Push Hands

by Michael Graeme

  She was sensitive about the stretch marks, and the cellulite - all women were, he supposed - and it was this exposing of her that made him look afresh at Penny, made him ache - not so much for her, but for that dream of love, a love he had never really known. But such a love was fantasy - beyond the power of any woman to grant. Wasn't it?

  The golden glint of the locket was balanced by the gold band in her nose - these two things being the only points of light upon a body that spoke of darkness and fecundity. Fecundity? But she's middle aged for pity's sake? Nothing to look forward to but a dry pussy and H.R.T? Get real Phil!

  Then what was it? What was behind that look? Why did it haunt him so? Why did it make him feel he had only to touch her and new life would begin - if not in her womb, then in some other way, psychological, spiritual,… something that would complete them both in ways their other lives had never done, and would never do?

  "How long have you been wearing it?" he asked.

  "Since the night I took the picture."

  He stared at it, felt himself nestling inside that golden vessel, resting in the heat and the warmth of this woman. What did he mean to her? It had to be something more than nothing. Didn't it?

  "Look, Phil, what does it take to get your blood up? Am I going to have to start stroking myself or something?"

  "If you do, I'm off."

  "You can't go. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to seduce you."

  "No you're not. You're showing me that you're a middle aged woman - either to put me off or so that later on you can say I'd been warned before hand that you weren't exactly a teenager."

  Intuitive? Yes,… Phil was definitely intuitive. "So,… you're sitting there and thinking what? I wouldn't mind a bit of that, or jeeze I think I'm going to puke?"

  "Penny, you're beautiful, but let's not do this now. This is exactly what they would expect us to do. David assumed you were round at my place, that you'd come to me - and I'm sure Sally's thinking I've gone to you - if she's thinking about me at all that is, which I'm beginning to seriously doubt, by the way. But whatever… we'd still be doing it on their terms wouldn't we? And doing it for what? To stick two fingers up at them? That's no way to start our story. They'd still be part of it."

  She reached for the robe and slipped back into it. She felt stupid. What was she thinking of - stripping off like that? What must he be thinking of her? Shameless tart! "You had me on a plate just then, you know."

  "I don't want you on a plate, Pen."

  "Don't want me at all perhaps?"

  Phil regarded the wine. Her tone was playful, flirting, but, as usual, there was an ironic edge to it - don't go dark on me, Penny. Was it better not to touch the wine, not to risk losing himself to it, or was it safer to drink it as fast as possible and render himself incapable, if he should succumb to the urge to do something stupid later on? And now that she was covered all he could think of was the damned locket - that she was wearing it around her waist and it was nestling all shiny and safe in her lovely, inviting bush with its tight little curls, and there was an image of him in it, an image she kept close - yet they were not lovers. It haunted him, and it aroused him - but mostly it aroused him.

  "You're a really naughty girl, Pen."

  "I'll take that as a no then."

  "Of course I want you."

  He wanted her? That was the most concrete thing she'd heard him admit to. Not that it meant much of course - I mean emotionally - he was a man after all and his wants were easily aroused. "I hope you're not incapable or anything - I've not a had it in such a long time and I don't want it to be a let down. I want a man like a jackhammer on top of me and I want it to blow my mind. So, if you've any problems getting it up you can just bugger off right now."

  He smiled. "Nothing like a bit of pressure, eh?"

  "Oh that's me, a proper dominatrix."

  "Penny, stop! This whole thing with David - it's just a stupid misunderstanding, remember? He'll see it sooner or later, then give you the satisfaction of a grovelling apology - so don't go writing your life off just yet."

  "My life? My life goes on, Phil. It's just my marriage that's over."

  "You can't say that. It's too soon to say."

  "Like you can say your marriage still has some mileage? You want the honest truth: this has been coming for a long time - for both of us. You can go on hoping if you want to, and I'll be a friend for you until you wake up to that fact. But for me, my marriage is over and this is day one of my unmarried life."

  "No - you're just saying that because it makes things sound easier and cleaner somehow. But really it's very messy - like when one of the kids filled its nappy - remember those days - you could tell by the stink and though you tried to ignore it sometimes, you knew you were going to have to deal with it sooner or later."

  "Nice," she said. "Comparing marriage to a smelly nappy - why didn't I think of that? You really should try taking up poetry, you know? My life is really crappy - just like a stinky nappy!" He was right though, it would have to be faced, except she wasn't listening and no amount of colourful metaphor or rational thinking was going to help - back to self-destruct mode then: "Perhaps we should have picked up some condoms at the supermarket - I've never been on the pill or anything. But then I don't think I'm capable of conceiving at my time of life - not first time anyway, so we're probably okay. It took me about six months for both of my boys,… so I don't mind the risk,… if you don't,… I mean,… "

  "I thought you were about to start,… you said,.."

  "Oh,… so you might be interested then?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "I'm due any time - but not tonight. Plus I'm clean from all known sexually transmitted diseases, so what have we to lose?"

