During the long summer break from
teaching, Troy remembered a friend whom he could visit: an old high school
buddy who had married one of Troy’s former lovers. The memory of his affair
made his lips twitch with fondness. She had been a piano player. Yes, he told
himself, that’s right. Her name evaded him. She had long elegant fingers that
could...
He stopped himself and looked
around. He was surrounded by families with children who whined incessantly for
whatever high tech gadget their parents were using to babble their endless
problems into. Summer holidays were brutal for young parents and the air fizzed
with supressed impatience for the speedy arrival of autumn so their offspring
could return to school. Troy rolled his eyes. Was he nothing more than a
glorified babysitter? An almighty row was brewing within the family opposite
him. Troy could almost feel the thinning impatience of the father as the
situation approached the inevitable crack across the bare, chubby thighs of the
squawking children. He had to get away before he might be called as a witness
to some child protection case. He abruptly stood, paid his bill and left. But
not before he heard the petulance in the mother’s voice as she said: “Now see
what you did? You made that nice teacher leave.”
Troy looked at his cell phone,
breathing in the fresh air. Surely he could just type his friend’s name into a
search engine and find out where he lived. A long weekend in the country might
do him some good. He could certainly use the peace and quiet. Not too far above
him came the sound of a magpie terrorising the nest of some smaller bird. Looking
up, the only sign he could see of the commotion was the violent disturbance of
leaves, a few tufts of feathers and tiny bits of broken egg shells beneath his
feet.
Randy was his friend’s name. Troy
had studiously avoided him once he realised he had fallen for Cathy. Cathy! He
thought victoriously. That’s her name. She not only fallen for Randy but had
plummeted from a high cliff, rolled down a steep ravine and crashed
unceremoniously into the abyss. Troy chuckled to himself. They had been such an
odd pairing: Randy the virgin and Cathy…well, Cathy was something else. More
than anything, he was curious about how the story ended up. They had married of
course. Had Randy worked out what Cathy was like? Really like? Suddenly he needed to know if Cathy had ever said
anything to Randy about their affair. He couldn’t imagine Randy would have
married her if she did, so intent was he on marrying a fellow virgin.
As it turned out, it hadn’t been
difficult to locate Randy and Cathy at all. They lived in a different state but
hell, that didn’t bother Troy.
They had four children and Cathy
was heavy with a fifth. She moved about their substantial yet modest home with
efficiency. His first sight of her was as she licked a spoon clean of the icing
she had finished using for the sumptuous chocolate cake that sat on the counter.
Her small, pointed little tongue poked and prodded the spoon with such
casualness that Troy had completely forgotten himself. Then their eyes met. For
a few seconds, the two regarded each other with shock. And then recognition
washed over them like a plunge into icy waters.
“Hello,” Cathy said, putting the
spoon down and turning back to a small pile of dishes. A child of no more than
three hid itself behind her legs and peeked at Troy shyly.
“Ah hi,” Troy answered. His eyes
involuntarily moved up from the soles of her bare feet to the crown of her head
on which balanced a carefully positioned bun. She still had it going on. Randy
must be a happy man.
“Ah,” said Randy as if thinking
of a polite way to interrupt Troy’s impure thoughts. “Shall we go into the
parlour?”
The parlour was a simple room filled
with wooden furniture and carefully positioned cushions of muted tones. Troy
sat down on one of the chairs and shifted to make himself more comfortable. It
did little good.
“So it’s good to see you after
all these years,” Randy began.
Troy nodded, still looking around
the room. There was something not quite right about the place but he couldn’t
put his finger on it.
“I take it you’re teaching?”
Randy tried again for conversation.
“That’s right,” Troy had found
his tongue again. “Music. I do public and private tuition. I can now call
myself a senior teacher,” he laughed as if he could hardly believe it himself.
He tugged his earlobe as if straining to hear something faint and far off.
“Well, me and Cathy try to be self-sufficient
as we can. There’s not a lot of money in itinerant preaching these days but I
do get to travel and Cathy. . .of course, she’s busy with the children.”
As if announced, the door to the
parlour opened and a teenaged girl entered, followed by a slightly younger
brother. They smiled at Troy politely.
“These are my eldest,” Randy said
proudly. “Kate and Rex.” Each shook Troy’s hand. As he shook Kate’s hand, a
bolt of recognition shot through him. She was the spitting image of Cathy. And
about the same age when he and her mother. . .Even the familiar twinkle of
mischievousness in her eyes was there. She looked him straight in the eye as a
small smile curled at the corners of her mouth. A quick pinch of his manhood
would not have had less of an effect.
