Elegy

by Jane Abbott

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ he warned, grinning when she scowled. ‘Look, the worst is over. Let’s have some fun and stick it to them. All of them.’

  She drank her cooler, suddenly parched. ‘You know they’ll be gunning for you too,’ she told him.

  ‘That’s the whole idea.’ He bent his head. ‘Here comes another one, so can you at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself? I have a reputation too, you know.’

  Before she could think of a suitable rejoinder, he touched his lips to her temple and turned her to face the onslaught.

  The next hour was spent in his embrace as they moved around the party and Gabe made sure everyone saw them. He kept his arm around her waist and his lips grazed her hair, while his fingers brushed her neck and shoulders. Every time someone bitched or whispered, or mentioned Michael or Caitlin or Casey, his hands wandered more and his mouth pressed harder. And those moments when Jenny wished it wasn’t merely a game – that they were on a real date – the moments when his hand slid over her skin, or his breath tickled her ear, or she felt the strength in his arm as it circled her, she hid it as best she could. Because it wasn’t a date. It wasn’t even close to one. Everything he was doing was done to protect Michael and Caitlin.

  But seeing the Gabe Brigade get theirs was pretty good compensation and she had to admit it was no hardship being with him. He was the most physical person she’d known and every time he touched her, when he pulled her to him and she felt his body shake as he laughed, she understood completely his reputation. He was magnetic, a force so compelling that resistance was useless. But with each touch she became more wound-up, like a tightening spring, and there were times when he’d drop his hand or loosen his arm and she’d find herself missing it.

  At one point she wriggled free and he made a grab for her. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Bathroom. I need to pee.’

  ‘I’ll take you.’

  Jenny rolled her eyes. ‘I think I can manage to go to the toilet without your help.’

  ‘Not here,’ he told her, and once they’d pushed through the crowd, finding the bathroom and the queue outside the door, she was almost thankful he was being such a control freak. ‘Bloody hell,’ he complained, when he saw the long line. ‘Can’t you do it behind a bush or something?’ Jenny rewarded him with an arched eyebrow.

  Pete arrived late and seemed surprised to find them there. They were back in the kitchen and he and Gabe talked about Casey, but even then Gabe didn’t stop in his quest to ‘stick it to them’, and Jenny hated that he was doing it in front of Pete. Somehow it made the whole thing more sordid than it already was. And she really did feel like a slut.

  Gabe handed her his beer. ‘Here, mind this. My turn.’ Then, to Pete: ‘Look after her.’

  ‘No, Gabe, wait!’

  But he ducked out the back door, leaving Pete and Jenny alone, neither of them wanting to be there, both of them awkward.

  ‘Sorry about everything,’ Pete said finally. ‘Just doing what I was told.’

  Jenny didn’t reply. She’d forgiven him once before, but this time he’d blown it.

  ‘So I guess Gabe wasn’t kidding,’ he added, to break the cold silence. When she questioned him with a glare, Pete took a step back and fumbled for an explanation. ‘I mean, when he said to drop it, that he’d take over. I guess he meant it. Just didn’t think he’d go all the way.’

  She looked down at the bottle in her hand. The label blurred. Had this been Gabe’s intention all along? To pick up Pete’s dirty work?

  ‘Aw, shit. I didn’t mean it like that.’ Glancing at the door, Pete sighed his relief. ‘Thank Christ. See you around, Jenny.’

  He pushed past Gabe with a few low words, and then Gabe was next to her, retrieving his beer. ‘Want another drink?’ he asked.

  Jenny didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. ‘I want to go home.’

  He lifted her chin. ‘What’s Pete done now?’

  She tore from his grasp. ‘Just take me home.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, placing the bottle on the counter. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  It was. But it wasn’t too, because now what she wanted she couldn’t have, it was too late and she was going to have to settle for the make-believe, the fantasy. The spring inside her was winding and tightening, and she could feel her anger simmer and start to bubble. Anger and hurt and shame. When he took her arm to lead her through the crowd, away from the fantasy, the spring finally twanged and snapped and she shoved him away.

