Playing the Field

by Foster, Zoe

  ‘Course you will.’

  I walked back to the living room and began picking up glasses. I knew Kerrie would clean the whole place while we were gone – Josh was such a spoiled little shit – but thought I should at least make an effort while I was waiting.

  The cordless phone rang.

  ‘Can you get that? It’s probably just Mum,’ Josh yelled from the bedroom. I heard the shower come on.

  ‘So you made it home, huh?’ a young woman’s voice purred down the phone line.

  ‘Um, hello?’

  ‘Oh … Where’s Josh?’

  ‘He’s just in the shower. Can I ask who’s calling?’

  ‘It’s Tess. And I’m guessing that’s Jean.’

  In an instant, my entire physiological state shifted. The back of my neck prickled with heat, my mouth went dry and my stomach felt as though it had just been at the receiving end of a very large medicine ball. I had no words.

  ‘Well, tell him I called. He knows why.’

  Click.

  What – the – fuck – was – that? Why was Tess calling this early? Why was she calling his home phone? Why was she calling at all? Why was she beginning conversations with, ‘So you made it home’? Why was Josh still speaking to her? And how often? I sat down on the arm of the sofa, trying to make sense of the situation.

  Okay, she called him. She was insane and Josh could be entirely innocent. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I needed to play it smart; Paola had coached me on the subject. She didn’t want me to end up like some of the girls, who knew their boys fooled around on them but weren’t prepared to sacrifice their lifestyle for the sake of a one-off (or four-off) indiscretion. You’re better off single, Paola had said.

  I cleaned up a little more, then walked into the bedroom. His hair dripping wet, Josh was wearing nothing but undies. Mustn’t be swayed by how toned his abs and back are, or that he has the best arms I’ve ever seen. Stay on task, Jean.

  ‘So, have a big night last night?’

  ‘Mmmm.’

  Right. Helpful.

  ‘Just the boys?’

  ‘Mm-hmm.’ He was putting his jeans on, doing them up, answering absent-mindedly. Eventually sensing the anxiety streaming out of me, like sunlight under a curtain, he stopped and looked up.

  ‘What’s up? Ohhh, I know, you’re hungry! You’ve got your food mood on. Don’t worry: we’re stopping for bacon and egg rolls as soon as we get around the corner.’

  I unfolded my arms, putting my left hand on my hip, and leaving the right to furiously finger-comb my hair, fiddle with it, and finally tuck it behind my ear.

  ‘No good? I think there’s cereal in the kitchen. Sniff the milk first, though, it might —’

  I sighed. How could I go about this elegantly?

  ‘So, it wasn’t your mum on the phone.’

  He rolled on some deodorant. ‘No?’

  ‘No, actually. It was Tess.’

  He looked up, startled.

  ‘Why would she be ringing here?’

  ‘Um, I believe it was to check if you made it home okay.’

  My voice was calm, but my eyes sparkled with anger.

  ‘Jeanie —’ He walked towards me, still shirtless, his eyes saying: This isn’t what it looks like.

  ‘I did run into Tess last night at Parc. We all did – she was there with some friends.’ He moved towards me, taking one of my elbows in each of his hands. ‘Jeanie … baby … I know this looks bad, but I have no idea why she would call here and say something like that. She shouldn’t be calling here at all.’

  Ah yes, but she did. And maybe she does. All the time.

  I looked him directly in his red slits of eyes, speaking slowly and with extended pronunciation. ‘Why would she call and check on you, if you just ran into her?’

  There was a schoolmarm tinge to my voice, but I couldn’t help it. Terror that I had been lied to in a revolting fashion was beginning to wash over me. Josh stepped back and sat on the bed, looking up at me and sighing deeply again. A sigh of submission. I knew it.

  ‘Jeanie, I don’t know what to say. I saw her at Parc, we were all drunk, everyone was there. We were in this sectioned-off private area because we weren’t meant to be out drinking last night; she was there because of some fashion show. She was actually being quite normal and friendly so we chatted for a little bit. That’s all. You know how I feel about her.’

