A Song in the Daylight (71 page)

Cleo stuck out her hand to Larissa. “It was nice to meet you,” she said. “You have a cool accent.”

“I don’t have an accent,” said Larissa, reluctantly shaking hands. “You’re the one with the accent.”

Cleo laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d heard all night—and that was saying a lot. “You’re in our country, now,” she trilled. “Do as the Romans do.”

Larissa didn’t know what that meant. Was an accent something the Romans turned on and off at will?

“Does she even know who the Romans are?” she said to Kai as they walked out.

“Oh, come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Sure she does. She’s a good kid. Nothing wrong with her.”

“Who is she?”

“Not quite sure. Friend of Billy-O’s, I think.”

“What’s she doing in town?”

“Looking for work. Like everybody.”

“Gee, there must be something a girl like her could do around here,” remarked Larissa.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s with the tone?”

“What tone? No tone. You had too much to drink.”

“Be that as it may, there was still a tone.”

Thing about a bike, it wasn’t like a car. You couldn’t fight on it on your way home, so that by the time you reached your house, you were halfway done arguing, and all that was left was the makeup sex. On the bike, Larissa had to hold on to him, sit behind him, and he had to concentrate on the road
so he wouldn’t crash. They didn’t speak. When they got home, they hadn’t even begun.

His tactic when they walked inside the house surprised her. He took her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, bending to nuzzle her neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home and eat dinner. I know you’re upset, but I don’t want to fight with you. Honest.” He smelled like strong beer, like smoke; he held her tightly.

“Kai…” she wriggled away so she could look at him, “why would you go out knowing I’m home and we have no money and I have no car, and I’m waiting for you?”

“I’m sorry, Larissa,” he said. “It was thoughtless. I wasn’t thinking. I lost the job at the Ski Village. They didn’t have anymore work for me. I was upset, and I needed to think.”

“To think or to drink?”

“To think.”

“You went to a bar to think? You lost your gig, the money that comes with it, and then you went to a noisy smoky bar and spent money we don’t have so you could clear your head?”

Now it was his turn to let go of her and step away.

“I thought I asked you not to fight?”

“Well, you did ask me,” she said slowly. “But when there’s stuff unresolved, it’s hard to keep silent.”

“What stuff?”

“Look, I don’t want to fight either. But I think I’m going to have to get a job.”

“Why are you saying it like that?” The front door wasn’t closed all the way. The Ducati keys were still in his hands. He dropped them on the coffee table, went to close the door.

“Like what?”

“In that accusing tone. Are you getting a job to
punish
me?” He scoffed. The door slammed. “That’s
weird
, Larissa. Get a
job because we desperately need the money. Don’t get a job to get back at me.”

“Is there something I have to get back at you for, Kai?” asked Larissa.

“Don’t be silly.” He fell down on the couch, spread his legs, threw his head back. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“You’re drunk, not tired,” she said. “Kai, why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t pay June’s rent? Or July’s?”

He didn’t even lift his head. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

She sat down next to him. Outside was black night and the only light in the house was fluorescently flickering from the undercabinet in the kitchen. She could barely make out his features.

“Where did the money go?”

“What money? Larissa, there
is
no money.”

“But you’ve been working…”

“Yeah, paying for gas, for our food…”

“For drinks at Balcony Bar?”

“That’s not much. We go there twice a week maybe.”

“We? I didn’t see a
we
there tonight, Kai.”

He squinted at her. “Oh, you weren’t there tonight?”

“No thanks to you.”

“We can’t afford drinks for
me
, and
you
want to come to spend money we don’t have?”

“
You
do!”

“Please don’t shout. I got friends who buy me drinks.”

“Mooching off your friends?” said Larissa. “Nice. Yeah, I have friends, too, who can buy me drinks.”

“I’m sure you do,” Kai said, letting acid creep into his voice. “Like Coty the bartender?”

“Who?”

“Don’t pretend. I know he gives you drinks for free. It’s pretty galling, don’t you think, for me to go up there to
buy
drinks for you, considering that with a little flash of your smile
or perhaps your boobs, you can get all the free Jagers you want.”

