Stella Makes Good (5 page)

My heart was pounding and the phone in my hand was shaking. But I had to be sensible. I liked Mike, a lot, but he was a complication I didn’t need right now. So, as much as my body hated me, I gave him a vague response, thanked him for dropping me home the previous night and wished him a good weekend.

‘You can’t avoid me forever,’ he said as I went to hang up.

‘I can try.’

Mike laughed. ‘That’s not going to work. You’re already hooked.’

‘So am not.’

‘So are.’

I hung up smiling. I was so hooked, it was ridiculous.

•

Terry phoned later that evening. The kids were happily tapping on their computers—Facebook, MSN, downloading music and no doubt participating in other activities I’d banned them from doing—and I’d just poured myself a glass of cold pinot grigio and was settling in to watch
Pride and Prejudice
, the version with Colin Firth as a buff Mr Darcy.

‘We need to talk,’ Terry said.

Sounded ominous. Why oh why had I answered the phone? It was Friday night. I’d been enjoying myself.

‘What about?’ I asked.

‘Mum.’

I sat up. ‘June? What’s the matter? I saw her this afternoon. She’s fine.’

‘She seems to have a problem with Mandy.’

‘Back up. You’ve introduced them?’

‘Tonight. I turned up with Mandy to take Mum to dinner. It was a disaster.’

I looked at my watch. It was only just after eight. ‘Jeez, it must have been if you’re home already.’

‘Mum kept asking for you. Wouldn’t let up. I tried explaining but she wouldn’t listen. Just kept saying that it wasn’t the right way to treat my wife and that Dad would be very disappointed. I think it’s going beyond her normal forgetfulness, Stella. I’m worried about her. I knew something was up when I arrived. She wasn’t dressed for dinner, and she kept rabbiting on about the garden hedge, saying it needed trimming. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Trim the hedge for starters.’

Terry sighed.

‘How did Amanda react?’ I asked.

‘She was shocked, obviously, especially as Mum kept calling her a home wrecker and telling her I was old enough to be her father.’

‘That’s harsh. Her much older brother, sure, but father?’

‘It’s not funny. Mum was rude, Mandy’s in tears, and all of a sudden I’m very tired.’

‘Okay, well, I’m sorry for you but—’

‘Could you check in on her tomorrow?’

I could have said no, but given my feelings for June, I didn’t. ‘Sure.’

He sighed—again. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it. How are the kids?’

‘Good. Busy. You know what they’re like.’

‘I miss them.’

‘Want to talk to them?’

‘Maybe tomorrow.’

We hung up and I went back to watching Mr Darcy.

Specifically, that scene with Colin Firth carrying on in the lake with the wet shirt. It got me thinking about Mike. Well, fantasising, actually.

What would I do with him if he was in front of me . . . naked?

I’d be terrified . . . almost.

I figure I’d tie him up and have my way with him after I’d teased, kissed and probed my way about his body.

Bondage? Where had those thoughts sprung from? It wasn’t like me at all. I was normally so sensible. Obviously the sex party antics had affected me more than I wanted to admit.

I shook my head.

I had children . . . responsibilities. But the thought of Mike’s hands and lips caressing . . . Stop it, Stella!

Still, it made me wonder . . . why didn’t I just say yes to his invitation to meet up again?

esse was in the kitchen on Friday evening, preparing a prawn laksa and waiting for Steve to come home. Wine was chilling in the fridge, and Emmy and Ollie were occupied with the Xbox playing Kinect Adventures. She was looking forward to a nice family evening with the four of them enjoying dinner together and then watching a family movie like
Rango
or
Kung Fu Panda
. But whether that would happen or not largely depended on Steve’s mood. These days, any exchange between them had a nasty habit of quickly spiralling into an argument. She’d say something that Steve misinterpreted, or he’d say something that Jesse took the wrong way. There was always something upsetting him—the kids were too loud; the toothpaste wasn’t the right brand. She felt as if she was walking on eggshells and didn’t understand why.

Her mind jumped to her job at the library. She’d been thinking about asking for more hours. There was a full-time position coming up and she was seriously considering applying for it. But Steve didn’t like her working. He was much happier when she was at home all day. She’d done that when the twins were little, but she’d missed the library, missed her tiny slice of independence, being surrounded by books and interesting customers. After the twins had started school, she went back to working part-time.

