Looking out, p.19
Looking Out, page 19
‘And on mine,’ Vanessa said.
Soon Jesse had a pile of phones in front of him.
‘Seriously, can’t you people just share a photo?’ Willow said, rolling her eyes. ‘There are these things called smartphones and you just …’
‘Willow,’ Mitchell said in a warning tone. ‘You’re lucky it’s your birthday.’
‘Okay, everyone, we’re singing happy birthday to me, but you’re going to have to be quick,’ Willow said.
A sped-up rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung and then Willow said, ‘One, two, three …’ And waved the card Jesse had given her across the top of the cake, extinguishing the thirteen candles, which were close to running out of wax and wick. She stood back with her hands outstretched in triumph. Everyone cheered and hollered, and a few sharp whistles rang out.
‘Make a wish,’ one of Willow’s friends called.
‘But don’t touch the bottom, else it won’t come true,’ Lara said. ‘Right, Dad?’
‘That’s right, kiddo,’ Mitchell said.
There seemed to be a collective holding of breath and reverence as Willow carefully put the knife into the cake and pushed it down. And then, still holding onto the knife, she spoke.
‘Can I please just say, thank you all for being here,’ Willow said, taking Natasha by surprise. ‘It means a lot to have you with me here especially after the last few years. Please let us not take being together in person for granted ever again. Okay?’
‘Very well said, Willow,’ Mitchell said.
‘Yes,’ Natasha said, her voice a croak as a rush of emotion hit her. What an awesome kid. And she’s my kid. She watched as Mitchell cut slices and Willow passed them around. Only when everyone was seated again and had a plate, including herself, did Willow sit down.
‘Best birthday ever,’ she said, grinning. ‘No, correction, best day ever. Thanks again, all of you,’ she added, and let out a long sigh as she picked up her fork.
‘That’s one really special kid you’ve got there,’ Anastasia said quietly beside Natasha after giving her shoulder an affectionate nudge.
‘Yep,’ Natasha said.
Gradually the day wound down and tired and happy kids and weary adults bundled themselves into cars. Jesse stayed to help clear the detritus into the house.
Finally, with Mitchell and the girls relaxing inside, Natasha walked Jesse out to his car, which was parked partway down the long driveway. Her legs vibrated with a mix of excitement, fear and unease. She wasn’t sure what to expect – told herself to expect nothing. Jesse seemed to run a little bit hot and cold. Maybe she did too. It was a strange situation they were in, so perhaps not surprising. They strolled side by side down the driveway, their hands brushing against each other, causing a spasm to go up her arm when they did. She wondered if Jesse was experiencing the same, if he wanted to hold her hand but was respecting her family back in the house – or something – who may or may not be looking out the window.
He leant against his ute and drew her to him. Natasha sank into his chest with an audible sigh, the exhaustion of the day catching up.
‘I’ve missed this,’ she murmured into his chest.
‘Me too, babe,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit distant.’
Natasha experienced the feeling that all was right in her world again and she’d been silly to doubt his affection for her. ‘No worries. I understand.’
Though she didn’t really. She waited for an explanation. Nothing came.
‘We’re good, aren’t we?’ he instead said.
‘Of course.’
‘Great. Cool. Well, I’d better get going.’ He pecked her on the cheek. And then he stepped around her, opened his car door and got inside. He turned the car on and, with a wave of his hand, pulled away.
Natasha tried to analyse how she felt. Had he really just pecked her on the cheek like they were only platonic friends? She realised she was disappointed. But then remembered it made sense, given they were right outside her house, with Mitchell and the girls inside.
‘Thanks again for a great party, Mum and Dad,’ Willow said when Natasha entered the kitchen where her family was sitting around the bench.
‘You’re welcome, sweetie,’ Natasha said, ruffling her hair, careful to be quick and move on before her eldest child remembered she was now at the age where she shrugged off parental affection.
‘And me, don’t forget,’ Lara said.
‘Thanks to all your hard work, too, little sister,’ Willow said.
