Commitment

by K. M. Golland

  He remained impassive, almost annoyed. ‘Firstly, this is all your fault—’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘Fuckin’ oath it is. And I’ll tell you why.’ This’ll be good.

  I crossed my arms and listened.

  ‘Who wears the pants in the relationship, Dean?’

  ‘We both do.’

  ‘Good answer, but you’re wrong. You don’t. Tash does.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I just do.’

  I waited for him to continue.

  ‘Uncross your arms.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because, apparently, you wear the pants. Pants-wearers don’t cross their arms like pussies.’

  He had a point.

  I uncrossed them.

  ‘Look, mate, it’s really quite simple, so pay attention.’

  I waved my hand for him to continue. ‘Go ahead. Enlighten me.’

  ‘Women don’t think they want sex but they do. Men know they want sex but, more often than not, have no fucking clue how good it is when women have the type of sex that they want but don’t know they want.’

  ‘Huh?’ I was back to feeling so fucking confused.

  ‘Okay, put in simpler terms … Men and women want the same type of sex but fuck it up for different reasons. Women tend to be preoccupied with irrelevant shit. They make excuses they believe are legitimate. For instance, the kids are awake, the dishes need to be done, I haven’t shaved, I don’t have time … my fat bits jiggle when we’re doing it.’

  ‘Shit!’ I laughed, astounded. ‘You sounded just like Tash then. She wouldn’t let me go down on her today because she hadn’t shaved.’

  ‘That’s a whole other story. We’ll get to that another day.’

  I nodded, now intrigued as to what else he had to say. ‘Okay. And what about men? What do we fuck up?’

  ‘Not “we”. I don’t fall into that category because I don’t fuck anything up. I have sex with Lexi whenever I want, which just so happens to be whenever she wants, too. It’s you and a shitload of other non-pants-wearing poor bastards that fuck it up. And here’s why … because it’s your job to make her realise that she does want it.’

  I furrowed my brow. ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Okay, but how do I do that, especially if she’s hell-bent against it? No means no.’

  ‘Yes, of course it does. That goes without saying.’

  So. Fucking. Confused.

  ‘So when does no mean yes?’

  ‘Never. No always means no.’

  I dragged my hands through my hair, frustrated. Sex shouldn’t be this bloody hard.

  ‘Look, it’s not about you asking for it or telling her she really does want it. She’s got to tell you that she wants it. And she’ll do that when she realises that she does.’

  ‘But how does she realise that if she thinks she doesn’t want it?’

  ‘Her body.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Don’t say that again.’

  ‘What … “what about it”?’

  ‘Yes. A woman’s body, especially your wife’s, shouldn’t be dismissed like that. Her body is everything to you. Don’t ever forget that.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘No.’

  Shit! He’s for real.

  ‘Her body will tell her mind that she wants it, like it’s supposed to. Not the other way around.’

  ‘But how does her body tell her mind that she wants it?’

  ‘Easy. You’ll tell her body.’ Oh for the love of fucking God.

  ‘Riiiiight. So I’ll just mosey on up to her pussy and say, “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice you sleeping. I just thought you should know that it’s time to wake up and eat some cock.”’

  Bryce burst into uncontrollable, gut-clenching rumbles of laughter. ‘Deano, you’re good value. I mean that. But you’re the one who needs to wake up and eat some cock.’

  ‘Okay, now you’ve lost me.’

  ‘If you’re not gonna use the cock you’ve got, you need to hurry the fuck up and consume another one. One you can put to use.’

  I sighed. He was a smartarse. ‘Whatever, come on. Back to the body telling the mind bullshit.’

  He chuckled. ‘It’s not bullshit, mate. It’s the key. Her body, like ours, is covered in little trip-wires of pleasure. You gotta figure out what trips those wires.’

  ‘And how do I do that?’

  ‘With this.’ He pointed to his mouth.

  ‘Kissing?’

  ‘Sure. But more so, words. You’ve also got to use these.’ He pointed to his eyes. ‘And these.’ He lifted his hands.

  ‘Okay, hands, I get. Hands can physically trip her wires.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘But eyes?’

