The Peculiars

by Jen Thorpe

  ‘You’re going to take your car?’

  ‘Are you going to repeat everything I say?’

  ‘It depends if you are going to be deliberately calm about this event, which sees you going for dinner with a man and driving the car you have until now scorned with relish.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘You are?’ Nazma could tell that her mother was smiling.

  ‘Well, if you must know it’s a date.’

  ‘A date?’

  ‘A date!’

  ‘No need to get upset. I’m just interested to find out what is going on.’

  ‘Well, we are working together as part of the study and it was only recently that I realised he was … nice.’

  ‘What was he before nice?’

  ‘Mum!’ Nazma got up with a harrumph and walked out to the lounge, giving her mother a look that told her the conversation was over. While showering, she realised she was acting like a teenager with a crush. She selected a white jersey, grey skinny jeans, and navy pumps for the evening. She packed perfume and a spray deodorant into her bag, in case she got really sweaty at her driving lesson. Not wanting to seem overly keen, she didn’t apply the make-up Nafeesa would have told her to, even though she thought she could do with a bit of colour. Grabbing her favourite navy winter coat, she headed downstairs.

  Abigail was still watching soap operas, one with subtitles, on mute. Nazma sat down on the couch and watched with her, the only sound the regular hiss of the iron. When Tony rang the doorbell, Nazma grabbed her car keys from the rack by the door.

  ‘Don’t tell Dad where I am. I’d rather fight about it tomorrow than have him calling me tonight.’

  ‘Why? Will you not be home later?’

  Her mother looked like she was about to pull a muscle with the way she kept raising her eyebrows up and down, trying to wink. Nazma shrugged, making an effort not to look too hopeful. Abigail waved her away and she walked out to Tony’s car.

  ‘Can we use my car today, Tony?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’ll need to stop at the station after, though, so you don’t mind the walk back here?’

  ‘Nope, you’re the last client for today. And at least it looks like it won’t rain. How will you get back, though?’

  ‘I’m picking someone up.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yup. Let’s talk and drive.’

  ‘Wow – talking and driving! Big steps, Nazma. Come on then. Less talk more action.’

  They set off at a sloth pace, Nazma concentrating extra hard on checking her blind spots and five points at each robot. It was the first lesson they’d ever had together where she didn’t get out and leave Tony stranded at a zebra crossing. When he jumped out at the train station an hour later, he reached into the car and gave her a high five.

  ‘I am impressed. Whoever has made you drive like this deserves a prize.’ Seconds after Tony walked away, Sam walked round to the passenger door.

  ‘Not sure what you’re worried about. You look like a fine driver to me. Who was he?’

  ‘My driving instructor. But don’t come over here with your compliments and put pressure on me. Get in before I change my mind.’

  ‘Should I tell you you’re terrible?’

  ‘Piss off, Sam. Get in the car!’ She put on the air conditioning, hoping it would prevent her nervous sweating.

  ‘Um, Nazma, I don’t know if you’ve noticed that it’s winter outside?’

  ‘It’s not that cold.’

  She turned it off again, opening her legs a little wider to let some air between them. She waited until his seat belt was on before she turned to look at him. He seemed nervous too. She wasn’t sure whether to reach out for him or not, whether his gesture after the Wellness Warehouse was one of comfort or whether it was something more. Should they hold hands? Could you hold hands and drive?

  ‘So where should we go? Do you feel like pizza? Steak? Curry?’

  ‘Mmm … I’m not sure.’

  ‘That’s not very helpful. How hungry are you?’

  ‘Hungry-ish. Let’s do pizza. Where did you have in mind?’

  ‘We could do Col’Caccio’s? Or Morituri?’

  ‘Do you know of anywhere outside?’

  ‘Um, Sam, I don’t know if you’ve noticed that it’s winter.’

  ‘It’s not that cold.’ They laughed.

  ‘Okay, so what about that tiny Italian near the Labia? They have a patio, and an inside.’

  ‘I think I know the one.’

  She made the turn onto Main Road, and they drove along slowly until they reached town. She didn’t think she could drive and sustain a conversation, and he seemed to intuit this, looking out the window, hands folded loosely in his lap. She allowed the taxis to weave in and out in front of her car, obeying the rules of checking the speedometer and rear-view mirror at intervals of exactly six seconds. Eventually they were there.

  ‘I’m not very good at parking in tough spots, so we may have to drive around for a while in the parking lot.’

  ‘I could help?’

  She put on her hazards, and jumped out as he slid across the seat. He parked quickly and turned off the engine. The street was busy with end-of-day traffic and people heading out for after-work drinks. Most of the shops were closed but their lights stayed on, advertising their products late into the night.

  ‘I’m glad I’m here,’ Nazma said.

  ‘Me too.’

  The smell of garlic drifted towards them as they walked down the road. She was glad they’d chosen pizza; it was just what she felt like. And it was quick – so if things went badly they didn’t have to wait too long. After a short debate about the temperature, they sat down inside the restaurant next to the pizza oven, which was warm after the night air. The waiter came and they ordered two glasses of red, and a starter to share. Italian music swirled around them. The wine arrived, breaking an awkward silence, and with the first sip things started to feel calmer.

