Marshmallows for Breakfast (16 page)

The room stilled for a moment as he looked down at me, stared straight into my eyes. The last time we'd made eye contact for this long we'd been sitting at his kitchen table: I'd been hauling him over the coals for scaring his children and he'd been trying to work out if the black-eyed stranger
before him would truly report him for neglect. This stare was softer. Friendlier. We'd come a long way in a short amount of time.

He let go of my hands and I went to smile at him as I turned towards the door. Suddenly his hand came up to my face, he dipped his head and kissed me. His scent filled my nostrils and his other arm circled my body, drew me closer to him, then he ran his hand down my body. His eyes slipped shut, his tongue pushed into my mouth. It happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, it took me a few seconds to react.

My hands went up to his chest and I shoved him as hard as possible away from me.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” I shouted at him as he stumbled back and then stopped. Frantically I used the palm of my hand to rub off the impression his lips had made on mine.

He stood a little distance away, looking at me with genuine confusion. “I—I thought…” he stuttered. I was suddenly aware of his physical presence. How much bigger than me he was, how threatening his physique could be in such a situation. I took a step back to put space, a safety zone, between us, to stop myself being in easy reach. I glanced at the door; it would take a few steps to get to it, to escape. I could do it, though, I could make it if I tried. “I… I thought,” he continued to stutter, bewilderment on his face.

“YOU THOUGHT WHAT?!” I yelled, annoyed by his inability to express what had made him do such a stupid thing. Then I remembered the kids, upstairs asleep. I didn't want to scare them so I lowered my voice. “What did you think? Huh? What?”

“I thought… We were having a good time, we were talking …”

“Yeah, talking! Not…” I rubbed again at my mouth, the
taste of coffee that he'd pressed onto me with his lips was seeping into my mouth. I rubbed hard, trying to get it off. I didn't like coffee. I didn't drink coffee. Yes, I accepted it if it was offered, but I never drank it.

“I don't understand … I thought you wanted me to kiss you.”

“What? Why?”

He said nothing, just frowned his bewilderment at me.

I took a deep breath, calmed my voice. “Seriously, Kyle, what gave you that impression?”

“We were talking …”

“Again, as I said, talking not kissing. Do you kiss every woman you talk to? ‘Cause if you do, you must have a hard time in the bank or supermarket.”

Kyle stepped forward and terror squeezed my heart. “Don't come near me,” I said and raised my hands protectively. It had the desired effect: he stopped. Stared at me, perplexed.

“I don't understand,” Kyle said. “I thought we had a good vibe going on. You know … that maybe … I don't understand. I thought you liked me.”

I took a step towards the door. “I do like you, Kyle, but I don't kiss every bloke I like. Especially when he's my landlord and all we've done is talk. And I haven't given him even the slightest indication that I'm interested in him in that way.”

In the background, Sarah McLachlan's voice dropped a notch and she began to husk her way into the next song, telling us that all the fear had left her, she wasn't frightened any longer. I was still breathing hard, my fear hadn't left me. I was still frightened that I hadn't seen this coming.

Agitated, Kyle rubbed his hand over his head. “I'm sorry. I thought we had something going.”

“Something going? Why did you think that?”

“Do I have to spell it out?”

“Yes, I'm afraid you do, Kyle, because I am mystified.”

Sarah's voice filled the silence between us as he stared desolately at the carpet. “You've been so supportive. You're always over here—cooking meals, picking up the kids, cleaning up …” His voice trailed away and slowly he raised his head. “I thought…” His words disappeared again, as though he couldn't explain himself.

“Kyle, I saw you were struggling and I tried to help out, that's all. And, I'm sorry I didn't tell you this before, but I'm in love with someone else.” I touched my heart, then indicated to him. “Me and you, it's not going to happen. It's
not
going to happen.” He didn't react. He was stuck in confusion, couldn't begin to comprehend why I'd pushed him away.

“I'd better go,” I said, gathering up my things: my cardigan and stripy scarf I'd slipped off and chucked over one of the armchairs, my black and red sandals I'd parked beside the sofa, my little bag that held my purse and phone. Had Kyle watched me take these things off, make myself comfortable, thinking I was doing it for him? That I was getting ready for a night of passion?

“I'll see you,” I said to him as I left, cradling my belongings in my arms. I didn't even put on my shoes—just padded out of the living room, through the kitchen and into the garden. I took giant steps on tiptoes across the lawn and then into my flat. I locked the front door and then, shaking slightly, I climbed the stairs, dropped my things on the floor and flopped onto the sofa.

I couldn't sit, couldn't rest, and immediately jumped to my feet again.

Still trembling, I paced the floor.

He actually thought …
Every time I remembered the firm crush of his lips on my mouth and his hand skimming down my body, sickness churned in my stomach.
How could he? How
could
he?

I paced my flat, scrubbing at my mouth with the flat of my hand. I could still taste the coffee.