Stella had got her current position at the library: two days a week, ten until two. Easy. Jesse loved working with Stella and Skyla—not that their rosters always coincided. And they were good to her, helping her out on bad days when she got stressed. And she did get stressed, especially when it was her turn at the customer enquiries desk. Why couldn’t people wait in line to be served? Instead, they clustered around the desk and coughed or said ‘Ahem’ to get her attention. She knew they were there; she wasn’t blind. Couldn’t they see she was already serving someone? The polite thing to do was to stand back, give the person in front of them space, and wait their turn. It wasn’t brain surgery. Then there were the patrons who asked long-winded questions and wouldn’t stop talking long enough for her to answer them. They just kept going on and on.

Jesse stirred the laksa. Yes, her job was sometimes stressful, but she was confident her issues could be ironed out, especially if she worked full-time. For starters, she’d have more time to complete all her duties.

She jumped when Steve walked into the kitchen. ‘Hello,’ she said, giving him a beaming smile. ‘I didn’t hear you drive in. Good day?’

‘Long.’ He kissed her on the cheek and peered over her shoulder into the pot on the stove. ‘Smells good.’

‘Prawn laksa. Drink?’ She walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘Petaluma, one of your favourites.’

While Steve went into the next room to greet the kids, Jesse poured two glasses. She took a small sip from her own, knowing she’d tip most of it down the sink later.

Steve came back in, picked up his glass and took a mouthful. ‘What’s new?’

He seemed relaxed and responsive, so Jesse jumped in. Now was as good a time as any to bring up what was on her mind.

‘Darling,’ she said, ‘there’s a full-time position coming up at the library.’

She waited for a response . . . Nothing.

‘I’m thinking about applying for it.’

He took a longer sip of wine and let her statement hang in the air before replying. ‘We’ve been through this before, Jess. Our family comes first. You can barely manage a part-time job. If anything, you should cut back your hours. The kids are your priority, or at least they should be. I have my doubts after last night.’

‘Emily and Ollie
are
my priority, always! You know that.’

‘So you say, but what about those afternoons when you’ve been held up at work?’

‘That was one afternoon, Steve. One! And Mum picked them up. The kids were none the wiser.’

‘But I was.’

Jesse could feel herself starting to twitch. She needed to turn some switches on and off, but Steve was watching, monitoring her behaviour as always. Her hand reached out sneakily, searching for a button to press.

‘It would be nice to have some extra cash coming in,’ she said.

She meant it, though she could never hope to match what Steve earned. Her job probably brought in a twentieth of what his did, reducing her to little more than a financial footnote. Money equalled power. Steve earned all the money therefore he had all the power. It played on her mind, especially these days. Whenever she asked him for extra money, say for new cushions, he always questioned it. It wasn’t that she didn’t have access to his money, she did, but it was assumed she would stick to a monthly budget. But at certain times of the year—like November and December, the Christmas shopping months—it was tough. In January, too, when she had to buy new school shoes, uniforms and so on. Steve had no idea how much everything cost. Jesse put as much as she could on lay-by, but she couldn’t lay-by shoes. The kids’ feet grew too quickly.

‘We have enough money,’ said Steve. ‘Is this about the new plates you bought last week?’

The kitchen plates—she’d forgotten about those. She’d been shopping at Coles and there’d been a homewares promotion just outside on mid-priced crockery. Jesse had spent sixty dollars on the plates, which were discounted from a hundred and ten, but Steve hadn’t been impressed.

‘It’s not about the plates, Steve, though if I was working more I wouldn’t have felt so guilty about buying them.’

‘You’re not making a sound argument. You did buy them, regardless.’

He stared at her, waiting for her to say something . . . to challenge him. But there was little point in continuing. He was a much better debater than Jesse was. She usually felt like an illiterate imbecile after one of their discussions.

Steve put an arm around her. ‘I know you like being at the library, it’s your escape. But with my job and the long hours I work, it’s not fair on the kids. Is it?’

At that moment, Emily bounded in yelling, ‘I beat him. I beat him again at
Stand-Up Rafting
. I can ride the rapids better than anyone in this house!’

‘Oh yeah?’ shouted Ollie, running in after her. ‘Well, I’m better at
Rallyball
than you.’

Just as quickly, they raced out again, Emily screaming ‘Are not!’

Jesse sighed. ‘You have a point.’

‘I know I do,’ said Steve triumphantly. ‘You barely have enough time for all of us as it is. I run a distant third here.’

‘That’s not true,’ Jesse said. ‘It’s just that there’s always something going on with the kids—homework, excursions, sport, music.’ She felt overwhelmed just listing their activities.

‘Exactly, so how could you manage a full-time job on top of everything else?’