  ‘What the fuck?’

  ‘What’s wrong, Gabe? Am I messing up your little plan?’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘You rushing over to my place to rescue me, then dragging me to the farm. You’d been planning to bring me here the whole time, hadn’t you? All that crap about helping, about being sorry and taking care of me – that was to butter me up, wasn’t it? To get me on side.’

  Heads turned. Jenny could see some of the girls smirking, and she wondered which of them was thinking they might’ve already won Kylie’s bet.

  Gabe’s frown deepened. ‘I don’t know what Pete’s said, but you are so off base right now.’

  ‘Am I?’ she cried. ‘Really? Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through tonight? What I’ve been going through all day? For you, and for Michael? Oh, good old Jen, she’ll do it. She won’t mind, ’cause it’s not like she’s got anything better to do. Might even be grateful for all the attention I give her. Poor, dumb –’

  ‘Stop it,’ said Gabe, and made another grab for her, but Jenny backed away.

  ‘No! You stop it. You know what your problem is? You’re so used to playing God around here, you forget that the rest of us are just human.’

  ‘That’s enough. If you want to fight, then let’s take it outside.’

  ‘Why?’ she taunted him. ‘You worried people might hear us? Find out what you’re really up to? Stop telling me what to do!’

  Even with the music, the silence was deafening. Everyone was watching the two of them, waiting for Gabe’s explosion, some of them probably hoping for it. But it didn’t come. He just shrugged and when he spoke his voice was calm. ‘What do you want me to say, Jenny?’

  It was the use of her name that hurt most. He’d always called her Jen, never Jenny. He was the only one who had, and she’d always loved it, knowing it made her special, made him special.

  ‘I don’t want you to say anything!’ And with out thinking it through – without thinking anything – she stood on her toes and kissed him.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, jerking his head away.

  ‘Isn’t this what you wanted? For people to see us?’

  ‘You’re right about one thing – it’s time we left. Our work here is done.’

  Work? The hurt surged. ‘Because you say so? What, the great Gabe Webster says enough, so everyone has to jump? Go to hell.’

  Pulling his head down, she kissed him again. This time he didn’t pull away – his lips were hard and bitter with beer – but he didn’t return the kiss either. She ended it, uncertain, disappointed and feeling so stupid. He’d probably kissed every girl at the party but he wouldn’t kiss her. First Michael and now Gabe. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Everything blurred and someone laughed. Pushing him away, Jenny turned and ran, forging through bodies. None of them stopped her. Gabe caught her at the front gate. Holding their jackets in one hand, gripping her elbow with the other, he propelled her over to the ute.

  ‘Let me go!’ she yelled. ‘I’d rather walk home.’

  ‘Get in the bloody car before I throw you in,’ he growled.

  ‘Leave me alone!’

  ‘Jesus! Will you just get in so we can talk about it? I’m sorry, okay? It’s just … I wasn’t expecting it. Come on, Jen. Please?’ His voice had dropped, trying to calm her.

  But she wasn’t in any mood to be soothed. How dare he? How dare he not expect it? He’d been feeling her up all night – of course he sh
ould’ve expected it! But maybe he didn’t like kissing her. Maybe she wasn’t good enough at it. Or maybe Gabe Webster wasn’t the stud everyone made him out to be.

  ‘He’s not that great, you know!’ she called out to the crowd that had followed and now packed out the lawn. ‘He’s not what you think he is! God, I’ve had better kisses –’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Gabe spun her around and she struggled again, but this time there was a punishing tightness as his hands clamped around her arms, pinning them. Tossing her up onto the bonnet, he stepped between her legs, hauling her hard against him and holding her there, so fast and so angry she was too shocked to do or say anything. And then she didn’t want to. His kisses weren’t like Michael’s. They weren’t like anything she’d ever felt or dreamed of – and nothing like her kiss in the kitchen. They were powerful and raw, earthy and warm and hard, ferocious with a need to match her own. She wrapped her legs around him, and he groaned and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss even more, and the heat she’d felt at the farm flared and spread.

