Tim Winton - Breath

Does Sando do this with you?

She turned back to consider me.

I don't have to answer that.

But how did it start?

I'm not going to answer that either.

She grabbed the end of the rumpled sheet as though she might yank it off me. I caught the ravishing curve of her breasts beneath the tee-shirt and felt a rush of panic at the idea of being cut off from her.

I don't want you to kill yourself, I said.

I won't. Not if you don't let me.

I took a handful of the sheet and jerked it so hard that she staggered a little. Her bad leg gave way and she braced herself against the bed. I reached up beneath her shirt and held her breasts and we stared at each other a moment before she took down her pants and lowered herself to me.

I love you, I whispered.

We'll see.

But not the belt.

Okay, honey. We hardly need it.

She pulled her shirt up and put a nipple to my lips and I fixed on it greedily, certain that I'd won a moral victory. But once we'd raised a sweat Eva disentangled herself, reached down beside the bed and brought up the cellophane bag.

I wasn't much of a partner in her game. I was mostly the audience, little more than a bit of bodyweight and a steady pair of hands. There were whale songs on the stereo now — otherworldly moans and clicks and squeaks. Eva lay on the pillow and pulled me back into her until we were panting again and then she pulled the bag over her face like a hood, twisting it tight against her throat so that it filled and shrank with every breath. The plastic was pink and translucent and behind it Eva's features looked all out of focus. Pretty soon the bag fogged up and I could only see the contours of her nose and chin and the deep indentation of her mouth with each indrawn breath. She worked hard to get air. A sheen of sweat lay across her sternum and her labouring neck and the shine became beads and then runnels while the ghostly whales rumbled and squealed in the house around us. At her signal I did what I'd been told to do. I lay on her chest. And then I gently throttled her.

Before she began to shudder I thought of boys falling to the ground in swoons. Mottled faces. Blue-white lips. The stiffened limbs of the poleaxed. Like steers given the bolt in the killing yard. And I remembered the way all sound and light shrank to the fineness of copper wire.

The muscles of Eva's pelvis twitched and clamped and I came before I saw that she'd lost consciousness, before I tore the bag away, before I even let go her neck. Only the dog stirred me into action. I didn't even hear the poor creature come in but something had roused it from slumber down beside the stove for it was suddenly there on the bed, growling and butting and snapping at my arms.

The bag came away with a hank of Eva's hair. She was white-eyed and drenched. Her neck rippled with tiny tremors and I began to shout over the mad, scrabbling dog.

Eva! Breathe!

I was fifteen years old and afraid. Sex was, once more, a confounding mystery. I didn't understand love or even physiology. I was so far out of my depth it frightens me now to recall it. Yes, I was scared but not nearly scared enough. I didn't understand just how perilous Eva's predicament was. With the dog there I didn't dare slap her or shake her. I simply yelled.

There was, at last, a snagging noise deep in her head. It was not unlike the sound the old man made in the middle of the night. Then there came a gasping spasm. Eva's arms flew out so hard and suddenly that I took a blow to the ear. Her legs jerked. She began to whoop in air.

I. knew Eva was expecting me but I didn't go back next day. Instead I got up early, limp with fatigue, and wandered through the forest in the misting rain. No one was about and I was grateful because I was a mess. The longer I walked and the hungrier and tireder I got, the angrier I became.

I'd been an idiot; I saw it now. It wasn't Eva's fault her life had gone the way it had, and I didn't blame her for whatever it was that she couldn't or wouldn't explain. She was what she was and I loved her. But I couldn't kid myself it was mutual. She might require me now, but she didn't love me. It had only been a matter of weeks but already I couldn't think how it had begun. Had it been an accident, this thing between us, or did she plan it, right down to the advent of the cellophane bag? And why me? Because Sando wouldn't play her game? He was a hellman but maybe there were things he just wouldn't do — and here I was, too young and stupid to refuse her. How could he hold out so long? Eva Sanderson was not an easy person to deny. Did he resist out of love, or from discipline? Either way I admired him for this at least. I loved his wife. And I wished he'd come home and save me from her.

I called her from school on Monday and at first she was peevish and then she cried. I'd rung to say it was over, that I couldn't come out anymore, but I couldn't get it said. By the time I hung up I felt like a bastard for making her cry.

Next day the VW was out on the street at lunchtime in the shade beyond the gym. My heart jerked at the sight of it.

I'm sorry, Eva said when I drew up to her window.

I'm sorry too, I murmured.

Let's go for a drive, huh?

I looked over my shoulder a moment. There were kids kicking a Fanta can across the netball courts.

I've only got half an hour.

Sure. Get in.

We drove to the war memorial and looked out across the sound and all its islands and bays and sat for a time in silence. It seemed to me that she was working her way up to saying something important. And then she reached across and put a hand in my lap.

You're kind to me.

Kind?

Nobody's as kind as you, Pikelet.

Really?

Really.

She unbuttoned my pants and drew out my aching cock and went down on me there in the noonday carpark. Within ten minutes I was back at school.

I didn't call again all week but when Saturday came around I rode straight out to Eva's. The dog seemed leery of me but she was smiling. I feel like walking, she said. You want to hike?

What about your leg?

I want to push it some.

Well, I said. If you reckon.

We hiked out across the wooded hills toward the cliffs with the dog darting ahead. There were no roads. We were unlikely to meet anybody out there but it was careless of us. Eva seemed relaxed. Her limp was only slight when we set out but by the time we got to the ridge overlooking Old Smoky she was in real pain.

You okay?

Fine.

It doesn't look good.

I said it's fine.

But we stopped at the edge of the windswept ridge and went no further. I stared out at the bombora, that day just a dark, intermittent lumping of swells in the distance.

Kinda stupid thing to do, huh?

Walk here, you mean?

No, dummy. Paddle out there a mile to go surfing. Alone.

Yeah.

But I guess you need it.

She was right but I didn't respond. I didn't really want to talk about it.

I understand you, Pikelet. And I understand Sando. But he's never had anything precious taken away.

Eva —

But you, she said taking my hand. You're different. I can see it in your face. You've got this look. Like you're expecting to lose something — everything — every moment.

When she took my hand I felt electrified. I wanted to pull down her jeans and spread her legs and reach into her. I wanted to press her against the stony ground and fuck her until she called out my name. But she kept on talking and nothing happened and I stood there throbbing and half listening until she was yanking my arm and saying c'mon, let's go back.

Halfway home she couldn't walk anymore. Her face was white. For a while she leant against me, bracing, hopping, until even that was too much and I was forced to piggyback her across the wild, uneven country. The first few seconds, when she hitched up and clamped her thighs around my waist and pushed her breasts tight to my back, I was delirious with pride and lust and a stupid sense of triumph. In my mind I was carrying her home like some warrior prince. She rested her hot cheek against my neck and I could smell the pear scent of her hair as I stepped it out. But the feeling only lasted a minute. She was heavy. I remembered how far it was to the house.