Any further impure thoughts were
completely quashed by Rex, who had huge hands and feet and promised to be as
gangly as his old man. There was no mischievousness behind his eyes, only a
faint dullness brought about what Troy assumed to be slow wittedness.
They were directed to sit at a
table that looked like it belonged out in the back garden. But Kate quickly
took a cloth from one of the wooden drawers and covered it, transforming the
table into an elegant setting. Troy knew what hand embroidered cloth looked
like and he resisted the urge the rub the material between his fingers lest he
leave smudges.
“Do you like this?” Kate leaned
closer to him to ask. There was a slight pong of body odour which Troy did not
find offensive in the least.
“It’s beautiful,” Troy murmured,
trying not to notice her developing breasts.
“I made this,” Kate said proudly.
Troy did a double take of the
fine cloth. It really was exquisite work. He wondered how long it would take to
do something like this.
“We only use it for best
company,” she said. “In fact, this is the first time we’ve used it.”
He looked back to Kate to see she was smiling
openly. Immediately, Troy recognised the slightest start of decay on her
otherwise perfect teeth. He made a note to talk Randy about this. Perhaps in
their busyness, her parents had not realised her oral hygiene was not what it
should be. He looked back to the cloth in obvious awe.
“You are clearly very talented,”
he said, “Very talented,” he repeated.
“I did the woodwork,” Rex piped
up. Again, Troy was taken aback by the craftsmanship. He didn’t know much about
woodwork but he sure as hell understood the painstaking effort it must have
taken the lad to create the intricate designs.
“Wow, you kids. . .” Troy could
think of nothing else to say. He looked around the room and saw various framed
cross stitch samples of various qualities. Suddenly, he got it: these were
little projects they must have worked on when they were younger. He got up to
have a better look. The frames that surrounded the less complex cross stitch
pieces were rustic and at least one of them was slightly wonky. Tears pricked
at the backs of his eyes. Hobbies! These children had hobbies, not like the
Neanderthals he taught who drooled over the latest (and most expensive) style
of trainers and tracksuits. What love and patience Randy and Cathy had shown to
their children. He would have to show his pupils when they returned in the
autumn. Taking out his mobile phone, he moved quickly from frame to frame
taking photos of the art works.
“What’s that?” Kate and Rex asked
at the same time. Troy shrugged and held it up for them to see.
“Oh I’ve heard of these,” said
Kate knowingly as Rex gaped. “You make calls with them.” She turned to Troy.
“There’s no reception here,” she informed him. “Daddy made sure of it.” She
sure had a pretty pout, Troy thought.
The door to the parlour opened
again and Cathy and Randy entered bearing bowls of food. Rex and Kate quickly
set the table and within minutes, Troy was surrounded by the whole family. They
all bowed their heads as Randy prayed. Overcome, Troy could only look from one
bowed head to the next—until he looked straight into Kate’s eyes.
The meal was probably the
simplest he had ever eaten: mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, boiled onions and
a small piece of stringy chicken washed down with ice cold milk. For dessert,
he had a large piece of the cake Cathy had been frosting earlier. He slept
better than he had ever slept before and as he nodded off, he recognised what
was so odd about the family’s parlour: it had no television.
Up early the next morning, the
house was eerily quiet. He looked out the bedroom window and saw the two
youngest children were tending to the rabbits which he hadn’t noticed before.
From far off, he saw Kate and Rex in the garden. There was the faintest smell
of fresh bread in the air so he made his way to the parlour again. He pushed
open the door and peeked in. Randy and Cathy were kneeling in front of the
opened window, praying fervently.
Troy hadn’t prayed for years and
suddenly became afraid that maybe he had forgotten how. The previous night, he
couldn’t even bow his head and close his eyes without gawking at everyone else.
He strained to listen. Other than the occasional “Dear Lord” or an approving
murmur from Cathy, he could not make out what they were saying. He was about to
turn and give up when he bumped straight into Kate who had been standing far
too close to him.
“What are you doing?” she asked,
trying to look over his shoulder.
He couldn’t just tell her he was
trying to eavesdrop on her parents’ conversation with God so he merely shrugged
helplessly.
“W-would you like to pray?” she
asked shyly. “With me?”
Before he could think it all
through, he took her outstretched hand and followed her outside. They walked
silently yet amicably through a field and into a shallow wood. She led him to
the side of a shallow stream. Above them was a canopy of green leaves and above
that the brilliant blue of the sky.
“This is my special place,” Kate
informed him. “I only come here when I have something important to ask.” She
looked at Troy in total solemnness and he involuntarily shivered.