“What are you talking about?” said a flustered Larissa, jumping up. “You buy me drinks because it’s the chivalrous thing to do.”

“Oh, yes,” returned Kai, still splayed on the sofa. “Knights in shining armor, that’s us.”

“Besides, he doesn’t give
me
drinks,” Larissa continued. “Every once in a while he says one of our drinks is on the house.”

“This isn’t worth our time. I’m wiped out. Let’s regroup tomorrow. I’ll go out, find work. The ski lodge in Perisher or Charlotte may be looking for loaders to help with the ski lifts. I’ll check there tomorrow.”

“Yes, but while you’re checking, how am I going to check if the ski shop on Wagner is hiring? I heard they might be.”

He paused. “I can take you there. But, Larissa, if you get a job in town how are you going to get there day in and day out? We saw what happened when you rode a pushbike.”

“It’s too cold for a pushbike anyway.” They didn’t mention the irony of it not being too cold for his Sportclassic motorcycle that rode a lot faster than a pushbike. “Maybe we can get me a cheap used car?”

“With what? We’d have to sell our tour bus to do it.”

“No, no, we can’t sell that.”

“That’s right, we can’t even pawn it,” said Kai. “Because we don’t have the money to get it out of hock.”

“Did I say anything about hocking it?”

“You talked about selling it! Sell it and do what? It’s our only means of making money.”

“Well, where is this money?” she shouted. “We’re supposed to save during the summer so that when winter comes we have enough to live on. What’s happened to our money?”

“What’s happened to our money? Larissa, where do you live?
Who do you think you are? You’re not some housewife anymore where the rich husband takes care of all the expenses while all you do is go food-shopping and fuck him!”

“And not just him!” Larissa yelled.

“No, that’s right,” Kai said smoothly and scathingly. “Are you still keeping up with that little double charade?”

She would have slapped him if she were closer. But she wasn’t so she didn’t. All she did was exhale and fall mute, twisting her fingers into knots.

“Look, you know where the money is? We spent it,” Kai said, much quieter. “We lived on it. We didn’t make any extra and couldn’t save any. You used to work some winters, but last winter you didn’t. Or this one.”

“You’re gone from the house from seven to seven! How am I supposed to get anywhere? I’ve looked for work. No one will hire me.”

“I’m not complaining. I understand. But why are you giving
me
shit? I’m not accusing
you
, am I? I’m not demanding to know from you where the money is!”

Her hands went up. His anger was distressing. It made her weak and uncomfortable. Kai didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t fight. He was the peacemaker, the tranquil diplomat, who made things better by quiet, not worse by shouting.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But what are we going to do? Are we going to continue to live like this?”

A heavy breathing pause from Kai. “As opposed to what?” he said, his voice measured and slow. This is what he did during their infrequent arguments: to infuriate her he became deliberate, soft-spoken, and the more agitated she became, the calmer he became. He would tell her afterward that it was his way of dealing with conflict, which he hated, but she took it personally.

“Kai, stop speaking to me like this,” she said, the fight getting hot, inflaming the back of her neck.

“Like what?” he said in a conversational voice while she panted. “It’s a serious question. What do you propose we do?”

Why did his question frighten her? She backed away. He saw it, even in the dark. Especially in the dark. And she knew he saw it, that she had no power, no leverage, and no solutions.

“This is stupid,” she said.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“You’re in no mood to fight.”

“I’m never in a mood to fight, Larissa, you know that.”

“Right. So let’s not.”

“Absolutely. Let’s not.”

They were naked and entwined in seconds on the couch, and then falling off, on the floor, in twisted knots like her hands, broken needy coupling, fractured crying from her, no sound from him but panting, eyes closed, mouth parted, single-mindedly focused on the eternal thrust. Was it real, or was it a showy burlesque? His hands gripping her head, her legs, her hips, it was a carnival of souls, on the floor sandwiched between the coffee table and the sofa, boundless groaning wretched lovers.

