Tim Winton - Eyrie

I think so.

Do it all on me own.

Yes, I can see that.

It’s lonely.

Yeah.

I should get used to it. Like you. You don’t even like people, it sticks out like dog’s balls.

He shrugged.

But me, I’m stupid, I still like people.

Nothing stupid about that, he said, trying to sound sincere.

Mind if I close the door?

It’s hot, Gem.

Open door makes me nervous.

He said nothing. She bumped the door closed with her hip and as she turned back her shoulder brushed the kid’s drawing, left it askew on the fridge.

I was thinkin, she said.

About what?

Nothin real complicated.

Okay, he said, feeling corralled there in the narrow galley.

But it’s a secret. You can keep a secret, can’t you?

I guess, he said, alert to her approach. She was fully lit up now. Her limbs seemed slightly unwound. It was hard to discount the shape of her in that little dress.

Why don’t I walk you back? he said, moving slightly towards the door.

But I’ll tell you the secret first, she said, taking his arm as he tried to pass. Here, I’ll whisper it.

She tugged his collar, drawing him in so close her winy breath filled his ear and he was unravelling before she even whispered it. The simple, blunt declaration was like something spearing deep. It found the softest, neediest part of his being and yet he still tried to separate himself as delicately as he could.

Gemma, mate, I don’t think that’s a good idea, he said.

Jesus, Tommy, don’t make a girl beg.

I mean, I’m flattered, more than flattered —

But you want it. I can see that.

Yeah, but why me? Why now?

Because you’re safe, and I’m goin fuckin spare up here. We could both do with cheerin up. Carn, cobber. Old times’ sake.

She slipped a hand into his shirt. He felt her belly against his crotch and her tongue was still cool from the wine. He let his hand fall against the curve of her hip, then her arse. And he didn’t care anymore about how crazy this was. She tasted of garlic and smoke. She kissed with a kind of smile. A friendly fuck, that’s all she said, something safe, and it began that way, awkward and companionable in the slot between the fridge and the kitchen bench, but by the time they’d reached his unmade bed with its grey sheets and its bovine whiff of old spunk and perspiration the upwelling of all that desperation and longing overtook them and they were both fierce, half mad with painful urgency and nothing they wanted or did felt safe.

Afterwards he lay in a sheen of sweat and mortification. It seemed weird, even wrong to be thinking of Harriet. Of that night in the reeking village on Sarawak when a week of hurt silence had broken like a bruised monsoonal sky. The sex had been furious, frightening, and in the aftermath, for the remainder of their coastward trek, he was haunted by the growing sense that their belated passion signified an end and not a renewal, as if the force of that night were from a seal finally, fatally blown. But he’d buried the thought; he was like that, he knew it now, he could carry disaster with him, pressing on as if it might wither in the dark if ignored.

That was nice, said Gemma, head lolling against his chest. Better than a visit to the funny farm.

He tried to smile. At himself, at her directness. Here he was with all his tics and anxieties. He should take this for what it was, a bit of comradely relief. That’s all she meant by it. That’s all it could be.

What’s the matter? she asked.

Nothing. I guess I just didn’t see it coming.

You didn’t want to?

It’s not that.

Cause it didn’t feel that way to me.

He pulled her to him, felt her hair spill across him.

Good old Tom. You need to see everythin comin, don’t you? You’re that sort.

And after it’s arrived I’m the kind of sad bugger who has to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Which isn’t a real flatterin way to talk about a girl.

Sorry.

Her laugh was low and inflammatory. He wished they could just stop talking and go back to fucking. She felt it. She reached down between his legs.

Aw, Tommy. Tom Keely.

Stupid, he said.

Who?

Me, he said.

I just suddenly wanted to.

Suddenly?

Well, gradually. And then suddenly. Like a bastard .

Wow.

Nothing wrong with that, is there?

He shrugged.

What?

Nothing.

Jesus, she said. You really, actually wanna know why, like a list of reasons?

Oh, maybe not, he said.

Right, then, she said briskly, as if drawing the discussion to a close.

It was confounding, delightful, having Gemma Buck here, stroking him idly like this as the building rumbled and clanked. It was unimaginable.

I don’t even like birds, she muttered.

What?

Birds.

Oh. Okay.

Like, I had a good day, don’t get me wrong.

But you don’t fancy birds, he said, finding it hard to concentrate with her thigh slippery against his fingertips.

Fuckin hate em.

Pretty common phobia.

It’s not that, she said impatiently.

Well, he said, stuck, aching, distracted.

Shit, you don’t know what it was like for me.

What what was like? he said, hearing the weary tone of his voice.

Blackboy Crescent.

Well, I was there, wasn’t I?

No, she said, letting him go. I don’t think so. Not the same way I was.

What’re you talking about?

Different for you.

Because I moved away? Because I went to university? Geez, Gemma, he said, sitting up abruptly. What is it with you?

You want me to go?

No, Keely lied, pulling away, embarrassed now by his uncharacteristically durable hard-on. This whole scene was just too bloody peculiar; an awful mistake.

I think I’ll go, she said, turning away.

Kai’s alone, he said, as if it mattered more now than it had fifteen minutes ago.

Yeah, she said. Thanks for the reminder.

She reached for her clothes.

Wait, he said. I’m sorry.

No worries. No hard feelins, eh.

What were you saying? What is it I don’t know?

Doesn’t matter.

Please.

It doesn’t. Not anymore. Well, it shouldn’t.

He stretched across to where she sat, fingered her hair in a way that seemed to irritate her. He watched the curve of her back, the heavy tilt of her breasts. She smelt of smoke and sweat and come and now she did not want to be touched.

You shoulda used a condom, she said. Jesus, I need a shower.

Shower here.

I should go.

Stay a minute.

You just want to fuck me again.

I thought we could talk, he said, which was half the truth at least.

No, I’ll go.

Just tell me, he said. This thing. About birds.

She sighed. She was quiet for a long moment.

They make me feel bad. Sad and guilty, sorta thing.

But they’re just birds.

See, when I was a kid, men wanted me.

Yes. It’s… it’s —

Shit, that’s what it is. And it wasn’t my fault. I thought it was just Baby. She was older. She didn’t mind so much. But I didn’t want it. Christ, I didn’t even know what it was, what it meant. They were always touchin me. Even the way they looked was like they were touchin me.

Oh, mate.

In the end you kinda give in. But before that I still had some fight, you know? But it meant I did somethin rotten, shockin.

Who could blame you? I mean, hell.

When I was eight I set fire to somethin. It wasn’t an accident — I planned it. Thought about it for days. Figured out how to do it. In cold blood, you know?

Like a car or something?

It was an aviary.

Keely jerked upright, nearly tipping her off the bed.

Bunker’s birdcage, he said. That was you?