Taming the Beast (21 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ Jamie said. ‘I was at Sarah’s.’

‘I know. She called.’

His stomach muscles clenched up. ‘What did she…?’

‘She wanted to see if you’d got home alright. She was worried about you.’

Sarah was worried about him. Well, that was something, wasn’t it? It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t indifference, which was what he’d imagined she’d felt.

‘What happened? She said you had an argument?’

Sarah said they’d had an argument. That was an interesting way of looking at it. An argument. Implying that there was a difference of opinion, that viewpoints could be voiced and solutions negotiated. Calling it an argument diminished it, made it something that could be sorted out and gotten over. Sarah and Jamie were just arguing.

‘Can’t you tell me, please?’

‘Yeah, it’s… she’s seeing this bloke and he… he’s no good for her.’

‘So what? Sarah is always with some loser.’

‘This is different,’ Jamie said, trying hard not to cry. ‘He hurts her.’

‘Oh.’ Shelley stroked Jamie’s hand, carefully avoiding the cut. ‘Like, physically hurts her?’

Jamie didn’t know how to explain Sarah’s bruises. He could describe them in intimate detail, but then Shelley would want to know how he knew, and he could hardly tell her that today he had fucked Sarah for three hours and that whenever he felt himself going over the edge, he changed position so that he could see her beaten up thighs. So while Sarah couldn’t come because she was
thinking about the man who’d done that to her, Jamie was holding his orgasm off by thinking about the same thing.

‘She has bruises,’ he said.

‘Bruises? Shit. I can’t imagine Sarah putting up with that. What does she say about it?’

‘She says she loves him.’ Jamie started to cry.

‘Oh, shit.’ Shelley kissed his cheek, stroked his head, held him tight to her breasts. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m sorry. It’ll be okay.’

Jamie knew that letting his wife comfort him over his broken heart wasn’t right. But then, what was?

After a while, Bianca woke up and started hollering. Together they changed her nappy, and then Shelley sat on the bed to feed Bianca and Jamie lay on one side and watched them.

‘I can’t believe we made her,’ Jamie said, stroking the wispy hair that tried to cover Bianca’s still soft skull. ‘I can’t believe she’s ours.’

‘I can’t believe it either. I can’t believe I have this little girl, and I can’t believe I have you. I thank God every day for you both.’

‘Yeah, right. I’m such a blessing.’

Shelley put her hand over his, both of them holding Bianca’s head. ‘Blessings, both of you.’

Later that night, Jamie told Shelley about Mr Carr. After listening to him ranting about what that monster had done to Sarah, Shelley made them both a cup of tea and then started in on why Jamie was wrong about it all.

Firstly, what had happened could not really be considered sexual abuse. Fourteen-year-old Sarah was no innocent child. She used to annoy everyone in Media Studies with her rants about child slavery in African diamond mines, paedophile priests, infant
clitoridectomies in Somalia and a thousand other injustices. She was always going on about giving a voice to the voiceless, and defending those who can’t defend themselves and empowering the abused and downtrodden. So, given that, is it fair to say that, if anything, her bias lay towards exposing men who did what Mr Carr had done? That is, if Mr Carr had assaulted her, or even used his position of power to manipulate her, then wouldn’t she have taken great pleasure in bringing him to justice on behalf of all the abused girls who were not as strong and brave as she?

‘Maybe she was too afraid to,’ Jamie said, grasping, and knowing that he was grasping, ‘Maybe she was scared he’d get violent.’

Shelley didn’t buy it. She used to go to the same church as Mr Carr. He taught Sunday school and helped run the Friday night youth group. His daughters boasted about how their dad was a big softy and they could get away with anything. At school, he was the same. He never raised his voice or thumped the desk when the class misbehaved. When he supervised sport he always emphasised the need to play fair and respect boundaries. He was a volunteer counsellor for the student help line. In short, he was one of the gentlest, kindest, least intimidating men she had ever met. ‘He’s as capable of violent sex abuse as you are,’ she said.

Jamie met her eyes. ‘Maybe I am. Is it so hard to imagine?’

‘Yes, it is. You are gentle to a fault. That’s why I love you.’

He held up his bandaged hand. ‘Not so gentle sometimes.’

Shelley looked away. ‘Right, yes, you’re right.’ She sipped her tea, keeping her eyes on the far wall. ‘It’s her then. She inspires violence. She turns decent men into animals.’

