Run to Me (24 page)

But today there is no release. She keeps her
face on and moves over to the whiteboard. I slide into my seat and watch her
while everyone else talks about me leaving.

‘That’s enough,’ she says, a little strained.
‘We can all say our farewells to Paul later. For now I’ve got something special
planned. Something I’m sure you all thought you’d never see in this classroom
again.’

I smile. I know what this will be. She’d called
me Heathcliff, with a sly smile, when she’d left me, panting, at the gym
yesterday.

She holds up
Wuthering
Heights
and smiles broadly.

‘Who’s up for a little drama?’

‘I’ll do Catherine,’ screams Melanie, jumping
up.

‘Hang on. Perhaps one of the other girls would
like a go?’

Becky shrugs. ‘Let her do it, Miss. She loves it
so much.’

Melanie is beaming and it makes her look like a
clown. She walks over and stands in front of us.

‘Which part will I read?’ she asks.

‘I’d like a joint effort here and I don’t think
anyone will object to Paul reading Heathcliff. As a final hoorah to my class?’

She addresses this to me and I nod.

‘Sure. I’m in,’ I say, standing up.

‘Fabulous,’ she says, matching Melanie’s smile.

I walk up and stand beside her, making sure I’m
close enough so my arm brushes hers when I turn to face the class. She looks
down at her feet and smiles, a private one just for me.

‘OK. So we’re going to do Catherine and
Heathcliff’s final scene together. There is a lot of narration interspersed but
let’s just focus on their speeches, OK? Melanie, you start.’

Melanie flicks open her book and holds it
shoulder height out in front of her, so everyone can still see her face.

‘“I wish I could hold you till we were both
dead! I shouldn’t care what you suffered. I care nothing of your sufferings.
Why shouldn’t you suffer? I do!...”’

I lift my eyes off the page and drown out
Melanie’s voice. Abby is openly staring at me. I glance round but everyone is
watching Melanie, even Reggie who is chuckling to himself. I look back at Abby
and I wink. She smiles.

‘Paul, it’s your turn,’ says Sarah impatiently,
interrupting us.

I drop my eyes but I know Abby’s are still on
me.

‘“You know you lie to say I have killed you:
and, Catherine, you know that I could as soon forget you as my existence! Is it
not sufficient for your infernal selfishness, that while you are at peace I
shall writhe in the torments of hell?”’

‘“I’m not wishing you greater torment than I
have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted...”’

When Melanie says this I can’t help but look at
Abby. I know this is soppy romance, Mills and Boon type stuff really, but I
hear those words and I know in my gut that it’s true for me. I don’t want Abby
and I to ever part either. But we’re going to. Starting this afternoon when I
go register at TAFE.

I don’t bother following Melanie’s lines.
Instead I watch Abby, the way her hand is curled around her battered copy of
the book, the way wispy bits of her blonde hair have fallen down over her
cheek. I watch her chest rising and falling with every breath, the dimple that forms
when she lets herself smile at Melanie’s overblown dramatics. I watch the
sadness in her eyes when she looks up at me and I know she is thinking about me
leaving. Knowing I am different to everyone else in the class makes me feel
good. After this time together I can read her emotions as if they were written
in English as clear as day on her face.

Melanie stops and I know it’s me again. I take a
deep breath and clear my throat. Abby mentioned this reading a couple of times.
Even though it’s embarrassing I know it’s important to her so I want to do a
good job. I want to show her that I’m not really going anywhere.

‘“Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy?”’ I
turn my back to the class so it looks like I’m addressing Melanie. But I really
direct the whole speech to Abby. ‘”Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out
my kisses and tears: they’ll blight you – they’ll damn you. You loved me – then
what
right
had you to leave me? What right – answer me – for the poor
fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and
nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us,
you
, of
your own will, did it.”’ I pause to glance up. Melanie has her head in her
book, following the lines, oblivious. I look at Abby and her eyes seem wet, even
though I know she’d never let herself cry in class. I shove my hand deep into
my pocket to stop myself reaching out to her.

‘“I have not broken your heart”’ I say, getting
back into it. ‘”–
you
have broken it; and in breaking it, you have
broken mine. So much the worse for me, that I am strong. Do I want to live?
What kind of living will it be when you – oh, God! Would
you
like to
live with your soul in the grave?”’

