Commitment

by K. M. Golland

  Standing on the boundary line of the Greenvale Football Club oval, watching William play with his Under-11s team, for the first time ever I was not looking forward to seeing my wife. I was still angry as hell that she’d cut her hair short when she knew how much I loved it. I mean, fuck, we met because of her long hair. Her not cutting it was how our life together started. And as stupid as that might sound, I’d always felt as if I were her superhero for saving her from chopping it off all those years ago, not to mention all the years since. But now? Now it was gone … in the blink of a fucking eye.

  ‘MUM!’ Thomas shouted excitedly.

  I could see him take off in Tash’s direction from the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn and look at her. I wasn’t ready, which I knew was childish. I just didn’t bloody care.

  ‘Whoa! Mum, what happened to your hair?’

  ‘I wanted to change it. Do you like it?’

  ‘You look … different.’

  ‘Different good or different bad?’

  ‘Different good. You look like Elastigirl.’

  Tash laughed. ‘Who?’

  ‘You know … the stretchy mum in The Incredibles.’

  ‘Ohhh, yes, I do know her. Cool, I’ll take that.’

  There were some kissing and squeezy hug noises before the two of them moved closer to where I was standing. And fuck me for being a weak excuse for a man, because I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her — she’d killed something important as if it had meant nothing.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, her voice a little timid.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘How’s Will doing?’

  ‘One goal, one behind, eighteen possessions,’ I replied, short, flat and with ridiculous immaturity.

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  An awkward silence ensued until Thomas broke it with pistol-shooting sound effects. ‘Pow pow. You’re under arrest, you dirty creep,’ he yelled.

  Both Tash and I turned towards him. ‘Thomas!’

  He paused, his pistol-fingers pointing at the sky. ‘What?’

  ‘Language!’ Tash scowled.

  ‘But that’s how security cadets speak to bad guys,’ he whined.

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Tash turned back to face the field, her eyes meeting mine for the briefest of seconds.

  I caught a glimpse of her hair. Fuck, it was short, as in practically man-short.

  The pit of my stomach dropped, and I quickly darted my eyes back towards the field. Granted, I didn’t get a thorough look at the massacre performed on her head, but I knew I hadn’t liked what I’d seen, not even a little, and I was almost certain there was no way I’d be able to pretend that I did. Lying about her hair was different than lying about her clothing choices or lipstick colours. Those were easy. I could deal with them because they only ever lasted the day. Her short man-cut, however, was going to last a hell of a lot longer. Goddamn it, Tash.

  Desperate to focus on anything but her, I resumed taking note of the team stats in the hope that it would distract me. Stats were numbers, and I was a numbers man.

  ‘Shit! Who made that last centre clearance?’ I mumbled under my breath.

  ‘Huh?’

  I shook my head dismissively. ‘Don’t worry. I was talking to myself.’

  ‘Oh.’ There was another awkward silence until she spoke again, this time louder and more noticeably pissed. ‘I’m going to the canteen to buy a coffee. You want anything?’

  I shook my head again, knowing I probably resembled a dog after its bath.

  She scoffed. ‘Suit yourself.’

  The sound of footsteps crunching gravel grew quieter as she walked away, and when I could no longer hear them, I knew it was safe to look up. So I did, estimating I had roughly ten minutes of free neck movement before she returned. This is stupid. I’m gonna have to look at her at some point.

  I groaned and tilted my head from side to side, stretching the muscles in my shoulders before straightening and shouting, ‘Man up’ to the players. Their defence was loose, which was allowing the other team to easily run the ball through the centre corridor. ‘Come on boys! Pressure!’

  The ball was kicked long into the defensive fifty and marked roughly forty metres from the other team’s goal. I swallowed the f-bomb on the tip of my tongue, the one I’d wanted to shout because, although I was a passionate footy dad, I’d never take it that seriously and shout obscenities at my son’s game. F-bombs were for the AFL, not the junior league. Instead, I called out encouragement to the kid at fullback. ‘Scotty, stay with him, mate. Don’t let him get the jump on you.’

