by Meg Buchanan
Sometimes I think we should try Mum’s plan. I should go to university and get some qualifications. Or Jess could just take Isabelle away and go and live with her mum and dad for a while.
But I don’t suggest it. I stay with Jess and she stays with me.
Why do I stay?
Well there’s Isabelle, with the same hazel eyes as Jess and the smiles and the tiny hands and fingers and toes.
And Jess still has those eyes and that body and that slow way of moving.
Why does Jess stay?
I can’t tell. I’m no picnic to live with either.
Mum says we need a routine.
Who tells Isabelle that?
Who tells Jess that?
Sunday 16th November
Yesterday, I was sitting in the sun on the back step playing the guitar. The house was a tip, but that was all right I had my back to it.
Isabelle was on a rug beside me. She was smiling. She’s found her fingers. And her toes.
Lying in the sun, making shadows. She was fascinated. And happy.
She wasn’t wearing anything. It could be because it was hot. It could be because Jess had decided Isabelle needed to look at the white butterflies on the cabbages more than she needed clothes.
Jess was hanging out a load of washing. I’d mowed the lawn. I wasn’t planning on doing anything with the garden. That was why there were butterflies on the cabbages I guess.
Jess left the washing to hang itself out. She came over and sat with me. She leaned her head on my shoulder and listened to the guitar.
“This is nice,” she said, and shut her eyes.
“Yeah.” I rubbed my cheek against her hair and kept playing. She was right. It was nice to not be fighting. The sun gently kissed us as we sit there, and I could hear the bees buzzing in the heat.
Then Jess’s grandma with the white hair and crinkly eyes turned up.
I went to stand up like I could make the place tidy before her grandma saw it. Yeah right.
“No, no, Isaac, it sounded lovely,” said the grandmother. “Keep playing.” Jess hugged her, and we sat and talked a bit. Then she pulled a parcel out of her bag and gave it to Jess. Jess unwrapped it and looked puzzled when she pulled out this little blue and white jug.
“Your granddad gave it to me when we were first married,” said the grandma. “We weren’t much older than the two of you are.”
Jess still looked puzzled.
Her grandma reached over and took the jug out of Jess’s hands and ran her fingers across the glaze.
“We saw it in the shop window and I said I liked it.” The old grandma smiled at the little jug. “We shouldn’t have bought it. It left us with no money to buy food that week and we had to live on potatoes and fried scones until your granddad got paid again.”
She passed the jug back to Jess. “We never told anyone, it was our secret.”
Maybe that would solve the problems. Maybe me and Jess need to go and buy a jug.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunday 23rd November
Yesterday was one of those clear, dry days. It had been raining for a while and it was the first time the sun had come out. I was sitting at the table eating toast with Isabelle on my knee.
Jess was at the bench making coffee for us.
“What are you going to do today, Isaac?” she asked.
“Wash the outside of the house.”
I’ve been a builder for nearly a year now, I’m on top of it. I’m even starting to get this place a bit tidier.
I’d got home from work Friday night and noticed the south side of the house had got mouldy.
“Who washes houses?” Jess brought my coffee over and sat down beside me.
“You have to, it keeps the paintwork in good condition.” Isabelle grabbed for the coffee cup and I pushed it out of her way. “What about you?”
“I thought of walking around to Mum and Dad’s with Isabelle and spending the day with them. Want to come? Washing the house can wait.”
My relationship with Jess’s dad is still about as good as Jess’s is with my mum. Visiting Jess’s mum and dad on my day off didn’t appeal.
“Nah, I might come around later and pick you up if you want.” Isabelle was trying to snatch my last bit of toast. I gave it to her to gnaw on.
Jess stood up again. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink. That’s the way life is now, no time to just sit and talk. But we’ve got this parent thing sorted.
And being polite to each other.
That helps.
“Okay. Are you all right with her while I have a shower?” Jess manages to get dressed everyday now too. Although she still doesn’t do housework.
I took Isabelle into the lounge and sat her on her rug with all the toys. She’s real cute. I found my guitar.
For the last month or so I’ve been going over to Hamilton with Luke and Cole on Saturdays to play with Stadium, so I need to keep the music going.
It’s good. If Jess’s Mum can mind Isabelle, Jess comes too.
Not this weekend though. It was the start of the university holidays and the pub owner didn’t want us. No customers I guess. The students had all gone home. I knew Adam and Noah were back in town.
When Jess and Isabelle were dressed and ready to go visit her grandparents, I found the hose and filled a bucket with soapy water. I got a broom and started cleaning.
Jess came out of the house. She bumped the stroller down the back steps, then lifted Isabelle in and did up the straps.
Jess was in jeans and sneakers. She’s slim again. I vaguely thought we should have stayed in bed a little longer. But honestly it feels like any time we’re awake Isabelle is too. Its bloody hard to have sex with a three-month-old baby in the bed.
Jess wandered past me pushing the stroller. “Heard of rain?” she asked and grinned.
“Smart arse.” I considered squirting her, but it turns out she can get bloody cross if you accidently do something like that. She laughed as she went out the gate.
