Entwine

by Rebecca Berto

  It was only after the train took off that Sarah realised he didn’t stand, didn’t help her to stand up, too. Standing felt like a step back, and the only step after that was to walk away and forget any of this had ever happened. Comforted by the fact he still was vying for the power in this match, she didn’t move. Not even after that mother put her baby back in the pram, and asked her other child to please sit down on her lap. Not after others who’d eventually sat, stood, too. Sarah pulled her earphones out, lost interest.

  The carriage went back to how it had been before the ill passenger, but not for Sarah and Him. He stayed on until her stop, and when she had to get off, Sarah’s heart picked up speed and pounded at her chest. Her lips quivered with anxiety as the train slowed to a stop. She had nothing to pack; her bag was how it was when she got on.

  Sarah wasn’t interested in a wistful look goodbye. It wasn’t a thing she wanted for them to have, and then she wondered how they could have a thing at all.

  It was as she stepped off the carriage that his voice bellowed out to her. She spun around quickly, keen.

  He leant forwards, over the gap between the carriage and the platform she was standing on; a gap full of so many things, yet nothing at all. He held out her earphones.

  “Oh, thanks.”

  She went to grab them, and her bag strap slipped, spilling out the contents. The man didn’t think about what he did next, surely, he moved so quickly.

  As if he’d been hoping for an opportunity.

  He stepped off onto the platform, bent down, and together they picked up the contents of her bag that no man was meant to ever see.

  The train doors beeped, closed, and both Sarah and the man never bothered to look up to watch them.

  “Lucky this is my stop, too.”

  • • •

  NOW

  It was a summer night when the man had stepped off the train and picked up Sarah’s lip gloss, which was rolling down the platform as the train sounded and chugged off to the next stop.

  He dropped the make-up in her bag, along with a carry packet of tissues. Sarah looked up into his eyes and wondered what answers they’d bring. Such a simple action, placing her scattered items back where they belonged, but it was his touch and the confidence with how he moved that made her look away. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back to wait and see if she’d open the bag for him. He didn’t hold the lip gloss and tissues out for her to put in herself, hinting he wasn’t so sure about their boundaries.

  Somehow this stranger had stepped into her personal space, confident she’d trust him.

  The other passengers were dispersing, walking up the platform, heels clicking against the concrete. Other’s steps tapped as they climbed the stairs to exit the station. Sarah felt the man’s eyes on her, so she looked up to him. He was a head taller, but she felt like that head of his was the sun, and it shone rays too bright unless she squinted and held her hand out like a visor.

  She marginally managed to stop herself from doing so.

  “Are you this way?” he asked, pointing to the north side of the station.

  The question seemed anticlimactic. She had expected something like, “Do you want to be left alone? Do you want me to stay? Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

  But, once again, the man had that confidence she loved. She only realised after that moment how it was silly to ask if they’d part.

  It seemed impossible that he’d slip away, like a shadow under a door, never to be found again.

  Sarah nodded, and started toward the stairs at the end of the platform. She felt naked from behind as she heard the man’s footsteps follow her. She closed out the voice over the speaker, the woman who was laughing and chatting into her phone, steps ahead of her.

  Instead, Sarah heard only the man’s footsteps, feeling as though she was the one winning this game now. She led; he followed. His footsteps were evenly spaced, and somewhere between a clomp and a swift tap, tap. They were steady and sure, not trying to cover that he was catching up to her. And she liked that. That little gesture said that this brief encounter had its own life form, and was keeping these two strangers associated.

  At the stairs, though, Sarah’s legs—although lean and long—were no match for his. She felt him approach, and finally close the gap, until he took every other stair. Soon, she watched his pants lift and crease, the hem exposing his white socks as he headed for the top. She noticed his tapered shoes again, black and classy, the simple yet elegant style that she had seen for $50 at Payless Shoes, but also at upmarket boutique stores for $300. His step was too quick, and Sarah was too busy trying not to trip and face-plant the steps, to notice if it were leather or a synthetic material.

  She joined him at the top of the stairs, seeing him still amongst people rushing to find their train tickets to swipe, busy with phones and tapping away, or running to get out. He had his hands dug in his pockets. There was a cool air about him.

  “I’m lucky I forgot my cardigan today, and not yesterday.” Sarah looked to the sky as she continued, “It’s surprisingly balmy for …” She pulled out her phone to check the time. “… six o’clock.”

  The man pursed his lips, lowering his eyes. He seemed to take in the air around him, assessing her judgment. He cocked his head. “Either a shame or a lucky day, depending on which way you see it.”

  Sarah couldn’t talk away this hint. The man left the space between them full, full of varied answers that each made her chest tighten for different reasons. She didn’t say a word to betray her coolness, but he was beginning to frighten her as much as his aloofness allured her.

  She hated to end this game, but tonight was a balmy summer night of her first day at her first proper full-time job, and it was six o’clock, a time when everyone ducked their heads, didn’t say a word to the people who’d sat next to them for an hour or more, and went their separate ways.