“Don't you ever get frustrated?”
whispered the voice in my memory.
“Don't you ever want something so much you'll do anything to get it?”

I had to get this taste of coffee off me. I went to the bathroom, picked up my toothbrush and squeezed on toothpaste. The bristles moved easily over my teeth, moved over my lips, and then it was mint. Freshmint was filling my mouth. I spat out the foam.

He s propped up on one arm, staring down at me as he waits for an answer. I can hear my breathing. That's how I know I'm alive. I'm not moving. I'm staring at the hairline cracks in the ceiling, but I cant move. I cant feel anything. But I can hear my breathing. Short shallow breaths in my ears. I can still breathe so I know I'm alive.

I squeezed more toothpaste onto the toothbrush. Cleaned my mouth again. Brushed my gums, my teeth, my tongue, the roof of my mouth, my lips. It wasn't enough. I could still taste it. I could still taste the coffee- flavored kiss. I put down the toothbrush. I had to get this off me.

I took off my cardigan and scarf, threw them onto the tiled floor beside the chrome bin. I quickly stripped off the rest of my clothes, dumped them all beside the bin. Something to deal with later, afterwards.

“Aren't you going to say something?” he asks. “Talk to me, Kendra.” His long fingers reach out towards my forehead, to maybe brush away a few strands of my hair, to maybe stroke my forehead, to maybe just touch me. I flinch. Scared. Terrified that he's going to hurt me. Again.

The water from the shower spurted out, the warmth hitting my skin, instantly spreading calm through my body. I didn't want calm. I wanted oblivion. Something to remove the memory of his body against mine. My wet fingers slipped over the hot water tap as I turned it up. Steam rose, billowing out of the showerhead as scalding hot water gushed out onto me. It battered against my skin, just the bearable side of scalding. That was better. Cleansing. Soothing. The palms of my hands reddened. My skin started to protest; this hurt. The hot water scorched pain through me.
This
I understood. Physical pain I understood. It took away the agony of everything else. I could concentrate and focus on the pain.

With shaking hands, I picked up the white bar of soap, started to run it over my body, lathering it up, washing away the panic Kyle had caused. This had to work. I had to remove all of it.

In my memory the voice continued to whisper.
I thought that was what you wanted. I thought that was what you wanted.

CHAPTER 14

K
yle kissed me last night,” I said to Gabrielle.

It'd taken me most of the morning to get up the

courage to say the words and now that it was just the two of us—Janene had the day off and Teri was out seeing clients—this had found its way out of my mouth.

What happened the night before weighed heavily on me. Pushing down on my shoulders, pressing down on my mind. I turned it over and over, trying, trying, trying … I didn't understand why he'd got it so wrong. On one level I knew it should have been no big deal, that I'd overreacted, but then, had I? Wasn't it better to nip this in the bud right now? I needed to talk it out with someone.

Gabrielle froze at her computer and then slowly spun on her chair towards me. “I couldn't see that one coming a mile off,” she said.

“What?”

“Divorced man, single attractive woman, sex is generally quite close behind.”

I folded my arms around myself, trying to hold myself together. “Why? Because that's all women think about? Finding a man?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“I suppose I've noticed how much time you've been spending with Kyle and his family, the pair of you are kind of close, so I assumed …”

“What happened would be like me kissing you.”

“That'd be completely different,” Gabrielle said.

“What do you mean?”

“I actually fancy you.”

She wasn't taking me seriously. I thought she might understand. I don't know why. Gabrielle was rarely serious. All through the period leading up to her husband leaving and then her divorce she'd been telling jokes, poking fun at herself, laughing. In rare moments of honesty I'd notice how much makeup she'd started to wear to give her complexion color, would spot how she had to force her mouth to turn upwards in a smile, would see the sadness carved deep in her eyes. But most of the time she was giggling. Joking. Finding everything hilarious. “If you can't laugh at yourself,” she'd often say, “why bother?” But I couldn't bear for her to laugh at this. My body was still tenderized from the heat of the shower last night; my mind still reeling like it'd been sucker punched.

I refocused on my computer screen. “Never mind,” I said. “I'm being silly. Shouldn't have said anything.”

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” Gabrielle replied. “I didn't realize how shaken up you were. Tell me what happened.”

“It's nothing,” I said. I shrugged. “I'm just being silly.”

“It was only a kiss, right?” she asked, suddenly concerned. “Nothing else?”

“Yeah, it was only a kiss. Look, let's forget it, I'm being silly.”

“Is that why you're dressed like that?” she asked.

Dressed like what?
I looked down at myself. I was wearing a black vest top, a white cotton shirt, a V-neck lightweight sweater and a black cardigan over the top with black trousers. This was how I always dressed for work, smart but not in a suit. I pulled the cardigan across my chest, folded my arms over the top. “What do you mean?”

“It's one of the hottest days of the year and you're dressed for winter.”