  There were a few whoops and cheers, but Jenny ignored them all. There was only Gabe. His arms were stronger than Michael’s, his touch more commanding, and she didn’t care that people were watching. Nothing mattered any more except Gabe. But it couldn’t last forever, and finally he stopped, pressing his forehead to hers, his breathing ragged and uneven.

  Jenny smiled. ‘Now our work is done,’ she whispered, and felt a delicious thrill when he replied.

  ‘Baby, it hasn’t even begun.’

  ‘Not here,’ he said.

  She sat astride him, her back digging into the steering wheel, trying to wriggle out of her T-shirt, banging her elbow on the window while her hands scraped the roof of the cabin. ‘Yes, here.’

  There was none of the uncertainty she’d experienced before going to meet Michael that day at the shed. She didn’t question the practicalities. She just wanted the result. With Gabe. Only Gabe.

  ‘Too many people watching,’ he murmured, between kisses.

  ‘So? Give them something to talk about, remember?’

  Not that anyone could see them anyway – the windows were already clouded, cocooning them. Besides, Jenny didn’t care any more if the whole world watched.

  His hands slid around to her back, fingering the clasp of her bra, and he sighed. But he didn’t unhook it. ‘Your dad said you had to be back by twelve,’ he said against her neck, before pressing his mouth to the hollow under her ear.

  She moaned. ‘Plenty of time.’

  ‘Not for what I want to do,’ he said, one hand slipping down the back of her jeans, inside her pants. Desperate, she tore at the button of his jeans, but his hand stopped hers. ‘No, Jen, not here. Trust me, a car is not the place to do this.’

  She licked his ear and bit the lobe, and he kissed her hard, before jerking her T-shirt down again and lifting her off him.

  ‘Sit there and don’t move,’ he said, and started up the ute. Jenny reached across to slide a hand over his thigh, but he flicked it away. ‘Stop that and put on your seatbelt.’

  ‘Don’t you dare take me home.’ She couldn’t bear that.

  He grinned. ‘No intention of it. Not yet.’

  ‘Then where are we going?’

  ‘The only place we can. I’ll never make it to the farm,’ he said, and Jenny smiled, triumphant, because she’d made him feel that way.

  He headed to the edge of town and pulled into the last motel. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Jenny asked if he’d been there before.

  ‘Yeah,’ Gabe said softly. ‘A couple of times. Does that bother you?’

  Did it? Yes, but it didn’t too. She knew she had no claim on what and when and where he’d done it, or with whom. That had passed – was the past – and now she was the one there with him.

  ‘Just make sure you get a room you haven’t already used,’ she told him.

  He didn’t smile. ‘You sure you’re ready?’

  Jenny nodded. She’d never been more sure of anything in her life.

  A quick kiss. ‘Stay here. I’ll be back.’

  He was only gone ten minutes, though it felt like forever, long enough for anxious thoughts to creep in. She couldn’t help remembering the last time he’d left her alone in the ute. But when he came out and moved the car to the back of the lot, when he opened the glove box and pulled out the remaining box of condoms, when he saw her watching and grinned again before kissing her, all anxiety slipped away. She followed him to the end of the low building, where he unlocked a door and held it open as she crossed the threshold.

  They lay together on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs, and Gabe kissed her cheek while she stared up at the dingy ceiling and inhaled stale bleach. The few pieces of furniture were battered, the carpet worn and stained and the thin curtains might’ve been fashionable decades ago, but to Jenny it was the most perfect room in the world. Better than any car. Better than any hay-filled shed.

  It hadn’t been gentle, not at first. It had been the mashing of lips and the dancing of tongues, the harsh wind of hot breath, frantic fingers fumbling on buttons and zippers, and the tearing of clothes. It’d been hands on skin and skin on skin and mouths on skin, sliding and tasting and wanting more, coaxing and arousing and demanding until, at the last, he’d remembered and calmed them both. Then, slow and strong, with whispered words and gentle fingers and his body on hers, he’d pushed inside her slowly, filling her, pausing to kiss her, readying her, before making the first thrust that almost expelled the air from her.

