That was even more enticing. I fixed him with a longing look, and he just laughed and ate his bacon. “Okay,” he said when he had finished chewing but was about to stuff some more in his mouth. “We have other things to think and talk about besides your hunger for me.” I stood up and bent over the table to reach him, and he fended me off. This was the way to do things. Other guys had been all over me, and there’d been nothing for me to do but either resist or give in. This one was making it very hard for me to sit in my chair. I did settle back down to eat. He watched me.
“Okay. Now what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I want to know about all sorts of stuff,” I said, and picked up my coffee only to find it empty. While he ordered me another one, there was breathing space in which to settle my body. The absence of Sandro may well have been the very worst thing in the world, but perhaps his presence might be even harder.
When he returned, he bent to kiss the back of my neck as he passed my chair.
“You’re killing me.” When he didn’t speak, I added, “How do you do it?”
“Just sexy, I guess.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
He sat back on the chair and stared into the distance. “Dubai helped. Before there, I was jumping anyone I felt like. Women find me irresistible.” Why, do I like him saying that? He regarded me thoughtfully. “In Dubai, sexual activity can be dangerous. For women, it’s most dangerous. Men need to exercise caution. There were some compromising situations where I may have been deported. She may have encountered much worse. Not everyone is in that situation, of course, but you learn to control yourself.” I stared at him. Of course, I knew about this in a feminist sort of a way, but to hear him talking about firsthand experience was levelling. “Being over there actually became useful in the end. You see,” he paused trying to assess how much to say. “It’s always been too easy for me to get sex, but it’s never been all that satisfying. I don’t mean in the moment, but overall. Not really very exciting.” I just nodded.
He was quiet watching while I sipped my coffee. “Now, what sort of a mess am I making of this?” he asked. I had no idea. “I just want to take it slowly.” It made sense, but I was embarrassed because I’d been all over him. “Before, when I was desperate about maybe never getting to this point, I decided not to stuff it up with sex.” He took my coffee from me and held my hands, “I promised I wouldn’t just follow my dick.”
“We need to work out all sorts of stuff. Not just how to not have sex.”
“Certainly,” he said. “It’s just the most urgent to address, because I’m sitting here thinking how soon I can get you alone and take all your clothes off.” It made me think ‘right now’, but I behaved myself. Instead, we discussed what had been going on for him while we hadn’t been talking, and he began fill me in about living with Flagran.
“I reckon the other reason I’m determined to take this slowly is because of Flagran and Torrenclar.” Reading my question, he continued. “Not just because they’ll both kill me if I hurt you again,” he said ruefully, “but because the stupid thing is, if I disappoint them, I’ll hate myself, and that’s worse than dying a horrible death in Flagran’s hands. I’m picturing burning alive.” He told me about the time in the ocean.
He sat studying the table for a moment. “Friday night, I had a complete meltdown. I tried to take it out on Flagran. In fact he deserved it, because, come to think of it,” he said indignantly, realising something for the first time, “he set it up in the first place.”
This was confusing, but he gave me some insight into what had happened, and it was clear there was some big stuff in there he wasn’t sharing. That was alright. My secrets were going to take a while to come out. “I miss Flagran.”
“I think they miss you too. They kept trying to get me to do something about it.”
This was also confusing. I felt myself withdraw. Why had he needed convincing? Then, without any warning, I became flooded by self-doubt. At the beginning, when he withdrew physically, it had made an appearance and had gradually been growing, even though what he was saying didn’t seem to be about me. Perhaps it was because it should have been about me. I don’t know. His words sunk in, and I was too fragile; maybe tired and hungry. It’s hard to work it out. The other stuff about how he’d been feeling during the standoff just disappeared. Only half of my meal was gone, but the other half didn’t look at all appetising. Sandro was confused. He stood up abruptly saying, “Come on. Let’s go.” I followed blindly. Why was it always so hard? He stopped at the register to pay, and I kept going out towards the car. When he caught up with me, he said, “Bridey, we’re not going down this path again. It was unbearable the first time.”