‘Why thank you, big sister-slash-birthday girl. Yes, it really was the best day ever, if I do say so myself,’ Lara said. ‘Can I do the same for my birthday? Um, unless I change my mind before then and want to do something else?’ Their youngest had always been prone to hedging her bets. ‘So, Jesse seems nice,’ she continued, having returned to her colouring book.
‘Yes. Totally. He gives cool gifts too,’ Willow said.
‘Cup of tea?’ Mitchell said.
Natasha was surprised and a little dismayed to find herself disappointed. She’d been hoping for Mitchell’s approval of Jesse. Utterly ridiculous, she told herself.
‘Thanks, but actually, I’m just going to chill in my room for a bit. See if any important emails have come in,’ she said.
‘Good idea. I’m going to see if my muse is with me,’ Willow said, getting up.
‘You’ve had a big day, Willow,’ Mitchell said, ‘don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Nor you, Lara,’ he warned, as their youngest daughter also stood.
‘All good, parents, we creative geniuses know that sometimes the best work comes from a tired and relaxed brain,’ Willow said.
‘Okay. Fair enough. Who am I to argue with a creative genius?’ Mitchell said.
‘I’m not sure we’re at genius level yet,’ Lara said sagely, ‘but we’ll get there.’
Natasha almost laughed aloud at the unspoken with my help that hung in the air behind the girls as they left the room. She and Mitchell exchanged raised eyebrows and grins.
Natasha wanted to say, Don’t you dare discourage her – the paintings are a hit, and the shop can do with the sales. But it wasn’t really okay to exploit one’s only-just-turned-thirteen-year-old, despite her discussion over lunch with Jeremy. There were probably some industrial relations laws against chaining them to a desk, even if it was in the pursuit of a passion for the arts.
Chapter Twenty-six
The week following Willow’s party had passed in a bit of a blur for Natasha. It had included seeing her GP about the mole Jesse had pointed out, which the doctor had agreed looked iffy. She had surprised Natasha by cutting it out right then and there. No visit to a specialist was needed, but Natasha would have to come back in a week or two for the pathology results. She was scared about what was to come, but also relieved she wouldn’t have to wait too long for answers.
Having received a text from Jesse inviting her for dinner and to stay the night, Natasha listened carefully and followed the instructions from the Audi’s inbuilt satellite navigation system. She shuddered at hearing little pinging sounds as she turned onto the dirt road and tiny stones hit the underneath of her car and its side panels, most likely ruining her paintwork. She held her breath as a car coming the other way roared past in a cloud of dust, which left her visibility distorted for a moment.
She was surprised to see a for-sale sign with a sold sticker across it beside the white timber fence outside Jesse’s house. Turning into the driveway, she slowly made her way along a corrugated road, barely more than a track, cringing in sympathy for her poor car as she did. She tried not to judge what she was seeing. After all, this home was a rental. It could be in no way an indication to Jesse’s way of living. As she pulled up in front of the 1960s double-fronted brick house, Jesse stepped out from behind a screen door onto a green-painted concrete porch. He wore a black apron tied at the waist and was wiping his hands on a tea towel, which he then tossed over his left shoulder. Cute, Natasha thought, smiling, as she got out.
She got her bag out of the boot, feeling like a ridiculously shy kid arriving for her first sleepover at a new friend’s home. She could feel her resolve crumbling. A part of her wanted to leave the bag in the car and decide later if she’d actually stay. But how would it look to Jesse if she came across as indecisive now? And to Mitchell, too, if she returned home? She knew she shouldn’t care what they thought, but she did.
‘Hello,’ she said, walking towards him on legs that were a little weak after the corrugations. That’s what she told herself it was, and nothing to do with the nerves flowing through her. Though only because this was new and unknown, she reminded herself. She wondered if she might have got back in the car and left if he hadn’t been bounding down the steps towards her. The thought shocked her.
‘You found me okay, then?’ he said, accepting the bottle of wine she held out a little bashfully, before wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground and kissing her on the mouth.
