The Spill

by Imbi Neeme

  As he opened the box to reveal a beautiful solitaire diamond ring, Nicole thought of her (potentially) barren womb and had a sudden impulse to run upstairs and repack her clothes. Most of her boxes were still untouched, she told herself. The truck could come back and this big mistake could be undone easily, quickly, without too much pain. Jethro would thank her in the end.

  Jethro must have sensed her inner turmoil because, before she could run, he stood up and took her hand. ‘I know I’ve done this all wrong. I’ve gone in too fast and hard. It’s taken me so long to get you here and I thought . . .’

  The room fell silent. Nicole watched the candle wax drip slowly down the candelabra onto the white embroidered tablecloth, her urge to flee now gone. Jethro had pulled her back from the brink.

  ‘You don’t need to give me a ring to keep me here,’ she said, now looking at him. ‘I want to be here.’

  ‘And I want you to want to be here,’ Jethro said. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wider than she’d ever seen them.

  ‘And I want you to want me to . . . et cetera.’

  They smiled shyly at each other, both eager to push past the awkwardness.

  ‘It’s just so great to finally have you here,’ Jethro said, with a little shrug.

  Nicole looked around the dining room with its elaborate light fixtures and fine art on the wall and realised she would never have to eat straight from a can in front of the television again. Unless she chose to, of course.

  ‘Well, now that we know we’re both happy, we may as well eat the lasagne. It’s probably going dry in the oven,’ Jethro said.

  ‘Oh, so you’re not serving me paper for dinner?’ Nicole joked and then immediately regretted bringing up the note so soon.

  ‘Nah, I tried that diet and it didn’t work for me,’ Jethro replied but he avoided her eyes.

  ‘Let me get the lasagne. I’m not your guest anymore, I live here too, you know,’ she said, trying hard to keep the mood light.

  She stood in the kitchen and, for a few moments, concentrated on her breathing to calm herself down, a trick she’d seen Samantha use in her teens when she was trying to control her temper. It would be okay. She might not be actually barren. That miscarriage may have only been a blip, a minor aberration. She would book an appointment somewhere and get everything checked out. They would give her a certificate of fertility or something and she could frame it and mount it on the wall, next to the Cookie Monster jar, and she might even go on to have a dozen babies.

  She looked at the Cookie Monster jar, staring at her with its huge googly eyes.

  ‘I’m just going to try,’ she said to it.

  As she walked back into the dining room with the lasagne, Jethro was taking the ring from the centre of the platter and putting it back in his pocket. They both pretended she hadn’t seen.

  Piece #14: 1985

  Samantha had told Tina she was going to stay over at Kerstin’s house and Kerstin had told her mum she was staying over at Samantha’s. Neither mum was the type to fuss or check. It was the perfect plan.

  When they arrived at Danny’s house, they were greeted by Danny and his friend Jamie, who went to another school.

  ‘Our exclusive VIP party awaits you,’ Danny said, with a sweeping gesture into a large peach-coloured bedroom at the front of the house. ‘Just don’t mess up the bed,’ he added.

  Danny’s parents were away in Europe and his older brother, Gavin, had decided to throw a big party. He’d allowed Danny to invite a few friends of his own, as long as Danny didn’t dob.

  In the bedroom, a bunch of Year Eights that Samantha barely knew sat around on the shagpile carpet awkwardly, drinking cans of soft drink and listening to 96FM on Danny’s boom box. Samantha helped herself to some Cheezels and sat with Kerstin against the far wall. With her mouth full, she didn’t need to worry about not having anything interesting to say.

  ‘Will you get a look at the little Year Eights.’ Gavin was standing in the doorway, with a bottle of Jim Beam in one hand and a Year Eleven girl wearing too-high heels clutching the other.

  ‘Aren’t they cute?’ the girl said, swaying a little on her stilts.

  ‘Looks like they’re having a Clayton’s party to me. You know, the kind of party you’re having when you’re not having a party,’ Gavin explained to the girl, as if he were the first person to ever make that joke.