***

I don’t want to cry over Paul, but I stupidly
let it all get on top of me. I dash out of the classroom as soon as the bell
rings, just so the students don’t catch me, and hide myself in the closest
ladies toilet. The tears come easily after the dryness of the last few days. I
flick the lock on the stall door and let my whole body shudder.

After a couple of minutes I hear the outside
door creak open and Paul whispering my name.

‘Abby?’ he says, coming in to stand directly in
front of my stall. I see his scuffed black shoes beneath the door.

‘You can’t be in here.’

‘Who cares?’

‘If anyone catches you...’

‘No worries,’ he says. His shoes leave and I
hear another lock click. ‘The door is locked. Come out.’

His shoes are back and he knocks gently on the
door.

I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.

‘This isn’t a good idea,’ I say. ‘You should
leave.’

‘I am leaving. Straight after school. That’s why
I need to see you now. Come on Ab.’

I yank some toilet paper from the roll and bat
my eyes. When I emerge from the stall he is waiting, leaning sexily against the
basin. He smiles at me and holds his arms out. I fall easily into his embrace.
He kisses the top of my head.

‘I told everyone that you must be sick,’ he
says, running his fingertips down the length of my arm. ‘Melanie thinks you’re
pregnant,’ he says with a chuckle.

I pull away from him and bury my face in my
hands. The tears are on me again, this time without warning. I try to shake
them off but it’s as though they are coming from some deep reservoir in the pit
of my stomach.

‘Abby?’ says Paul, reaching out to me. ‘Ab?’

I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I’d shed
the last of my tears over all that stuff.’

‘What stuff?’

I shake my head again.

‘Abby,’ he presses. ‘What stuff?’

I look up at him and he is all blurry. I wipe my
eyes then I dip my head over the basin and wash my face in the cool water. Paul
crosses his arms, and waits.

‘I can’t have a baby,’ I say, without looking at
him.

I expect some kind of reaction, probably bad,
but when I glance up his face is calm. For that I want to kiss him.

‘Luke and I...we tried. It’s not going to
happen.’

He nods, but still says nothing.

I let the words tumble out, to fill the silence.

‘All my life I’ve wanted children. Luke wanted
them too, at least I thought he did. We tried for a while. I lost one baby. But
then things got harder, and Luke didn’t want to try anymore. He just stopped
wanting it.’

A look of realisation passes across Paul’s face.

‘Is that why you started this with me?’

I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. It certainly
wasn’t a conscious decision. Things haven’t been right between us since we
stopped trying. I guess I’m angry at him and I don’t know how to change that.’

‘Having an affair might help.’

‘Don’t say that. You know it’s not like that.’

‘OK. Well look, whatever. I mean...it sounds
like you’ve got some shit to sort out with your husband.’

‘And you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Is there anything I need to sort out with you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Is this over now?’

He steps towards me and shake his head
vigorously.

‘Why would you say that?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just, all this stuff, my
marriage, the baby thing, it’s too much for you.’

‘Let me decide what’s too much for me.’

He crushes me into a bear hug and I press my
face into his chest. His heart beats on my eyelid.

‘Kids aren’t too bad.’

‘What?
’

‘I mean I’m in no rush or anything, but kids are
OK.’

I tip my head back to look into his eyes. There
isn’t a hint of terror in them.

‘Paul. You know that’s not why I...’

‘Yeah, yeah. I know. But it wouldn’t be so bad,
would it?’

‘You’re serious?’

He shrugs. ‘It’s not like you’re happy with
Luke.’

This is the first time I’ve heard him say Luke’s
name and it rings in my ears. I wanted to keep them separate and here we are,
my lover holding me, talking about my husband.

I shake my head. ‘You’re not even finished high
school.’

‘But I will be. There’s plenty of time.’

I can’t help but snort at this.

‘For you, maybe.’

He groans at this. ‘Come on, Abby. You’re not
over the hill yet, you know. We could still do a lot together.’

I step back. ‘OK, this is getting too weird.
Where is all this coming from? Yesterday you were desperate for me to blow you
in the gym toilets, today you’re talking about...what are you talking about?
Marriage? Babies?’

He holds his hands up in defence. ‘Hey, you
brought up the baby stuff, I’m just saying...this doesn’t have to end Abby.’