  The tall defender nodded but looked defeated, except there was no time for defeat because his player played-on and ran around him towards goal. ‘Play-on,’ I hollered. ‘Play-on!’

  From out of nowhere, William sprinted along the wing and tackled the player with the ball before he had a chance to kick it. The ball spilled loose. I shouted ‘ball’ as it bounced over the boundary line, popping up over the railing and into my hands. The umpire blew his whistle and awarded William the free kick. Thatta boy.

  ‘Good chase, Will. Nice tackle,’ I shouted, smiling as I threw the ball to my son — who was panting hard. His work rate was impressive.

  The little shithead barely acknowledged my words, but I knew he’d heard them. When he played, he took everything in but remained completely focussed. Footy — in his eleven-year-old eyes — was his life. He was devoted to the game and to improving his skills.

  If only he felt that way about school.

  Will kicked the ball, and Tash yelled, ‘Go, Willy!’ from behind me.

  I closed my eyes, embarrassed for him. He hated when we called him that, which neither of us normally gave two hoots about because, as parents, it was our right to shit-stir our spawn — a life lesson in tolerance, if you will. The thing was, I taught this particular lesson at home. Tash didn’t. She was more than happy to teach it wherever she bloody well wanted to.

  Turning to face his mother, Will fired Tash a heated glare before running after the ball.

  She laughed in response and sounded a shit-stirring, ‘Oooooh.’

  ‘Do you have to taunt him like that?’ I murmured between gritted teeth, still not looking at her.

  ‘Oh come on, that was harmless.’

  ‘That’s what you think.’

  She tutted. ‘So it’s okay for you to call him that but not me?’

  ‘I don’t do it when he’s playing footy with his mates.’

  ‘Oh, okay, I see,’ she responded sarcastically.

  The awkward silence from before fell upon us once more until it was broken by the sound of Tash sipping her coffee … really loudly. It was a sound I fucking hated. A sound that made my eye and neck twitch, and it was probably my biggest pet hate, which Tash was aware of, which was also why I knew she was purposely trying to grate me.

  Sip.

  My eye twitched, again.

  Sip. Sip.

  Focus on the smell of her coffee, Dean. It’s good. Mmm…

  Sip. Siiiiiiip.

  Focus. FOCUS!

  Siiiiiiiip.

  ‘Dean?’

  I clicked my jaw from side to side. ‘What?’

  ‘Why aren’t you looking at me?’

  I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, drawing in the delicious aroma of a drink I could definitely do with right about now. And if Hillary were here she’d no doubt get me one, and a muffin.

  Thoughts of Hill’s boyfriend hit me like a truck, and I could feel the tension clench my fists. When I’d taken her out to lunch on Friday, she’d let slip just how horrible he made her feel. The guy was a Grade A arsehole, so I told her she could do so much better. That she deserved so much better. Luckily, she’d agreed. And hopefully that meant she was going to dump the good-for-nothing loser.

  Siiiiiiiiiiip.

  ‘DEAN?’

  Shut up, Tash.

  ‘Answer me. Why won’t you look at me?’

/>   ‘Because I don’t want to see you without your hair!’ I barked, a little too harshly.

  At that exact moment someone shouted ‘ball’ as the footy careened past Tash, making her flinch and spill the two coffees she was holding down the front of her top — the second cup was presumably for me.

  ‘Ahhhh, shit!’ She leaned forward in an attempt to detach her wet top from her chest. ‘It’s f … flapping hot.’

  ‘Here, let me take tha—’

  ‘No! Don’t bloody worry about it,’ she snapped, flinging my coffee — or what was left of it — onto the ground. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. ‘I’ll see you at home. Then again, you might not want to because, apparently, I have no hair.’

  I went to apologise but she turned and walked away, leaving me feeling like the biggest bucket of shit in existence. And what was even worse was that I’d finally looked at her, and despite being covered in coffee, she looked adorable.