  ‘Don’t drink too much – you’re the designated driver.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Edwards.’ She crossed her legs beneath the table, bumping his. As they began to talk easily again, they ordered pizza, and sampled each other’s. A shared second glass of wine later, she felt bolder.

  ‘So now that I’ve successfully completed task three, confronting my fear, what will you do to complete it?’ She sipped her wine, hoping to appear nonchalant.

  ‘I’m going to try and sleep without the alarm on tonight. See if I can make it right through. I think I’m going to be able to.’

  ‘Big steps. How come you’re so brave all of a sudden?’

  ‘Because I’m hoping I won’t be sleeping on my own.’

  ‘Oh really. It’s a bit late to pick someone up now.’ She put her fork down and reached for her glass of water.

  ‘Don’t worry. I took this really cool woman out to dinner earlier and I’m hoping she’ll come back for a nightcap and a bit of this and that.’

  ‘I heard she doesn’t normally do sleepovers on the first date.’

  ‘I’m hoping she’ll make an exception. Or at least see all our other meetings as dates as well, making this, well … the third date.’

  ‘She doesn’t normally do that on a date-by-date basis either. Third dates are just things from the movies.’

  ‘That’s why I said we’d be sleeping.’

  ‘Just sleeping? She could do that at home, why would she come all the way to your house?’

  ‘Well maybe not just but mostly sleeping.’

  ‘I think she might be willing to negotiate.’

  ‘So shall we take the negotiation to my house?’

  ‘Only if you have good coffee there.’

  ‘I do, coincidentally. I have a pretty rad espresso machine.’

  ‘And only if we can stop talking about me in the third person.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’

  They left their money on the table, without asking the waiter to bring the bill. Her hands shook as
they walked back towards the car, partly from cold and partly from nerves. On the way, he grabbed her hand, swung her around and kissed her, pulling her body tightly to his.

  ‘That’s the first part of the negotiation,’ he said when they stopped for air.

  ‘I look forward to the rest.’

  The road was quiet on the drive back. He directed her to his flat, and waved to the security guards as he opened the gate for the car. She parked in the spare parking bay next to the stairs up to his flat and then had to go back to the gate to sign in. As they reached the door, Sam disarmed the alarms with a button and turned back towards her. Before he could open the door she leant forward and pressed herself against him, pushing him against the door, kissing him. His hands pulled her closer though there wasn’t much room to move.

  ‘Let’s get inside,’ she said.

  ‘Let’s.’

  She was surprised that his flat wasn’t neater, though thinking back to his car she remembered he liked to hoard things. It was furnished simply, with a few family photographs on a bookshelf near the lounge window. There weren’t many books, but the ones there were included fantasy and science fiction. He made them some coffee, and they sat down on his couch. She put her coffee cup down on the table, and turned towards him. As he put his down, she leant over and straddled him.

  26

  Sam

  Prosophobia: Fear of progress

  He pulled her closer, enjoying her confidence and the weight of her body in his lap. For a few moments he felt invincible. He wanted her to never stop kissing him. He felt her body beneath her shirt. Her stomach was soft and relaxed. She didn’t pull it in when he moved his hands there and that turned him on even more. As unexpected as her move was, his own feelings matched hers. He wanted this – he wanted her. He closed his eyes, letting himself go.

  Then, against his will, they sprung abruptly open. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the little globe in the corner of the room that should have been lit with red reassurance. The alarm was off. He mapped the room for potential entry points, as he had done many times before. There were weaknesses he knew of, near the sliding door, and a blind spot in the bedroom. His eyes drew lines between himself and those points, assessing whether he could get there before they got to him.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about a stranger bursting in the door. He shifted his weight to look for the remote to turn on the alarm. Nazma shifted with him, kissing him harder and grinding into him.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ she whispered, her mouth on his neck, giving him goosebumps and making him squeeze her tighter. She took it as a sign to advance the encounter, slowly removing her top, her breasts so close to his face that he could smell the faint cucumber of her moisturising cream. He remembered she had a tattoo and wanted to turn her over and kiss her back, kiss the tattoo and think about taking off her pants. Her kissing felt so good that he closed his eyes, but thoughts of the alarm wrenched them open. She moved in to kiss him again, and paused, realising he wasn’t concentrating.

  ‘What’s going on, Sam? You seem distracted.’

  ‘Nothing, I’m loving what you’re doing. I just want to be able to see you.’ The lie slipped off his tongue with ease. ‘Don’t stop.’

  She moved her hands down to his buckle as he tickled the back of her neck. Loosening it, she pulled the belt open just enough to unzip the top of his jeans and hold him tightly, watching his face for signs that it felt good. She lifted his shirt over his head. Her hair smelled like citrus. It tickled his skin as she kissed his chest. He looked over at the sensor pad, aching to turn it on. It would just be a quick step up to the keypad, a single button to press.

  She stopped. She had asked him something.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Sam. What is it? Do you want to stop? Am I doing something wrong?’ She sat up, leaning back to look at him, her forehead wrinkled in a frown.