‘We’ve only been doing this for a month.’

‘Almost five weeks.’

I smile. ‘Well that’s totally different then,’ I
say sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes and groans again.

‘I’m sorry Paul, but I’ve got to play the
maturity card here. You’re not even eighteen yet, you don’t know what you want
out of life.’

‘I’m not an idiot. And I’m not a child.’

‘I know that.’

We stare at each other. I keep my mouth shut so
I don’t say something that will upset him. His face is harrowed now, not the
calm from before. I cross my arms and wait for him to speak. He glances at his
watch and then shakes his head.

‘Look, I have to go. Come here.’

He grabs me around the shoulders and crushes me
to him again. His hands come up to cup my face and then he leans in, slowly, to
kiss me. It’s a gentle kiss, one I know won’t lead anywhere. He doesn’t use his
tongue, and his lips brush mine so delicately I almost think I’m imagining it.
I open my eyes and take in every single detail of his face. The freckles that
dot his nose, the moon-shaped chicken pox scar on the edge of his left eyebrow,
the natural curl of his eyelashes that most women would kill for. I place my
hand flat over his heart and let his lips massage mine. In spite of all the
things he has just said, the kiss feels final. It feels like goodbye.

Nineteen

I wasn’t too far off when I said The Chief would
have me under house arrest. For two weeks I hardly set foot out the door unless
Mum is driving me to TAFE or I’m sitting through a boring science lesson with
the dropouts and expellees. I’m gagging to see Abby more than I can stand, even
though I’m not sure things are still on between us. I want them to be, but she
hasn’t tried to call me or anything. The few times I ring her place her old man
answers so I have to hang up quick. Matt tried talking to her for me but she
blew him off apparently. Not literally, but it’s just as bad. It feels like
something’s up, that’s for sure.

On Saturday, I finally get a moment to breathe.
Mum takes The Chief out for some lunch, or shopping, or whatever, and I’m out
the door two minutes after their car pulls away. I don’t care if he grounds me;
it can’t be any worse than it already is. I throw on my overcoat and pull the
hood down low. The seat on my bike is so cold it feels wet against my arse.
Even though the sun is out, I’m peddling so damn fast that the wind almost rips
my face apart, making it feel like twenty below zero.   

I slow down when I get to Stamford Street and
stop a few houses along - just in case he’s hanging around their front yard. He
doesn’t know who I am, but still I don’t want to make him suspicious. The house
is quiet though; I wonder if she is even home. I find a patch of sun and sit
down on the kerb, with my bike on the grass beside me. I watch the action on
the street: the old lady pulling weeds from the cracks in her paved driveway,
the kid shooting hoops all alone, the dude driving past with classical music
blaring. I stay like this for fifteen minutes; just watching, and waiting. A
couple of months back I would have smoked to pass the time, but I haven’t even
bought a pack since we first hooked up.

I think about marching up there and ringing her
doorbell. Would she let me in? I picture the look on her face - relief mixed
with joy - and I smile because it proves she’s been missing me too. I want to
see that face and feel her in my arms again. I want to run my fingers through
her hair, and touch her round arse. I want to tickle her and make her laugh.    

While I’m imagining all of this, she emerges
from her front door, wearing her running gear. She is all rugged up against the
cold; in a beanie and gloves. She stops for a moment, just outside the door,
and starts playing with her iPod. I stand up, to move towards her, but
something stops me. It’s not the right place, I know that. I consider riding
out of sight, but it doesn’t matter anyway; she heads down her driveway and
turns left, running in the opposite direction. I count to ten and then I’m off,
peddling after her.

I hang back and follow her to the park. I love
the way her body moves, when she’s running, or even when we’re having sex.
She’s like some kind of sea creature, wading through the water. That sounds
lame, but it’s the only way I can describe it. Maybe it’s something to do with
her hips, the way they tip from side to side. Or maybe it’s her hands; reaching
down to massage my chest as she comes. I don’t know, none of it seems to fit
together, but whatever it is, it’s hypnotic.

Once we’re clear of the streets and inside the
park, I speed up to draw alongside her. She is concentrating so much on her
stride that she doesn’t notice me straightaway, but when she does she jumps a
little.

‘Paul!’ she says, pulling up.