  ‘Your eyes can let her body know your intentions. Foreplay, Deano. Always foreplay.’

  ‘I do foreplay.’

  ‘You probably do boreplay.’

  I wanted to punch the fucker, but I knew he’d kill me in seconds.

  ‘Words?’ I huffed. ‘Explain the words bit.’

  ‘They’re the most important part. Choose the right ones, and you have the potential to trip every single one of her wires.’

  ‘And how do I know what the right ones are?’

  ‘Whisper words that steal her breath, her cognition … her soul.’

  ‘Like what?’

  He ran his hand along the door trim. ‘Tell me, have you ever gone up to Tash and said, “You’re perfect. Sleek, shiny, delicate and dangerous. Mmmm. Curves in all the right places”?’

  I swallowed heavily, my throat all of a sudden dry. ‘No.’

  ‘And yet you had no problem saying it to a 1967 Shelby Ford Mustang GT500?’ Fuck!

  ‘Point taken,’ I said, disappointed with myself.

  ‘Look, mate. All you gotta do is make her feel sexy, really feel sexy. She’s gotta believe it. She’s gotta believe that you believe it. That just her being her drives you crazy beyond all measure, that you want nothing more than to be inside her and all around her. If you do that with your eyes, words and hands, I guarantee you’ll trip her wires every time.’

  I nodded, finally getting it.

  ‘When you look at her and just the mere sight dries your throat, or when she says and does mundane things that cause your heart to fucking flip inside your chest, tell her that. Tell her what you’re seeing and feeling. Tell her what it does to you. Hold her like you never want to let go. Touch her like you’re the only man who can, because you aren’t and you should be — never forget that. And then reinforce all of it with just your eyes. That’s it.’

  There was silence until Bryce broke it with the opening of Eleanor’s door. I followed suit and got out. ‘I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yeah. But you’re only male.’

  ‘Whose side are you on?’

  ‘Alexis’s. Always. And you should be on Tash’s.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ve let us both down.’

  ‘Then fix it. What’s broken can always be fixed.’

  ‘Not always,’ I said, lacking conviction.

  ‘Yes, always. It depends on how much effort you put in and whether or not you give up.’

  ‘She’s my life. I’d never give up.’

  ‘Good man. All you need now is to start wearing the pants.’

  ‘I wear the pants, Bryce.’

  He gave me a look, and again I wanted to punch him. But deep down I knew he was right. All of what he said was right. I needed to pick up my game and let Tash know just how sexy she was, how much I needed and wanted her, and how much I loved her, appreciated her, and couldn’t live without her.

  I needed to fuel our flame.

  CHAPTER

  18

  TASH

  Being ‘on edge’ was kinda like having a tightly pulled wedgie up the crack of your irritable bowel–laden arse. Understandably, it wasn’t a nice feeling and certainly not one I’d wis
h upon anyone but my worst enemy … and Donald Trump … and perhaps the guy down the road who kept allowing his cocker-shihtzu-poodle-spaniel fluff-ball fucker to defecate all over my front lawn.

  But it was a feeling I’d become familiar with over the past few weeks — never more so than during the short walk from the staff car park to Lexi and Bryce’s apartment. Every step I’d taken at the City Towers complex had been akin to walking the unstable fringe of a cliff ledge. I’d moved with caution while remaining alert and in control, for at any moment Dale could’ve appeared and caused my wary, life-or-death tiptoeing to falter.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t appeared. And thankfully, I hadn’t been forced into a situation I wasn’t yet ready to face, although I was more than aware that I would have to face it sooner or later, because I’d fucked up and let him get too close. Plain and simple. I’d enjoyed his company, his attention and his attraction when, instead, I should’ve kept our relationship strictly platonic and reinforced my marital status. I should’ve made it clear that he’d crossed a line and to cross it again would spell the end of our friendship. I should’ve lied and told him I had no feelings for him, and I should never have kissed him.

  Shoulda.

  Coulda.

  Woulda.