  Her new haircut was really cute.

  * * *

  ‘Why have you bought Mum flowers again?’ Will asked as we walked through the garage towards the house.

  ‘Because he spilled coffee on her.’

  I huffed and glanced over my shoulder towards the little know-it-all walking behind me. ‘Thanks for that piece of information, Thomas, but I didn’t spill coffee on her.’

  ‘Yes, you did. You yelled at her and it made the coffee jump out of the cups and onto her top.’

  Will laughed. ‘Thomas, coffee doesn’t just jump out of cups.’

  ‘Mum’s coffee did!’

  ‘It did not.’

  ‘Did!’

  ‘BOYS!’ I yelled, stopping to face them both. ‘Look, how ’bout you both go across the road and see if Ethan and Kristy want to play?’

  ‘Cool! We can play Security Cadets.’ Thomas reached inside his backpack and pulled out his security kit. ‘I only have one set of handcuffs. You and Ethan and Kristy will have to get your own,’ he explained to William as they both walked down the driveway.

  ‘It’s a stupid game anyway,’ William retorted.

  ‘Is not. Security cadets are AWESOME! Dale is AWESOME! He carries a gun.’

  ‘Big deal, so do cops.’

  I smiled. Thatta boy, Willy. Big fucking deal. All I’d heard since the day Tash took Thomas into work with her was security cadet this and security cadet that, Dale this and Dale that. It was beginning to piss me off. What was so good about this Dale dude who’d somehow managed to brainwash my son? And where the hell had he come from? Up until several weeks ago, I’d never even heard of him, yet as far as I knew, he’d worked at City Towers for longer than Tash had, and thanks to Thomas he was all I was bloody hearing about.

  I was over it.

  Standing by the garage roller door while watching the boys cross the road, I waited until they knocked on our neighbour’s door to see if Ethan and Kristy were home to play. My fingers were crossed that they were home, because I really needed some alone time with Tash to apologise. I’d acted like a fool and had upset her to the point of crying before she’d fled the footy game.

  Tash rarely cried and never in public.

  Since we’d been together, she’d broken down maybe four or five times — not including when she chopped up onions. She always cried when she did that, but so did I and everyone else. I’d seen her cry during the birth of our children, when Sizzler shut down, and when Michael Jackson died. And then there was that time a couple of weeks ago when we’d fought. Oh, and whenever she watched the movie Beaches. It was her favourite film, but she also hated it because it made her cry. Women! I’ll never understand them.

  Noticing the door to Ethan and Kristy’s house open, I waved to William and Thomas as they stepped inside then I pressed the remote button to close the garage door behind me, flowers in hand as I made my way into the house.

  If I was going to be completely honest with myself, I had no idea what I was about to walk into. Tash had been a little unpredictable of late — more than what was normal for her — which was emphasised when the smell of roast pork hit me like a truck. It was the last thing I’d expected. Roast pork was my favourite — Tash’s crackling was by far the best thing I’d ever put in my mouth. And the fact she was cooking it after the way I’d treated her earlier didn’t make sense to me. Maybe she’s not as upset as I thought? Or maybe she’s poisoned it? I inwardly laughed. Nah, that’s not her style.

  Placing my keys down on the benchtop, I immediately snatched them back up and walked to the key hook where I hung them. I was getting better at remembering to do it, but just like accidental anal sex, it did slip sometimes.

  ‘You here, love?’ I called out as I made my way back to the kitchen.

  Silence. I knew she was home because her car was in the garage.

  Maybe she’s asleep?

  Leaning against the bench, I glanced down at the red roses in my hand and scrunched my nose at its familiarity. They were the same bunch of flowers I always bought her, and to be honest, they were boring. But she always smiled and said she loved them whenever I gave them to her, so I didn’t want to screw up and get her something she didn’t like on top of already being in the shit in the first place. Right. Suit up your balls, Deano, and go apologise.