I smile and slam on my brakes, my back tire
screeching in the loose gravel.

‘Paul,’ she says again and then she’s falling
into my arms, and I’m kissing her head, and I’m smiling with relief.

‘Hi,’ I say, softly into her hair.

‘You’re here.’

‘Yes.’

She lifts her face to look at me. ‘I missed
you…but I wasn’t sure…I didn’t want to…’

‘Shh,’ I whisper, lowering my lips to hers.
‘It’s OK. I missed you too.’

‘Paul,’ she says, and she is crying now. ‘Take
me somewhere.’

‘Where?’

‘Anywhere.’

I dink her and we ride out to the Resort. I
don’t know why; I guess I figure I can break into one of the huts or something.
The place is bound to be deserted in this weather. I take all the back streets
so we don’t run into any cops and I peddle fast like my life depends on it. She
leans her head against my chest and I know my heart is beating fast in her ear.
I wasn’t sure how I’d react when I saw her again, but it got me.
She’s
got me. I’m well and truly gone; much more than I ever was with Amanda, or
anyone else.

‘The huts?’ she asks when we breeze through the
Resort gates.

‘Yeah. What do you think?’

‘Can we get in?’

‘Leave that to me.’

I pick the first hut, furthest away from the
clubhouse, and stash my bike under the stilted floor. She waits for me with her
arms crossed. The wind coming off the water makes her vest billow out, giving
her a rounded pot belly. I can’t wait to get my hands on her.

I know the locks on these huts are pretty weak;
Reggie bragged about bringing a girl or two here, just like I am with Abby. He
could have been bullshitting, but it’s the only idea I’ve got so I’m taking the
risk. I mount the stairs and try the door. It shifts a fraction with my weight
against it, but doesn’t pop open. I take a bit of a run up and slam my left
shoulder into it. Still nothing. It’ll have to be the windows then. There are
two, one on each side of the door. The fly screen comes out easily – all I have
to do is wriggle the bottom catch a little and it works itself free of the
plastic window frame. The window isn’t so straightforward, though. The lock is
definitely open, judging by the way the glass slides when I push, but someone
has put a piece of wooden dowel, shaped to fit snugly, into the groove of the
inner window frame. No matter how hard I push, the dowel won’t give, and I
can’t get the window open further than an inch.

I stamp my foot, and then turn to make sure Abby
isn’t watching me. She has moved down to the edge of the water, and is looking
out towards the horizon. Her beanie is in her hand, and the wind is blowing her
hair in every direction, like static electricity. I sense a boner about to
sprout. There’s got to be a way into this bloody hut.

I struggle with the fly screen on the second
window, cursing under my breath as I try to rip it off. It takes a few minutes
but eventually I’m there, placing both my palms on the glass and sliding it to
the left. In my head I’m saying ‘please, please’, and after an inch the window
keeps moving. Someone has forgotten the dowel in this one. I bite my tongue to
stop from cheering, and dive through the open window onto the carpet. Abby must
have been watching because when I open the door she is standing there, all
smiles and frizzy hair.

‘Your castle, madam,’ I say with a bow.

‘Why thank you, sir,’ she says, kicking the door
closed behind her. ‘Now take me to bed.’

***

The sheets are so starched they scratch at my skin
and the room smells of an overpowering perfume; one I know is not mine. 

‘I was desperate for this,’ he says as we
cuddle, afterwards. ‘I thought I was going to go mad if I didn’t see you soon.’

‘Me too. But I wasn’t sure you’d want to see
me.’

He leans over me, and he is frowning. His hair
is matted with sweat even though it is cold in the hut. I’m sure mine looks the
same.

‘What? Why wouldn’t I want to see you?’

‘Last time we saw each other…’

‘Yeah…’

‘It just felt like an ending.’

He leans in and kisses me gently. ‘I’m still
here.’

I nod and he lies back down, hugging me tighter,
and throwing one leg over my hip. When he moves, the cold air billows in
beneath the white sheet.

‘TAFE sucks,’ he groans.

‘Really?’

‘Yep. I don’t get to see you, the teachers are
stupid, Matt’s not there. It blows.’

‘How are your marks?’

‘The same.’

‘
Paul
…’ I begin.

‘Don’t do that. Don’t play the teacher now.
Look, I’m not an idiot, but school just doesn’t do it for me.’