  ‘Leave us alone,’ Danny said, shutting the door on them. He then turned back and surveyed the scene. ‘You know what? Our party does look like a Clayton’s party. Let’s play a game or something. I know! Spin the bottle!’

  As he went out to find a bottle, Kerstin shot Samantha a look. Samantha knew instantly what the look meant. Kerstin loved Danny more than anything. This could be her big chance. Samantha suddenly realised that if Kerstin got with Danny, she’d be left alone with all these kids she didn’t really know, and her stomach tightened.

  Danny returned with two bottles: an empty one and a full one.

  ‘Let’s make this extra fun. If the bottle lands on you, you have to have some of this.’

  Now it was Samantha’s turn to shoot Kerstin a look. She didn’t feel comfortable with the drinking aspect, but Kerstin widened her eyes, pleading. Don’t ruin my chance. So Samantha stayed put, although her heart was now pounding.

  ‘What’s the drink?’ Kerstin asked.

  Danny looked at the label. ‘Koala,’ he said. Samantha knew from Tina’s own arsenal of alcohol that wasn’t how you pronounced Kahlua, but she didn’t correct him. She remained silent as everyone gathered on the floor in a circle and started spinning one bottle and passing the other one around. Samantha didn’t know which prospect was making her more nervous: having to kiss someone or having to drink.

  The first time the bottle landed on her, Jamie, the guy from the other school, had spun it. Danny handed her the Kahlua.

  ‘Skol, skol, skol,’ the kids all chanted. Samantha had no idea what ‘skol’ meant, and was pretty sure no one else did, either.

  She took the bottle to her lips, thinking she could just pretend to take a sip, but was surprised to find how sweet and syrupy it was. She’d always thought all alcohol was bitter, like the smell on Tina’s breath when she kissed her goodnight. She had no idea it might actually taste good.

  ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss,’ the kids now chanted. Jamie leant across the circle and brushed his lips against hers. Her first kiss. Without thinking, she took a second slug of the Kahlua, still in her hand.

  ‘No fair!’ Danny shouted and took the bottle off her, but he was smiling. He took another swig himself and passed it around the circle. ‘Let’s all have some. It will be more fun that way.’

  The game went on and the Kahlua was passed around until it was empty. Another bottle of a different liquid, less sweet but still as warming, appeared at some point and that was passed around as well.

  Samantha was feeling soft around the edges. The people in this circle all felt like her friends, even the ones whose names she didn’t know.

  Slowly, over time and with more alcohol, the game morphed into a spin-the-bottle version of truth, dare or torture.

  ‘You should choose truth!’ Samantha shouted, when the bottle landed on Kerstin. ‘Tell Danny the truth!’

  Kerstin elbowed Samantha firmly and then said, ‘I choose dare.’

  ‘Okay,’ Danny said, pressing his fingertips together like a Bond villain. ‘Run into the backyard and steal one of my brother’s dickhead friends’ beers.’

  While Kerstin went on her mission, Samantha lay back on the carpet. She was aware that someone, maybe Jamie, was playing with her hair and it felt good.

  Kerstin came back with a stubby of Emu Bitter and everyone cheered.

  ‘Sam,’ Kerstin leaned down to whisper in Samantha’s ear. ‘Your sister’s here.’

  ‘Let my sister be here,’ she said, not caring.

  ‘And she knows you’re here.’

  ‘Let her know I’m here.’

  She close
d her eyes and let the room spin around and her hair be stroked.

  ‘Sammy?’

  She opened her eyes again. Far above her was Nicole’s face, looking down at her. She was frowning.

  ‘Jesus, you’re drunk,’ Nicole said.

  ‘I am. And it feels good, Nicky. You should try it.’

  The awful spectre of Nicole melted away and the ceiling continued to gently rotate. Her insides were like honey, all warm and gooey. The bottle of the not-so-sweet liquid was passed to her and she sat up to take another swig before lying back down. She closed her eyes again.

  ‘It’s your turn, Sam,’ Danny shouted at her, minutes, hours or days later. ‘Truth, dare or torture?’

  ‘Dare,’ Samantha said, sitting up. She felt daring. Also a little woozy.

