Taking the Plunge

by J. B. Reynolds

  He hauled himself up from the bed and shuffled from the room. Their clothes were strewn over the lounge floor, Kate’s bra hanging limp from the arm of the couch, the sloughed skin of some strange reptile. He found his pants and pulled them on. The oil heater clicked — he’d left it on all night — and when he picked up Kate’s jeans they were merely damp rather than soaked. He gathered the rest of her clothes, handing them to her in the bedroom. “Do you want a shower? I’ll get you a towel.”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  He backed out, closing the door. Moving to the window, he leaned against the wall, pushed the curtains aside and looked out over the lake. The morning was grey and misty, shrouded by the threat of rain, the cone of Deer Park Heights visible only as a darker shade of grey through the fog. He felt the same way — murky and indistinct, a ghost in the shadows.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  When she came out of the bedroom Evan was standing at the window, his back to her. He didn’t move as she crossed the room and gathered her handbag, searching for her phone. She fumbled through the pockets unsuccessfully, but then spotted it protruding from a crack in the couch. When she flipped it open the screen was black. “Shit, that’s right.”

  “You can use mine,” said Evan, still staring out the window.

  She tried to remember Tracy’s number. She knew the prefix, was pretty sure the last digit was a three, but beyond that the figures were a hazy jumble. “I don’t know her number,” she croaked, feeling acid rise in her throat, and hurrying to the kitchen sink she spat out a viscous green glob. Wiping her mouth, her skull throbbing, she found a glass and filled it with water, gulping it down. “Got any Panadol?”

  Finally he acknowledged her. “Yeah,” he said, turning. “In the bathroom. I’ll get it.”

  He moved stiffly across the room and into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a blister pack. He handed it to her and she popped two pills into her hand, swallowing them with another gulp of water.

  “Do you want a coffee? Anything to eat? I’ve got cereal.”

  “No. I need to get home.” She checked her watch. Ten past seven. She’d be in Cromwell before eight, unless traffic was bad. Collecting her boots, she sat on the couch, pulling them on.

  “I… I can give you a lift to your car. It’s raining.”

  “No, thanks. I’d rather walk.” Standing, she put on her coat and slowly buttoned it from top to bottom, eyes on her hands, then slung her handbag over her shoulder and looked at Evan.

  His head was hanging, eyes on the floor, shoulders slumped like a scolded child.

  Which is exactly what he is, she thought, when it came down to it. There was no point in being angry, no point in blaming him. After all, she’d been the instigator of their relationship, chasing him when she should have known better — this sad little ending was her just reward. In a way she pitied him, his marital hopes dashed on the rocks of her naked body. He too, had his proper reward, karma in action, or maybe God’s will — you reaped what you sowed.

  She spied her keys on the kitchen counter and snatched them up, heading for the door.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. For last night… for everything…”

  She paused, her hand on the doorknob, looking over her shoulder. He was stiff, rooted to the spot, the only movement from his eyes, red and blinking. “Goodbye, Evan,” she said quietly, then opened the door and stepped outside, pulling it shut behind her.

  An umbrella was leaning in the corner of the shallow entrance alcove, protruding from a gumboot. Taking it, she unfurled it like a flower to the grey sky above and ran into the rain.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  She sped through the gorge, faster than was safe, but had to slow down when she got stuck behind a truck. There were few places to pass and the consequences for getting an overtaking manoeuvre wrong were severe — a steep drop to the jagged rocks and raging river below.

  The pounding in her skull had lessened, the Panadol finally kicking in, and focusing on the taillights of the truck in front, glowing red streaks in the mist and drizzle, listening to the hiss of tyres on the wet tarmac, she reflected on the events of the last twenty-four hours. With a knot coiling in her gut she thought about Corbin, hoping he’d slept all right, worrying that he’d be upset to wake in a strange house. She thought about Tracy, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset. She thought about Lawrence, wondering if he’d taken another day off to spend with Rachel, and whether even now they were lying in bed together, listening to the rain falling on the roof as they fucked. She thought about Evan, about how stupid she’d been to trust him, to pursue him when she barely knew him. And finally, she thought about Yumiko, tried to imagine a face to go with the anguished scream, the accusal that had woken her from her drunken slumber in Evan’s bed.