‘Shelley!’ He reached across the table and grabbed her chin, turning it so she was facing him. ‘Don’t you dare blame her. And don’t you dare compare me with him!’

‘Why not? She clearly makes both of you crazy.’

Jamie felt like slapping her. He resisted, but held her chin hard. ‘If you saw what he’d done to her… the damage that he… He’s a fucking animal. Her thighs look as though they’ve been through a meat grinder. Bites and bruises from her knees to her hips! If you’d seen it, you would’ve been angry enough to break a window too.’

Shelley reached up and removed his hand. ‘I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,’ she said, standing and turning her back on him. ‘Since I can’t imagine I’ll be in a position to examine Sarah’s thighs in the near future. But then, why would I be?’

Jamie let her go. There was nothing more to say.

He sat up most of the night thinking it through. Shelley had made some valid arguments, but she was missing the point. Yes, Sarah was precocious, and yes, Mr Carr had some good characteristics, but there was no excuse for a man in his position taking advantage of a girl who thinks she’s more grown up than she is. A teacher having sex with an under-age student is wrong in all kinds of ways, and nothing makes it right.

But so what? She loved him. Whatever he was, whatever he did, Sarah loved him and had always loved him. She had always said
he’s the one, Jamie, the only one I need, I dream about him, I yearn for him
. She’d said it when she was fourteen with a freshly squashed heart; she’d said it when she was sixteen and newly homeless; then at eighteen when she was screwing celebrities and turning down millionaires; and she’d said it less than a month ago when she was naked and kissing Jamie’s chest.
If it hadn’t been for Him, I would think this was as good as it gets
. She had meant it as a compliment.

It
was
a compliment. To be second out of a field of thousands, to be first runner-up to a god. Especially a god who had not appeared for worship for eight long years. A god who had abandoned the most faithful of his flock in her time of desperate need.

Sarah had suffered for her belief and devotion. While Daniel Carr was enjoying himself under the Queensland sun, Sarah was caught in a storm, thrashing herself against rocks, trying to break herself open. While the love of her life was playing with his kids at the beach, Sarah was working double shifts at a sleazy restaurant so she could afford to live in a derelict building. While he was teaching English to a fresh batch of adoring teenagers, Sarah was popping pills and losing time and having abortions. And while he was teaching Sunday school, Sarah was getting buggered by strangers in car parks and alleyways.

And while all this was going on, Jamie was holding on tight, riding it out, keeping her alive, waiting for his time to come. It had never occurred to him that he was doing it all for Daniel Carr’s benefit, taking care of Sarah so she would be in good condition when he came back to claim her. And if he had known, it wouldn’t have made a scrap of difference. Jamie took care of her because he loved her, and he loved her because he couldn’t not. If she had never so much as kissed him, never even
spoken
to him, he would still have done everything in his power to make her happy and safe.

Nothing could never change that.

Daniel took Sarah to Parramatta Park, because it was a clear warm day, and because he hadn’t been to the park since he’d returned to Sydney over a year ago, and because he wanted them to only see each other in public for the time being. Sarah dressed as demurely as she could without going to plain ugly. Dark blue jeans, a pale blue twin set, sneakers. She plaited her hair and tied it with a blue ribbon that she bought specially.

They sat side by side, but not touching, on a bench facing the river. Sarah had promised to tell him everything he wanted to know. She was eager to get it all out, not because she liked talking about her miserable life, but because the sooner they got all the catching up, getting to know each other stuff out of the way, the sooner Daniel would touch her.

‘How many men have you been with?’ he wanted to know.

‘Many.’

‘Sarah, you promised to be honest with me.’

She sighed. ‘I am. I don’t know how many. Hundreds.’

Daniel stared at her, clearly waiting for her to tell him she was joking. She stared back, refusing to let him make her ashamed. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘How many of them did you love?’

‘None.’

He squinted. ‘None?’

‘Just you.’

His face softened and for a moment she thought he might kiss her, but he only nodded and carried on with his questioning. ‘Are you sleeping with anyone at the moment?’

‘Yeah, just… just Jamie. It’s actually pretty serious and… okay, I do love him, but not in the way… not
in love
love. I’ve known him forever and… It’s complicated.’

Daniel closed his eyes. ‘Explain it to me.’