  Oh really? Awesome. Tell me, was it on a cosy lounge in a dark corner? Was there a jazz band playing smooth grooves as you drank martinis and talked about the Good ’Ol Times?

  ‘Jeanie … are you okay?’

  All of my fears about Josh getting back with Tess were bubbling up, frothing out of my mouth with incredible force. I felt sick knowing they’d been out together, drunk, sprinkling Jiffy firelighters onto old flames, while I’d been at home sleeping soundly. I couldn’t look at him. I walked out to the kitchenette for a glass of water. I had no idea what to do. Get over it and enjoy our weekend away? Push it with Josh a little further so that I felt entirely at ease about the situation? Or was I scared that if I did that, I might discover that I wasn’t at ease with it at all, that this might be the end of us? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  He had explained it all with no hesitation, and hadn’t been shifty about anything. If he’d been defensive or made excuses, then I would have the right to be shitty, but I had nothing to arc up over except for the fact that she’d called his house. He didn’t call her; she called him.

  I skolled my water and sighed. Okay, Tess was the problem, not Josh. I knew that, and I had to be careful not to tar him with the same brush just because of some phone call she’d made. I had to trust him. Otherwise I was just setting myself up for a whole lot of torture and overanalysis.

  Josh walked into the living room, fully dressed, hands in pockets, his eyes locked onto mine.

  ‘Jeanie? I understand how this must look from your end. I do. But I am telling you, 100 per cent, that this is nothing. She called up, she shouldn’t have. Yes, I saw her last night, but that will happen from time to time when I’m with the boys, because she’s still friends with the Tandooris an—’

  ‘And she wants to see you and flirt with you and make you see what you’re missing out on.’

  ‘Whatever her reasons are, they’re her reasons, and she can do what she likes’ – he walked towards me – ‘because I’m with you now. And I only want to be with you. And we’re going to go to this sweet-arse beach house and have a romantic weekend.’ He wrapped his arms around me. ‘And we’re going to forget all about her.’

  I looked up at him for a few seconds. His eyes, bleary as they were, were very reassuring.

  ‘You need eye drops. And your breath still stinks.’

  He kissed me on the forehead and smiled.

  ‘That’s my girl.’

  ROUND 32

  Blonde vs Brunette

  ‘This place reminds me so much of Santorini.’

  ‘Really? When did you go?’

  ‘Never. But I reckon it would look like this. Don’t you?’

  I laughed. We were sitting side by side in a small cove, dipping our feet into a rock pool and looking out over the ocean. Behind us the cliffs were smattered with oversized mansions, all of which were probably occupied seven per cent of the year by wealthy families or couples who thought nothing of spending five million on a summer beach house. We were staying in one of the biggest. It was tough.

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘You know, I get time off at the end of the year. Maybe we should go over there and see if it does look like this …’

  I snapped my head to look at him. He had one brow raised and was grinning excitedly, searching for a mirror of his enthusiasm in my eyes.

  ‘Don’t you think, Jeanie? You and me and a couple million Greeks, enjoying the sun and eating tzatziki for a week or two?’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  I had a feeling he was. It would slot right into the express lane we had
created for this relationship. We’d only been together three months and already we were taking weekends away and fighting over ex-girlfriends. Why not begin planning trips overseas?

  ‘’Course I am. I can think of no person I’d prefer to travel with. Except maybe The Fonze.’ He took my hand and kissed it. ‘Mmm, sunscreen.’

  I smiled. ‘I’d love to go away with you, Josh.’

  I wanted to go now, in fact. I wanted to be like the girls in the movies who got unashamedly, unapologetically swept up in romance, and forgot about Real Life and responsibility and rent, and it all worked out perfectly. And when I thought about it, it seemed I was on my way. Pretty much my whole life had been taken over by a sly little Fox and a pack of Bulls.