The tension inside Natasha began to melt away. ‘Oh, yes, though I probably wouldn’t have without the satnav,’ she said with a laugh. She’d tried for casual but it had come out a little strangled, due to her being so tightly wound in Jesse’s arms. She wondered if he could feel her heart beating wildly against his chest.
‘Ah, of course,’ he said, gently placing her back down on the ground.
‘I see the place has been sold,’ she said, turning slightly towards the sign and indicating with her head.
‘Yes,’ he said, holding open an ornate wrought-iron screen door for her to enter first. ‘Major pain in the arse. I have to be out by the end of the week, and I haven’t found anywhere yet. Bloody rental crisis.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t suppose you know of anywhere?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. Mitchell and I do have an investment property but I’m sure it’s already occupied. You didn’t have to have me over if you’re feeling stressed,’ Natasha said. A slight relief overcame her; from what, she wasn’t quite sure. But it made sense that the strain of finding a home might make Jesse a little moody on occasion. She knew how stressful moving house was. Last time, she’d had Mitchell in charge of things – wonderfully organised, methodical, spreadsheet-loving Mitchell – and hadn’t had all that much to do with the process. Jesse, by all indications, was alone. She wondered if he had mates to help, but didn’t want to ask.
‘Right. Welcome. It came fully furnished, so don’t judge me,’ he said with a laugh.
Natasha smiled, taking in the expanse of wall-to-wall mottled brown and cream carpet on which she stood. She raised her eyes and took in the lounge room – the large flat-screen TV on the wall, bulging black leather couch with two matching armchairs, and a midcentury-style timber sideboard.
‘Cute. Not me, but probably worth a small fortune now,’ she said, nodding at the light fixture on the ceiling with its chrome arms and lemon enamel highlights.
‘It’s not my taste, either, but I don’t mind it, except for it being a bit sparse. I reckon they could do with your expertise,’ he added, touching her arm.
‘The house probably has good bones,’ she said, feeling the need to say something positive. She’d have the whole exterior rendered, if it was hers. She’d never been a fan of the pale and creamy brick tones.
‘Quick tour. Bedroom this way,’ he said, leading Natasha by the hand down the hall, carrying her overnight bag as they went. ‘Bathroom there, toilet there.’ He pointed to doors. ‘Bedroom.’ He stepped into a room and flicked on the light. He placed Natasha’s bag on the floor below the window.
Natasha stood taking in his bedroom. The navy and white striped quilt cover shouted bachelor pad. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. It was very tidy and clean.
‘Feeling okay?’ Jesse said, clasping both her arms suddenly and looking into her eyes.
‘All good,’ Natasha said, nodding, though she wanted to laugh and say, Well, I was until you looked at me like that. She longed to break the tension, which for all she knew she was creating – or was it only inside her? Jesse seemed fine. At home even, she thought, a bubble of laughter rising up again. Stop it, she told herself firmly. You’re being hysterical. Her whole being buzzed with energy. She’d never been a runner, rarely even walked much these days, but now she had the urge to sprint; run whatever this feeling was off, get herself to calm down. Damn it. She was at risk of ruining the evening.
‘Come on, dinner’s almost ready,’ Jesse said. He led her to the kitchen.
‘Something smells good,’ Natasha said, as Jesse lifted the lid on the pot on top of the stove.
‘Slow-cooked Asian pork, rice and greens,’ he said. ‘I hope that works for you. It’s a little spicy. I probably should have asked your level of tolerance first. Sorry about that.’
‘I’ll be fine. It sounds amazing,’ she said, settling herself on a stool at the lime green bench. The kitchen comprised dark brown faux-timber Laminex and a splashback of chocolate brown and cream square tiles with a circular pattern made up of radiating capsule-type shapes. Tidy but dated.
‘Wine?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thanks. Try the one I brought. It’s a shiraz, so should go well with your pork.’
Jesse rinsed rice in a plastic container at the sink and then put the lid on, placed it into the microwave and set it going.
‘Thanks again for telling me about the mole,’ Natasha said, for something to say, the tightness of the small wound as she moved reminding her of its presence.
