Hitch

  As they got closer, stepping out of the glow of the car park and into darkness, it looked like he was right. The row of identical houses seemed to be unoccupied: no strips of light escaping from behind curtains, no muffled voices, no open windows letting the breeze move through stuffy rooms.

  She had questions that she couldn’t bring herself to ask. At least she knew where the highway was; her mother had always said it was important to know your exits.

  Will dragged his feet across loose stones. Lucy scampered ahead then came back to meet them. Will’s place was second from the end of the row; they climbed the concrete steps to the door. Lucy snorted in the dust somewhere beneath the deck. There was a second of stillness before they could hear the sound of piss puddling on the ground.

  ‘Sorry ’bout that,’ Amelia said.

  He chuckled. ‘She’s all right.’ He rummaged through his bag, producing a set of keys, but when he went to put the key in the lock the door opened from the pressure alone. ‘Well, there you go,’ he said, mostly to himself it seemed. ‘Good one, boys.’ Then louder: ‘Safe area, you see,’ he said. ‘Crime rate of zero, population of no one.’ She thought it was a joke but wasn’t sure, so she just blew air out of her mouth in acknowledgement.

  He stepped inside, fumbling against the wall. ‘Now remember, I told you it’s not much,’ he said. The flick of a light switch revealed a bare, beige hallway. As she stamped the dirt off her shoes, Lucy pushed past her and went inside.

  ‘Okay for her to be in here?’ Amelia said.

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ he said.

  Amelia followed him down the hallway. The house held the heat of the day and smelled of old coffee. A light flashed once, went black, then flashed on again, bathing the kitchen in fluorescence. Lucy sniffed around the base of the cupboards, stirring up dust then sneezing. She found something unidentifiable to eat. Will dumped his bag on one of the benchtops that lined the perimeter of the room.

  ‘Right,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘You can put your stuff in the bedroom off the hallway if you want. To the left.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  The room was musty. A chain hung from an overhead fan, and when she gave it a tug, the blades started a slow, laboured rotation, clicking as they spun. She lowered her pack to the floor; the beginnings of a headache tapped at the front of her skull. A single bed centred against the wall of an otherwise empty room, a white sheet pulled tight over the mattress. She slid open a small window, pushing the blinds aside. There was no screen so she stuck her head out, sucking in the night air. The slightest desert breeze touched her skin and she shivered as her sweat cooled. In the near distance, the lights of the pub blinked off. She breathed deeply, gathering energy to return to the bright kitchen, to Will.

  The highway slept. It was the kind of blackout quiet that Sid liked. They were different in that way. She liked to hear the carrying on of things: the ocean, cicadas, rain on the roof. She closed her eyes and tried to guess what Sid was doing at that moment. Her mind raced across the red desert, zipping between skyscrapers and into his room. She pictured him lying on his back, limbs spread wide, just beginning his usual battle to fall asleep. She thought of one night they had sneaked out of their houses when they were kids. He’d knocked on her window because he couldn’t sleep, and they’d gone down to the stormwater drain. They found a syringe and cautiously handed it back and forth, holding it upright so they could examine its tip. She remembered the shake in Sid’s voice, the little stutter he made before saying the f-word: ‘F-f-uck,’ he said. ‘F-f-ucking hell.’

  Something crawled down her back. ‘Shit!’ she said with a jolt, her head bashing against the window frame.

  ‘Jesus, sorry, I – I called out but –’

  ‘It’s fine, sorry … just got a fright,’ she said. Her head throbbed from the impact but she let it be. Will looked down on her, his body between her and the exit from the room. His face was so close that she had to take his features in one by one, had to breathe in his air, the smell of barbecued meat.

  ‘You okay?’ he said, reaching out to touch her head where she had collided with the window frame. His hand rested there, too heavy and for too long, then slid down the back of her neck.

  ‘This room stinks,’ she said, dipping out of his grip. He stepped aside and she squeezed past him.

  In the kitchen she splashed water on her hot face, then busied herself patting Lucy, scratching the spot beneath her collar that got really itchy. Will stayed in the other room and she listened to creaking floorboards, a thump, him clearing his throat as she waited for an opportunity to go in, grab her stuff and leave, get away from the trap of that room, that bed. She couldn’t go through with it, after all.