I was just starting on the second side of the house when Laura arrived. It looked like she’s been for a run. Little shorts, singlet top, running shoes, and she’d got a bit of a glow on.
“When did you start running?” I pulled the trigger on the hose and squirted the wall. The water bubbled and foamed then bounced off. Laura stepped back to avoid getting wet.
“Beginning of the year.” She stood there watching me, hands on hips, still puffing a bit.
I wasn’t looking but, fuck did she have a body. It was all right before, but now it’s spectacular.
I grabbed the broom, dipped it in the bucket of soapy water, and scrubbed at the walls I’d just squirted.
“I didn’t know you were due home.” University students seem to get more holidays than working days. It’s all right by me. Laura comes around all the time when she’s home. She’s helped get this place tidied up. And she’s good to talk to.
“Just finished my exams.”
“Jess has gone around to your place.”
“I didn’t see her, she must have gone the other way.” She watched a while longer. “Heard of rain?” she asked.
Two smart arses in one family.
I gave her the broom I was using to scrub, and the bucket of water. “Just for that comment, make yourself useful.”
“Why not?” She scrubbed. I washed. We made good progress.
“How did the year go?” I asked after a while.
“Not bad. I’ve kept up with the work and got good marks.”
“Have you decided on a major?”
“Yeah, I’m probably going to do family law.”
We got to the south side. There was mildew everywhere.
I waved the hose across it and when the wall was dripping, Laura started scrubbing.
“What about building? Is it still a nightmare?”
“No, getting it sussed. Seem to know what I’m doing.” Don’t fuck up too often. It turns out when you’re building or doing joinery, you nev
er do something just once. You do it a thousand times before you’re finished. If you’re screwing and gluing units together, or cutting and nailing in dwangs, or running timber through a thicknesser, you might do it every day for a fortnight before you move on to something else. And if you’ve done something often enough, when you come back to it, there’s a good chance you’ll remember how it’s done.
Luke and the other guys I work with are good too. We’re mates. Don’t get so tired either. Must have toughened up.
“That’s good,” said Laura. “Written any songs?”
“Nah, it’s a bit hard to find things to write about, I don’t think anyone wants to hear about how to put a baby in a car seat.”
“No water skiing?” Laura gave a smirk then carried on scrubbing.
“Don’t get to do a lot of that now, Murphy.” About as often as I get to have sex. Then I vaguely wondered if that’s what she really meant, because it’s been a joke between us for a while.
Then Laura stopped working and leaned on her broom. “Rinse this bit again for me, so I can see where I’m going.”
The wall looked like she’d been trying to write on it, it was all black swirls. I rinsed the bit she’d just scrubbed, and the water splashed. She wasn’t quick enough about stepping back and got soaked.
She held the wet singlet away from her breasts.
“You did that on purpose, Builder Boy.” I still wasn’t looking, but fuck, did she have a body.
“It’s hot, you’ll dry out, Lawyer Girl,” I said.
“Really?” She looked at me, then grabbed the hose. “It’s my turn with the hose, you can’t be trusted.”
I went to pick up the broom she’d dropped on the lawn, and she bloody squirted me. So, I was soaked too.
I picked up the bucket of soapy water, I figured I’d get my own back. I tipped the whole lot over her.
It was filthy, and she’s covered in soap suds and flecks of paint and black stuff.
For a moment I thought she was going to get shitty like Jess would have, but she laughed and handed me the hose.
“Wash me clean, then I’ll go and change into something of Jess’s, I can’t wander around the streets like this.”
I took the hose, and I’m squirting her and she’s squealing and laughing.
Then a car drew up outside the gate and her dad got out.
He wasn’t smiling. He slammed the car door.
Chapter Sixteen
I took the pressure off the trigger, the water stopped, and there was dead silence.
We watched him walk over to us, stony faced.
“Did he know you were here?” I asked Murphy. I figured Jess would have arrived at his place with Isabelle about twenty minutes ago. Still some trust issues there. Maybe they were expecting Laura back sooner.
“Must have guessed.” We were both standing there like a couple of kids who had done something wrong and were waiting for the sky to fall in on us.
Up close, Jess’s dad still didn’t look pleased.
“Isaac.” He looked at both of us in turn. “Laura.”
“Dad, why are you here?” asked Laura.
I hoped he was going to say he wanted to borrow a hammer or something. He didn’t. He compressed his lips for a moment.
“I could ask you the same question.” He waited for an answer, but we stayed quiet. Then he folded his arms. “What are you two going to do next?” he asked. “Go and have a shower together?” One thing about these Murphy’s, you can’t accuse them of beating around the bush. But I never expected to ever hear him say that. I considered just going inside and locking the door. I’m not his kid, and I’m not in his class either.
I decided to stick around, but this situation wasn’t good.
Then he turned to Laura. “You, go and wait in the car, I’ll talk to you on the way home. Right now,” he turned back to me. “I’m going to have talk to your sister’s husband.” He put a lot of emphasis on the last two words.