  I’d done none of the things I should have done. I’d been greedy and selfish, fuelled by desire he had so easily and effortlessly blanketed me in. But worst of all, I’d let him start to fill a void left by Dean, a void I should’ve let Dean try to refill instead. He was my husband; it was his to fill.

  ‘Is that your phone again?’ Alexis asked as she ripped open the tabs on Brayden’s nappy.

  ‘Yeah.’ I picked up a small soft toy, shaped as a guitar, that had been sitting on top of Brayden’s tallboy, and smiled before dismissing her question. ‘It’s okay. Whoever it is can wait.’

  ‘Do you at least know who it is?’

  ‘Mm-hmm.’

  She narrowed her eyes at me but then wrinkled her nose. ‘Yuck! I’d forgotten how bad baby shit smells when they transition to solid food.’ She held Brayden’s legs in one hand, suspended above his head, while she wiped his bum with a wet wipe, as she dry-retched.

  I laughed but kept a safe distance from the stench, instead taking in the outer space–themed mural painted on Brayden’s bedroom wall. Unlike Lexi, I hadn’t forgotten that smell. It had permanently penetrated my nostrils.

  ‘So …’ She gagged. ‘If you know who is messaging you, there must be a good reason why you’re ignoring their texts.’

  Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as she disposed of Brayden’s shit-filled nappy in the bin, her other hand placed on his tummy, securing him safely on the change table.

  ‘I’m not ignoring them. I’ll answer them later.’

  ‘You can answer them now. I don’t mind.’ She scratched her nose with the back of her hand and grabbed a clean nappy, an I-know-you’re-not-telling-me-something look on her face — lips pursed, cheeks sucked in, a deliberate and cocky refusal to look my way.

  She wore it well.

  I sighed. ‘It’s Dale, and I don’t want to talk to him right now.’

  Alexis nodded but didn’t say anything, as if she somehow knew I had more to offer … so I did. ‘I kissed him last night … in the pool on the sundeck … after the gala.’

  Her eyes widened but then softened immediately. ‘Why?’ she asked, no criticism in her tone. She gathered Brayden in her arms and placed a kiss on his lips then handed him to me while she cleaned her hands.

  I jiggled him on my hip. ‘Because I got lost in a moment.’

  ‘Could you get lost in a moment again?’ she asked, reclaiming him before taking a seat on the rocking chair and unbuttoning her blouse ready to breastfeed.

  I turned to face the window and focussed on the view of Port Phillip Bay, my mouth open with every intention to say ‘no’. Instead, I automatically paused. ‘I … I don’t know. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Do you want to get lost in a moment again?’

  ‘No!’ I shook my head vehemently. ‘I love Dean. I really do.’

  ‘Getting lost in a moment, or wanting to get lost in a moment, doesn’t mean you do not love your husband, hon.’

  ‘Yes it does. It’s betrayal. I shouldn’t find myself in those moments in the first place.’

  ‘Betrayal or not, it doesn’t negate your feelings for him. Betrayal is a mistake, and we all make mistakes. We’re only human.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But is it a mistake if you can see it coming?’

  She sighed. ‘Here’s the thing. These “moments” are the result of acting upon curiosity, which we all know has to lead to an experience we hope to gain from in one way or another, because if we weren’t set to gain from it we wouldn’t act upon our curiosity in the first place, right?’

  I shrugged but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Weakness or strength are what drive our decision to act. They are two states of being we all possess and neither of them negate our feelings.’

  A distant plane soared through the sky, and I was instantly aware of how peaceful, quiet and still it was at forty-three stories above ground. Planes were loud. The traffic on the roads below was loud, yet all I could hear was the beating of my troubled heart and the suckling of Brayden as he fed.

  ‘Okay,’ Alexis said, shuffling in her seat. ‘Say for instance you’re curious about jumping out of a plane. In order to decide whether or not to do so, you’d first have to stand to gain something from the experience then be driven by strength to take the actual leap. Now, say the act of jumping out of the plane was considered wrong. What you stand to gain wouldn’t change. Your curiosity wouldn’t change either. The only thing that changes is what you stand to lose and what would drive you to take that leap.’