  Evan’s bed. How had she got so wasted as to end up there? While the memories were murky, gelatinous, she recalled that she’d screamed too, the weight of him thrusting into her, her nails spiking into his back, and it wasn’t a scream of anguish.

  She hadn’t meant it to happen. It was the alcohol’s fault, wasn’t it? Or had the alcohol merely opened the door to her subconscious, allowed it to roam free, unrestricted, to take her where she wanted to go, deep down inside? Despite the unfortunate ending, there was satisfaction in finally experiencing Evan’s body, in having lost herself in the worship of it, in him reciprocating.

  An image of him came to her, eyes downcast and despondent, the fire of their night together extinguished, and she gave a bitter laugh. If she were to look on the bright side it was she who had got what she wanted — a night of passionate sex with a hot young guy plus the knowledge that her ex-husband was an arsehole after all and she was free to move on with her life without him.

  The road straightened as it exited the gorge and she passed the truck on the approach to Cromwell. She wound through the streets, speeding again, until she got to Tracy’s, where she parked and ran up the broken concrete path to the house. Three steps led through a doorway to a small, covered porch and the front door. She knocked and a moment later, Tracy answered.

  “About fuckin’ time!” barked Tracy, the words dripping with fury. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been tryin’ to call you.”

  “I stayed at Evan’s. I’m so sorry — my phone died. Once I woke up I drove here as fast as I… wait…” she said, frowning. “Why have you been trying to call me? What’s happened? Is Corbin okay?”

  Tracy gave a derisive snort. “Oh, so now you care about Corbin? It’s a pity you didn’t care last night when your arsehole ex turned up here threatenin’ to call the cops if we didn’t hand him over!”

  “Lawrence?” The knot in her stomach constricted. “But Davy said Corbin was here when I phoned.”

  “Yeah, he was. And not twenty minutes after that Lawrence turned up.”

  “How did he know Corbin was here?”

  “He didn’t. He was lookin’ for you. Course when Davy answered the door, he heard Corbin’s voice an’ then it was all on.”

  “What? I don’t… why would he come here looking for me?”

  “How the fuck should I know?” She squeezed her eyes shut and Kate realised she was forcing back tears.

  When Tracy spoke again her voice had changed, the hard edge gone. “I thought the bastard was gonna kick the door down,” she said, wiping a tear away. “Yellin’ an’ screamin’ — actin’ like we were some kind of fuckin' criminals. How could you do it? I knew it was a bad idea when you turned up here, but bloody Davy...”

  “I’m sorry,” said Kate, reaching out.

  “Don’t touch me!” snapped Tracy, batting her hand away. “It was embarrassin’, but worse than that… it was scary. Hayley was cryin’, Corbin was cryin’ — an’ I thought Lawrence was gonna punch Davy.”

  Kate bristled. “How’s that my fault? I didn’t know he was going to turn up. Why’d you let him take Corbin? I entrusted him to you.”

  Tracy’s eyes sprang wide. “Are you deaf? He said he’d c
all the cops.”

  “So?”

  “Oh, my God, are you for real? I didn’t want to give him Corbin, especially when he was so aggro, but he’s his dad, Kate. If he’d called the pigs whose side do you think they’d take? But that’s not even the point. I get enough dirty looks from the bloody neighbours as it is — you think I want to make a scene in front of the whole street?”

  “Since when do you care what the neighbours think?”

  “Fuck you.” Tracy paused, looking away, and when she turned back the fire in her eyes had disappeared. “I do care,” she said quietly. “It’s all right for you — you own your house. This place is a dive, but it’s a roof over our heads in a town where that’s not an easy thing to come by. We can’t risk losing it.” She shook her head, lips pursed. “I felt terrible handin’ him over, but I didn’t see I had any choice. Davy and I barely slept last night. You should’ve been here, Kate. How could you take us for granted like that?”

