Taking the Plunge

by J. B. Reynolds

  “All good.” Evan sat down. “Had to head home though. The missus doesn’t like him drinking.”

  Kate arched her eyebrows. “Missus?”

  “Girlfriend, partner,” Evan said, smiling. “They’re not married.”

  “Have they got kids?”

  “Yeah, two girls.”

  “Did he mention I baked for him when he was working at the house?” She picked at a tooth with a glossy pink nail. “He really likes his chocolate-chip cookies.”

  Evan nodded. “I can imagine. He always did have a sweet tooth.” He looked at Kate, her eyes on Corbin, stroking his hair, bouncing him on her knee, and he thought about Dwayne’s advice. He didn’t want to upset her, but he had to know more. “One thing he did mention…”

  Kate raised her head. Her green eyes were piercing and he felt his spine tingle, an involuntary shiver sparking through it.

  “Go on,” she said.

  Evan swallowed. “He said you set your husband’s stuff on fire.”

  At first she didn’t move, just continued staring at him, unblinking, eyes like icicles. But then she sighed and turned away. “Ex-husband.”

  “Why?” asked Evan, his voice little more than a whisper.

  “So he would hear me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned back to him and the ice had melted. There was a vulnerability in her eyes and he wanted to reach out and touch her, but something stopped him.

  “I found out he was cheating on me, but that wasn’t why I made the bonfire, not really. I just wanted him to admit it. For days I withdrew, not touching him, barely speaking to him. He knew something was wrong, but he didn’t have the guts to face it. So I forced his hand.”

  “He confessed?”

  She snorted. “You could say that. If the smoke from the fire didn’t alert the neighbours then our shouting certainly did.”

  “When did this happen?”

  For an instant her eyes flicked away, running scared, but then they returned, the pupils contracting. “Last summer.”

  Only just, Dwayne had said. Even if you counted summer as finishing in March it was a little more than only just. Was it a lie, or just semantics? Evan parted his mouth, ready to call her on it, but she turned away again, blinking rapidly, and he guessed she was fighting back tears. He pressed his lips tight, filing the information, then took her hand in his, squeezing gently. She turned back to him, eyes moist, and gave a smile so warm and full of promise it was all he could do to stop himself from kissing her there and then.

  “Shall we order dessert?” she said. “The menu looks good.”

  “Yeah,” said Evan, his heart racing. “Let’s do it.”

  TEN

  When Tracy brought their desserts ten minutes later, her arrival was announced by a wolf-whistle from the birthday party.

  Shaking her head, she said, “You’d think they’d get sick of it.”

  “I don’t mind telling them off for you,” said Kate.

  Tracy shook her head. “Nah, don’t bother. It’s all good.”

  “If you say so.”

  Tracy left them alone again and Kate turned to Corbin, who was eyeing his bowl of ice cream suspiciously. “What’s wrong, darling?”

  “Choc-choc?” he said, looking up at her.

  “No, it’s vanilla, but look, it’s got chocolate sauce on top,” replied Kate, pointing. “Mummy have some?” She scooped a small portion into her mouth, licking her lips. “Yummy. Now you try.”

  He took the spoon, frowning, then jammed it into his bowl, filling it. He stuck his tongue out, taking a tentative lick. His eyes lit up and he thrust the spoon into his mouth, sucked it clean, then went for another. “Mmmm, choc-choc,” he repeated, beaming.

  She joined him, tucking into her tiramisu. Evan had ordered sticky date pudding, and although hers was good his looked even better. Stricken by menu-envy, she asked, “May I try some?”

  “Sure.” Evan dug out a spoonful, presenting it to her.

  She shut her eyes, sliding the sweet pudding off the spoon and over her tongue.

  “Do you see much of them?”

  “Pardon?” Kate’s eyes flicked open, her thoughts still focused on her taste buds.

  “Your parents. How often do you see them?”

  Prior to their dessert arriving, she and Evan had been discussing family. “A bit. They’ve got a crib in Wanaka so I see them from time to time when they come over from Dunedin. What about yours?” she asked, glancing enviously at Evan’s bowl.