‘You’re almost done.’

‘You can drop the almost.’

I shift my weight so I can turn and face him.
‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m finished. I’m not going back to TAFE.’

‘Where will you go instead?’

‘I won’t. That’s the point.’

I shake my head. ‘Paul, you have to finish high
school.’

‘Why?’

‘You need it to go to uni.’

‘I don’t want to go to uni.’

‘But you might someday.’

‘Then I’ll do something about it then. There are
other ways into university, you know. And anyway, who says I’m going to get in
if I do the exams now? My marks aren’t that great.’

‘Why aren’t they? Like you said, you’re not an
idiot.’

‘I just hate it. It’s not where I want to be.’

‘Where do you want to be?’

He smiles and pulls me to him, crushing my
breasts against his chest. He cups my face. ‘Here with you.’

I pull away. ‘That’s sweet, but you’ve got to
have a plan. You can’t make this kind of decision on a whim.’

He moans. ‘Aww, come
on
, Abby. Stop
treating me like a kid. This is my life. I’m old enough to do what I want. And
trust me, I’ve thought about this, a lot.’

I grab hold of his hand and kiss his palm. ‘I’m
sorry. I trust you. I just don’t want you to regret this later.’

‘I won’t. It’ll be ok. I’ve just got to get out,
and soon.’

‘What’s happened with your father?’

‘Nothing new, but I’ve had enough. I’m eighteen
in a few weeks, and then there’s nothing he can do about it.’

‘About you leaving home?’

‘Yeah. I’ll stick it out ‘til my birthday, then
I can crash at Matt’s for a while. His Mum’s cool. And Reggie said there’s a
job going here over the winter. Not sure what when the place is so dead, maybe
cleaning the boats, or doing the stock-take or something. Whatever. It’ll get
me some cash so I can find a flat.’

‘A flat? You’re staying in Jungilla?’

He laughs. ‘Sure. Where’d you think I was
going?’

‘But you hate Jungilla.’

‘True.’

‘Then, why?’

He shakes his head, and crosses his arms, and
gives me a kind of half-smile.

‘Paul?’ I ask, but he isn’t answering. He just
sits there, looking guiltier and guiltier by the second. I look him straight in
the eye, and the realisation starts to sink in.

‘No,’ I say, but Paul is nodding.

‘You’re here,’ he says simply.

I feel joy, and fear, all mixed in together. My
body starts to tremble, as it always does with him, but my brain is screaming
logic at me. I can’t let this boy change his life because of me. Not because of
me. It’s too much.

‘You can’t do that. Not for me, Paul.’

He frowns and grabs at the end of my hair. ‘Why
not? It’s
you
, Abby. I really…I really…’

‘But I’m married,’ I interrupt him.

‘And still you’re here with me.’

‘I know.’

‘Well, then maybe it’s not the right thing for
you. Maybe you should leave him.’

It hangs in the air between us; the thing that
no one else has said out loud to me. I think about the way it sounds. Leaving
Luke. Is that even a possibility? I mean, I know it is, but would I have the
guts to do it? I’m really not sure. 

 ‘Look,’ he says, taking hold of both my hands.
‘You said it before, a little while back, this is more than just…’ he nods
towards our soiled sheets. ‘I mean, I want us to keep this going, don’t you?’

I look at him and know what I should say, but my
heart is answering for me. ‘Yes.’

‘Then I’m not going anywhere.’

‘But Paul,’ I begin, because I can’t help
myself. ‘You can’t change your life…you want more than Jungilla. Don’t settle
just because I’m here. Go out and live your life. Trust me. You’ll regret it if
you stay.’

He pulls a face, and shakes his head. ‘Would you
ever leave?’

‘I did leave. And I
chose
to come back.
Allow yourself that same choice.’

‘Like you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s
gone?’

‘Yes. But I predict you won’t be wishing you
hadn’t gone.’

‘I know I’ll wish I’d never left you.’

My tears start up now, and we cuddle back down
onto the bed. He kisses my hair, and I let my hand roam down the length of his
torso. He moans when I take hold of him.

‘You’re trying to distract me.’

‘Is it working?’

‘You tell me.’

My hand is on his balls, and my lips are on his
nipple. I feel something hard brush against my finger.