  There was a footstep in the hallway and Lucy scampered to her feet. Then he was there, filling the doorway. He gave a small side smile, showing no teeth, and she guessed he was embarrassed.

  ‘You all right?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, fine.’ She looked away from him and concentrated on scratching behind Lucy’s ears. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘What for?’

  She shrugged, tried to make her mouth shape words that would lead to her escape. ‘I dunno.’

  ‘How ’bout a cuppa?’

  She took a deep, quiet breath; her mind was blank, unable to come up with a plan B. ‘Sounds good,’ she said, exhaling slowly and gently, so only Lucy noticed.

  He filled the kettle. ‘Please, take a seat,’ he said, gesturing towards the benchtop. She lifted herself onto it so that her legs dangled down in front of some drawers. He picked up a mug from the sink, and his hands made it appear miniature as he rinsed it.

  He opened several cupboards, all of them empty, before finding teabags. Task completed, he rocked on his heels, hands in pockets, before dropping into a crouch next to Lucy.

  ‘What type of dog is she?’ he said.

  ‘Kelpie cross. Not sure what she’s crossed with though.’ Lucy flopped her tail up and down against the linoleum as Will gave her belly a scratch.

  ‘How long you had her?’ he said.

  ‘Five or six years … We found her when she was a pup.’

  ‘At a shelter?’

  ‘Nah. There was a box of them. My friend and I found it, this shoebox stuffed with puppies.’

  ‘Shit, really? What happened to the others?’ he said.

  ‘All dead except her. We found them by a creek. She was kind of buried under the rest of them … They were these little sacks of cuteness, bodies all floppy, you know. I dunno how, but she was fine.’

  He cupped Lucy’s head in his hands and spoke in a cutesy voice: ‘’Cos you’re tough, aren’t ya,’ he said, his nose against hers.

  The water boiled. Lucy stood beside him while he filled the mug and bobbed the teabag up and down. ‘Hope you like it black,’ he said.

  ‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  He took a sip, then pushed the mug towards her. He leaned back on the sink, arms crossed over his chest so that his biceps were hardened bulges. She picked up the mug and held it in both hands, touching her wrists to the ceramic to feel its burn.

  ‘Didn’t realise we’d have to share,’ she said, forcing a half-smile.

  ‘Can’t say I didn’t warn you about this place,’ he said with a shrug, then returned her smile. Steam hit her cheeks as she blew on the tea, and when she took a sip, a fuzziness formed in her belly. A cup of tea fixes everything, her mother had always said.

  ‘A cup of tea fixes everything,’ Amelia said, sliding the mug towards Will.

  ‘Too right,’ he said. ‘Ta.’

  He didn’t take the tea.

  He was quickly in front of her, between her legs, his face blurred. He kissed her softly, one hand moving up to cup her face, and this helped her not to pull away. The tip of his tongue entered her mouth, pushing against hers, then retreated.

  He traced his fingertips up and down her arms, goosebumps rising beneath his touch. His tongue grew faster, more ur
gent. It became Zach’s tongue, and she was thirteen, by her mother’s back fence, frozen, breathless, trying to force air up her stuffy nose.

  She opened her eyes. Will’s were closed, his face serious, forehead creased in a yearning she wasn’t meant to see. She jammed her eyes shut. Concentrating hard on this kiss, not the other one, she dedicated herself to learning the new pace, to accepting the beery taste of his saliva.

  The surface of the benchtop was smooth and cool beneath her fingertips. Her shorts slid across it as he tugged her to the edge, into him. He pulled back her hair and left a tingling row of kisses up her throat. She swallowed and hung her head back; he held her waist tight.

  If she was going to do this, she would have to do it better. She lifted her hand off the bench and lay it on his. Her finger set out along the rise and fall of his knuckles, then went to the inside of his arm, to the bumps of veins. There was a prominent one that she lingered on, pressing in and letting it go, the feel of it as it popped back into place vaguely soothing.

  ‘Tickles,’ he said in a high pitch, pulling his arm from her.