  “They’re both in Auckland. Different suburbs though — they divorced when I was seven.”

  “And how did you take that?”

  “At first it was shit. They were both bitter and twisted about it and used my brother and me as pawns in their stupid little games. But eventually they calmed down and we got used to it. They get on okay now, and looking back, as hard as it was, I think they made the right decision.”

  “Why’d they split? Was there an affair?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Not every divorce happens because of an affair.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s just on my mind.”

  “That’s okay.” He swirled his spoon around in his bowl, then continued. “Mum told me she just wanted out, didn’t love Dad any more. But she hooked up with Pete, her new husband, pretty soon after she and Dad split, so maybe he was on the scene from the outset. She’s never admitted to it.”

  “And your dad? Did he remarry?”

  “Yeah, a few years later. To Cerise — she’s a bit of a hippie, but she’s been good for him.”

  Unable to resist her menu-envy any longer, she said, “Can I have another bite?”

  “Of course,” said Evan, proffering the spoon again.

  She leaned forward, repeating her performance, sliding her head slowly back from his spoon, eyes closed. “Mmmm, that’s really good.” Her skin tingling, she felt a spreading warmth inside, flowing out from her core to the tips of her fingers, and it wasn’t just the pudding talking. When she opened her eyes again Evan was looking at her, a playful smile on his lips.

  “Shall we swap?”

  “No, no,” she said, returning his smile. “I just wanted a bite.”

  “You sure? I don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure,” she lied, then took another bite of tiramisu to back it up. Dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, she asked, “Who did you live with when they split up?”

  “Mum, for the most part. Dad had us every second weekend and half the school holidays. He’s the one who brought us to the mountains. Got my first taste of snow at seven and I’ve been addicted ever since.”

  “Do you see much of them?”

  “Nah. I haven’t seen either of them for more than a year now. We talk on the phone regularly though.”

  “And your brother, where’s he?”

  “Aaron’s in London, doing his OE. Works for some finance company doing computer stuff, making plenty of money. I don’t hear much from him, but when we do see each other we just carry on as though we’ve never been apart. I’ve got step-siblings and a half-brother and sister too but it’s different with them. There’s not the same connection.”

  Watching him as he spoke, Kate traced the outline of his lips with her eyes. They were round and full and she wondered how they would feel pressed against hers. Compared to the other men in the room — compared to Lawrence — there was a comforting softness to Evan, in his face, the curl of his hair, but also in the way he spoke, the way he moved, even the way he dressed. She imagined lying next to him, her head resting on his chest, his hands stroking her hair, silent but for the rhythm of their breathing, slow and synchronous. Her reverie was broken when she saw Evan’s gaze slip sideways, his lips breaking into a warm grin.

  “I guess it’s past someone’s bedtime,” he said.

  Kate followed his eyes to Corbin and saw that he had fallen asleep, spoon in hand, his face covered in ice-cream and chocolate sauce. “Looks that way.”
She glanced at her watch. It was almost seven-thirty. She finished her dessert, then took a wet-wipe from her bag and cleaned him up, sliding the spoon from his hand. He shifted in his chair and gave a soft moan, but didn’t wake. Turning to Evan, she said, “I’m sorry, but I’d better get this little guy home.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’ve had a great time.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ll just sort the bill.”

  “Wait.” She reached for her handbag again. “I’ll give you some cash.”

  He waved her away. “Nah, I’ve got this.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. You can get the next one.”

  She smiled again. Standing, she put her jacket on, then gathered Corbin in her arms. Evan headed for the bar to pay. Tracy, who was serving another round of drinks to the birthday table, turned to him and said, “You guys done? I’ll be right with you.”

  As she did, the man next to her leaned over and squeezed her bum.

  Rounding on him, she snarled, “Just piss off, will you! I’ve about had enough of you lot. The whistling’s one thing, but touching my arse is another. The next one of you—Ow!” She leapt back, her face flushing, mouth falling open.

  Steve Gibson, the birthday boy, smirked up at her, the hand he’d just spanked her with raised, palm open. “What were you saying?”

  “Hey, man, there’s no need for that,” said Evan, stepping towards him.