  “I wasn’t taking you for granted. I didn’t mean to get drunk,” she pleaded. “I only had a few drinks with dinner. I was leaving the hotel, ready to come home, when all of a sudden it just hit me.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t lie.”

  “I’m not, I swear. I don’t know how it happened. Evan was going to drive me, but he’d had too much to drink as well. Then I thought about catching a taxi, but I felt too sick.” As if in testament, she felt bile rising in her throat and gagged, forcing it back. “And then…” She didn’t want to admit how her sorry adventure had ended, but Tracy deserved the truth. “Well, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew it was morning…” The memory of Yumiko’s scream echoed through her skull. “We were woken by Evan’s girlfriend coming home and catching us in bed together.”

  Tracy stared at her, her mouth hanging open. Finally she said, “Is that supposed to make things better?”

  “What? No, I—”

  “It’s okay to treat us like shit because you got laid?”

  “No! Look Trace, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I really am, and you’re absolutely right, I should’ve been here, but what’s done is done.” She raised her hands, palms turned out. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  Tracy was about to reply when Hayley, still in her slippers, came padding down the hallway to stand at Tracy’s side, clutching her leg. Tracy looked down, ruffling Hayley’s hair. Returning her gaze to Kate, she slowly shook her head and sighed. “Nothing,” she whispered. “Just leave us alone.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard,” she said icily. “Go away, Kate, and don’t call me anymore. I don’t know why you ever wanted to be friends in the first place. It’s not like we’ve got anything in common.”

  “Come on,” Kate implored, “don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?” said Tracy, her face twisting into a sneer. “Can’t you see? Everything you do, it’s always about you. Last night wouldn’t have happened if you’d thought about anyone other than yourself. I’ve got enough of my own problems — I can’t deal with yours as well.” She took a step back, hand on the edge of the door. “You should go get Corbin. It’s him you need to make it up to.”

  Kate expected a slam, but Tracy pushed the door closed with a quiet click and somehow that was worse. Kate stood on the doorstep, her stomach churning as the rain crashed down on the porch roof above.

  THIRTY-NINE

  After Kate left, Evan called in sick to work, took some painkillers and made a strong cup of coffee, sipping it slowly while he stared out the window into the grey. Eventually, overwhelmed by claustrophobia — the four walls of the flat slowly closing in, threatening to crush him — he came to a decision. He found his keys, slipped on a jacket and slumped up the path to his car. Feeling queasy, his head thumping as he drove, he hoped he wouldn’t see any cops — he wasn’t sure he’d pass a breath-test.

  Pulling to a stop outside Noemie’s house, he killed the engine and sat in silence, breathing deep. He got out, pulling his hood up to ward off the rain, then walked to the front door, his steps slow and deliberate. He knocked, waiting, but heard nothing. He knocked again, louder, and the sound of shuffling footsteps came in reply.

  The door opened to reveal Jamie, in sweat pants and with a bad case of bed hair, rubbing his eyes.

  “Evan, hey. Jeez, what time is it?”

  “Is Yumiko in? I… I need to see her,” croaked Evan, the words catching in his throat.

  “Hello to you too,” said Jamie, frowning. “I’m not sure if she’s here. I don’t think anyone’s up yet.” He scratched his head, blinking, then said, “What do you need to see her for?”

  “None of your business.” Evan moved to go in but Jamie stuck his arm out, blocking him. Evan stepped back, scowling. “Out of the way.”

  Jamie shook his head. “Not till you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Like I said — none of your fuckin' beeswax. Now let me in.” He tried to push past again, but this time Jamie placed his hands on Evan’s chest, restraining him.

  “Look, mate, this isn’t your house. You can’t just come barging in. Now tell me, what’s the problem?”

  Glaring at Jamie, Evan said, “You wanna know what my problem is? You, Jamie. You’re my problem.”

  Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

  “Cos you went and told Yumi I’d been cheating on her!”