  ‘No. I don’t want you to stop. It’s just that I really want to put the alarm on. It’s distracting me, and if I could just put it on I know I’d be able to get into this more.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. We came through a gate with security guards. There is electric fencing around the complex. The door is locked. We are fine, Sam. Totally fine. I’m right here. What could possibly go wrong now?’ She moved to start kissing him again, but he put his hand on her arm. ‘What?’

  ‘I know I should think that, but I’m almost certain we should put on the alarm. I have this feeling in my stomach. Something bad could happen. I don’t want it to ruin this. You understand how it is – your brain says two different things are logical at the same time.’

  He leant back into the couch that had been left to him by his father – the couch he’d sat on in the study while his dad read to him from the newspaper, and from survival guides. It was soft in all the right places. Nazma climbed off him and put her T-shirt back on, slumping down next to him again. He stared over at her, wishing she would look at him. Instead, she glared at the dull globe in the corner of the room, in silence.

  ‘You must understand how hard this is for me. I just want to make sure I can enjoy this with you and give you my full attention. Without the alarm it feels like something bad will happen, and I just want this to be something good. I just want you and me to feel safe.’

  She didn’t say anything. He could tell she was trying to work out what to say without hurting him. Her lips moved as she chewed the corners of her mouth. Eventually she turned towards him, serious, her eyes searching for sense. They flickered with anger.

  ‘I drove here. Do you know how my foot was shuddering on the pedal? How it felt as though I was risking my life and yours? Every turn, every indication was terrifying. I’ve never parked in a parking lot before on my own before I got here. Only as a passenger. And I proceeded as normal. All the while trying to do deep-breathing exercises to stave off the panic attacks that normally come with driving. Where I get so stressed I can barely breathe, or feel that I’ll explode with the air in my lungs. I did it because I wanted to be with you, and get to this place. I want to … I wanted to be with you, Sam.’

  ‘I know. You were amazing.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me. Listen to yourself. Why not take the same risks I did? What are you afraid of?’

  ‘You know what I’m afraid of. I thought you understood.’

  ‘Who are they, these people you think will come for you, and why would they choose your flat out of all the others? There are hundreds of flats in this complex, flats that I reckon have more valuable possessions than yours, more valuable cars as markers of their wealth right outside their doors. Why would they choose you, Sam?’

  ‘I don’t know. Why would they? Who can say? It’s not as if the world is predictable. I don’t know who they are. Strangers. Robbers. And what if I couldn’t defend myself? What then?’

  She’d risked her pride, and what had felt like her life, to go out for a pizza, and he couldn’t even kiss her with the alarm off. He had hurt her. And now he couldn’t help but be defensive when he had no right to be.

  ‘Who would have expected you to defend yourself? It’s not worth the risk. Before your mom was mugged, what happened? Why are you so scared? Nobody expects anything like that of you. Do you expect that of yourself? What happened to make you believe that?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing happened at all. I just know that I need to protect myself in case something does happen.’ He spoke faster. ‘Make sure I’ve covered all the bases, you know. And now all I’ve got is this pocketknife to protect me. Mace is illegal, and those flamethrowers you get for your car are simply obscene. So I have nothing but a couple of nail files and a bottle opener to protect me. That’s why I need the alarm. So they’ll be scared off before they come in. So maybe they won’t come in at all.’

  ‘Whoa, Sam. Take a breath. You’re starting to sound crazy. It’s just an alarm. All it’s going to do is tell you when it’s too late. It would scare me more. I’d rather they came in silently in the night and took eve
rything than them panicking at the shrill beeping of the alarm and—’

  ‘That’s why I have to have an alarm. So I can try to get away.’

  ‘And then you can go back to normal?’

  ‘Yes. Then I can live my life without wondering what it will be like to be attacked. I can just be normal. I can know that I can survive and escape, which is a shitload more than I know now, thank you for asking.’

  ‘What was that like for you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What was normal like?’

  All Sam could think about was the poster of Jacques Kallis on his bedroom wall in his parents’ house.

  ‘I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know if I know it. Maybe I’ll only know it when I get there.’

  ‘I don’t know, Sam. This was all part of the exercise, you know, to see what it would be like if you let go of your fear. I guess you’re just not able to let go yet. I feel like I’ve taken a big chance tonight and you’re leaving me hanging on the edge by myself. I thought this was going to be the time for us, but now I feel foolish. Time is passing around me and I can’t seem to stop it moving, and I want to move with it. But you … It seems like you want to stay in some other time.’

  She gestured that he should do up his pants. Her chin was beginning to tremble but when he looked back her jaw was firm. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to take away the stress. He wanted to pull her back on top of him and take up where they had stopped. He also wanted to put on the alarm.

  ‘I’m not sure what to say. I’m sorry. I don’t want this evening to end like this. But if we’re going to … carry on, I’m going to have to put on the alarm. I just won’t feel, you know, up to it if we don’t.’

  She stood up, brushing her clothes straight, and looked down at him, her eyes filled with compassion. ‘How about you just make me a cup of tea and I head home for the night?’

  ‘How will you get there? You need a licenced driver.’

  ‘Now’s not the time for practicality, Sam. After all this. I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘I can drive behind you.’

  ‘You don’t have to.’