  ‘You’re not throwing big plans out only to retract them later and leave me high and dry, are you? What if I go and learn how to smash plates, and then you cancel the trip?’ I complemented this with a cheeky grin, but deep down I meant it. I was worried Josh was going to startle himself any minute now, realise that he’d accidentally found himself in another long-term relationship, and bolt for the hills. He always threw long-term plans out there – we’ll hike here, we’ll camp there, we’ll spend New Year’s here – and as we were still in the short term, I had no idea whether he was: a) Full of horseshit; or b) Legitimately besotted and wanting to make several football-playing, jewellery-designing progeny in the next couple of years.

  ‘I’m red-banding, Jeanie, I know that. But I’m happy. Really happy. Life is easy with you. I’m playing my best football. Things are good. I wasted my last relationship for… well, for lots of reasons. But this time it’s different. So I want to enjoy it. You know?’ He stopped speaking and began tracing my jaw line with his hand before starting again. ‘You’ve come in and changed everything, Perfect Jeanie. I’ve fallen into another relationship, and I wasn’t meant to. After Tess, I thought that I needed some time to be young and single, and to tool around with Bones for a bit. But you came along and stuffed it all up.’

  I laughed, mentally pinching myself at what had just fallen from his lips. This was the first time he’d said anything like this, and I was greedy for more.

  ‘No wonder Bones didn’t warm to me right away. I bowled in and ruined his plans,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t worry about him; he’ll be single till he’s eighty, anyway. And he loves you now; you know that. Loves you a little too much, actually …’

  ‘I’m not young and hot and dumb enough for Bones, we both know that.’

  ‘True. Anyone over twenty-one is category D to him.’

  ‘Category D?

  ‘Never mind. So we’ll go away? I want to see more of Europe. Sucks, playing here in the winter. You can never travel when the rest of the world is enjoying summer. All my mates – my non-footy mates, like Aaron and Damon – they all piss off to France and Italy for weeks and I’m stuck here.’

  ‘But if the season ends in October, that won’t be so bad, will it?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. Just annoying. I’d like to go and play over there eventually. Maybe France. Or England. Can make a looooot of money over there in a pretty short time. And you get all set up: the big house, the nice car, a job for Jeanie …’

  Again. He’d done it again: more long-term plans with me included. I had no idea whether he meant them and I should allow myself to get excited, or whether he said this to all his girlfriends. Or whether Greece was originally planned with Tess in mind.

  Tess. I quickly installed my mental stop sign. This was a trick Colette had taught me to avoid going over and over something in my mind. Her therapist, Billy, had taught it to her when she’d gone through the Eric debacle. He had also advised her to listen to CDs of Buddhist chants as she drove, which provided a very entertaining background track to her traffic Tourette’s (‘Oh, would you learn to fucking DRIVE?’) But the stop sign worked, I thought. And I should know: I’d planted 200 of them today since Tess’s phone call.

  ‘Sounds amazing. How much longer are you signed to play for the Bulls?’

  ‘One more year. Thing is, they’ve just bought a new full-back, Jez Norton, who’s the full-back for Australia, so I’m not sure what will happen …’

  ‘They can do that? But you’re an amazing full-back. The club loves you. Why would they do that?’

  ‘At the end of the day, the club wants the best possible players for their money. And Jared, well, he’s the best. So they bought him. There’s no loyalty when it comes to how long you’ve played for the club, or what you’ve achieved for them. It’s business. I get it.’

  ‘But where does that leave you?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll find a new club. My manager is on the case now. We’ll probably have a pretty fair idea of who wants me soon. I want to be signed up as quickly as possible; nothing worse than playing with an uncertain future, watching all the money go to other players while your manager tries to lock you into a contract. I’d even take a release if they’d give me one – start next season at a new club.’

  ‘Won’t the Bulls try to keep you?’ I didn’t like this idea of a new club. He could be forced to move interstate, or even overseas.

  ‘I don’t think they can afford me. They’ve bought Jared from the Thundercats, and this massive Pommy forward, Martin, and a couple of younger players too. That doesn’t leave much money in the kitty for me.’

  ‘But … but aren’t you upset? That your own club won’t bid for you? Haven’t you been there for ages?’

  ‘Five years.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘It’s not a great feeling, to be honest. But like I said, it’s business.’

  I sat there frowning at how disloyal these football clubs were.

