Spark (8 page)

****

We don’t talk much in the car on the way to the city. I turn up the radio to break the silence. After what seems like five minutes without talking, I tell him I’ve got a pretty busy week. I should spend some time with Mum and the boys. Jon knows I’ve been avoiding going home, and he is supportive, as always. A bit of time apart from each other probably wouldn’t be a bad thing. He no doubt needs time to ‘re-group’ after last night. I lean in to kiss him goodbye, and he gives me a quick peck on the lips—like how I would kiss my mother.

“What do you call that?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” Jon furrows his brow.

“You call
that
a kiss?”

“I guess,” he says, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“If you’re gonna kiss me, do it properly. It’s got to last us all week.”

He leans in, and kisses me like he means it. I feel better for it, and by his look of relief, he does too. I don’t want to leave him in a sulky
I feel sorry for myself
mood.

“Better?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah, better.”

Jon opens the car door. “Hey, I was thinking we could have some friends over to my place for drinks, next Saturday. Is that cool with you?” he asks.

I smile. “Of course. I’d love that.”

He winks. “Great. Bye, Eevie.”

“See ya, then.”

****

When I go home for dinner a few nights later, Mum has cooked up a feast as usual. But she’s not herself. Dark circles sit beneath her eyes, and she hasn’t given her hair the attention she normally would. The boys seem to be handling things okay, but then again, they’re boys. They communicate by grunting, and computer games take up their undivided attention after dinner. Some things will never change.

Mum and I spend about half an hour washing the endless piles of pots and pans, and finally sit down to a cup of tea. We talk about the boys, mainly, but I can tell there’s something on her mind by the way she twists the serviette in her hand.

“Mum, what is it?”

She bows her head, breathing out loudly. “Your father has been cheating on me.”

A mouthful of tea spurts from my mouth across the table. I cough uncontrollably, until I can breathe again. “What? You have
got
to be fucking kidding me.”

“
Language
, Genevieve … I promise you. I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

“How did you find out? Did … did he tell you? How long …” My head fills with an endless barrage of questions.

“I was cleaning up some paperwork in the study. You know what a mess that room is, and I came across a receipt for a hotel in Sydney. I normally wouldn’t look twice at something like that, but it was a very expensive hotel, and nowhere near where he normally stays.” My mouth drops open, but words won’t come out.

“I confronted your father, and he confessed everything. He’s been seeing another woman for years. All those trips to Sydney … I should have known.” A single tear runs down her cheek. She’s probably cried a thousand of them since finding out. She looks empty. My heart tightens in my chest and all I can do is stare in her direction, but I can’t look her in the eye.

She continues to talk, but I don’t want to absorb her words. If I do, it means I have to process them, and right now, I can’t. I just can’t. This is all too much.

It kills me to say goodbye this time, leaving Mum, knowing the extent of her latest torture. I manage to hold back the tears in front of the boys.

Sitting in my car, ready to leave, I don’t know what to do. I can’t run to Jon—surely he’s had enough of my tears. I close my eyes, willing myself not to cry. To be strong. When I open them, any trust and faith I once had in my father is gone. I’ve spent the last couple of years trying to keep this family together, pushing myself past the point of exhaustion, delaying my studies, putting
everyone
else in this family first, and he was fucking around.

Un-fucking-believable
.

This can’t be happening. No, I’m not going to think about this. I can’t. I’ve got to stop turning to water at the drop of a hat.
Toughen up, Eevie
.

****

Everyone arrives at Jon’s place at around six o’clock, each with a bottle of spirits to make cocktails. Jon sees most of these guys regularly, but some I haven’t laid eyes on since finishing school. We make a punch in one of Jon’s salad bowls—we had to improvise.

Tonight, as hard as it will be, I’m not going to think about Dad. All week I’ve been thinking about how I want to tear him to shreds,
really
give him a fucking piece of my mind. I am so disgusted with him right now, but I need to hold it together for Jon. Tonight is the first time since we started going out that we’ve been social with friends. I know how important that is to him. In a way, it feels like tonight is a ‘coming out as a couple’ party. It’s kind of exciting.