No response surfaced. There was nothing there. He opened the door for me. Close to tears, it was only just working to keep them in. Speaking was impossible. He didn’t speak either until we arrived at my house. Then he turned to me. “Can I come in please?” The last thing I wanted was for him to feel pity for me and try to make it up. I shook my head, but he wasn’t having that. “The answer is, ‘Yes Sandro, I would like that.’” That did it. Tears rolled down my face. He was firm. “Bridey we are going inside, and we are sorting this out. Together.” My messy inner world, which was normally contained, had erupted on me. Was this trying to manipulate him or something? The thought made me feel terrible. How had the day turned into such a disaster? He opened his door and came around to mine. My first thought was to resist, then it occurred to me I was home. At the front door while the key had disappeared, I made some crack about this being his house anyway and didn’t he have a key. He just ignored me, opened the door and followed me in. Tiredness and longing for bed flooded over me, but we went to the kitchen, and I put on the kettle.
“You said the Caretakers had nagged you into coming to sort it out with me.”
“It was nothing vaguely like that!”
This was such a mess, there was no fixing it.
“The point was how they were missing you. The only reason for me not coming to you was, you would have given me another brush off. It was reasonable for you to be angry, even to take some time to get over it, but I thought if I came clean about being your landlord, you would’ve at least heard me out. Instead you walked away. There was simply no explanation for my behaviour, and I couldn’t get out of my own way.”
“Something just flooded over me, and suddenly I was really miserable.”
Sandro sighed. Instead of holding me, he sat there staring at the wall. In my head, I was begging him not to go. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” I told him. Life is shit. The good bits only last a second or two, and then everything’s ruined.
But there’s ruin, and there’s catastrophic. My mother walked in the back door.
We all stared at each other.
“This is a surprise,” I said. She said nothing. She was fuming. Homarta, I thought. I was ready to scream.
“Mum, this is Sandro, my landlord. Sandro, this is Elaine.” He came to his feet politely and attempted to shake hands with her. Her response was to fix him with a belligerent stare.
“So, what have you got up your sleeve?” She looked from him to me, and back to him. “Why are you doing all this work here? Who is that terrible woman in the backyard, and why are those plants so big?”
Sandro sat down again at the table and pulled out a chair for her. “Would you like a cup of tea Elaine, coffee?” She glared at him.
“No, I do not want a cup of tea. I want an explanation, and I’m not leaving here until I get one.” Now Sandro had no idea what was going through my mother’s mind. He hadn’t caught up with the cult idea; or anything really. So far, we had managed to exchange phone numbers and have two or three fights.
He asked her to sit down. The way he said it, politely but very firm, seemed to work on her. She sat stiffly and continued to fix him with a baleful stare. (I’m not sure exactly what baleful means, but I know it was that kind of stare.) This wasn’
t happening.
“The plants are big because I decided to buy well developed ones.”
“Now, why would you do that, when you’re clearly going to knock this place down? It’s a dump!”
He kept his eyes fixed on her and didn’t give me a glance. “Because Bridey likes this place, and I want her to be happy.”
I stared at him. Surely he was thinking about how soon he could get away from this moody woman who made everything difficult and her deranged mother who seemed ready to kill him.
“Why would you care?” Yes, that was a very good question. Why would he?
“Because I love her.” We both stared at him, stunned. “Now Elaine,” he said, “I wonder if that’s enough for now. It hasn’t really been nice to meet you, but maybe next time it will be under more pleasant circumstances.” He stood up implying she was to leave. “Bridey and I were in the middle of a very important discussion.” Obediently, she made to leave by the back door. He maneuvered her so she had no choice but to walk the corridor of shame, and he shut the door firmly behind her. I waited. He didn’t return. Maybe he’d left.
I sat glued to my chair in such turmoil my head was spinning.