‘Oh, yeah, how did it go?’ he said, turning around.
‘They cut it out. I’m still waiting for the pathology results. Hopefully they’ll come back okay. It’s a bit sore though,’ she said, touching the padded cover. ‘I’m a bit stressed about it, to be honest.’
‘That’s pretty normal – to be a bit stressed about it, that is. I’m a bit stressed myself, what with the housing situation. No point worrying until you need to, though. Deal with things as they come, right? It doesn’t help.’ He seemed a little awkward. And then he’d taken two steps to the bench and was leaning over it and holding both of her hands in his and looking into her eyes, his gaze gentler this time.
‘Hang on,’ she said. She got up and went around the bench, opening her arms to him. She tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his. They drank each other in and were soon kissing heavily, mouths open, tongues probing.
Gradually they eased away, letting out groans of frustration.
‘I needed that,’ Jesse said, smiling at Natasha.
‘Me too.’
‘We’re being weird, aren’t we?’ he said, frowning, still looking into her eyes.
‘A little bit,’ she said, smiling. ‘To be expected. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind.’ And we barely know each other.
‘I’m pretty keen on you, Natasha, that I do know. Would it scare you if I used the L word?’
‘A bit.’
‘Well, sorry about that, because I do. I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ Natasha said, and instantly cursed herself for letting her guard down and allowing the words to slip out. Too soon, too soon. Damn it. And then her groin started up its humming.
‘All good, then,’ he said, dragging her to him and holding her tight.
‘Just be careful there – my back,’ she said.
‘Yes. Sorry,’ he muttered, loosening his grip. ‘Oh dear, you’ve got me all hot and bothered now.’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Natasha nodded in response, then he clasped her hand and led her back down the hall.
‘Is dinner okay?’ she muttered, as they silently and swiftly got undressed.
‘It’s fine,’ Jesse murmured into her mouth, lips already locked on hers again. ‘You’d better be on top because of your back,’ he said, lying down and gently pulling Natasha onto him.
On top was not Natasha’s favourite position, and she found herself ever so briefly thinking about sex with Mitchell. To say they’d never had what one might call an adventurous sex life was the understatement of the century, even back in the day of them having one at all. Always missionary, always him on top. She’d once suggested they try blindfolds and he’d said, Just close your eyes, darling. She almost giggled at the memory, before returning her attention to Jesse and the here and now.
Jesse’s and Natasha’s joint orgasm seemed to coincide with the microwave beeping in the kitchen, signalling the rice had finished.
‘Oops, that’ll be dinner,’ Jesse said, grinning. ‘As much as I want to revel in you, we’ll have to leave having more of this for later.’ He kissed her on the nose, got up and put on a white terry towelling bathrobe from a hook behind the door, then handed her a second one. ‘Stay like that. It’s just us.’
Natasha was feeling much more relaxed, glad to have used up some of her excess energy, when she returned to the kitchen after using the toilet and washing her hands.
‘So, the new owners don’t want a tenant, then?’ she said.
‘No. I asked the real estate agent. Sounded like they’re moving in themselves – most likely after a full renovation, I’m guessing. I would. But, really, no idea. Not my concern.’
After dinner they sat in the lounge together chatting and finishing the wine before going to bed early. They made love again and then snuggled until finally falling asleep.
Natasha tossed and turned in the unfamiliar space and was wide awake well before the first birds signalled the new morning.
They had a quick breakfast of cereal from a packet and instant coffee, then parted, suddenly slightly awkward again. They drove away from the property together. At the entrance to the driveway, Jesse went left, waving out the window as he did, while Natasha turned right as per the satnav woman’s instructions. As she drove, she wondered where Jesse was off to – he hadn’t said – and wished he’d be more open with her. She really hoped he was just quiet or didn’t think she’d be interested in his work, or perhaps it was that he simply wasn’t used to having anyone to share news with. Still, it was early days for them, and the sex was lovely and fun. Her mind turned towards his living situation. She really wanted to help him – was that possible?