  I stared at the plane, trying to decipher what she was trying to explain.

  ‘Weakness, Tash. Not strength. Your decision to leap would be driven by weakness because you knew that to do so was wrong. The same thing applies to kissing Dale. You were curious. You stood to gain something from it. It was wrong. Weakness prevailed. And regardless of your mistake, you still love Dean.’

  A tear rolled down my cheek, because I knew I’d been weak. ‘I should’ve tried to be stronger.’

  ‘Yeah, you probably should’ve. But curiosity can be quite compelling. Even the strongest fall victim to it.’

  I turned around to face her, sniffling. ‘That doesn’t make it okay, though.’

  ‘Of course it doesn’t.’ She lifted Brayden to her shoulder and began to burp him. ‘But even morality is subjective.’

  ‘Infidelity is not moral. Not even a little bit.’ I wasn’t about to defend my actions, they were inexcusable, and I didn’t want Alexis doing it either.

  ‘No, you’re right. It’s not. But it doesn’t just happen either. It isn’t black and white. The decision to act against your morals is almost always made because you feel some form of moral justification to do so. It’s complicated.’

  ‘Again, that doesn’t make it right.’

  ‘Hon, I’m not trying to excuse what you did, but you do need to realise there was a reason why you did it, a reason that stemmed from something you thought was right at the time.’

  A monstrous roar erupted from Brayden’s mouth, followed by a sickly gurgle and gushing sound.

  ‘Oh no.’ Alexis’s eyes closed, slowly. ‘That sounded projectile-like.’

  I nodded. ‘Um, yeah.’

  ‘Please tell me it isn’t so.’

  ‘Sorry. No can do.’

  ‘No!’ she cried, her body as still as a statue.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘But why? WHY?’

  I shrugged and wrinkled my nose to stop myself laughing. ‘Because shit happens.’

  ‘Don’t you mean “spew” happens?’

  ‘Yeah, that too.’

  She straightened her back just as Brayden began to cry. ‘Ew. Ew. Ew. It’s soaking into my top. Quick! Take him.’ She held him out like a
dangling disease.

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Yes! Take him or I’ll courier you a balloon every day for the rest of your life!’ Like hell you will.

  Relieving her, I held Brayden at arm’s length while she fled the room to get changed. Milky baby-chuck drenched the front of his bib. It was also dripping from his trembling little mouth and chin.

  ‘Dude, you gotta learn to keep it down,’ I advised, laying him on the change table and removing his bib. How anything covered in spew could look adorable was beyond me, and yet babies somehow did. They were tiny tricksters of the worst kind.

  ‘Rule of thumb: what goes in mustn’t come back out.’ I wiped his face clean and began to unbutton his onesie. He stopped crying and listened intently; either that or he’d found a stray hair on my chin. ‘Now, as you get older, this rule will change. In fact, it will be expected of you every Sunday morning after a binge-drinking session with your mates. You’re allowed to break the rule during this time. The thing is, no one is gonna do what I’m doing now. You get this shit all over your clothes and face, you’re on your own. So lap it up while you can.’

  ‘What are you teaching my son?’

  I looked up just as Alexis walked back into the room wearing a fresh top. ‘None of your business. It’s private Tashy-Bray stuff, isn’t it, little dude?’

  He giggled as I tickled his tummy and removed his onesie. Alexis smiled and turned away, gathering her hair into a messy bun before opening his tallboy drawer.

  ‘He’ll need another singlet, too,’ I advised her.

  ‘Yep. Thought as much.’ She handed me his clean clothes then stepped back and let me play Aunty Tash. ‘So, back to what we were talking about before Mount Burpsalot erupted.’

  ‘Mount Burpsalot?’ I leaned forward and blew a raspberry on his chest. ‘Did you hear that? She’s a mean mummy, isn’t she?’

  He kicked and giggled, which made putting on his onesie a whole lot fucking harder.

  ‘As I was saying,’ she continued. ‘You kissing Dale happened for a reason. What do you think that reason is?’

  Her question swirled inside my mind for a second, three words manifesting almost instantly. ‘Loneliness, excitement … change.’