  "Pen, stop! Just stop! We're neither of us teenagers - and there's something I think we need from each other that's far more intimate than that modern sleazy kind of sex. Can we give it to each other, do you think, without us also wanting to put our hands down each other’s trousers?"

  She was puzzled. "Name it. You can have anything from me, anything!"

  "I just want to hold you,… and weep."

  Her face crumpled. He had hit upon the one button she'd been searching for, and she was already holding out her arms for him. He felt his breath collapse when he held her and the heat of her was like heaven warming him. It had been so long - such an unbearably long time, and it seemed cruel beyond words that he'd had to find this in the arms of another woman. But this was not just any woman. She was not Sally, of course, but neither was she Caroline, and that made her very special indeed. He buried his head in her neck wept out the confusion and the despair, and did not care if he died.

  "What'll we do Pen?"

  She could feel herself sobering up - nothing like a good cry. God how she could talk! Push, push, push - just like in the push hands,… and always Phil was the one reacting, guiding her back to the centre. "I don't know," she said. "Let's talk about it in the morning."

  In the normal run of things, Penny would indeed have ventured to feel for a certain stiffening of something between Phil's legs, and then encourage it with her fingertips until her was aflame enough to tear open her dressing gown. She did consider it, through the blaze of her own tears, and she did not agree with him that they should not begin an affair simply because it was what everyone expected - because it wasn't technically an affair now was it? She would have been happy to take him for no other reason than that she wanted him, and half an hour of mad sex with this lovely man would have blotted out the pain of everything else, at least for a while. Although considering how long it had been since she'd had any kind of sex at all, she'd probably have been unable to walk in the morning.

  In Tai Chi, one of the things they practised was embracing an imaginary tree, and holding the posture for a very long time. It was painful - impossible, she'd thought - and the fiery ache in her arms when she practised was like the fiery ache she now felt in her heart. It was not lust, but despair. The way to hol
d the tree posture was to retreat deep inside one's self and to breathe. She did it now, and slowly felt herself sinking somewhere warm and safe, taking Phil with her. He was tired, she felt him sagging against her, and she cradled his head like something precious. Finally she kissed the top of it lightly then tipped him gently sideways and rolled him under the sheets.

  "Go to sleep you idiot," she said, then went to pour the wine down the sink. If they'd drunk it and not at least tried to make love by morning there was definitely something wrong with them; better not to drink it then, she thought. She watched him for a while, her face still burning from the tears, but feeling better, then she turned out the light and slid into the other bed.

  "You've got to talk to David." he mumbled.

  "Not without an apology first. He called me a whore."

  "A fucking whore to be precise."

  "Yes, all right, all right,… "

  "You didn't ring him. You said you'd ring him."

  "What? Are you my mother now? Let him stew. He's got my number - he can ring me."

  Morning brought a freshness to it, but that did not stop Phil from feeling embarrassed to be waking up in the same room as Penny. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed and smiling at him, swinging her legs like a little girl. "Lets go to the orchard and do push hands."

  He searched his memory of the night before - all was clear. They had remained sober and nothing had happened. He was immensely relieved, and of course at the same time very disappointed.

  "Okay," he said.

  "And Phil? Thank you."

  "I've not done anything."

  "Thank you then, for not doing anything."

  "You're welcome. Push hands sounds good. Let's go."

  They drove to the orchard and though it was cold, they began to exercise together, keeping very close. He was uncertain, a little off centre, and she could feel it. As for Penny, she seemed perfectly calm to him and inappropriately balanced. Phil explored the limits of her, their hands and elbows circling, but she was deeply rooted and flexible, not a chink in her armour, not an ounce of loose aggression and it spooked him. This was the worst time of her life. It was the destruction of all she'd held dear, and yet she seemed calmer and surer than ever before. Perhaps the worst thing for her had been the waiting - waiting for it to happen, waiting for years. She'd been like a cat in free-fall, scared, tumbling this way and that - but now it had happened, she'd found her feet at once, landed four-square, and was ready to bolt for cover.

  That was the difference between them - right or wrong, she saw this as the definite end of something, not merely an interruption in the status quo. Perhaps it would have been better for him if he'd felt the same.

  They did not speak, but their lips were close, their breath hung in wreaths about their heads, and he wondered about kissing her, as she wondered about kissing him - and he knew when she was thinking of it, as she knew when he thought of it. But they did not kiss. Instead, they smiled, and when Phil's watch bleeped, they went their separate ways without so much as a peck on the cheek because it was daylight, and the dawn of a new day - and a new certainty - at least for Penny.

  Phil drove to work, and Penny watched him go. Afterwards she phoned the supermarket and said she was still sick, then did a tour of every estate agent in Middleton. By the time Phil rang her that evening to see if she was okay, she'd already signed a lease on a terraced house in a pretty part of town. She could not afford it of course - not on her wages, but if Phil moved in, they could easily manage it between them. She told him this at some point during dinner at the Dun Bull - the lease part anyway - not the bit about him moving in. She'd have to bring that part up later,… and gently.

  Chapter 33

  Phil was stunned. "You've done what?"