  Steve shifted on his stool to glare at Evan. “What’s it to you?” he said menacingly.

  Evan stepped closer, gesturing towards Tracy. “Tracy here has served you blokes all evening with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. That’s no way to thank her.”

  “She should be fuckin' thankful considering the amount of piss we’ve sunk tonight. It’s paid her wages, and then some. She can consider it a tip.”

  “Fuck off!” said Tracy, backing further away, her eyes watering. “There’s a jar on the counter if you wanna leave a tip.”

  “Don’t tell me to fuck off,” Steve snapped.

  Standing her ground, she said, “Sorry, but I think you guys have had enough. Finish your drinks and leave.”

  “Like hell. It’s my fuckin' birthday and I’m in a mood to celebrate.” Turning back to the table, Steve said, “We’re not going anywhere, eh fellas?”

  In response he got an array of nervous looks, but then one of the party, a young man whose face was ravaged with acne scars, said, “Nah, that’s right. Don’t get yer knickers in a twist. We’re just havin’ a bit of fun.”

  “Yeah, well, the fun’s over,” said Evan. “You heard Tracy — time to go.”

  Steve slid off his stool. “I don’t see what business it is of yours.” He pulled himself up to his full height and bent his head from side to side. “I think we should take this disagreement outside, don’t you?”

  The room fell silent. Evan stood straighter.

  “Evan, don’t,” called Kate. She shook her head at him, her brow creased and eyes dark. Corbin, nestled into her breast, gave a loud snore.

  Evan said to Steve, “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  Steve opened his mouth to reply but was cut short by a yell from behind the bar.

  “Oi, you lot! What’s going on here?”

  A huge man with saggy cheeks and short brown hair rolled towards them. He was at least six feet tall and almost as wide, his belly flowing like jelly from beneath his shirt and over the belt holding up his trousers, wobbling as he approached. He was followed by another man, small and lean, his greasy hair tied back into a ponytail, wearing a white apron spattered with stains in a variety of autumn colours. Together, they could have been a comic duo, a modern-day Laurel and Hardy, were it not for their expressions.

  The fat man slammed his puffy hands on the bar and leaned over it, glaring at Steve.

  “Steve Gibson! Are you causing trouble in my bar?”

  Steve scowled. “No, Haggis! We were just havin’ a laugh and this bloke stuck his nose in.” He pointed to Evan.

  “Having a laugh, huh? Let me guess — your idea of having a laugh is to harass my staff?”

  Steve didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Steve. Carl here tells me you’ve been bothering Tracy again.”

  “No, we were just enjoyin’ ourselves. I don’t know why she has to get so upset about it.”

  “Oh, so you did upset her?”

  Steve paused, his brow creasing. “I don’t know. I suppose,” he said, giving a shrug.

  “Right then. At least we’ve got that sorted. Then what happened?”

  Steve dropped his head and shifted his feet. “She asked me to leave,” he mumbled.

  “Speak up, Steve. I can’t hear you.”

  “She asked me to leave,” he repeated, louder this time.

  Haggis turned to Tracy. “Is that right?

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “Fair enough then.” Haggis placed his hands on his hips. “Drink up lads, then off you go. Time to call it a night.”

  “Eh?” said Steve. “You taking her side?”

  Haggis snorted. “Of course I’m taking her side, you bloody idiot! I’m not blind and I’m not dumb. I’ve seen the way you treat her, and I was wondering how long it was going to take her to put her foot down. She’s a stroppy woman and you’re lucky she didn’t knock you down herself, but if you don’t leave now I certainly will. Jeez, boy, what would your mother say? I know she didn’t raise you to treat women that way. Given that ugly mug of yours, how the hell do you expect to ever find yourself a girlfriend if you don’t know how to show them some respect?”

  Face flushing red, Steve turned on his heels, grabbed a jug of beer from the table and chugged it down. “Fuck this! I’m outta here. Place is a shit-hole anyway.” He slammed the jug back down. “Come on, guys, let’s go.”

  “But I haven’t finished my beer,” protested one of his companions.

