Run to Me (13 page)

With that thought I see her march into my head. She’s
wearing that sexy lingerie, but this time she is lying down, waiting for me to
mount her. I laugh out loud at the way my dirty mind works.

‘What’s so funny?’ asks Matt from a couple of
metres across the road.

I’m still laughing. ‘Nothing, nothing,’ I say,
shaking my head.

‘Come on,’ he presses.

‘No, it’s nothing. I was just laughing at my own
thoughts.’

‘Were they dirty?’

‘Of course.’

‘Mrs Fox?’

‘Who else?’

‘I just hope she’s as good as you’ve imagined.’

Matt scoots off, pedalling fast round the next
corner. I take my time and think about what he said. Would she really give me a
go? The idea makes my stomach knot up.

When I get to the roundabout outside the Clement
Centre I realise Matt is waiting for me. He’s dumped his bike up onto the
pavement and is standing over it with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look hurt
but maybe he stacked it.

‘Did you fall off or something?’ I ask as I pull
up next to the kerb. ‘What’s up?’

He is staring off towards Robinson’s Café,
sizing up the people sitting just inside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. I
follow his gaze to the bright yellow catch phrases painted on the glass:
2-for-1 Mars Bars, meat pie & sauce only $2.50, Meal Deal - steak sandwich
with hot chips and drink – get it here! I’m just about to ask him what’s so
fantastic when my eyes focus on one of the people inside.

It’s
her.

I turn back to Matt and I swear my mouth is
hanging open. He shrugs and jerks his head towards her.

‘You going in there?’

I watch her eating, all alone, and start to
shake my head, but then I notice something in her face. She looks kind of fed
up, and a little bit sad. I wonder why. Matt is waiting for me to answer, even
though he doesn’t need to. We both know I’m going in.

I lift my bike up and carry it over to the
near-by lamppost. Matt hands me his lock. I lost mine a while ago so I usually
just risk it, or we tie the both together. But today it’s only me; I’d say Matt
is going to keep riding.

‘I’ll check you later, OK?’ he says, confirming
it.

‘Sure,’ I nod. ‘Thanks, mate.’

‘No worries,’ he says and takes off again.

Of course, by this time she’s seen me hanging
around outside. I give her a wave and head on in through the pale green door.
Her table is off to my left, pushed back into the corner. She is sitting on a
wooden bench, her bag lying next to her. There is no other chair. My eyes dart
around quickly, taking in the rest of the place, but I don’t recognise anyone
else. I walk over to her.

‘Hello Paul,’ she says, first.

‘Hey, Miss.’

‘Enjoying your holidays?’

Her eyes linger on my floppy hair, so I wrap it
back behind my ears.    

‘Yeah, sure. Are you?’

‘Yes. Thank you.’

There is an awkward pause. I can’t tell if she
is waiting for me to leave, or to speak. I keep my eyes on her face even though
I know her chest is heaving from her shirt.

‘Well, it was nice to…’

‘Can I sit?’ I ask, interrupting. I point at her
bag.

She hesitates. I shrug and look out the window,
trying to pretend I don’t care either way. She clears her throat, and I hear
her take a long, deep breath. Finally she nods gently and pulls the bag onto
her lap. While she’s got her head lowered I take a quick glance down her front.
It’s a bad idea because then I feel my blood really start pumping. 

I sit down, making sure our knees don’t touch.
That’s all I need; actual physical contact. I’d be sprouting a boner the size
of Mexico then.

‘So Paul,’ she says, smiling. ‘How are you going
with the English assignment?’

***

The lunchtime crowd starts to clear out as Paul
and I talk. I keep expecting someone to give us a funny look, but no one takes
any notice. I must not look too ‘teacher-like’ today. I don’t want to feed
Paul’s crush, yet I find myself oddly content with him being here. He’s been in
my thoughts a lot, and I’m curious to work out why he has me so intrigued.   

‘So have you been for a run today?’ he asks.

‘No, I haven’t. You?’

‘Nope. Was thinking about it though.’ He smiles.
‘We could go together.’

I try not to laugh. ‘I don’t think so, Paul.’

‘What?’ He shrugs. ‘We could. Who cares?’

‘Let’s just save that until training. School’s
back next week.’

He shrugs again. ‘OK.’

I busy myself finishing off the last of my
sandwich. His meat pie is long gone; all that’s left on the plate is two small
spots of tomato sauce. I know it isn’t right to spend time socially with the
students but what could I do? He ordered his pie with a simple nod to the
waitress; I hadn’t even noticed. Next thing it was delivered to him, piping
hot.

‘So where’d you work before?’ he asks, grinning
at me.

‘Madison High School.’

He nods. ‘Why’d you quit, or were you fired?’

I have to smile at his bluntness.

‘No, I quit. It just wasn’t the right place for
me.’

He is surprised now. ‘And you think Whateley School for nerds is any better?’

I laugh. ‘You’re not a nerd. I mean, as far as I
can tell.’

‘I’m the exception.’

‘Right,’ I say, still smiling. ‘Well, I’d had
enough of Madison. I went there myself and you really should never go back, as
they say.’

‘So you grew up here?’ he asks, surprised again.

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re still here?’

Again, I laugh. ‘It wasn’t always the plan, but
life takes you on unexpected paths.’

‘No offence, Miss. But why would you stay? I
can’t wait to get out of here.’

I take a sip of water, and shrug. ‘I met my
husband.’

‘Ohh.’

‘So where are you planning on going?’

He frowns. ‘When?’

‘When you “get out of here”’ I say, mimicking
him.

‘Who knows. As far as I can.’

I stop joking around and look at him carefully.
I’ve seen this expression on him before; when he mentioned his father.

‘Is it really that bad?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t want to end up like The
Chief.’

