Run to Me (17 page)

This is the first time he’s called me that and
it hits me like a bolt of lightning. My name on his lips is tinged with
intimacy, as though he were addressing me in bed. I thought it would feed my
desire but I don’t like the sound of it. He’s my student and with that one single
word he has crossed over the line into my personal life.

I pull my hand out from under his. ‘Paul this
is...we can’t...I’ve got to go...’

I move to step past him but he grips my
shoulder.

‘Abby. Wait.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Why?’

‘You know why. This is...my God this is...’

‘It’s what?’

I push his hand off me.

‘Wrong.’

‘So what?’

‘
So what
? This is the most irresponsible,
ridiculous thing I’ve ever...’

‘It’s not just you.’ He grabs my hand. ‘I like
you, Abby.’

‘Stop saying my name!’

‘Why? Because I should be calling you Mrs Fox?
Come on. I’m not a child you know and this...’

‘This
nothing
. We shouldn’t even be
standing here. Let go of my hand Paul.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

I try to yank my hand from his grasp.

‘Let go.’

In one swift movement he steps forward and pulls
me to him, crushing my body against his. He reaches up to cup my face but I
shake him away. He smiles at me and moves to do it again. I can smell his
deodorant, and when his hand touches my face I feel that tingling in my
stomach. I want to fight him off but every part of me is surrendering. He dips
his head and then his lips lightly brush mine. I close my eyes as the kiss grows
deeper.

Thirteen

I don’t stay at the hospital for long. I dump the
backpack on Bianca and tell Mum I’m off to Matt’s. She hardly even notices me;
she’s so intent on watching the door, hoping that The Chief will be wheeled
back through it. Bianca gives me a dirty look as I’m heading out the door. I
know she’s annoyed at me for bailing, but what am I supposed to do? Sit there
worrying about him? The Chief wouldn’t be wasting his time worrying about me if
I was the one in surgery, I know that for sure. I don’t owe him anything.
Besides, I’m bursting to tell Matt about Abby.

At Matt’s I leave my bike by the side gate and
let myself in the front door.

‘Matt?’

‘Out back mate.’

I follow his voice to the tiny room at the back
of the house. I reckon it was a cupboard once, that’s how bloody small it is.
But now it’s a study; if you can call a computer on a plain wooden bench ‘a
study’. Matt’s been doing his homework in here ever since we started high
school. I’d go mad. I don’t know how he hasn’t hung himself yet.

‘So how is he?’ Matt asks as we knock knuckles.

‘Broken leg. He’s in surgery right now.’

‘Shit. So it’s bad?’

‘I guess so. Well, no. The doctor said he’ll be
fine. He’s got to take it easy for a little while but other than that. Anyway,
listen. I’ve got something else to tell you.’

Matt raises his eyebrows. ‘Yeah? What?’

‘I need something to drink. You got Coke or
what?’

‘That’s it? That’s what you’ve got to tell me?’

‘No, doofus. I’m just dying of thirst here.’

We walk to the kitchen and I grab us a couple of
Coke’s from the fridge.

‘I ran into Abby on the way back to the
hospital.’

‘Since when do we call her
Abby
?’

‘Since now,’ I say. ‘I kissed her.’

Matt almost chokes on his Coke. ‘Hold up. You
did
what
?’

I shrug. ‘I kissed her.’

Matt stares at me and shakes his head. I know
what he is thinking. How is this possible?

‘I know. This is kind of out there. But it’s
done so...’

‘So...what?’

‘So nothing. It’s done. I kissed her.’

‘This is serious shit mate.’

‘I know.’

‘You kissed a fucking teacher.’

‘
I know
.’

Matt shakes his head again. He’s still shocked.

‘What was it like?’

‘The kiss?’

‘Yeah.’

I can’t keep the smile off my face. ‘It was
brilliant.’

Matt’s smiling right back at me. He knows I’ve
got it bad.

‘She kissed you back?’

I nod, still smiling.

Matt lets out a long, low whistle. ‘Fuck.’

‘I can’t get my head straight,’ I say. ‘I just
want to be over there giving it to her. You have no idea.’

‘I can guess.’

‘There’s no English tomorrow hey? I’ll have to
find her at morning break.’

‘Find her to do what?’ Matt says, frowning.