  “I see,” said Jamie, nodding slowly. “And what — you’re gonna deny it?”

  It’s a little too late for that now. “That’s not the point. Why’d you tell her? I thought we were friends.”

  Jamie shrugged. “Yumi’s a friend too. She deserves better.”

  “Better is what I plan to give her,” said Evan, jabbing a finger at Jamie. “Now let me in!” He surged forward, and when Jamie raised his hand again he grabbed it and yanked it down, then dropped his shoulder and shoved Jamie into the door jamb. Jamie grunted, reached out with his other hand and wrapped it round Evan’s neck, squeezing with surprising force.

  “Let go!” Evan elbowed Jamie in the stomach, heard another grunt and tried to swivel out of his headlock.

  “Stop it, you two!” The screech was Yumiko’s. She stood in the hallway outside Noemie’s bedroom door, eyes wide and dangerous, her hair damp and hanging limp against her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  The two men stopped, Jamie releasing the pressure from Evan’s neck.

  “Evan was trying to barge in. I told him I wasn’t sure you were home.”

  Evan ducked and twisted out of Jamie’s loosened grip, over the threshold. Jamie snatched at Evan’s collar and raised his hand, balling the fingers into a fist.

  “I told you to stop!”

  Jamie paused, scowling, then let go of Evan and lowered his fist.

  Straightening his jacket, Evan said, “What is this? You a fuckin' security guard now?” He turned to Yumiko, eyes pleading. “I needed to see you. I can explain—”

  “It looked pretty self-explanatory to me.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “What isn’t?” asked Jamie.

  Yumiko answered Jamie’s question but her eyes remained on Evan. “When you dropped me off this morning, I opened the bedroom door and saw Evan, naked, in bed with another woman.”

  “Huh,” said Jamie. “Old habits die hard.”

  “Fuck you!” Evan snarled. He stepped down the hall. “Yumi, please, it wasn’t like that, I promise.”

  Her haunted eyes stopped him, drilling into his skull. Helplessly, he watched as they glistened, tears welling, before she turned and fled back into Noemie’s room, slamming the door behind her.

  “Yumi!”

  “Go away.” Her voice quiet, constricted.

  He moved closer to the door. “Please… I—”

  “Don’t you dare come in here.” Sobbing now. “Just leave me alone.”

  Evan stared at the door, willing it to open.

  “You heard her, m
ate. Try and talk to her now, you’ll only make it worse. Do yourself a favour. Go home.”

  Evan dropped his head, shoulders sagging. “I didn’t mean to… I… it just happened.”

  “It’s done now, bro. Was it Kate? You two looked pretty cosy last night.”

  Last night? Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put a finger on it, the blood pounding in his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “No, you’re right there. Whoever it was, you’ve well and truly fucked things up now. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Evan gave a strangled groan, quiet and desperate, like an animal caught in a trap.

  Jamie slid towards him, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “Don’t,” Evan spat, flinching.

  Jamie backed off. “Okay, okay,” he said, a faint smile playing across his lips. “Go home, mate. Lick your wounds — move on. Let her go.”

  Glowering, he pushed past Jamie, starting down the path, but then drew up short. “Wait…” he said, turning back. “You… you dropped her off?”

  Standing on the threshold, Jamie shrugged. “It’s a long walk to your place. Especially in the rain.”

  Evan looked up, parting his lips, letting the fine drops splash upon his tongue. The taste was fresh but bitter, a mix of glaciers and broken hearts.

  “Cheer up, mate, it’s not the end of the world. You should know better than anyone — there’s plenty more fish in the sea. Time to let someone else have their chance.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jamie’s answer was a shake of the head, the old door rattling as it slammed.

  FORTY

  Kate knocked hard on the door of Lawrence’s cottage, her stomach in knots, the rain pouring off Evan’s umbrella in miniature waterfalls. There was no sign of the green hatchback she’d seen yesterday. She hoped that meant Lawrence was alone with Corbin. This encounter was going to be unpleasant enough without having her to deal with as well.