Plight

by K. M. Golland

  “Now,” she said, pointing directly ahead of us. “I have respect for this giant of the animal kingdom.” We stopped in front of the wooden barrier fence enclosing three uninterested giraffes. “Because they choose their mate after inciting a ‘necking’ war. It’s hilarious.”

  “Actually, it’s a little more involved than that.”

  She turned to face me, a look in her eye I couldn’t quite make out— sexy and somewhat curious. “Why am I not surprised you know how giraffes mate as well?”

  I shrugged and pinched one of her hot chips when she handed me the bucket to hold. “Let’s just say male giraffe don’t mind the odd golden shower.”

  Danielle nearly spat the water she’d just swigged from her bottle. “What?”

  “Yep. Afraid so.”

  She blinked and waited for an explanation, so I elaborated for her. “The female urinates into the male’s mouth, if she’s fertile, he’ll taste it and want to mate. She’ll either be all for it or want him to prove his worth by necking other males that may want her too.”

  “That’s gross. I’m not sure I respect them now.”

  “Yeah, I suppose, if you’re not into that sort of thing.”

  “Are you?”

  I drew a quick circle with my fingertip on her neck. “Don’t know. Never tried it.”

  She glanced down at my hand, bit her lip then stole back her chips, continuing to the next exhibit. “So, how is it that you know so much about animal sex?”

  “National Geographic.”

  “Why animals?”

  “They fascinate me.”

  “If they fascinate you so much then why aren’t you a zookeeper, like that guy.” She pointed to a dude wearing a pair of khaki shorts and Blundstone boots, walking in our direction.

  “Because they look like dorks.”

  Danielle laughed and poked a chip into my mouth. “You’re a dork.”

  I munched it and mumbled, “Adorkable?”

  “Meh.” She paused then skipped toward a giant tortoise. “How do these guys procreate? Something tells me with great difficulty … and not as fast as lions.” She rested her arms on the top of the fence. “I mean, that shell looks like a decent chastity belt. Maybe I should get one,” she said with a wink.

  “Go ahead. The shell stops nothing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, they mate just like the lions do.”

  “Poor lady tortoise.” She crooked her head to the side, sizing one of them up. “He’d weigh a tonne.”

  “Not quite. Roughly two hundred kilograms.”

  Her eyebrow rose. “Any other tortoise facts I should know?”

  “Tortoise? Not really. But, turtle? Yes. Did you know some species of turtle breathe through their arsehole?”

  Danielle burst into laughter and covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes gleaming utter mischief at me. “No, I didn’t know that, but I do now. That’s excellent! A respiratory rectum.”

  “A colon cough.”

  She lifted her finger. “Butt burp.”

  “Ass of all trades.”

  “Stop! I can’t.”

  Again, her laughter filled my ears and heart, and she snorted, bending over while crossing her legs. “I’m gonna pee.”

  “Shit!” I pretended to guard her with my body. “Watch out for those male giraffes.”

  “Lots! I’m serious.” She snorted some more, tears finding their way onto her cheeks, and I soon found myself unable to hold back either.

  A young couple pushing a pram strolled past, their curious smiles asking what the hell was so funny. I shook my head at them, as if to say I had no idea and that Danielle was a little crazy.

  “Oh my God,” she wailed, gasping for a breathe. “If I laugh anymore I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Well, at least I know you’re not a horse.”

  “What?” her face contorted with confusion. “Besides the obvious, why not?”

  “They can’t vomit.”

  She breathed in and stood upright. “Of course they can.”

  “Nope. Physically impossible.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’d never have to hold a horse’s mane back. They’d be great drinking buddies.”

  She shook her head and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know, Lots. Sometimes I worry about you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, worry about those lionesses.”

  We were about to move toward the reptile house when an idea popped into my head. “Hey! Fancy riding a horse?”

  “Huh?”

  I grabbed her hand, my body buzzing with excitement. “Come with me.”

  We hurried back through the centre of the grounds, the fresh spring sun’s mild rays perfectly beating down on us as we approached the iconic Melbourne Zoo Merry-Go-Round.

  Her smile widened. “I haven’t been on this since I was a kid.”

  “Me neither.”

  I paid the ticket clerk for two tickets, and we waited for the ride to stop turning before choosing our horses and climbing on.

  “Which one do you want?” I asked.

  She screwed up her nose. “The brown ones are ugly. I’m choosing white. Mine looks like a unicorn.”

  I chose a brown one. “White ones never win.”

  “Win what?”

  “The race.”

  “It’s not a race, Lots.”

  “Sure it is.”

  The Merry-Go-Round cranked to life once again and started spinning, both Danielle and I simultaneously bobbing up and down with our horses’ movement.

  “See? I’m winning.”

  “You are not. I am.”

  “NO, I AM!” some young boy behind us shouted.

  We both glanced over our shoulders; he was probably no older the five.

  “No, you’re not. You’re last,” I responded in my ‘ha-ha’ voice.

  “Elliot!” Danielle scolded.

  “What? He is. Clearly, he’s behind us.”

  “Pretend he’s a lap in front.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes.”