‘I have to see her. We were kissing then she
pulled away. She said
I can’t, Paul
. And she just left me standing
there. She walked away.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I don’t know. That’s why I’ve got to talk to
her. Fuck, Matt. She can’t push me away. It was too good.’

Matt nods, but says nothing. We sit there in
silence. I’m replaying the kiss in my mind; the way she gave in to it, the way
her tongue reached for mine. She wanted it. She was kissing me too.

‘You could give it a day,’ says Matt slowly. ‘See
how she is with you in class on Friday?’

‘But she’ll be doing the whole teacher bit.’

‘That’s because she’s our
teacher
.’

This pisses me off.

‘Hey. Are you with me on this or what?’ I say.

Matt holds up his hands in defence. ‘Righto,
righto. Sorry. Look, I don’t know what the best thing is mate. You’ll just have
to see how she reacts when she sees you.’

I sigh. ‘Do you think I’ve got a chance?’

Matt looks me directly in the eye. ‘I saw it in
her face today. When I told her about your dad. She was upset for you, I could
tell.’

‘But maybe that was just...’

‘No,’ says Matt, interrupting me. ‘I saw it.’

My heart beats a little bit faster now. I run my
fingers through my hair and stand up. It’s going to take everything I’ve got
not to go and find her. She said Stamford Street, right? But no. I can’t do it.
Her husband will probably be there.

‘Where are you going?’ asks Matt.

‘Don’t worry, not there. Better get back to the
hospital I guess.’

Matt nods. ‘Want me to come?’

***

By the time Luke gets home I’ve already polished
off half a bottle of wine. I replay the image of Paul’s lips on mine over and
over. And every time I do I take a mouthful. I’m pouring my fourth glass when I
hear his key in the front door. He’s struggling with the lock, which usually
means he’s on the phone or preoccupied in some way. I consider going to help
him but just as I make a move the door flies open and hits the wall with a loud
thud. Great. Another chip in the paint.

Luke’s voice echoes through the house. ‘No. I
didn’t say that. I told Tony he’d have to speak to the client on Friday and
organise a meeting with the lawyers next week.’

His pitch is definitely elevated, like he’s in a
nightclub and has to compensate for the thumping music. He always raises his voice
when he gets angry. I suppose most people do, but with Luke it’s different
somehow. It’s almost like he’s in competition with his anger; it might get his
body fuming, but his thoughts and speech are still completely under his
control. And his mind is sure to win out every single time. Luke’s a real
stickler when it comes to control. He won’t settle for incompetence, most
especially his own.

‘Look. I’m through discussing this...’

I tune out to the rest. I step over to the sink
and stare out the window into our backyard.

Eventually, Luke ends his conversation and
wanders into the kitchen. I hear his shoes tip-tapping on the tiles and, after
taking another generous sip of wine, I turn from the window. As soon as I see
him I snort with laughter and the wine almost sprays out my nose.

‘Luke! What the fuck?’

He looks an absolute mess. His hair is sticking
up like a cockatoo’s crest and his shirt is untucked and unbuttoned to his
stomach. His tie has been wrapped around his head like a sweatband and someone
has drawn a gangster-style moustache on him with thick black marker.

This is great. I need the distraction.

I’m about to ask him again what happened when
the stench of stale beer and cigarettes reaches me. I watch him carefully; the
way he chucks his open bag haphazardly onto the floor, its contents spilling
out over the tiles. The way he shakes his head and stares open mouthed at the
mess, then does an exaggerated shrug and flops onto one of the barstools.

‘Been at the pub, have we?’ I ask with a smirk.

Luke glances at the glass in my hand, and at the
half empty bottle on the bench.

‘Been drinking alone, have we?’

‘Yep. Just needed it after today. What’s your
excuse?’

‘Carl’s birthday. A bunch of us took him out to
celebrate.’

‘Ahh. Carl. The one who stripped down to his
jocks at the Christmas party and pretended to hump one of those blow up
reindeer?’

‘That’s him.’

‘Well I’m not surprised you’ve come home looking
like a poor man’s Bugsy Malone.’

Luke’s hand comes up to his top lip and he
raises his eyebrows.

‘You’d forgotten about it?’ I ask.

He nods and rolls his eyes. ‘Yep.’