  That was how today, and the next day, would work. And on every day, Sarah had to be on alert. Watching for loud, drunken, strange people on the train, or on her way to work, or near her car. She was a young woman—barely a woman, in her mind—and she’d seen far too many devastating news stories of women abused, mistreated and frightened.

  Just because he looked alluring, didn’t mean she had to play the role of the fool, and lead herself into trouble.

  The man turned his head to look at her, and she covered her fright with a little cough. How did he notice? He’d noticed. That change in her? It couldn’t have been a coincidence.

  Sarah’s teeth bit at the inside of her lips. She had to think of a way to let this man off. It’s not that she wanted to, but after her sudden influx of thoughts, she’d scared herself into believing the silliness of this situation. That she had to go to wait for her dad to pick her up in the car park after all, order some Chinese takeout and pick up her noodles on the way home.

  “I need to duck in to the centre,” the man said.

  Sarah stopped walking, standing off to the side of the path as others crossed the road when the green walker man told them to. He stepped off the side, too, and they were alone again in their own space as the world went on without them.

  “Oh, okay,” Sarah said. She hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but it was blatantly obvious in her tone.

  “Well, it’s—” the man started.

  Sarah looked past him, making him stop mid-sentence. She was glad. She hadn’t been the one to say those cliché words, but she hadn’t wanted to hear him say them, either.

  The car ahead looked like her dad’s. He was so busy these days she hadn’t believed he’d turn up even though her car was being repaired and she didn’t have a ride home, but maybe he’d actually been attentive when she spoke to him.

  Pulling out her mobile, she checked and saw a text message from him saying, “Here, a few cars down from the entrance.” She excused Him as quick as she could. Luckily, her dad had turned up at the perfect time.

  The man waited on the edge of the sidewalk behind the
line of trees in the strip separating the parking lot. She headed for the entrance a good distance away then walked around to the other side of the car as the driver’s side window lowered.

  “Dad, hey,” she said, resting on the open car door window. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Oh, you’re going to hate me though.” He paused, only long enough to bare clenched teeth, as if bracing for Sarah to blow up at him. “I got a call. I need to go and do a job now. The lady said it’s an emergency, and there’s water everywhere.”

  Her father’s open arms exploded apart, demonstrating the catastrophe.

  “You don’t mind shopping for a couple of hours, do you? You can grab a whole wardrobe to last you the rest of the year. For your shiny new job?”

  Sarah waited a moment, and then said, “Oh, sure. Guess I can. It’s late shopping night anyway. I’ll catch a bus back home.”

  Her dad nodded, and his eyes went wide. “Here’s $250. It’s all I’ve got on me. Buy whatever! I know you love to shop.”

  “It’s fine, I’ll use my own money.”

  Her dad shook his head, tutted. “Pfft, don’t be silly.” He thrust the notes into the top of her bag. “You can’t eat through your wage before you’ve even received it. First day celebration treat, from me.”

  Her dad winked, and it was too late to tell him she didn’t feel like shopping, that she hadn’t been out shopping in over a month, and that she didn’t care for it. Her dad was like that; happy to help however he could in the spur of the moment, but never there long-term. Thinking of spur of the moments, she remembered the man and everything that had happened tonight, and whipped her head around to see his calves and shoes below the density of the tree foliage: a still figure with the last of the train’s passengers hurrying by to get to their cars.

  “All right. Sounds good. But here, I don’t need it.” She shoved the money at him and stepped back.

  He sighed then put the money back in his wallet. “New friend from work already?” Her dad nodded in the direction she’d just looked.

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder at him. “Oh yeah. From my team.”

  “You can grab a bite to eat with him, then. Get to know your team members. It’s very important to be friendly with them, since you’ll be with them for most of your days.”

  Sarah agreed, slipping in a quick “bye” and left him. She realised she’d just allowed herself to be free to let this stranger take her home if he offered. How silly would it be to wait at the stop and catch a bus home now?

  The end of her dad’s car had little red dots for brake lights by the time she met up with the man again.

  It was still bright; it never seemed like night in Melbourne during summer. The man was watching her walk the last few steps back, and she felt studied under his eyes. There was something different about his look when she stopped in the same spot as she was before. She couldn’t name what it was.

  “I guess I better leave you to get back to your boyfriend, then.”

  Sarah let out a chuckle, righting herself before saying, “What do you … oh, um that?” The man nodded. “That was my dad!”

  He barely smiled, as if he knew that the man in the car who’d called her over was never really her boyfriend at all.

  Sarah remembered where they were at before. The way her dad had cut the man off halfway during saying goodbye. “Well you better duck off to the centre, then. Need to get home myself.”

  Sarah had been prepared to walk away without the man caring much about their little game, proving he was just interested in bedding her, but not bothered by the loss. She was even prepared for the disappointment in his eyes as he let her go. She hadn’t been prepared for his response.

  “You’re suggestive.”

  Sarah had taken a step away, but she halted, creasing her eyebrows in confusion at his reply. “I thought I was being normal.”

  “Nope, you suggested that I was going to say goodbye to you.”