  I wanted to prove I was just as good with children as I was with dogs, so I pretended the kid was miles ahead. “Oh, you are winning. You’re just about to lap us.”

  “Ner ner nee ner ner!” the little shit taunted, eagerly bouncing atop his slow, white horse. “You’re gonna lose. You’re gonna lose.” Yeah, you’re gonna smell what I had for breakfast if you don’t shut up.

  The kid was downwind. It was only fair.

  Danielle giggled. “Yeah, you’re gonna lose,” she added, poking her tongue out at me, her eyes twinkling brighter than the sun glare bouncing off the bobbing horses surrounding us. She was so beautiful when she smiled. It near stole my breath every time, which was unfortunate considering I wasn’t a turtle.

  Watching her look back over her shoulder and wink at the kid with encouragement, a kid she didn’t even know, a kid that was now beside himself with joy as he raced a couple of adults on a Merry-Go-Round, I knew that I’d just fallen in love with her for the third time.

  I also knew I would never fall in love with any other person.

  It was her.

  It had always been her.

  I was falling for Elliot, fast, and I couldn’t stop my downward spiral no matter how hard I tried. The weird thing was it didn’t feel as if I were plunging into murky waters. I’d been in murky waters before, literally, and this felt the complete opposite. This felt safe, challenging, but safe. When I was with him, my body buzzed with an excitement I’d only ever known in his presence – a mixture of home and the unknown. And that was because Elliot always kept me on my feet. There was never a dull moment with him.

  Not one.

  Not even at the zoo.

  “How big is an elephant’s dong?” I asked, tilting my head to get a better look between the mammoth beast’s legs. “I take it you know the answer considering your extensive knowledge in the field.”

  He choked. “I do have exte
nsive knowledge in the field of big dongs. Thank you.”

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  “And yeah, it’s big,” he replied, licking his ice cream, all smug-like. “So big that, sometimes, they use it as a fifth leg.”

  I crossed my arms. “They do not.”

  “Do.”

  Elliot was so matter of fact about ridiculous things. It was equally hot and infuriating, as was his constant tongue lapping. Fuck. All. The. Shits. I couldn’t take my eyes off his mouth.

  “Want some?” He pointed the ice cream my way.

  I shook my head. “Uh ah.”

  “You sure? You look you do.” Oh, Lots, you have no idea.

  I turned to face the elephants instead. “So where’s its fifth leg?”

  “Sheathed. Either that, or you’re looking at a female.”

  “Oh, how do you tell?”

  “Considering they’re Asian elephants, I’d say tusks. The females don’t normally have them.”

  I raised my hand and shielded the sun from my eyes, spotting a male tossing water over its back with its trunk. “Over there. He has tusks.” I squinted and counted his legs. “I’m not seeing a fifth leg though.”

  Elliot draped his arm over my shoulder and hugged me to him. “Come on, you perve, we’re done.”

  “Oh no we’re not!” I dug my heels into the ground to stop him from pulling me in the wrong direction. “We haven’t been in the butterfly house yet.”

  “It’s closed.”

  “What? Who says?” My heart dropped; it was my favourite exhibit.

  “There was a sign at the entry gate that said it was under maintenance. Didn’t you see it?”

  “No.” Narrowing my eyes at him, I spotted his eye twitch. “You’re lying!”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. If memory serves me correctly, you were never the biggest fan of butterflies.”

  “Do you blame me? They taste with their feet. What sane creature tastes with its fucking feet? That’s just disgusting.”

  “Oh please. We’re going to the butterfly house. You’re going to the butterfly house.”

  “Fine. But I’ll wait outside while you go in.”

  “No, you won’t. I went into the reptile enclosure and pretended to blow a kiss to a hideous python for your photographic amusement, so, you, my dear friend, are going to see the pretty, harmless, butterflies with me.”

  Moments later, we were entering the humid butterfly house, the raised temperature prompting the removal of Elliot’s jacket and my cardigan. I took a few steps and stopped, arching my head back and looking up toward the glass roof as hundreds of butterflies of varying shapes, sizes and colours fluttered all around us, some landing momentarily on plants, flowers, and suspended limbs of people standing as still as statues.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” I said, quietly, taking in the magic of nature.

  Elliot didn’t answer, and it wasn’t until I turned to see why that I realised he was still standing by the door.

  “Come on.” I held out my hand. “It’s not so bad. I promise.”

  He looked at my outstretched fingers, the expression on his face, not one I’d encountered before. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Danielle Cunningham. And the only thing that’s missing right now is a Cheezel on that finger of yours.”

  My jaw dropped as he removed the space between us, his hands finding my face and cradling it with silken urgency, his lips and mouth touching mine with the softest desperation. Butterflies exploded — not real ones — in my stomach, and my heart near hurt with the realisation that I was in love with my best friend and ready to face my fear and risk everything to be with him.

  Closing my eyes, I let go, our bodies melding together, my arms resting on his shoulders while my fingers gripped his head. My mum once said to me that true love can’t be seen, only felt. That it sleeps inside us all and is woken once or twice in a lifetime, and when it wakes we know. We know because our universe flips on its axis and leaves us wondering which way is up or down.