Jesse gave up and turned back to the laksa. Sometimes she wondered if Steve was jealous of the time she spent with Emily and Oliver. She needed to work harder at getting the balance right so all three of them were happy ninety per cent of the time. But then where did that leave her? How did her personal satisfaction and happiness rate on the scale? Perhaps if she could work up the courage to attend one of those Secret Women’s Business meetings, she’d learn the secret to keeping everyone happy and satisfied, including herself.

‘At least you’re over that silly idea of having another baby,’ Steve said, draining his glass.

That took her by surprise. ‘Why do you say that?’

He shook his head. ‘You’re talking about a full-time job at the library?’

‘Oh, but I do want another baby. That hasn’t changed.’

‘Jesus! I’m sorry I brought it up. Make your mind up, Jesse. Do you want a full-time job or do you want another baby? You can’t do both! Besides which, you know we can’t afford another kid—not even with your minimal financial contribution. When’s dinner?’

Jesse stared at the pot, blinking back tears. She hadn’t added the green prawns yet. ‘Ten minutes.’

Steve put his empty glass down on the bench. ‘Right then. I’ll have a quick shower.’

Jesse stared as he walked out of the room. She did want another baby. She loved the twins to death and was serious about her library career, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want another child. But Steve wouldn’t hear of it.

‘You need to get your nervous habits under control before we can discuss having another child,’ he’d said on several occasions. That was when he wasn’t telling her they couldn’t afford it.

Jesse knew she was only nervous because she didn’t know what was up with him. She wouldn’t feel so anxious if he treated her better.

She’d had such high hopes for tonight and now they’d already had two disagreements in the space of twenty minutes. The weekend stretched ahead and she couldn’t bear the thought of more arguments. The tension and stress was too much; Steve was a footy fanatic but unfortunately the football season hadn’t started yet. The Australian Open had finished so there was no tennis to distract him. There would be motor racing and wrestling on Foxtel, but that wouldn’t interest him for long. She could always offer the usual massage and blow job to get him into a positive mood, but she was starting to resent performing these favours and getting nothing in return, not even a thank you.

Blinking away more tears, she told herself to get a grip. Steve had a busy schedule. She needed to back off. Be grateful for what she had, who she was, and what they had together as a couple and a family. She was just being greedy. Once Steve was out of the shower, everything would be fine. She just needed to relax.

Giving in to her urge, she opened and closed the fridge door three times and immediately felt the tension ease from her neck and shoulders as she counted down. Ten, nine, eight . . . She knew she shouldn’t do it but she always felt more in control afterwards.

‘What are you doing?’

She jumped. ‘Nothing,’ she answered quickly, knowing he’d caught her and wishing she could snatch back the last two minutes.

‘Bloody hell! I saw Ollie doing the same thing the other night. Are you taking him back to that psychiatrist?’

‘Shush, keep your voice down. Ollie’s doing fine. And he was seeing a psychologist!’

Jesse shook her head. Sometimes she almost hated Steve. She stared out the window to her car in the driveway. Sometimes she felt like getting in it and just driving away. People like Carly fantasised about fuck buddies, but when Jesse fantasised, it was about escaping. Grabbing her two kids from school one afternoon, leaving town and never looking back. They’d head north-west into the country, where they’d find a pretty cottage in a friendly town—somewhere with a white picket fence and a few acres. It would be sunny every day and they’d grow fruit trees and be happy. Just the three of them, away from the stress and hassle of city life. Jesse would make jam and bake cakes and biscuits for the local weekend market. Their lives would be idyllic.

‘So,’ said Steve, bringing her back to the present, ‘care to tell me about last night?’

‘Last night?’ she said, surprised. ‘With Carly and Stella?’

He reached for the wine bottle. ‘You seem to spend a lot of time with those two.’

‘Before last night I hadn’t been out with them in months. They’re good fun.’

‘Isn’t Stella getting a divorce? Do you really think she’s a good influence, especially given the way things are with you?’

Jesse bit her tongue. Good influence? How old was she? Twelve? ‘Are you saying Stella’s a bad influence because she’s separated? That’s ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculous? I’m ridiculous because I think you spend too much time with vacuous women who are out on the prowl? God knows what you got up to last night.’

Jesse counted backwards from ten before speaking. ‘I was home by ten o’clock. And you know exactly where I was for the two hours before. At the pub.’

‘So you say,’ and he stalked out of the room.

She took a deep breath, wanting to keep it together for the children’s sake. To buy herself a few minutes, she fussed about the kitchen, tidying up, washing dirty dishes, wiping down benches. Finally, she could procrastinate no longer.

As she went to get the bowls for dinner, she noticed her phone flashing to signal a new text message. It was from Carly:
Home alone Friday night, missing my eldest. Either of you keen on the movies tomorrow pm?
The message had obviously been sent to Stella as well.