Beginnings (6 page)

Holding her hand up to shield her eyes from
the low morning sun she counted twenty or so swimmers out there already. The longer she hesitated the more childish she felt. She just could not turn back. On her way down to the water she had passed all of the early morning coffee drinkers, the loungers and soft sand runners. To turn back now would be a public humiliation. Or so it felt to her.

She tested the water again with her toe. It bit her. Her whole body shivered. There was no going back and there was no going in.

‘Emma.’

Someone was calling her name. She turned and scanned the beach and the esplanade. A tanned male raised his arm, leapt over the wall onto the sand and came jogging up to her.

‘I thought it was you. Are you going in?’

Jason wore nothing but Speedos which had a pair of goggles hanging from them. There was not an ounce of fat on him.

‘I was.’

‘Is it too cold for you, Mrs Benson?’ he asked, instinctively reverting to the formal. She looked like Mrs Benson today. Was it because her hair was up? Or was it the one-piece? She seemed very pale here on the beach.

Jason stepped into the water. He scrunched up his face and hopped from one foot to the other, mimicking a child, before falling backwards into the water. He leapt straight back up. ‘Arrgghh! You’re right! It’s freezing!’

She smiled. Jason’s sudden confidence reminded her of the boys at school who were all rough and tumble with an audience, who would throw her over their shoulder in the spirit of fun, but would go limp when they had the opportunity to touch her.

He strode out of the water and shook himself like a dog.

Emma leapt back as water sprayed from his hair.

‘Jason! You bugger!’

‘Aren’t you going to say hello, Emma?’ he asked, holding out his arms as though to hug her. She was about to move away when he caught hold of her hand and began dragging her towards the water.

‘Don’t you dare!’ she shrieked, digging her heels into the sand. ‘Don’t.’

She had two concerns. She did not want to be tossed into the freezing water, for one. But she was also acutely conscious of how their play would
look. The disparity of their ages meant little to her in private, but out here, in public, it felt different. She felt old.

But he had her in his grip. She could see that he gave no thought to how things looked. He was a puppy, lost to the game. She was being dragged in.

‘No!’

Her feet touched the water. It was so cold.

He was grinning. He was going to do it.

‘Jason, leave poor Emma alone.’

Jason let go and Emma fell backwards onto the sand.

Jason’s father, Simon, stretched out his hand and lifted Emma to her feet. He too wore nothing but Speedos. The effect was altogether different to that of his son.

‘You have to come in, Mrs Benson,’ said Jason, who had wandered back into the water and knelt down.

Now that she was safe, she found it hard to take her eyes off him. He was a near perfect specimen. If anything was going to get her into the water it was the desire to run her hands over his abdomen.

‘We were about to swim a few laps, Emma. Will you join us?’

‘I was, but it’s so cold. I’ll try again in a couple of weeks.’

‘You should have been here two weeks ago,’ called Jason from the water. ‘Right, Dad?’

‘It’s much warmer this week than it has been,’ he affirmed.

‘Come on.’ Jason slapped the water and sent a spray towards Emma which stopped just short of her.

He did it again. He stood up. Emma’s eyes drifted slowly down the whole of his body. The Speedos left little to the imagination.

He kicked the water this time.

Emma needed to jump back.

‘We’ve got to get going. Jason has to be at school early this morning. They’ve organised extra tutoring for Economics. We all believe he’s a chance at topping the state. He hasn’t got long now before the exams start.’ Simon paused and smiled. ‘Are you sure you won’t come in?’ He rinsed his goggles in the water before putting them on.

‘Can’t. Too cold.’

‘OK. We’ll see you tonight then.’ Simon strode into the water without hesitation.

‘Tonight?’

‘You and David are coming to dinner. Didn’t he tell you?’

Simon dived under the water.

Emma remained standing at the water’s edge. She watched as they swam out to start their laps, then turned around and began the ignominious walk back to her towel.

Entering her neighbours’ house that evening with David, Emma couldn’t shake the tune of Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Mrs Robinson’. Jason’s antics on the beach had underlined the difference in their ages. He was a boy in a man’s body. And now she was entering his parents’ house with her husband. It couldn’t have become more ridiculous.

Jason was nowhere to be seen. David and Simon drifted off together leaving Emma with Anne for the first twenty minutes, which was fine. Anne was happy to talk pleasantly about the coming and goings of shared acquaintances. She filled the kitchen with noise without noticing Emma’s boredom.

‘Here he is, my little genius,’ said Anne, interrupting her flow as Jason entered the room. She pulled him to her and he tried to escape her arms. ‘But he’s not so little any more, is he?’

Jason stared at Emma, his face crimson as his mother cuddled him.

‘He’s been working so hard.’

‘Hello, Mrs Benson.’

‘Don’t call me that. What is it with these private school boys? It isn’t the 1950s.’

‘I like it,’ said Anne. ‘I would hate to think that good manners could ever go out of fashion. They all call each other by their surnames, stand for others on crowded buses, address their teachers as sir.’

‘Even the female teachers?’

‘It isn’t a laughing matter, Emma. The school has done a wonderful job. Jason topped the school in economics in the trials. He’s a prefect. Aren’t you, love?’

‘He’s never gotten into trouble?’

‘I’ve been kept too busy,’ answered Jason, before his mother could extol his virtues further. He was slowly dying inside.