“Dad,” said Laura. She was biting her lip, looking from me to her father, back to me. I was pretty sure she wasn’t too keen on the ride back home any more than I was looking forward to the next ten minutes.
“Go.” His voice was steely and he pointed at the car.
Laura walked slowly to the car. Jess’s father turned back to me. By then I’d got rid of the hose and the bucket. It was like getting rid of the evidence.
“Now Isaac,” he said, still not happy. “Do you want to explain what’s going on here? And don’t give me any shit about washing the house.”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“That’s not what I saw,” he said.
“If nothing’s happened yet, its headed that way.” And I think maybe he wasn’t all wrong. Laura’s easy to be around and fuck she’s got a great body. And where did my mind drift when she made that crack about water skiing?
Then he spent a good quarter of an hour pointing out what was wrong with me, and the things I’d done that piss him off. A fair few of them went right back to when I first started going out with Jess. Plenty about my conduct at the bach. Taking a whole afternoon to go to the movies that day. Finding me in the dark in the lounge when Laura was in the shower and seeing me come out of her bedroom when I had to know Jess was in the bach.
By the time he got back into his car, I was pretty straight about what he thought of me.
Monday 15th December
Laura’s stopped coming around so much, and when she comes it’s only to see Jess. I haven’t asked her what her Dad said to her. But I suspect she got the same message I did. We would hurt Jess if we kept going the way we were, and if I wanted to stay part of the family I’d better figure out fast, which of his daughters I’m married to.
And you know how sometimes things happen just when you need them to? I think maybe that was one of those times. Because Laura is easy to be around, and Jess is busy all the time with Isabelle.
Now I make a point of spending more time with Jess, because she does still have those eyes, that body and that slow way of moving.
And besides, maybe Isabelle needs us both.
But now I have something that might work as lyrics. And they might be worth listening to.
“Hey, can I borrow that desk in my room?” I asked Mum a couple of days after the Laura/hose/dad incident. I figured if I was going to start getting serious about writing lyrics again I needed a place to work.
“Yes, of course,” said Mum. “What do you need it for?”
“Me and Jess have got nowhere to do stuff, except the dining table.”
“All right. It’s where you left it. You can take the office chair too.”
So, I got what I needed together and set up a place I could write music. It still seemed like I was pretending to be a songwriter, but somehow with my own space I hoped it would get more real.
Jess leaned against me, studying the room, her chin on my shoulder. “It’s a good idea,” she said. “You can make us rich.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice.” I tried to work out if I needed anything else. Probably not. These days you can use a laptop and an interface for most things. Just download the programme you need.
With the desk and keyboard from Mum and Dad’s, the laptop, and of course, old Collins’ notebook. I bought a new interface, so I had everything I was going to need.
Now I just had to get started.
After Isabelle went to sleep each night I shut myself in the room and started. I came up with some lyrics so brilliant I astounded myself.
Yeah right. Really, I sat at the desk each night and didn’t get started.
Well, reading through the journals is me getting started. Since I got married I’ve managed to write stuff down now and then. Even had to buy a new notebook when the one Collins gave me was filled up.
I sit here at my desk and think. What was it that happened that was worth writing lyrics about?
That’s right, fancying my sister in law.
I give my neck a scratch. That could
just get sleazy.
So, the first month of song writing turns into a bust. I’ve got the space, I’ve got the gear, and I’ve got nothing to say. Each night I decide I might as well go to bed. I’ve still got work in the morning.
Then one night when I went to bed Jess was already asleep, so I stripped off and slid into bed behind her. I wrapped my arm around her waist and snuggled in like I was going to sleep too. I must have roused her a bit. I might even have done that on purpose.
“Have you made our fortune?” she murmured.
“Not yet.” I snuggled in closer. She turned over in my arms, and kissed me, in that slow way you do things when you are still half asleep, like you’re not sure whether this is for real, or a dream.
Then we made love like that. Slowly and dreamily without talking. Not like we used to, all tangled arms and legs and giggling and falling out of bed sometimes. This was all slow touching, with hands and mouths. Even when Jess knelt over me and lowered herself onto my cock, it was slow, like a dream. I could just see the shape of her through the light that filters through the curtains.
It was beautiful.
Jess went straight back to sleep. I lay in the bed afterwards, with her curled into me again. It was the first time in weeks we’d made love. I started thinking about what it was like when we first discovered sex. We couldn’t get enough.
There was that day Jess took me to a pool in the bush. We spent the afternoon there, and she just stripped off her clothes and ran at the pool, stark naked laughing like she was free. She was like that all the time then. She did whatever she wanted, and she laughed and was happy.
But what she wanted to do most was to paint. She doesn’t do that now. The painting of the three bowls was the last thing she did. It hangs in our kitchen and glowers at us.
Jess didn’t even get to finish school. She spent what should have been her last year there, at home waiting for Isabelle to be born and then looking after her.
It hit me. Jess had lost her future too. She’d lost as much as I had. Maybe I should have turned the spare bedroom into a painting studio.