After they were in bed, he lay down behind her. She waited for his hands. For a few minutes there weren’t any, as if perhaps he’d fallen asleep. But then, here they were, on her hips, on her ribs, on her back, between her thighs. She felt his lips on the back of her neck. “Come on,
Larissa
…” Kai whispered, once again, using the three syllables of her identity as a mating call. Using herself against herself. She moaned lightly; he turned her to him.

“I don’t want to fight,” he whispered. “I never want to.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

He caressed her face. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see. I’ll get work. I’ll work the stables. Billy-O says he might be able to help me. We’ll muddle through. And for next Christmas
we’ll advertise in the
Sydney Morning Herald
. We’ll get the Americans to come here.”

“Americans like us?”

“No one is like us,” he said, his hands freely roaming, softening her, appeasing. But she was afraid of just the opposite. She was afraid they were like everyone else.

She lay in his arms while he stroked her back in sleepy caresses; she thought he was drifting off, but his fingers were strangely insistent on her spine, between her shoulder blades.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him. “I can warm up the burgers I made for you.”

“I’m not hungry for burger,” he said. “I’m a little hungry again for you.” He continued to stroke her. “I’m needy tonight. Don’t know why.” There was a protracted pause. “I think Cleo found you attractive.”

“What?”

“Hmm.”

“What are you talking about?” Larissa was befuddled. “What does she have to do with me? It’s not
me
she found attractive.”

“It is.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me. She said, your goil is hawt.”

“She said this to you? Seems rather forward. And what did you say?”

“I said, I know.” He fondled Larissa’s breasts, pressed his stubble against them.

“Oh, is
that
what you said. You and Cleo, Billy-O’s girl, talked about me being hot. Where is Billy-O during this conversation?”

“In the loo.”

“Where am I?”

“In the loo.”

“I really don’t know why you would tell me this,” Larissa
said. “Who is she? I don’t know why you would talk to her about me.”

“I thought it would please you.”

“Discussing my physical appeal with a twelve-year-old with tits you just met in a bar—you think that would please me?”

His body was over her, his legs pinning her, his arms holding her, his mouth deep at her throat, on her lips. He was breathing heavily, hotly, the alcohol continued to fan his desire. “Come on, admit it, you found her a little bit attractive…”

“No! Did you?”

“It’s not about me.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Not at all. I just wondered if
you
thought she was sexy.”

“Kai, tonight these thoughts did not enter my head. You know what I was busy thinking about? What are we going to do when the money runs out?”

“
Runs
out? We’re out, baby.” His hand was between her legs. “So what about her?”

Larissa didn’t push him away. Opening her legs for him, arching her back, she let him caress her, her moans, his whispers, the tap dripping. Drip, drip. “Come on, what do you think? Do you ever think about it, even for a second? In the abstract. Like you did back in college?”

“Think about what? You? Yes.” Her moaning got louder as his fingers became more insistent.

His put his lips on her nipples, still whispering. “You’re so fucking sexy. You got twenty-year-old breasts, an amazing body. Come on, you want to get it on with a girl?”

If Larissa hadn’t been so indisposed at that moment to think clearly, she might have opened her eyes, might have heard him better. But she was pulsing and panting to the tune of a different master. She thought they were fantasizing, speaking in arousing hypotheticals, as they occasionally did, using erotic language as an aphrodisiac. “Sometimes,” she replied. “I told
you. Out of curiosity. But the time for all that came and went when I was in the first bloom of youth.”

“Ah, except I’m still in bloom, baby,” he whispered. “And I think Cleo might be amenable to being asked, if you’re interested.”

That’s when Larissa opened her eyes. “Asked what?” She moved away from him on the bed.

He didn’t reply, just gazed at her from his pillow with his seductive look of lusty existentialism, as in: I know I’m going to catch shit for it, but I don’t care while I pretend I don’t know what all the fuss is about.

“Are you
kidding
me?”

He reached for her. “A little spice. Just for fun. Nothing serious.”

“Well, that’s good to know. As opposed to what?”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to.”