  Pushing off from the bench, I made my way to our bedroom, finding Tash reading a book. My heart stabbed my chest at the sight of her hair, but not because I hated it. I didn’t. She looked … hot, as in sexy librarian hot. Jesus fucking Christ!

  I cleared my throat.

  Her eyebrows rose as she glanced above the red frame of her reading glasses, except I wasn’t held in her sight for long. In fact, anyone would think I was Medusa the Gorgon and would turn her to stone with just one look by how quickly she snapped her eyes away from me and back to her book.

  ‘Hey,’ I said softly.

  ‘Hey.’ She didn’t look up again.

  ‘What are you reading?’

  She angled the book so that I could read the cover for myself, but I couldn’t make out the writing. What I could see was a woman’s body, half submerged in water. And she was cradling something … something white, possibly a boat.

  I nodded. ‘Is it good?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  Tash sighed and laid the book on her lap. ‘What do you want? Because I’d much rather read the book than tell you about it.’ Wow! Smackdown. This is gonna be a doozy.

  Bringing my arm out from behind my back, I presented the flowers to her with a hesitant smile. She studied them for a few seconds then raised her book again.

  ‘You know where the vases are.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I said, placing the flowers on the end of the bed and walking around to sit on the edge of the mattress next to her. ‘I fucked up. I know that.’

  ‘I’m not interested. I just want to read my book.’

  ‘Your hair looks great, love. I was just a little shocked, that’s all.’

  I reached out to touch it but she swiped my hand away.

  ‘Don’t.’ Her bottom lip began to tremble and the sight of it hurt. I wasn’t used to seeing her cry so often. It just wasn’t normal.

  ‘I mean it. You’re gorgeous with or without hair.’

  ‘I still have fucking hair, Dean,’ she snapped, grabbing it and pulling it tight. ‘All I did was give it a trim, so stop treating me as if I’m fucking bald. And even if I were bald, stiff fucking shit.’

  I raised my hands defensively. ‘Jesus! Calm down. I never said you were bald.’

  ‘You know what? I don’t care what you said. I don’t care what you think. It’s my hair, my choice. Deal with it.’

  ‘Tash I—’

  ‘Just leave me alone. I don’t want to talk right now.’

  I went to get up, but then I remembered what Bryce and Derek had told me at Thomas’s birthday about doing the opposite to what your wife said during an argument. What if they’re right? I hesitated, looking towards the door
then back to Tash, her lip still trembling as she frantically tried to blink back tears. Fuck it!

  ‘No. We’re gonna talk about it, and first you’re gonna hear me out.’ I removed the book from her hands and put it on the bedside table. And fuck me stupid, she let me. ‘Now, I’m gonna say this again, so listen carefully. Your hair looks great, love. I really like it. I didn’t think I would, but I do. A lot.’

  She sniffed, lifted her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Whatever, it’s just hair.’

  ‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. It isn’t just hair to me. It’s part of our story and the reason we came to be.’

  She furrowed her brow then sniffed again. And I knew it wasn’t the right time to be concerned with my idiosyncrasies, but I hated sniffing. Really hated it. Nearly as much as sipping.

  ‘Here,’ I said, reaching for a tissue and passing it to her.

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes, smiling mildly. ‘Thanks … I think.’

  ‘Sorry, but you know what I’m like. All I hear is snot, and it’s distracting me from telling you what I want to tell you.’

  Tash blew her nose, dramatically, and then raised a sarcastic brow. ‘There. Better?’ Fuck me, she looks hot. Bitchy and hot.

  Heat rushed to my head, my face … my fingertips. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, except for a few pieces that kept falling over the frame of her glasses and partially masking her eyes. It was a little messy but cute. It also reminded me of how her hair looked after we had sex.

  ‘I like your hair,’ I repeated, running my eyes over it again before dropping my gaze to her neck and then a little further down to where the top buttons of her white short-sleeved shirt opened, teasing me.