Without another word, she leaned
forward and pressed her lips against his as she threw her arms around his neck.
He could feel the nubs of her breasts pushing awkwardly against his own chest.
For a moment, he was so startled that he opened his mouth to receive her tongue
and then he remembered he wasn’t kissing her mother. He untangled himself from
her—which was quite a task as she kept trying to put her arms around his neck
again. Stepping back away from her, he tripped over a fallen branch and they
both fell into the stream. For once in his life, he wished the water had been
colder. Instead it had been warmed by the summer sun. She quickly straddled
him, surprisingly strong for someone who probably sat around embroidering all
day.
“I’m not so innocent,” she said
boldly. “I’ve been this far before.”
“Please—“ he said, taking her
wrists. Wasn’t this the reason he came out to visit his old friend? To see what
kind of trouble he could cause? “Cathy--” he tried to explain. Her mother’s
name was out of his mouth before he remembered what year it was.
As suddenly as it happened, it stopped. Kate
glared, pushing herself away from him as if he had developed a very bad odour.
She stood up, brushed herself off and turned away. Unlike him, she was dry at
the back as only her knees had made contact with the water.
He sat up and watched her huff
off, guilt and regret throbbing through him. Lifting himself from the shallow
waters, he sat on the side of the stream and put his head in his hands,
surveying the damage that had been caused.
OK, he thought, that was probably
not her first encounter with a man. He wondered who had been her first contact.
Some local farmboy? He doubted it. He had no way of knowing for sure but he was
fairly certain a young girl so bold could not be a virgin.
Disgusted with himself, he let
the tears fall down his face without stopping them. The self-loathing pulsated
through him. What the hell was the matter with him? Did he have to ruin
everything? Something good and pure comes along and he just has to go and spoil
it.
Like Valerie.
Oh God, Valerie. The thought of
her was as appealing as rolling around naked in a field of nettles. Her sweet,
innocent face beamed in his memories and then the other thoughts of her pushed
against the door of his conscious recollections.
No! His mind shouted at the
memories. Do not enter!
He did not want to think of
Valerie. Instead he washed his face in stream and then made his way back to his
friend’s house.
There was much good natured
teasing when he arrived. He regaled the family with the tale of how he slipped
into the stream and got his behind wet and stained with mud. There were
pancakes for breakfast but he didn’t feel hungry. What he wanted was a drink.
After breakfast, Randy announced
that he needed to go into town for some supplies. He waved a short list aloft
as if to prove it. He asked if Troy would like to come along. Thinking there
might be a pub, Troy agreed.
“Can we come too?” Kate asked
sweetly, not looking at Troy.
“Me too?” asked Rex.
“I tell you,” said Randy as he
drove, “The biggest mistake I ever made in my life was taking these kids to
town when they were little. Used to go in every Saturday for supplies. Spoiled
them. Opened their eyes to the materialistic world of consumerism. Now the
younger ones—I won’t make that mistake again.”
Troy nodded, still thinking of
his pint and how he might be able to sneak off on his own. Behind him, Kate and
Rex whispered.
Randy parked the car and got out,
stretching himself. It had been a long ride.
“I’m going in there,” he said,
pointing to a huge warehouse. “I think I’ll be no more than an hour. Why don’t
we meet then? You have a look at the town.”
“OK, I just, ah, have a few
letters to post and maybe there will be an internet café nearby.” Troy’s mouth
watered at the thought of a pint.
“Oh we’d better show you where it
is,” said Rex craftily.
“No, why don’t you kids come with
me,” Randy looked sternly at the children.
“We should just let him keep his
own company,” mumbled Kate.
“He might get lost,” Rex argued.
Troy didn’t know what to say. He
didn’t want to insult anyone by saying he wanted to be on his own. He certainly
didn’t dare say he was heading to the nearest watering hole.
“No, you come with me,” Randy
said firmly.
Troy heaved a quiet sigh of
relief, bid goodbye and went off to search for a much needed drink.
He was just seeing the bottom of
his third pint when the barman nodded towards the window. Troy turned and saw
the faces of Rex and Kate peering through the window. He smiled, shrugged and
finished off his pint. Running his hand through his hair, he set the glass down
on the bar and bid bon chance.
“Dad’s just paying up,” said Rex,
throwing a disapproving look at the pub.
“I knew exactly where to look for
you,” Kate said with disgust.
Troy stifled a smile. She looked
so much like her mother when she got on her moral high horse.
Valerie, a voice whispered. Not even half crocked, he couldn’t
escape her memory.