‘And who will you take to the School Formal?’ asked Emma. ‘Or don’t you think about such things?’

‘He wants to take that young girl from Mosman High who lives near here.’

‘Jess?’

‘Yes. But I don’t think she would feel comfortable going. The other boys are asking Loreto and Monte girls,’ said his mother.

‘I haven’t asked anybody. I don’t think I’ll even go.’

‘You have to go,’ said his mother, stepping away and looking him up and down. ‘Won’t he look handsome in a tuxedo?’

‘Yes, you have to go. If only for the tuxedo,’ said Emma, smirking.

‘You’ve got half an hour before dinner. Do half an hour more study for me and then you can come out and join us. OK?’

Jason looked from Emma to his mum and back and, even though being treated as a child was boiling his blood, decided that it wasn’t such a bad idea. He had suffered enough at the hands of his mother’s love and thought only of escape. He did as he was told.

‘Can I help with anything?’ asked Emma, now she was alone with Anne.

‘Umm … No, I think I’m fine. The boys are probably playing pool. Can you see if they’re alright for drinks?’

Having escaped Anne, Emma was not going to go join her husband and Simon’s discussion
of the rugby, which was about the only thing the two men had in common. She took a left when she entered the hallway, heading off in search of Jason.

Jason swivelled in his seat when a shadow let him know someone was standing at his door. He knew it was going to be Emma. The hairs on the back of his neck had risen. When he saw the look in her eye, his body shook. She leaned against the door frame. He was unused to these pregnant silences. They shared a secret, a great and dangerous one. It was everywhere between them.

She frightened him, too. She held him in her grip. She could cause so much trouble for him. He watched as she examined his room. He was ashamed of the boyhood treasures which lined every shelf, hung on the walls, lay about in untidy piles in the corners of the room.

To Emma it seemed the room of a much younger man. It was as though the last few years had not passed. What had he been doing? There were no photos of friends, the books on his shelves reflected his twelve-year-old tastes, and the posters she hoped were his mother’s doing. What of the
man sitting on the child’s desk chair? If she was to examine his computer would she find porn? Did he have four hundred Facebook friends? What art did he like? What books? Did he have a thing for foreign films? His room gave her nothing. Nothing but a blank canvas.

‘Where were you this afternoon?’

‘Mum met me outside school. She gave me a talking to about how much time I have left till my exams and sat down with me to work out this study plan.’ He held up a sheet of paper. ‘There is not an hour of my life between now and then that isn’t taken into account.’

‘Do you always do as your parents ask?’

‘No.’

‘I think you do. And that’s OK. I suppose. They want the best for you.’

Jason said nothing.

‘You know, if I had seen this room before I …’

Jason glanced around.

‘I am not my room. I haven’t had time to do anything here but study and sleep. They expect so much from me. Do you know I’m in the chess club? I swim, play cricket, tennis and rugby. I’m in the debating team. Until recently I played bass in the school band. I haven’t had time to do
anything
.
Why do you think I sometimes wag school? Some days I’m ready to scream. And then I jumped over our fence and found you. Do you know how hard it is to keep going now that all I think about is you?’

‘But you have to keep it all going.’

‘Why do I?’

Emma walked across to him and kissed his lips.

‘Because I’m not real.’

She left the room.

NINE

At dinner Emma seated herself next to Jason. They were at the table in the kitchen, which was the table the family most often used; Emma and David, as neighbours, being considered part of the family. The table was not large and part of the fun was squeezing everybody in. Emma made sure that her hip rested against Jason’s hip, that her arm brushed against his as she cut up her food, that her shoulder met his as often as she could manage.

After the meal the conversation turned to politics and Emma found she was unable to join in.
Not because she knew nothing about politics, but because she knew a lot about politics. Simon and Anne were lovely people but if David hadn’t struck up a friendship with Simon, Emma wouldn’t have had anything to do with them. She bit her tongue for David and turned her attention elsewhere.

Jason had been listening to his father and had been watching the side of Emma’s face, seeing it cloud over.

David was being conciliatory. Then Anne joined in and her views made her husband’s seem moderate. David forced a laugh but the mood was deteriorating by the second.

‘So, Jason, what do you think you’ll do next year?’ asked David, changing the subject completely, knowing that Simon and Anne loved nothing more than talking about their son. ‘Will you take a year off and see the world or leap straight into work?’

‘Jason will be going to university,’ answered his father. ‘Won’t you?’

At this moment, something happened to distract Jason. Emma’s hand was suddenly in his lap. And before he could speak it was no longer just in his lap but moving up and over his crotch which moved under her.

‘Ummm … Yes, that’s right. University,’ he said, trying hard to modulate his voice. Preventing himself from blushing, however, was impossible. He reddened as Emma’s hand squeezed him lightly.

The jeans were being stretched tight. She could feel the thing pressing against her. She traced the shape with her fingertips.

‘I would have thought you would take a year off. Your mother says you’ve been working very hard,’ said Emma, squeezing his crotch on the final word.

‘I’d rather get it all over and done with now,’ he said.

Emma could feel his cock straining for release. She wanted to release it, to hold its thickness in her hand. She began unbuttoning his jeans. It was difficult to do one-handed, the material was tight, the buttons fixed against the twitching shaft.