  Sarah couldn’t help it then. She bit her lip, but it did her no good. The happiness inside of her spread like the lick of a flame, burning her up with relief. It made her lips turn up into a coy smile. She was a woman. He was a man in a suit, with a face she couldn’t look away from, and a tall, thick body that had caught her eye in the first place. He was probably too old for her.

  It was a lot to smile about.

  “You’re suggestive for thinking I’d want to come.”

  But it was a lie, of course. She couldn’t not go in for more of whatever this was, especially since she’d been too busy today learning everything to eat more than one sandwich, and she hadn’t had any coffee.

  But she could have had her coffee and all her snacks and meals today, and she’d still find an excuse to go in with him.

  So she said she’d come, and they turned, without crossing the road, and headed to the shopping centre next to the station, as she wondered what would happen next.

  • • •

  THEN

  That night, Sarah had decided to stay at her best friend’s house ‘til late. She figured that, if her dad could cheat on her mum for a few months and not get in trouble, why shouldn’t Sarah be allowed to stay out until eleven on a weeknight? She was sixteen and she never did this type of thing. Couldn’t hurt.

  It was Sarah’s mum who rang the house phone. Her best friend’s mum’s footsteps padded up to their floor, and opened the door as she said, “Knock, knock.” She gave Sarah a look as she handed her the phone. “Your mother.”

  Wordlessly, Sarah mouthed her best friend for help. “What do I say? Should I just hang up?”

  In the end, Sarah took a deep breath and said, “Hi Mum.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me where you were? Took me an hour to find you!”

  Alarm bells rang in Sarah’s head. Her mum didn’t know where she was, which meant …

  “You went through my stuff!” Sarah cried.

  “Come home, Sarah,” her mum said. “We have some things to discuss.”

  Sarah didn’t argue. Her best friend tried to get her to stay. She told her to tell her mum she’d caught a stomach bug, and couldn’t move without throwing up, or that they’d realised just now they had a project due tomorrow they had to start together now.

  It wasn’t worth it. It would have involved too much planning to make their stories match up and become foolproof. Her mum would ask for details, and at that moment Sarah couldn’t say if she was relieved to be caught, or if it was just a build up of lies that Sarah couldn’t take anymore.

  Sarah waited on the couch just at the front window with her legs crossed, picking at her fingernails, and waiting for the moment when she heard the familiar rumble of her mum’s car.

  She should have been nervous she’d get in trouble for staying out late, but it wasn’t that. She should have been angry that her mum probably went through her diary, or the stuff she’d saved on her computer, but still, she was too worried about the most important thing.

  The thing that Sarah absolutely knew was that her mum knew about what her dad had been doing. Sarah hated secrets, but she was an even bigger coward. When she felt guilty, Sarah would write in her diary. She used photo programs to make pretty pictures with her words on them. Sarah loved reading and words, words of any kind. She would write them down, only to go back and agonise if every one was right.

  So Sarah told her secrets through words. She didn’t know how to write formal prose, so she just spilled her secrets like mind vomit poetry. It came out without shape, purpose or style.

  As she sat on the couch, they all left her alone. Her best friend sat on the other one with her mobile, and her friend’s mum walked through the house, dusting lampshades and swiping surfaces with cloths. When she saw Sarah looking, she smiled and moved to another part of the house.

  How long? Did Sarah’s mum find out tonight when she’d read Sarah’s secrets? Had she known all along, and kept it from Sarah until she found out tonight that Sarah knew, anyway, about the disgusting, bad things
her dad had been doing with some other woman?

  There were many poems that could have been horrible for her mum to see. She remembered one now:

  /

  it bangs on the wall

  bang, bang, bang

  it moans like an animal

  moan, moan, moan

  it slinks away like a snake

  slither, slither, slither

  /

  Sarah remembered that poem. She came back from the party that first night and thought of so many things. The next day she didn’t know what to do, so she just started writing things down, and realised her head felt like someone had removed a bind from it. Like someone had unhooked her push-up bra, and she could inhale fully.

  There were other poems, mostly one poem for each occasion when Sarah knew her dad had cheated on her mum. One of the recent ones she wrote was … well, it wasn’t her favourite, because she hated these poems. She hated them with force enough to burn up and light them afire. But she felt something for this poem, and even now, thinking it over made her body fill with hatred, like it was a substance, filling her hollow shell up and making her alive with the feeling.

  /

  When is a bar full of alcohol?

  When is work full of papers?

  When is night full of sleeping?

  When is he not full of shit?

  /

  Not long after she’d been lost thinking, she heard the familiar rumble of her mum’s car tires crunching on the gravel up her best friend’s driveway.

  “That’s her. Thanks for having me,” Sarah said, and made to rip open the front door to get out as quickly as possible.

  “Sarah, wait a sec!” her friend’s mum called.

  Sarah clenched her eyes shut and cursed to herself. Why couldn’t people just let other people be? Why did other people not have the sense to leave others alone when there was a clear sign telling them to stay away?

  “Yes?” Sarah replied.

  “No need to hurry. Grab a bite to eat from the leftovers, or just let me say hi to your mum. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks.”