  ‘Two minutes in the wardrobe with Jamie,’ Danny proclaimed and all the kids cheered.

  ‘Okey dokey,’ Samantha said, trying to stand up and then falling back down again. ‘Whoopsie!’

  Jamie took her by the hand and pulled her up properly. ‘This way, my lady,’ he said. He looked a little like Matthew Broderick and the memory of that brief swish of his lips against hers made her feel excited.

  They stumbled into the walk-in wardrobe and everyone cheered again as Danny closed the doors.

  ‘What are we supposed to do?’ Samantha whispered.

  ‘I dunno. Can I touch your boob?’

  ‘Okay.’

  In the darkness, Jamie’s hand felt around until it found her left breast. He squeezed it like it was a lump of playdough.

  ‘Ouch,’ Samantha said.

  But now his hand was moving down towards her jeans. He fumbled with the button and then shoved his hand inside, like he was tucking in her shirt.

  The wardrobe door flung open. ‘Our time’s not up!’ Jamie protested, pulling his hand back out of Samantha’s jeans as quickly as he could.

  But it wasn’t Danny standing there. It was Tina. Even through the veil of alcohol, Samantha could see that Tina was angry. Furious, even.

  ‘Come with me, young lady,’ she said, pulling Samantha out of the wardrobe. She sounded like she was trying to be one of those mothers on TV.

  ‘And you,’ she said, turning back to look at Jamie. ‘Don’t you ever take advantage of a drunk girl like that again, you little shit, or I will personally come around and cut off your little dick with the biggest, sharpest pair of scissors I can find.’

  Jamie shrunk back. Samantha imagined him melting, like the Wicked Witch of the West, until only his tricolour deck shoes were left.

  ‘Okay, we’re going home,’ Tina said, steering Samantha by her elbow out of the house and on to the footpath, where Nicole was waiting. ‘You need the air.’

  ‘You need the air,’ Samantha said back.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re probably drunker than me. You’re always drunk.’

  ‘Stop talking,’ Nicole warned Samantha, trying to step in between her and Tina. ‘Please.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ Tina said, pulling on her elbow. Her mouth was a thin line.

  ‘Wait,’ Samantha said, digging in her heels. ‘I don’t have my bag. I need to go back inside.’

  She didn’t care about the bag. She just wanted to go back to the party and to Jamie.

  ‘Can you please go and find her bag, Nic?’ Tina asked. Samantha watched with envy as Nicole disappeared into the house.

  ‘Can’t I go back inside?’ she pleaded with Tina. ‘I was having so much fun.’

  ‘I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.’

  ‘You can’t stop me from having fun. And you can’t stop me from drinking. I like it. I like being drunk. It makes me feel more like me.’

  Tina grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Don’t do this, Samantha. Don’t end up like me.’

  ‘I’m never going to end up like you, a sad old drunk,’ Samantha spat out. ‘Dad didn’t want you. I don’t want you either.’

  Samantha felt the sting of the slap immediately, but it took a few moments for her mind to process what had happened.

  ‘You hit me,’ she said slowly, holding her hand to her face, although the real hurt went much deeper. She began to cry.

  ‘I’m sorry, my little love. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Tina said, trying to hug her but Samantha pushed her away and ran into the darkness, still holding her face and crying.

  She found a park and, after having a big vomit into one of the garden beds, she curled up inside the play equipment, a bright yellow plastic tunnel. The warmth the alcohol had given her had evaporated, leaving her feeling cold and sick. She wanted her bed. She wanted her dad. She even wanted her mum. Not the angry, furious version of her mum, but the smiling, laughing version, who danced to music and tucked her in.

  She closed her eyes and let the sickness and drunkenness take her into sleep.

  ‘Samantha!’

  She was woken to the sound of her father’s distant voice shouting her name.

  She pulled herself together and crawled out of the tunnel. The button on her jeans was still undone from when Jamie had shoved his hand down there. She did the button up, pulled her jacket around her and took a deep breath.

  ‘Dad!’ she called back weakly.

  From the shadows, Craig came running. ‘There you are. God, I’ve been so worried. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

  ‘Why were you looking for me?’