  He was surprised, understandably - also afraid that she could be so impetuous, but he also admired her decisiveness though the boundary between impetuosity and decisiveness was of course a very murky one. All right, he thought, it might have been completely the wrong thing to do, but at least she'd done something - unlike him. He was also curious about the house, curious that such possibilities even existed, and she could tell, and she liked it - that he was curious - because it meant things were not altogether hopeless, and when she asked him if he'd come to look at it with her he said okay.

  They took Penny's car. Phil had barely had the time to register the fact that they'd shared a meal together - met in public, without guilt and without worrying about the Herbert Blakedon's of the world - and here she was rushing him off to view a house - but not their house - surely not that! Penny pulled up outside and Phil said: "My Aunt used to live in one of these, a few doors down. Decent sized rooms, nice private gardens to the rear."

  "Yes - plenty of room for practising Tai Chi. Look, I've not got the keys yet so we can't go inside, but you're right - it's a good size for the money - at least,… ." She'd been about to say a good size for the two of us, but managed to bite the words off before she ruined everything.

  "You move fast, Pen."

  "No,… too slow. I should've done it ages ago."

  "You don't mean that."

  She ignored him, "It's ten minutes from David. Ten minutes from Sally."

  What did she mean by that?

  Oh - damn. Here goes then: "It puts us in the middle of them," she began, cautiously. "But we needn't think of it that way. We're still here if they need us, still here, I mean, for our children. We've been at the wrong end of everyone else's scheming for too long, Phil. I think it's time we took control, regained some honour and dignity."

  "It sounds like a good plan - especially the honour and the dignity bit - but what exactly is the plan?"

  What? How could anyone read minds so perceptively and yet be so obtuse when it came to simply following what someone was actually saying: "I can't afford this on my own. I'm asking if you've got the balls to come and live with me, share the rent."

  "What?"

  "I've taken out a twelve month lease. Twelve months should paint us a very different picture to the one we're standing in now, don't you think?"

  "Erm,… "

  "What do you say?"

  Phil didn't know what to say. All he knew was that a door had opened and he quite liked the look of what was on the other side. But he was afraid - afraid to step through because it was a one-way door and there was no possibility of return. And Penny was standing on the other side of it, inviting him through when all he wanted was to gaze at the possibility - gaze at it for ever perhaps, without actually doing anything about it. Did that mean he didn't want her enough? Why did women have to be so bossy and make you do things all the time?

  "I,… I,… don't know."

  Penny took a deep breath. It wasn't too bad, she thought - I mean he'd not come right out and said no, had he?

  Phil shook his head as if to clear it. "But,… I thought you wanted to fix things up between you and David."

  "I never said that. You said that. The only way I can fix things up is to do as I'm told, or rather do as David's mother tells me. But I don't want to fix my marriage if it means breaking myself. I don't think I'm a selfish person, but my self is still precious to me - and maybe the reason no one seems to respect me is because I'm for ever being forced to admit that I don't actually exist. You know what I mean?"

  Phil knew all right but,… "Your boys, Pen,… "

  She pressed her lips together and lowered her eyes - no need to say anything, and Phil regretted pointing it out because it was crass. What about the boys? They were going to get hurt: that's what! Just like Marty and Ellie were already hurting, already missing him, maybe, as he was missing them - though he could barely permit himself the luxury of admitting that this was true.

  "We didn't ask for this, Phil. We could have jumped into bed months ago, but we chose to be friends instead, because all we've ever wanted is the least hurt all round. Well, this is the same - the least hurt all round, for us, and our children."

  "I'll help you
with the rent."

  "Oh?" Penny was thinking: this sounds hopeful!

  "But I'm not moving in."

  "Oh!" Penny was now thinking: what’s the good in that?

  "We've made our point, I think," he said. "We've stated our position, stood up for ourselves. But now we should give them time to show how much they value us, how much they want us."

  Give them time to spoil it more like, she thought. "I was afraid you'd say something noble and self-sacrificing like that."

  "Penny, I want you. I want to move in here with you right away. I want us to be together. I want us to go to Tai Chi on Sunday mornings and walk over the moors together on Sunday afternoons and a million other trivial, cosy little things. I want to go to bed of a night and feel you beside me. I want to feel wanted by someone, but most of all by you."

  "But I do want you Phil."

  She wanted him? Phil could feel his head swelling with a dangerous delight. She wanted him! It was perfect. Why could he not just go with it? What was wrong with him? Why did he have to be so bloody conventional? Why try to salvage something that was plainly sour and old and spent, at the sacrifice of something new and sweet,… . and so wonderfully sexy?

  "We have to give them a chance," he said.

  Penny was dismayed. She could feel everything slipping away - all the courage and the decisiveness, and the confidence of that morning. She saw herself living in this strange, empty house all alone and she suddenly hated it. What had seemed a smiling, friendly place before now took on the glowering cool of a prison cell. "I can't do it on my own, Phil." Yes, she thought - that was about the measure of it: she was a coward and it's just easier to face the world with someone half decent, than face it alone. Maybe she didn't love him at all. Maybe in a couple of months she'd be hating him even more than she hated David.