“So what’s school like?” Rex
asked at the dinner table. After a nap and a shower, Troy was feeling better
about things. After all, he had done nothing to lead the girl on, nothing like
it had been with Valerie.
“School? You mean where I live?”
He rubbed his forehead as if trying to erase an old memory.
“No," the last insisted. "I mean school. We don’t go.”
Randy and Cathy exchanged
familiar glances. Even Troy could recognise a past family argument.
“Our children are home educated,”
Cathy said proudly. “We’ve taught them everything they know.”
Beneath the table, Kate kicked
Troy hard enough to make him wince. He delivered what he hoped was a withering
glance in her direction.
“Well, there are a lot of kids in
one classroom. Kids your age would move to a different classroom and a
different teacher for each lesson. Food is mass prepared and served by grumpy
dinner ladies, kids are bullied without mercy and most kids your age would give
their right arms to learn how to do embroidery or woodworking.”
“Sounds great,” Rex mumbled.
Cathy gasped suddenly and closed
her eyes. For a moment, Troy thought it
was from the shock of what Rex had said. Then he remembered the baby.
“Kate,” Randy said softly as he
kept tender eyes on Cathy, “See your mother to her bed.”
Kate glanced sharply at her
father, then locked eyes with Troy. There was a hint of pride and a small touch
of yearning but more than anything, Troy felt she was saying goodbye. She stood
to help her mother.
Cathy composed herself. “Do
pardon me,” she said to Troy in a tone that was over polite yet contained not a
shred of embarrassment. “I thought I could hold out for awhile longer. You guys
finish your dinner and I’ll go lie down.” With that, she excused herself and
left with Kate.
“Ambulance?” Troy asked Randy.
“What’s that?” asked Rex.
With a confidence that profoundly
moved him, Randy said: “Kate will know what to do.”
Troy tossed and turned in bed,
listening for any signs of Cathy’s labour. He could hear none.
He thought of her as a young
girl, no older than Kate. Laughing, crying in pleasure. Playful, angry and then
her face morphed into Valerie’s. The memory of her walked into his
consciousness as if it lived there all year ‘round.
As a student teacher, Valerie had
been hopeless from the start. It didn’t help that she had a strong French accent
that the kids mimicked relentlessly. Nor did it help that she had disclosed her
dearest betrothed was a meathead Italian called Massimo whose picture adorned
her desk.
“Oooooooo Massimo!” the kids
would call out. Valerie was awful with names, her Gallic vowels valiantly
struggling not to sound guttural. She frequently burst into tears of
frustration or bouts of homesickness. The older women in the school took great
pity on her but it did little to change the fact that she didn’t have a chance
of qualifying.
Troy took her out for drinks.
Once. He was supposed to do her final observation the next morning and knew
that it was his final chance. He advised her to give it up before the
inevitable failure. She wouldn’t . . .because of Massimo. As it turned out,
Massimo was a teacher too. They were going to get married and she needed a
teaching job so she could afford to help pay for the wedding and for the
futures of the children they were going to have together.
Good God, Troy had thought, there
were easier ways to earn a living.
So he bought her whiskey shots
and listened to her hair brained plans, her love for Massimo and her longing to
be back in Europe where she wasn’t a foreigner but a member of the European
Union. And when he said the best way to cure homesickness would be to pretend he was Massimo, she had drunkenly agreed.
Perhaps it was because she was so
inebriated that he watched her face so closely. Her pleasure and eagerness to
please him made the ruse painful. And when she opened her eyes to see his
disappointing face, the self-loathing was so apparent that for the first time
in his life he really believed he had committed a sin so wretched that God
would never forgive him.
She was, of course, sorrowfully hung-over
the next day. Her bleary eyes kept darting—or perhaps rolling—towards the photo
of Massimo on her desk even though she had turned it face down in her shame.
Troy threw the covers off and
swung his legs over the side of the bed. He launched himself over to the
dresser so he could see his reflection in the mirror above it and look himself
in the eyes.
It is difficult to hate one’s
self. You want to be angry at yourself but it is you who looks through the
world with your eyes and feels and perceives the way you want things to be.
Troy didn’t have a clue if Valerie had married her Massimo or if she managed to
qualify somewhere else. But he understood the contempt in which he held himself
was only a fraction of the contempt Valerie held for herself.
He would not disturb Valerie’s
reconciliation with the past as he had done with Cathy. He wouldn’t think of
wrecking Massimo’s summer. Troy would take leave of these good people, Randy
and Cathy and the children, as soon as manners would allow but he would move
forward with his life and not look back if he could help it.