  ‘Sorry.’ She bundled her hands in her lap. He sucked on her neck, his hands moving up and down her back beneath her T-shirt. She watched the clock on the microwave flash zeroes and managed two small, secret snaps of the rubber bands; the sting wasn’t sharp enough.

  ‘Hey,’ Will said, resting his forehead on hers, his eyes seeming to merge into one. ‘It’s okay. Everything’s okay.’ He kissed her mouth, gentle again. He lifted her hands and placed them around his neck. She crossed her wrists over casually, her hands dangling carefree as if she’d put them there herself. That easygoing, carpe diem girl was who she needed to be till this was over.

  He grabbed her bum and she wrapped her legs around his waist, clung to his neck as he lifted her. Entangled, they crossed the kitchen. Her foot caught on the door and he stopped, reversed, then proceeded, his lips never leaving hers as he bumped the walls of the hallway.

  In the room, the overhead fan was still turning. Strips of moonlight fell across the white sheet. A surge of energy had her wiggling in his arms, her body ready to run. She fell from his grip as he bent over the bed, clunking down against the springs.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, serious as he climbed on top of her. He looked down on her, his head angled. He paused like that, eyes narrowed, as if capturing a detail of her he’d not noticed before. She stared back at him and she was sure her eyes were too wide, her body too rigid. Her mouth was dry.

  He sucked on her bottom lip, pushed his groin against her, sucked harder. His weight crushed her chest, allowing her only short, sharp breaths. He cupped her breast, still shielded by shirt and bra, and squeezed. Unsatisfied, he moved his hands lower, running a finger around the waistband of her shorts, back and forth. He wrenched her shirt up over her ribs, working one arm out then the other. He pulled upwards and the shirt caught on her chin; it stayed there, resting around her neck.

  His frenzied hands found a resting place on her hips. She worked hard to remember that this creature was Will, the same man she’d travelled alongside all day: the person who sang, who told bad jokes. He shuffled down and planted kisses along her belly, moved lower. She squirmed, tried to close her legs.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘what’s all this?’

  She scrunched her eyes closed as he pulled her legs apart. He moved his fingers up and down the skin on the inside of her legs, over the scars she’d cut into neat rows. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said.

  ‘Holy shit.’ He sat back, allowing moonlight to illuminate the damage. Amelia closed her legs, the feeling of exposure pounding through her body.

  ‘Okay, it’s okay,’ he said, shuffling back up the bed. He placed delicate kisses across her belly. His hands crept beneath her bra. He held her breast firmly in his hand and squeezed, gave a slight whimper. A dead cold locked her limbs. The pressure of that hand became the pressure of Zach’s hand. Sun was hot on her face, rocks jabbed into her back. The neighbour’s wind chimes moved in the afternoon breeze as Zach lifted her limp arm towards him and showed her what to do.

  She dug her fingertips into Will’s shoulders.

  ‘You right?’ he said, his face rising up to hers, lips brushing her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. She looked beyond him, tracking the slow rotation of the fan above.

  ‘My shoes are still on,’ she said.

  When she was naked, he revealed a condom. The packet glinted in the light coming through the blinds. He knelt above her while he fumbled the thing on; she crossed her arms over her chest, pinched hard on folds of flesh at her sides. He kissed her quickly then pushed into her. He groaned and she bit down on her lip. The fan rotated above her and she tried to count its clicks, tried to stay there, in that room, as Will moved above her, inside her. She lost concentration and when she closed her eyes, Zach’s were there, bloodshot and the brightest, brightest blue as he thanked her.

  When Will was finished, he was puffed; he lay on top of her catching his breath. Her body was slick with his sweat. An itch spread across her front and she forced her hand beneath him to scratch. He moved off her, and she saw a few of his chest hairs lying across her breasts and collarbones. She scratched hard.

  ‘Shit,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s broken.’

  She sat up fast and pulled the sheet over her breasts.

  ‘What?’

  He held it up to the light, pulling the rubber taut. The contents bubbled out through an invisible tear. He lay on his back, dragging a hand over his face, pushing in on his eyes. ‘What do you wanna do?’ he asked.