  ‘It’s okay, Jeanie. This is how it is these days. I just want to get it sorted so I can focus on playing good footy.’

  He bent his head and kissed me tenderly on the lips. I kissed him back before leaning my head on his shoulder and snuggling into him.

  ‘Have you gone blonder?’ he suddenly asked.

  I had gone even lighter, thanks to Steph’s persistence. I now had more blonde than brunette in my hair. It was very beachy, I thought, and very attention-grabbing. Never before had I had so many looks and lecherous whistles from labourers and drunk men. Col said I was starting to look like a page-three girl, minus the tits. (At least she and I were talking again. It was stilted, overly polite, and there was an enormous elephant sitting in the corner, playing Sudoku and waiting for us to acknowledge it. But at least we were talking.)

  ‘I have. You like?’

  ‘’Snice. But I like you best dark, I think.’

  I immediately put my hand through my hair. He didn’t like it? But I’d done it for him! To look more … more like I thought he would like me to be! More like Tess! More like the other girlfriends. More like the girls Bones liked.

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  He kissed me on the head. ‘It’s nice.’

  I tensed up a little and he felt it.

  ‘Jeanie, you know I think you look beautiful. I just prefer your natural colour, is all. Doesn’t mean I don’t like the blonde, just means I prefer the dark.’ He wrapped his arms around me and shook me playfully. ‘Are you cranky? Don’t be cranky; you look great. Honestly, you do. Come on, lighten up. Ha! Geddit? Okay, do I need to clean the slate? Do I? ’Cos I’ll do it. I will.’

  He stood up and in one swift move jumped into the rock pool. His shorts saturated, he turned to face me before launching into song:

  ‘Jean, Jeanie, with your blonde hair,

  ‘Jean, Jeanie, you make all men stare!’

  I laughed, shaking my head. He splashed about in the water, pointing at me like a fool.

  ‘You smiled! Clean slate! Clean slate!’

  I kept smiling, but inside I was angry at myself for dying my hair a colour that I didn’t like, for a guy who preferred my natural colour. I looked down at my tight jeans and expensive wrap top that scooped low, and cursed myself again. Why was I changing how I dressed and loo
ked when I didn’t even like it, and perhaps Josh didn’t like it either? Who exactly was I trying to impress?

  He sat down and turned to look at me, one arm around my back, one covering my hands in my lap.

  ‘I love you, Perfect Jean.’

  He’d said it. Finally. Jesus, talk about a build-up! For months I’d been trying to subliminally coax those three words from his lips so that I might tell him I loved him – and then he springs it on me in a bloody rock pool.

  I returned and held his gaze, and simply said what I’d been dying to for so long.

  ‘I love you, too.’

  ROUND 33

  Emasculation vs Eric

  After three, maybe twelve, hours of gridlocked freeway traffic, I arrived home and dumped my bag on the floor behind the sofa.

  ‘I’m hoooo-oome,’ I called out to no one.

  I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, hopeful of seeing a large plate of strawberries, or a giant slice of chocolate cake. Instead, the offerings of the Kelvinator Gods consisted of cheese, half a bottle of wine, yoghurt and some Thai leftovers from last week. Yummy.

  Suddenly I heard voices from Col’s bedroom. I pricked my ears and lifted my head. There was definitely a male voice. Noooo, surely not. Could she really have invited Eric into our home? Oh, this was too much. Especially since he was the reason we’d been acting like third cousins for the last few weeks. I couldn’t help myself: I walked out into the living room for better hearing. It sounded nasty – a fight of some kind. Figures. He did cheat on her with his ex a few months before they were due to WED.

  I tiptoed over to her door to see whether I could make out what they were fighting over. There were muffled strains of Eric defending himself (I imagine he was getting quite used to that by now). I could hear Col bellowing about something, and the words ‘disrespect’ and ‘trying’ came up several times. Eric’s voice suddenly became a lot clearer, and closer. Oh shit, he was at the do—

  ‘Jean! What are you doing?’ A shirtless, red-faced Eric confronted me.

  ‘Jean’s here?’