in Diet Coke. A deadly neurotoxin. He was aroused and guilty. The pizza, gassy, fatty, fleshy, churned in his gut. He put his hand to his mouth and burped, loudly.
‘Gross, Jimmy,’ shouted Paula, from the next bedroom.
No, he couldn’t stay here much longer.
Jimmy didn’t see Bethany again till summer, when he got a call from a shop called Velvet, to install light fittings. He was living on his own by then, in a tiny apartment on Greville Street. His business—Jimmy’s Electrics—was building up slowly.
Velvet was a vintage clothing store. Behind the counter was a beautiful girl in a dark dress and high heels, wearing red lipstick. It took him a minute to recognise Bethany.
‘Hello,’ she said, shyly. ‘So it was you. I mean—you are the Jimmy of Jimmy’s Electrics. I thought you might be.’
‘Yeah, well, I didn’t want to work at the pizza place any more.’
‘I walk past sometimes. I saw you’d left.’
Bethany showed him which lights to replace. It was easy, clean work. It seemed odd to replace good quality brass fittings with paper lanterns, but it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Something to do with fashion, he supposed. When he was finished Bethany paid him from the till.
‘I’m better at adding up now,’ she said, with her dimpled, crooked smile. ‘Practice.’
‘That’s good,’ he said, packing up his tools.
‘Let’s see how they look,’ she said.
Bethany pulled the blinds down and they stood together in the darkness. When she flicked the switch Jimmy saw the point of the new fittings: he was stunned by the softness of the champagne light pouring over the clothes racks, the shoes, the counter, and Bethany herself.
‘Looks good, huh?’
‘Yep.’
That was all he managed. He wanted to say something about the emerald lantern in the poem. He wanted to tell her his thoughts about the light that didn’t get tired; a light that wasn’t powered with a lethal force. Now wasn’t the time. It would just be silly. He closed the latch on his toolbox regretfully, said goodbye, and walked out onto Chapel Street.
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Review of Australian Fiction, Volume 9, Issue 6 Page 3