I watch as he unties his shoelaces and throws
his shoes one at a time over his shoulder. One bangs against the wall, the
other lands on the coffee table amidst my magazines and the half dozen remotes
we have.

‘Well, I must say. It kind of suits you, Mr Fox.
You could certainly start your own Mafia ring with a look like that.’

I leave my glass beside the sink and walk over
to him. I’ve gotten use to the stench in the air but as I move closer the smell
seems to triple in intensity and I almost have to hold my breath to get
anywhere near him.

‘Whoa Mister. I think you need a shower.’ I
crinkle my nose at him and wave my hand in front of my face. Then I smile, and
lean in for a kiss.

‘Hold up. You think I’m going to kiss those
manky lips?’ Luke says, pulling his head back to avoid my approaching mouth.

For a second I’m worried he can actually see
Paul lingering on them.

‘You’re meant to swallow the wine you know, Abby,’
he says. ‘Not coat your lips in the stuff.’

I run my tongue over my lips, not that it’ll
tell me much. ‘My lips are all stained, huh?’

‘Like they just got their period.’

‘Well, there’s only one thing for it.’ I grab
Luke’s face between my hands and kiss him, hard.

At first his arms flail about in his poor
attempt to act shocked, but eventually he settles into it. He wraps his right
arm tightly around my shoulders, pulling me to him, and cups my butt with his
left hand. Apart from my lips and tongue, my body is not responding. My
wine-soaked blood is heavy in my veins and it’s an effort to even keep my hands
up to his face. I let them drop onto his shoulders but all that seems to do is
make me feel stuck. Luke’s hold around my shoulders leaves me no room to
manoeuvre and it is like I am being squashed in a vice.

I start to pull my neck back, to release myself
from the kiss but Luke brings his left hand up off my butt to curl around the
back of my head and push my mouth deeper into his. For a moment my tongue goes
limp and my lips stop moving. But Luke doesn’t quit. He slides off the barstool
so we are both standing and he presses his hips against mine.

The image of Paul’s face is in my mind again.

I try again to release my arms but they are
pinned between us. I can feel Luke’s heart pounding and his pants starting to
bulge, but all I can focus on is this insane feeling of claustrophobia.

I stop kissing him and push with all my strength
against Luke’s chest but he is not giving in. He thinks I’m playing. I squirm a
little, swinging my hips back and forth. Still he holds on to me. With no other
way out I raise my leg and stamp down hard on his foot. He releases me in one
quick jerk.

‘Owww. Jesus, Abby. What the
fuck
was
that? That fucking hurt you know.’

All our kissing has smudged his marker moustache
around his mouth. I rub my fingers across my lips. I probably look exactly the
same.

He sits back on the stool and starts rubbing his
foot. I can see his erection still throbbing in his pants. I hug myself.

‘You had me pinned there. I couldn’t move.’

‘I was
holding
you, not pinning you.’

‘I couldn’t move! It was like you were attacking
me or something.’

‘What?’

‘It was like you were forcing me. Overpowering
me, or… or… locking me there against you. I wanted to stop. I wanted to…’
Don’t
say it. Don’t say it.
‘I wanted to
break free
but you just had me
pinned there. I couldn’t move.’

‘Break free? What are you talking about?’

I stare at him in silence and shake my head
slowly. I can’t even blink. This isn’t happening. I’m not saying these things
to my husband. Am I?

‘Abby? What are you talking about? We were both
turned on, right? You were kissing me too. Right?’

Luke’s whole face is frowning with confusion. He
is rubbing his foot and shaking his head.

I can barely get the words out. ‘I…wanted…to…stop.’

‘I don’t get what just happened. You came to me.
You
kissed
me
. And now you’re saying I was forcing you?’

He’s trying to figure out what the hell is going
on with me. I break our gaze and turn my back to him, walking back over to the
sink to take a large gulp of my wine. It tastes bitter now; my spit having
mixed with the remnants of stale beer from Luke’s mouth.

‘Abby? What’s going on?’

I place my hand on the edge of the counter top
and brace until my knuckles go white. I don’t turn around.

‘
Abby
.’

I wish I could turn back to him, try to explain
to my husband why his embrace feels like a prison and why his kisses seem to
drain the life right out of me. But how can I explain
this
? How can I
explain that I’ve managed to develop some kind of passion for another man? And
not just any man; a seventeen-year-old boy?