  “Just leave it! We’re off.” Steve shoved his way past Tracy to the exit, where he yanked the door open and stomped out into the night.

  “Like hell,” said his friend, sipping his beer.

  “You’re not going with him, Ben?” asked Haggis.

  “No, I’m not. I didn’t touch anyone’s arse. Forget him — he always gets like this when he’s pissed. I just want to drink my beer and enjoy not having to listen to my nagging wife and screaming kids for a while.”

  Haggis chuckled. “All right then, you can stay. Anyone else?”

  Most of the group gave their affirmation. The man with the acne scars looked round the table, shook his head in disgust and slunk after Steve out the door.

  A grey-haired man with a thick moustache filled his glass with the remaining liquid from a jug, tipped his head and sculled it, then let out a satisfied sigh. “Well, I suppose someone better go look after them, see they don’t get into any more trouble.” He swivelled and slid off his stool. “See ya, Haggis, and thanks.” Turning to Tracy, he said, “Sorry about Steve, Tracy, but you know what he’s like.”

  Tracy shook her head as he passed her, making his way to the exit.

  Haggis called after him, “Tell him to sort it out, Geoff. If he does it again I’ll ban him, and then he’ll be sorry. No one else round here is gonna want his sorry arse lowering the tone of their establishment.”

  Geoff called back, “Aye, I’ll have a word. I don’t know what good it’ll do, but I’ll try.” He waved and stepped outside.

  Kate buckled Corbin into his car-seat. He had grumbled and squirmed when exposed to the cold winter night, eyes flicking open, but as soon as the belt clicked, his eyelids drooped and he relaxed into the cocoon of his seat. She kissed his forehead, laid a blanket over him, then backed out and shut the door.

  She raised her eyes to scan the heavens, breathing deep, her breath condensing into a pale cloud in the icy air. It was a clear night and a myriad of stars sparkled above. That was one of the things she loved about living in Cromwell — no light pollution, and she would often lo
ok out the window on a starry night and ponder the majesty of it all. She used to see the constellations as further proof of the undoubtable glory of God, but since her split with Lawrence the doubts had come crowding in. Or perhaps, she thought, they’ve always been there, but in the absence of Lawrence I can hear them better. Either way, now she was unsure whether God was looking out for her. With so many stars to worry about, it was hardly surprising.

  Evan, standing beside her, joined in her appraisal of the night sky. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh.” Kate turned to look at him. One half of his face was illuminated by the yellow glow of lights mounted on the wall above the entrance to the pub, the other half in shadow, his expression sober. There was a hardness in the set of his jaw that she hadn’t seen before. She wondered what he would have done if Tracy’s boss hadn’t intervened. Would he have resorted to violence? Lawrence had a nasty temper but hid it well. Was Evan moulded from the same kind of clay? She took another slow breath and said, “That was good of you, to stand up for Tracy like that.”

  Evan shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s no way to treat a woman.”

  She cast her eyes around the carpark and gave a little shiver. “I thought he might be hiding in the shadows, waiting for you to come out.”

  “The thought did cross my mind. Still,” he said, rubbing his fingers together and blowing a cloud of steam from his mouth, “it’s bloody cold out here. I can think of any number of things I’d rather be doing than hiding behind a bush waiting to king-hit some guy as he walks out of a pub.”

  “Like what?” she asked, her voice low and soft.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, and she saw the spark flash in his eyes, like a starter’s gun. “How about kissing a beautiful woman?”

  Her heart leapt from the blocks. Evan stepped closer, placing his hands on her hips, moving his mouth towards hers. Whoa! her head shouted, but her body took control. She closed her eyes, unresisting, as momentum brought their lips together. The first touch was tentative, the moment hanging in time. Then Evan’s hands shifted to her buttocks, pulling her close. He pressed his lips more firmly against hers, and for a second she fought, savouring the pressure, but then relented, parting her lips to let his tongue push into her mouth. She responded in kind, their tongues touching, sliding, gliding, the heat of him flooding through her, until she gave a grunt of pleasure and pulled up for air. She looked into his eyes, saw the fire burning there, and her lizard brain snapped into action, the words gushing out before she knew what she was saying.