When he returned to the kitchen, he was thoughtful. “I hate to say this Bridey, but that is one unpleasant woman.” A sudden impulse to defend her rose from nowhere, but he simply stared me down. He went to the kettle and pulling it off the gas made two cups of tea and brought them across to the table. “Now, where were we?”
“You know, Sandro,” I said. “My father never once stood up to her for me.” The tears rose again, and I considered running from the room, but he wasn’t having any of that. He pulled me onto his knee and kissed me.
“I do love you, you know.” How could he? We only just met, and it had all been a disaster. “I’ve never said that to a woman before.” It had clearly come as a surprise to him too. There was no possible reply. “You really must come with me to meet my mother,” he said, and I shook my head. “How about tomorrow?” Rather than waiting for a reply, he pulled out his phone. “I know she wants to meet you.” What! Surely she couldn’t know about me. Before I could do anything about it, he was talking to her. I tried to get off his knee, but he wouldn’t let me up. She sounded surprised and was telling him about her plans for tomorrow, but he just interrupted and said “Darling, you know you want us to come.” Her sigh was audible, and she gave up. “I’ve never taken anyone to meet my mother before... well since I left school at least. I told her she will love you last time we spoke.” It was like an avalanche sweeping me away, but maybe this avalanche could turn out to be a safe one?
We kissed, and when I felt him getting excited hoped he would go with it. It reassured me all was well, and he really did love me. But he stopped. “I have an idea!” I had one too. His was quite different. “How about we get the Caretakers together tomorrow night and celebrate with them. If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t be here.” The sound of that was far more cheering than his plans for the following day.
“Bridey, could you prepare us some food since we’ll be the only ones eating; a bit weird isn’t it?” He paused, watching me warily. “You’re going to be angry with me about this, but I can no longer take your money from you.” He said it firmly. “You will not be paying rent tomorrow, so you can afford food.”
This absolutely had to be an argument. He was not going to start keeping me. While little dignity was left to me after Mum’s visit, this one was non-negotiable. He was a tricky customer to argue with. He told me the place hadn’t been habitable for a long time, and he owed me all the rent he’d taken so far. “You can be a squatter,” he laughed. “If you want, I would like to fix this place up for you.” It seemed a real question, one for me to answer.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’ve been thinking I would like to do the gutters and the tiles in the bathroom for a start. The house needs re-stumping to fix these floors which then means plastering and painting. It will all be a big mess for weeks. You could move out, or you could be my squatter.” Where would I go?
“Why would you do this when you really want to pull it down and build town houses? The street would look better for it.”
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. He seemed to do a lot of that. “The money’s not essential. Any place will work as an investment. But if I do buy another dive, no-one else will live like this to make me money.” He put his head in his hands on the table.
“It’s not that bad,” I said. “Lots of people live in worse. You just get used to it. And the rent’s low.”
“Low compared to what?” The bitterness surprised me. “You know Bridey, there are people living all over this city who don’t have a roof, so I suppose you are doing well compared to them.” He talked about the night he’d been taken to explore the seedy side of Melbourne. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to use some of my wealth to provide decent low cost housing. Not to take it all on board myself, but perhaps to have someone else manage it for me. I reckon I could still do well, just make less profit.”
“How many houses do you own?”
“Too many to count,” he said. “I’m just canny with my choices.”
He sat back while his eyes took in the kitchen. “You should see my house,” he said. “I’d be ashamed to take you there.”
“Why? Do you live in a dump too?”
All he said was, “I’m disgusted with myself.” There was nothing to be done which would make the slightest difference, so the silence pressed in on us and our reunion. “I’ve just thought I didn’t even asked you what you have on tomorrow.”
I laughed. “What would be the point? You didn’t listen when your mother said she was busy!”
“Yes,” he completely ignored his mother’s interests, “but I don’t want all this mess to make you fail your course.” His earnest face was touching. “Also, do you have work? I really have no idea when you work.”
I jumped. “Sandro, can you take me to work please? I’m starting at 6.30? I swapped a shift for Saturday night to get out of town for the weekend.” It was six o’clock.