‘He’s my best friend and I pretty much owe him my life. There’s a line from Dickinson: “I felt it shelter to speak to you.” That’s how I feel about Jamie. But he got this silly girl pregnant and married her, but he’s in love with me, and, well, I’m in love with
you
. I told him about you and he…’ Sarah cringed at the memory. ‘He did not handle it well.’

‘I want you to stop sleeping with him.’

‘You can’t expect me to–’

‘Goodbye, Sarah.’ Daniel stood up. ‘Call me when you’re ready to take this seriously.’

‘Daniel, no!’ She grabbed his arm and tugged on it. ‘I’ll stop, I promise. I’m sorry.’

He sat down, brushing her hand off his arm. ‘Anyone else I should know about?’

She shook her head.

‘Good girl. Now, I want to know about your family.’

Sarah squeezed her hands together. ‘My mum is an economics professor. My dad is an actuary working approximately five hundred hours a week for an insurance company, calculating the statistical probability of not paying out a single claim and still avoiding legal action. Kelly is three years older than me. Last I heard she was doing Law at UNSW.’

Sarah lit a cigarette and Daniel slid across to the far end of the bench. It made her want to kick him when he did things like that. Although, she wanted to kick him anyway just to be touching him.

‘I met your mother at parent-teacher night. She was gorgeous, like you, but so brusque, so–’

‘Evil?’

Daniel laughed. ‘I remember thinking something like that. I was raving about how wonderful you were and–’

‘Were we screwing then?’

‘No, we weren’t
screwing
.’ Daniel scrunched his face up to show his distaste. He had a filthy mouth but couldn’t abide what he called
tacky
words. Screwing, prick, tits and snatch were off limits. Fucking her cunt with his cock was somehow much classier. ‘I was infatuated with you though. I think I came on a bit strong, telling your mum how fantastic you were.’

‘You told her I was fantastic?’ Sarah ground her cigarette out with her foot and slid across to be close to him again.

‘Yes, but she talked about you as though you were somebody else’s kid. She lectured me on learning styles and intellectual development and on the fact that you had a sharp mind but you were wasting it on reading romantic rubbish.’

‘That’s my mum.’

Daniel turned his upper body so he was looking Sarah straight in the face. ‘I suggested to your mother that it was quite normal for a girl your age to be reading romantic fiction, and she told me that if it was up to her, you would not be wasting your time in a class like mine. If it were up to her you would not be studying wishywashy concepts like deconstruction and ethnocentrism, nor would you be going on about expression and interpretation. According to her, I should’ve been teaching you clear, concise composition skills and that was that.’

His voice was glorious, but she wanted him to stop. She wanted him to kiss her and touch her and tell her with his body that she was much, much better than anyone he knew.

‘When she left, all I could think about was how vulnerable you were. That a girl as awake to the world as you were, with such a
dead hearted mother, would be open to anyone who showed her the slightest bit of affection.’

Sarah’s throat closed. She tried to tell him to shut up, but the words were caught in her chest. She coughed to clear her throat, and held up her hand to tell him to be quiet.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Fine. Can you shut up for a minute, please?’

‘Okay.’ After a while, he said, ‘I just wanted you to know that I understand about your mum. I understand that you must hate her for her coldness. But also, you could look at it the way I do. If she hadn’t been so distant and unloving, maybe you wouldn’t have been such an easy fuck.’

Something broke in her and tears poured out. Daniel squatted in front of her, face creased with concern. ‘I made you cry. I’m sorry.’ He handed her a navy handkerchief. ‘I had no idea you’d get so upset.’

‘Bullshit, Daniel. You’re deliberately fucking with my mind. The other night you told me that you couldn’t help yourself, that you tried to resist me and couldn’t. Now you’re telling me that you intentionally took advantage of me. I don’t know what to think.’

He was silent for a few minutes, rocking back on his heels and watching Sarah try to regain her calm. When her breathing slowed to normal, he spoke again, looking right into her eyes. ‘I fantasised, tried to resist, decided to have at you then changed my mind, then met your mother and changed it back again, then prayed and decided to leave you alone. I went back and forth, and yes, in the end I took advantage of your vulnerability. But if it hadn’t been me it would have been someone else, and he more than likely would not have felt anything except opportunistic. I loved you and I still do. I’m just pointing out that having the parents you had made it easier for you to accept me into your life.’