I busy myself making drinks, and putting out snacks.
Hostess with the mostess
type stuff. I chat briefly to a few of the girls, but none of them really have anything exciting to report. Most are studying at uni, and struggling to pay bills, like me. Everyone seems to have a comment about Jon and I getting together—all positive, of course. Their lives must really be boring, if that’s what they want to talk about, but it’s nice to hear the compliments.

Jon’s been wearing a proud smile all night, and no matter where I am in the room, when I find him, his eyes are already on me. It’s nice to see him happy. Not that he seemed unhappy before, it’s just I’m more aware that he is.

The way he looks at me has changed, though. There is nothing but adoration. No doubt he wants to see the same look mirrored in my eyes. Can I love him? Can I create romantic feelings for him out of thin air? I shy away from his gaze, praying he can’t see through me, that he can’t see what I’m really feeling: total confusion.

“Jon finally found the courage to ask you out, huh?” Scott nudges my arm, and winks at me.

“Yeah, he did,” I say, and give a fleeting smile.

“I think it’s great. He’s been hung up on you for ages. Years, even.”

Yes, Jon made me aware of this, but I didn’t know it was common knowledge. How did I not hear the idle gossip?

I nod and smile.

“So, was it weird for you being friends, and now going out?”
Geez, personal much?
How am I supposed to respond to that? I gulp down the last half of my drink in one hit.
Still the same wanker he always was.

“Jon’s a great guy, so I’m lucky if you ask me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m just gonna get another drink.” I smile, and move away. Instead of filling up my cup, I join Jon, who is chatting with a few guys. He puts his arm around my shoulder, and pulls me close. He’s being particularly affectionate tonight. My own life-size teddy bear.

Everyone seems to be gearing up to go out. Jon’s place is pretty small, and with more than ten of us, it’s overcrowded. Some of the girls are keen to dance, and the single guys are probably looking to pick up. The plan was to have drinks here and then go out to the city, but the way the walls are wobbling right now, I may need a bucket. I think someone spiked the punch with more vodka.

I pull Jon aside. “I don’t think I can go out,” I whisper.

“Are you okay?” He frowns.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just had too much to drink. I’ll feel better with some water and something to eat. I just wouldn’t wanna embarrass you by throwing up. You go out. I don’t want to spoil your night.”

“As if you’d spoil my night. I’ll stay. I’d much rather be here with you.” He runs his hand through my hair, and wraps his arms around me. He’d rather be here with me, hey? He seems to have his confidence back from last weekend. I’m relieved that he’s over it. It was just a small blip. No big deal.

“Are you sure?” I blink a few times, and try to focus on his eyes. It’s not that I don’t want him to stay—I’d rather him be here with me, than be alone at his place. I just don’t want him to regret not partying with his friends. I don’t want to be one of
those
girlfriends.

“Yes,” he says, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders, and marching me to the kitchen. “Now, let’s get you some water.”

By the time everyone leaves, and we clean up a bit, my vision is almost back to normal, and I’m seeing one of everything instead of two.

“Come on, I think that’s enough cleaning up for one night,” Jon says, and takes my hand. He walks backwards, and I follow wearily until we reach his bedroom. He flicks on the bedside lamp, and I flop back onto the bed. In an unladylike fashion, I hiccup loudly.
Shit.

I unzip my black knee-high boots, and groan with relief as I toss them on the floor.
Much better
. My head spins a little when I lay back down.

The skinny jeans pose the next problem. There’s
no
way I’m sleeping in these.

Jon watches me as he gets undressed. I
watch
him. He gets down to boxers and his dress shirt. He slowly unbuttons it and drops it on the floor, revealing more of him than I’ve ever seen before.
Nice
. So this is what he looks like under there—toned, muscular, but not over the top like he works out every day. He would drive girls wild if he flaunted it a bit more. He pulls a T-shirt from a drawer and slips it on.
What? Is he embarrassed? Shy?
I don’t get it.

“I tell you what, Jon. I’ll make you a deal.” Another hiccup erupts from my throat. “You take off your shirt, and I’ll take off mine.” I bat my eyelashes, surprised at how forward I am. It must be the punch.