His face dropped. “I’m not sure I can bear to be without you.”
I was sure he could do with a break. Changing took about five minutes. As we drove through peak hour traffic, the minutes flew by. “At least this way I’ll find out where you work.” We made plans for the next day, including food and his mother’s (which was horrifying), and parted with a quick kiss.
10
It dawns on you gradually, it sort of creeps up, that the love of your life wanting you, is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Each day had its challenges, and I was feeling way more uncomfortable than I had ever contemplated. Surely, we should have been having a lovely, smooth patch, after wanting each other so madly. But no! All my fears and anxieties began to surface on day two. No. They were already there on day one.
Meeting Sandro’s mother terrified me. He couldn’t understand that. He kept brushing it off airily assuring me she was lovely, and she would like me. What he couldn’t grasp was I just didn’t want to meet her. It was too soon. But we couldn’t cancel because then she would start off hating me. She had already cancelled her plans for the day. I felt trapped. It was crazy, but I just longed to be left alone to dream of Sandro. Having him around was too overwhelming.
Car trips didn’t work for us. They set off uncomfortable memories. A fight started before we made it out onto the Eastern Freeway. But then, the first time we met it was in a fight. How hopeful was the future for us?
“Bridey, will you stop fussing?”
“I’m not fussing.” Looks didn’t seem to impact on him the way they should have done. “You are worrying about nothing. She’ll love you. You will love her. What else is there?”
“You just don’t get it.” I lapsed into sullen silence, and he shut up. By the time we arrived at the house, there was a wall between us. He stopped to kiss me before we got out of the car, but I shoved him away
. He began to stomp off, but thought better of it and came back for me. We were met immediately by a young woman with all of Sandro’s bounce and enthusiasm. He wrapped his arms around her lifting her off the ground, and she kissed the top of his head.
“Well. Come on Sandro. Introduce us.” Before he’d time to speak, she’d rushed to give me a kiss saying “Hi. I’m Carmel. It’s great to meet you. Sorry I can’t stay, but I’ve got an appointment. Will you be still here when I get back?” Goodness, I hope not, I thought. This will be very short. But I smiled nervously, as though it mattered to me to catch up with her later.
Sandro’s mum, Gabriella, was working on her hands and knees in the front garden. Her welcome was far less exuberant. She smiled and held out a de-gloved hand, apologising and inviting me in. I felt instantly at home with her which just made me angrier with Sandro for being right. Lunch was excellent. The conversation flowed because she was skilled at it and her son had no idea there were any other possibilities. There were no awkward questions. She chatted about her home and interests, and I told her about being an only child and my study without going into detail. She was determined to give us the leftovers, and I accepted gratefully because that would mean I didn’t have to cook dinner. Using the excuse we had visitors that night, we left after an hour and a half.
On the way home, we tried to talk about the trip over.
“So! That wasn’t too bad, was it?” That was Sandro.
“Of course it wasn’t.” That was me.
Then we were silent, and I was thinking about our first meal together and how well that had turned out. We can do this, I said to myself. “Your mother is lovely, Sandro.”
He smiled. “She’s something special, isn’t she?”
“She’s so natural.”
“That’s what I most like about you. You’re so natural. Even when you’re angry with me. I like real. Can’t stand fake.”
Absorbing this took a while. Gradually I relaxed and remembered my good points. When I was with Sandro, all my worst qualities seemed to surface, and I lost touch with everything else. By the time we reached home, it was late in the afternoon and the Caretakers were due in a couple of hours. I longed to be on my own, but I couldn’t very well say go away. The lack of enthusiasm about him coming in really pissed him off. We hadn’t been alone together, hardly at all. He couldn’t understand my reserve. On the way in, he insisted we stop at the bedroom, and he began to take off my clothes. All my movements made it clear he was to stop. “I only want to cuddle up with you,” he was saying impatiently. “I’ve already told you I don’t want to have sex yet.”
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