  My universe just flipped. Elliot had tilted it many times, but here, in the butterfly house at Melbourne Zoo, he just flipped it like a fucking pancake.

  Lifting me up, he spun me around, our lips still pressed, their only separation two glowing smiles.

  I giggled, dizzy from the movement, dizzy from the heat … dizzy with love. “See? The butterfly house isn’t so bad, is it?”

  He shook his head, kissed my nose, and hugged me tighter. “Just keep them off of me.”

  “Why? You’re so tasty. I can’t blame them for wanting to land on you.”

  “You’re tastier. They should definitely land on you instead.”

  “Are you going to put me down now?”

  “No. I figure if I’m holding you the entire time, they are less likely to land on me.”

  “Elliot,” I laughed, “put me down.”

  “Nope. Not gonna happen.”

  I placed my hands on his cheeks and peered into his crystal blue eyes. “Do you trust me?”

  “That’s a trick question.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s a closed-ended one.”

  “That’s what you’d like to me to think. You seem to forget I make a living out of asking questions.” Shit! He does, too. Damn him and his solicitor ways.

  “Fine. Do you want to trust me?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good, because you have a butterfly on your head.”

  His eyes grew incredibly wide and stationary, as if they’d iced over and froze. Unblinking. Unmoving. He was unmoving.

  “Breathe,” I whispered, smiling at the beautiful creature.

  His nostrils flared.

  “It likes you.”

  “I don’t like it,” he bit out, his voice barely audible.

  Elliot’s grip around my waist tightened.

  “Ease up, boa constrictor.”

  “Get. It. Off.”

  “No. It’s tasting your hair.”

  He shook his head like a dog post bath time, let me go and hurried off, ducking as if he was in the process of being swooped by birds.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Outside.”

  “Lots! I trust you,” I called out. “I trust you enough to love you and know that when you say we will always be friends, we will.”

  Elliot paused then slowly looked back over his shoulder at me, the exit door handle in his hand. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I love you, Elliot Parker. I love you enough to love you like I should … like I do.”

  He let go of the handle and walked back to stand in front of me, a butterfly landing on his shoulder before his lips could touch mine once again. His eyelids lowered, and he sucked in a breath before opening them again. I waited, which was when he gently coaxed the butterfly onto his finger and delicately placed it on my head. “I love you, too, crazy girl. Always have. Always will. Butterflies and all.”

  After our zoo date, we headed back to my house for dinner. I wasn’t much of a cook — having been spoilt by Chris’ culinary expertise more often than not— so our choices were frozen Ramen noodle bowls from Costco or … frozen Ramen noodle bowls from Costco, which I was quite the fan of.

  “Dinner is served,” I said proudly, placing the black microwavable bowl on the table in front of him.

  His mouth curved into a smile, but it was one of those smiles that held knowledge you weren’t privy to.

  “What? What are you smiling about?”

  “Nothing. Smells good.”

  “It does. And it tastes good, too.” I sat down opposite him and dipped my spoon into the soup. “You should know that by loving me, you must also love and accept the fact that this is as far as my cooking skills go.”

  “I can live with that,” he said nonchalantly, his smile still hiding information I wanted to know.

  I put down my spoon. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie.”r />
  “I’m not.”

  “Yeah, you are. You smile funny when you’re not telling me something.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

  “Yes, it does. It does when you won’t tell me what it is.”

  I stared him down but he wouldn’t budge, and it only made me more frustrated, more determined.

  “Fine,” I said, smiling to myself, trying to mimic his stupid I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin. “I won’t tell you what I’m thinking then.”

  He slurped his soup. Loudly. “But you want to tell me, right?”

  “Meh. Don’t really care.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “You do more.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it involves me getting naked.”

  He paused, spoon midway to his mouth, which was agape.

  “Thought so.” I continued sipping.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Maybe.”

  He put down his spoon, his eyes hungrier than his stomach, and hungrier for me than the food I’d just dished up. It sent a jolt of excitement direct to my core, waking the muscles between my legs.

  “Danielle!” he said, his voice low.

  “Remember that game we used to play, when I’d give you one of my lollies if you told me something you were scared of?” I loosened the top button of my shirt, and he fidgeted in his seat. “Well … let’s play that game again, except this time, I’ll give you an item of my clothing instead.”

  “Storms. Butterflies. Bats. Cats. Chickens. Needles. Water,” he rattled off, stretching his open palm across the table. “That’s seven items of clothing, please.”

  I laughed and slid my fingers over his. “How about one at a time. And let’s start with chickens. I didn’t know you were scared of chickens. Why?”

  “Because they peck.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What do you mean ‘that’s it’? That’s enough.” He crept his fingers along my forearm and latched onto my sleeve. “Give.”

  “Okay.” I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and slid it from my shoulders, acutely aware of his blazing eyes. “Here you go.”

  He took it from me, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it behind him.

  “Hey!”

  “Bats. They have wings and are ugly as fuck.”

  “They are not.”

  “Have you ever looked at one up close? Their noses are squashed and they have big, pointy ears.” His eyes flicked to Dudley, who was asleep in his bed.