  She wasn’t sure if she’d come. She knew Gabe had – had heard his groans and felt his body jerk and spasm. Had she done the same? She didn’t think so. She’d felt pressure build – exquisite, painful – had known a need for release, had cried out for it, but she didn’t know if what she’d felt was what she was supposed to feel. Was this what sex was, this swollen heat of stretched flesh that throbbed and burned just a little; sweat cooling on skin, her thumping heart, a faint regret that it was over and a deep yearning to do it all again? Was this what it was to be fucked by Gabe Webster? She hoped so.

  She hadn’t been afraid, and still wasn’t, but she couldn’t bring herself to reach down and feel herself, or even to look to see if she’d bled. Surely it would’ve hurt more if she had? She wished they’d thought to lay a towel on the mattress, just in case, but neither of them had paused long enough to consider it, and now it was too late. Stupidly, all Jenny could imagine was the look on the cleaner’s face the next morning when the sheets were stripped. If there’d been a single moment of awkwardness it’d been on her part, when he’d paused to open the condom packet and she’d looked away; it had seemed too clinical, too sterile. Nor had she watched afterwards, when Gabe had removed it.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Gabe asked, his breathing faster than hers.

  ‘Everyone says your limit with a girl’s a few weeks.’ Damn. She hadn’t meant to say it. Not like that, anyway.

  Propping himself on one elbow, he stared down at her, smiling. ‘And who’s everyone?’

  ‘The girls at school.’

  He laughed, and when he shook his head his hair fell around his face. ‘And that you believe.’

  Jenny stroked his cheek, feeling the shadowy stubble, not wispy and patchy, but full, furring his face. She remembered the feel of it against her skin, the soft scrape, its silky prickle.

  ‘Is it true?’ she asked.

  He kissed her lips with his tongue. ‘Not any more.’

  ‘Good.’

  His hand slid over her body and she quivered with remembered pleasure. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

  Okay? Good? Great? How should she answer? ‘Wonderful.’

  ‘First time’s never what you think,’ he told her.

  ‘Am I … I don’t want … Am I bleeding?’ she asked him.

  His smile was slow and gentle, and he smoothed her hair from her face. ‘No, babe. No blood.’ Then he grinned. ‘But let me check.’


  Her embarrassed protest was silenced as he moved over her, kissing her breasts, her belly, before slipping down, down between her thighs, and she gasped and arched to meet his mouth.

  He dropped her home with minutes to spare, and she was surprised it was still so early. The time in the motel had seemed to stretch on and on; her only regret was that they couldn’t stay longer.

  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he said, his kiss long and lingering. ‘Come out to the farm and we’ll pick up where we left off.’

  He drove into the dark and Jenny went to bed alone to dream of him lying beside her.

  And these designs none contravened but me.

  I risked the bord attempt, and saved mankind

  From stark destruction and the road to hell.

  Therefore with this sore penance am I bowed,

  Grievous to suffer, pitiful to see.

  AESCHYLUS, Prometheus Bound

  XVI

  Cait would wake Michael early each morning, insisting he leave her room before Jim and Barb got up. He’d grumble and sometimes he’d win, stopping her protests with his mouth and hands and body, but mostly he’d lose and he would dress and kiss her briefly before edging out the door and leaving her to sleep. Those mornings he’d walk alone in the dark, sometimes for miles, thinking on everything she’d told him, everything he’d forgotten, his endless questions and her patient replies.

  When she told him of the lives they’d lived before, he finally understood her actions the night she shot the kangaroo. ‘You can’t remake anything. When the flame is gone, it’s gone. You no longer have that power.’ You had no right, Michael. And he recalled his dream of the river and of her following in the darkness behind him. Not a dream but a memory.

  ‘Have we ever had kids?’ he’d asked, as they lay together on cold grass. His hand rested on the smooth flat of her belly, and he tried to imagine it swelling and rounding.

  She shook her head. ‘No. We can’t create life.’

  ‘Not even if we never meet? If we’re with other people?’