  ‘Your mother called me. She said you’d run off into the park. She said you were drunk.’

  ‘She’s the one who’s drunk,’ Samantha said, trying to muster more fury. But it was all spent.

  ‘Let’s get you home,’ he said.

  His car was parked around the corner, and they drove through the dark streets back to Mount Lawley, where Donna-Louise was waiting.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said when she saw the state that Samantha was in.

  She put a tentative arm around Samantha’s shoulders and led her to the middle bedroom, where she tucked her in between cool cotton sheets. Samantha could hear Craig on the telephone in the hallway, but the alcohol still in her system made his voice feel far away, like it was being filtered through water.

  Donna-Louise sat on the bed beside her. ‘Here’s a glass of water for you,’ she said. ‘And a bucket, too. Just in case.’

  The bucket was on the floor, on top of a large sheet of plastic.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Samantha moaned.

  ‘It’s okay. We all make mistakes,’ Donna-Louise replied. ‘The trick is not to repeat them.’

  Craig appeared in the doorway, his phone call now over. ‘How’s my girl?’

  ‘She’ll be okay,’ Donna-Louise said, before turning back to Samantha. ‘Won’t you?’

  Samantha nodded.

  ‘DL, can I talk to you a moment?’ Craig asked.

  The two of them stepped outside the room. Samantha could hear them whispering in the corridor and their voices felt like soft sand running through her brain. She closed her eyes and started to drift away into sleep.

  Suddenly Craig was back by her side, taking her hand.

  ‘I’ve talked it over with Tina and now with DL and we’ve all decided it’s best for you to stay here with us for a while. For as long as you want.’

  Samantha didn’t have the energy to say anything. Instead, she just closed her eyes again and surrendered entirely to sleep.

  And when she woke the next morning, her head fuzzy and her mouth dry, she had trouble remembering pretty much anything that happened.

  Except the slap.

  She would always remember that slap.

  Nicole

  ‘We’re going to do another round of IVF,’ Celine told me over the phone.

  ‘Good for you,’ I replied. ‘Have you had any further thoughts about changing clinics? I can pass on the list that Jethro made, if you like. It’s a bit out of date but it’s a good place to start.’

  ‘That would be great, thanks,’ Celine said. ‘You know, it’s n
ice to be able to talk with you like this. It’s the closest I’ve ever felt to having a sister.’

  I thought of the way Samantha and I usually talked to each other and knew Celine was way off the mark. ‘I’m really happy I’m able to help you, Celine. I know how hard it is.’

  ‘Well, I appreciate it. I tried to talk to Samantha about it once, when she and Trent were over with Rosemary, but she just told me motherhood wasn’t the gift everyone pretends it is.’

  Samantha had used that line on me at least once, too. It bugged me, the way she treated motherhood like this big secret I would never be let in on.

  ‘Can I ask you a favour?’ Celine continued. ‘Sister to sister?’

  I did my best to push past the second ‘sister’ reference by taking a breath and saying, ‘Sure.’

  ‘Would you and Samantha take Craig out for lunch? I’ve been getting all the attention and he really only has colleagues, not friends. I think he’d like to talk to someone.’

  Again, Celine was way off the mark. This wasn’t a sister-to-sister favour, this was a stepmother favour. Real sisters didn’t ask other sisters to take their husband, who was actually their other sister’s father, out to lunch. Someone really needed to sit down and explain all that to Celine. However, it wasn’t going to be me.

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll ring Sammy.’

  ‘Great. I’d have asked Samantha myself but she can be a bit . . .’

  ‘Scary?’ I offered.

  ‘Yeah. Thanks, sis.’

  I winced.

  I rang Samantha straight afterwards, before all my intentions dissolved. I’d been avoiding her since our fight at Mum’s flat. And whatever was going on with her and Trent felt too big and too hard for me to tackle on my own. I wasn’t even ready to talk to anyone about it yet, not even Jethro.

  Samantha answered on the first ring. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I spoke to Celine just now and she’s asked us to take Dad out to lunch. She says he’s been feeling a bit down since the miscarriage.’