  She worked calmness into her voice, practised the sentence in her head before saying it. ‘I want to sleep. I’ll sort out the pill tomorrow.’

  While he disposed of the condom she fumbled for her clothes. She pulled her undies on, but then he returned and she scampered into the bed, curled up with her back to the door. He squeezed in beside her and untangled the bedsheet, pulled it over both of them.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said, patting her on the shoulder.

  ‘Night,’ she said, eyes shut tight, holding her breath, waiting for him to lift the heat of his hand off her.

  He fidgeted for a few moments, and she lay still until his breathing was deep and heavy. She got up and crawled around the bed until she found her shorts. She reached into the pocket, pulled out the piece of paper, and sat by the window where she could see best. She went through the items one by one: Milk, Cornflour, Muesli bars, Lentils, Yoghurt, Almonds … She read it over and over, taking deep breaths, imagined standing beside her mother, plucking items off the shelves. She read through the tiredness that clouded her sight. She rubbed her eyes till they burned, as she had done by the back fence after Zach was gone, because the grass had stirred up her hay fever.

  Lucy barked somewhere outside the room. Amelia sat upright, struggling to see in the morning light. A door slammed; the force of it made the bedroom door shudder in its latch. She scrambled to get under the sheet, then shook Will, his skin clammy beneath her hands.

  ‘Someone’s here!’ she hissed. Will moved beside her, slopped his tongue around his mouth.

  ‘Hello?’ A man’s voice.

  Lucy barked. ‘Who’s this then?’ the man said. His voice was closer then, right outside the door. Amelia watched the doorhandle, waited for the twist of it. ‘Yoo-hoo.’

  Will covered his head with a pillow, groaning.

  The bedroom door burst open.

  ‘Ah, there you are, mate, having yourself a nice sleep-in, eh?’ He looked at her, small, deep-set eyes shifting over the line of her body beneath the sheet. ‘Didn’t know you had company.’ He laughed as Lucy ran into the room, and he stepped back, crossed his arms over his chest, burgundy shirt rolled up to the elbows. ‘Brought another one to the palace, eh, Will boy?’

  ‘Piss off, Jez,’ Will said from under the pillow, his voice croaky and muffled.

  ‘This little one’s a real step up for you, mate, by t
he looks of it.’ The man lingered, leaning against the doorway. Amelia gripped the edge of the sheet, pulled it up further to cover more of her chest. Lucy faced the man and let out a soft growl, her mouth twitching slightly over her teeth. The man cracked his knuckles, then stretched. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it.’ He rapped the doorframe twice with his knuckles before turning into the hallway.

  Amelia threw the sheet off. She searched on the floor for her things, throwing Will’s discarded clothes across the room. She found her T-shirt and shorts, felt under the bed for her bra.

  ‘Hey, what’re you doing?’ Will said, one cheek flat on the pillow, an arm dangling from the mattress.

  ‘Leaving,’ she said.

  Lucy went out of the room. Amelia summoned her, but her paws continued to tap away down the hall towards where the man creaked and rustled in the kitchen.

  ‘Come back to bed … don’t worry about him,’ Will said, rubbing his eyes. ‘He’s my brother – he’ll leave us alone.’ He put his hand out and grabbed her thigh. She yanked herself out of his hold.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, sitting up, stacking the pillows behind him. He held out his arms. ‘Give me a cuddle.’

  She found her bra tangled in the sheets, half-buried beneath Will. She tugged it from under him and bunched it up in her hand. ‘Lucy, come,’ she said, pulling her T-shirt on, struggling with the zip of her shorts. This time Lucy listened. She appeared in the doorway, tail raised. Will clicked his fingers at her but she stared at him, unmoving.

  Amelia lifted her pack over her shoulder, collected her shoes from the base of the bed.

  ‘What … seriously? Just wait,’ Will said. He moved his feet to the floor, and she left the room. Down the hallway, Jez had his back to her, his head lowered over something on the benchtop. He turned and she went to the front door, her pack scraping the wall.

  ‘Amelia, wait,’ Will called.

  She swung the door open and Lucy shot outside. Amelia ran as fast as she could, bra in one hand, shoes in the other.