‘That’s as valid reason as any. I didn’t want to
turn out like my parents either.’

‘Mmm. I’ll leave. I know that much for sure.’

‘I used to think that.’

He gives me a fed-up look. ‘Don’t say that,
Miss. I don’t want to end up…’ He lets his voice trail off and then grins at me
sheepishly. ‘No offence.’

‘OK.’

We sit for a few minutes, staring out the
window, watching the people go by. I think about how much Jungilla has changed
in my lifetime.

‘I remember when this street ended at Market Square,’ I say, still pensive.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. It was a big deal when they decided to
extend it. There was a parade. Marshall sat up front, waving.’

‘Who?’

I smile at his innocence. ‘William Marshall. He
was Mayor for almost fifteen years. He got everyone interested in tourism,
opened the Resort on the lake. He’s responsible for Jungilla as you know it.
When I was a kid suburbs like Hoyton and Merford didn’t even exist. They were
farms.’

Paul lets out a loud, drawn out whistle and
starts laughing, hard.

‘What? What’s so funny?’ I ask, shocked.

‘Boy you
are
a teacher, Miss. That was a
lecture and a half there. We’re not actually in class right now, you know.’

I feel my cheeks start to blush, so I tilt my
head, pretending to wipe some crumbs from my jeans. I can’t believe he’s
embarrassed me. I feel about five inches tall.

‘Sorry, Miss,’ he says, backtracking. ‘I didn’t
mean to…I just thought it was funny…’

With my head bowed I see his foot start to tap,
quickly, against the table leg and I sense his whole body go stiff beside me.

‘Seriously, Miss. I didn’t mean to upset you. I
was joking. Seriously.’

I glance up. His face is flushed with
embarrassment, like mine. He shakes his head and tries to grin, but I can tell
he is struggling. I watch him closely, and my stomach twists. It’s cute; this bumbling
behaviour.    

‘So…Paul…’ I begin, and his eyes widen with
fear.

‘Yeah?’ he asks, slowly.

‘Have you thought more about what you want to do
when you finish school?’

He openly relaxes, letting out a small puff of
air. On his breath, I smell mince meat and, surprisingly, oregano. I smile and
lean my elbows on the table. This is better, I tell myself, get back to teacher-mode,
where it’s safe.

‘I’ve thought about it, but I still don’t have
an answer.’

‘Well, what interests you? Other than running.’

‘I don’t know. Nothing in particular.’ He stares
out the window, thinking. ‘I like joking around, having fun.’

‘I never would have guessed.’

We smile at each other.

‘Nice one, Miss.’

I scan my limited memories of Paul, trying to
pin-point some specific strength or talent. And then it hits me.

‘Did you ever think about acting? You were quite
good as Heathcliff.’

His lips start to curve into a smile, and he
chuckles under his breath. ‘Yeah, you know I did a few plays in primary school.
I’d forgotten about them. Little kid’s stuff, but it was fun.’

I smile. ‘Well there you go.’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t
done any of it for a while. I mean aren’t there classes or something I should
be doing?’

‘Sure. But there are always adult education
classes. It isn’t an absolute science. You don’t have to be a child prodigy.
Just sign yourself up and get into it, if it is something you’re keen on. It’s
never too late, Paul. Remember that.’

He flips his hair from his eyes. ‘I’d have to move
to Sydney, or Melbourne.’

‘Or London, or Paris, or L.A.’

‘
Really?
’

‘You said you wanted as far from Jungilla as
possible. You can’t get much further.’

‘Yeah,’ he says, the widest smile spreading
across his face. ‘Hey, thanks, Miss. I’ll think about it.’

In his excitement he moves his body towards me
and our knees bump under the tablecloth. My instinct is to shift away, but I am
paralysed, so I do nothing. I just sit there, letting our skins touch, feeling
the knot in my stomach, and the trembling in my thigh. He looks at me directly
in the eyes, and he isn’t blinking. I open my mouth to speak his name, to
caution him, but my voice is mute. He glances around slowly; behind him at the
waitresses milling at the cash register, outside at the family walking their
dog, at the few diners still eating, and then back to me. He shakes his head;
no one has noticed our awkwardness. I feel my pulse in my neck so I bring my
hand to rest there, as though that might conceal my guilt. I don’t want to give
myself away, to Paul or anyone else for that matter. I’m not even sure what
there is to give away; I just know that I can’t stop trembling.

After a moment Paul slides his hand down his
thigh and lets it hover there, as though waiting for the courage to caress me.
This brings me back and I finally move my leg away. He doesn’t look at me;
instead he stares at his plate.

‘Listen, Paul. I have to get going.’

‘OK,’ he says, still not looking up.

‘I’ll see you at school next week.’

‘Right. OK.’

‘It was nice talking to you today.’

With that he lifts his head and I realise his
eyes are brimming with child-like hope. It’s a slap in the face; this is a
seventeen-year-old boy. And I almost let him rest his hand on my thigh. What
could I have possibly been thinking?

***

After she’s gone I jump on my bike and cycle out
to the lake. I want to get as far away as I can and try and shake what happened
from my mind. I was almost there; my hand was almost on her leg, and I
hesitated. Damn.

I head along Patterson’s Way, past all the
factories where they make the hospital furniture and down Marshall’s Hill. I
realise now it must have been named after that Marshall bloke she was talking
about, but I’ve never heard of him. Jungilla’s been the same for as long as I
can remember. Boring as hell.

I don’t go to the lake much now. Not like when
Matt and I were kids and we’d spend all day at Simpson Point fishing and eating
hot chips. It was about as much excitement as we could muster back then. I
wouldn’t mind the lake if it wasn’t for all the yuppy tourists hanging around.
Sure, some of the women are hot, but who wants to stare at some ugly dude’s
hairy back? No thanks.