In record speed, his shirt hits the floor. Jon bites down on his bottom lip, as if trying to hold in his smile.

I sit up, and peel my jumper off. Jon is frozen, watching me. I unzip my jeans, lift my hips off the bed, and slowly wriggle out of them. I’m not teasing him—they’re just so bloody tight. His jaw hits the floor.
How can this affect him so much?

I pull back the covers, and Jon slips in beside me. I rest my head on the soft pillow and he leans over me and kisses me. Softly.
Slowly
.

I don’t think he knows what to do with his hands—he seems uncomfortable. One minute they’re either side of my head, the next he moves around my collarbone, brushing over my bra straps. It’s like he can’t make up his mind. Goose bumps surface all over his smooth skin when I run my curious fingers over his toned chest.

His hands fumble as they find somewhere to rest. Looped under my back, his fingers run down my spine, and he pulls me onto my side. His fingers trail down my ribcage, tickling me as they do, and rest on my lace boy-leg panties. Is he going to touch me, or what? And by touch me, I mean
really
touch me? I’m in his bed, practically naked.
Do something, Jon!
Is he still hung up on last time?

I’m just not feeling it. It’s like we’re going through the motions. Where’s the passion? We’ve got the friendship and the trust, he’s attractive, but where’s the heat? I have to take matters into my own hands. It’s gotta be there somewhere, I just need to try harder. I move his hand off my hip, and put it on my arse cheek. A low moan grumbles at the back of his throat, as he squeezes my flesh. Do I have to coach him every step of the way? Is it because I’m a virgin? He should know me well enough to know that I’ll tell him if we go too far.

“It’s okay, you can touch me,” I say.

My hand glides over his satin boxers, squeezing his firm arse so our bodies are flush against each other. I kiss him harder, my tongue circling against his.

Come on, Jon. Where’s your big move?

More kissing.

His hands don’t wander as they should.
As I want them to.
In a bold move, I push him onto his back and sit astride him. I position myself just below his hips so I don’t land on the arousal that his boxers fail to hide. I move his hand to the clasp on my bra.

He brings his other hand behind me, and undoes it. His eyes widen as they glance over my hardened nipples. He swallows. I lean in closer, my hair dangling on his face.

He plucks up the courage, and grabs my breasts. My breath hitches as I push my chest into his warm hands.
Okay, now we’re getting somewhere
. I shift on top of him, and slowly move my hips so I rub against him. Jon moves his hips at the same pace, his hands roaming free over my upper body. His chest labours as he breathes. I move quicker, and push harder, needing the friction between us. Needing to feel
something
.

“Oh, Eevie,” he says.

I lean down, and bite his bottom lip, teasing his mouth with my tongue. He takes in a sharp breath.

“Stop,” he says. His body stills.

“Stop?” I whisper.
Did I do something wrong?
I move off him, and lie beside him, resting my hand on his defined abs. Jon takes my hand to his mouth, and kisses my knuckles. He closes his eyes, and takes in a deep breath. When they open they glisten, traced with sadness.

“You need to slow down, Eevie …”

“Okay. Is that what you want?” I search Jon’s face for an insight.
Why?

“Um, no, it’s just … some things are out of my control.” He sighs. Jon’s cheeks flush a deep red. I don’t understand.

“What things?”

Jon sits up, and runs his hands through his hair. He won’t even look at me.

“Jon, tell me,” I demand, grabbing his chin so he’s forced to lock his eyes with mine. My brain struggles to think of what’s got him in this state.

“I’ve been undergoing treatment for the last couple of years for …”

“Oh my God, what is it?” I blurt out.
Please not cancer.

“I dealt with it for years before I did anything about it … but I’m hoping with a new form of treatment, things might improve.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“What are you being treated for?” I ask, searching his face. He can barely hold my eye.

“Premature ejaculation.” As he says the words, it’s like they leave a bad taste in his mouth.
Poor Jon.
It sounds so clinical. “I’ve tried a few things without success. Apparently it’s common for guys to, you know, come quick the first few times they get intimate, and then have no problems after that, but I guess I haven’t been so lucky.”