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Since yesterday he’d unwound about the whole sex thing.He’d lain in bed in the dark, and practised Fern’s techniques.When he’d relived the kissing episode and his groin had predictably lit up like a Christmas tree, he’d breathed and visualised a deep red glow at the base of his spine.He’d let the heat radiate through his pelvis, but only so much, stopping it before the glow turned into a full-blown flame.
Finally, he’d drifted off to sleep.
Naturally, he’d woken up with a stonking morning glory, but that was beyond his control, so he’d accepted it, with kindness.He couldn’t be responsible for controlling his dick in his sleep, after all.
He’d fixed things in the shower, not in a frenzied, desperate way, but breathing evenly, eyes closed as he leaned against the tiles, feeling every drop of warm water on his skin and imagining Judith’s fingers exploring his body until the waves crashed through him, leaving his knees weak, but his mind clear.
All day at work he’d felt remarkably calm and centred.
“Where did you learn to cook so well?”he asked now.
“I started young.”
“Your mum taught you?”
“I kind of taught myself.”Her lips tightened for a second.“Mum had bad postnatal depression after Pippa was born.”
He hadn’t expected that.“Cripes.How old were you?”
“I was seven and Luke was three.Mum was in hospital for a while with Pip on a mother-baby unit.I used to feel so proud when I helped get Luke’s tea ready.Nothing major, just peanut butter sandwiches at first.Dad would cut up the carrot and celery, and I’d arrange them like a smiley face on the plate with his sandwiches.”
“That must have been tough on you.”
“Not really, I loved doing it.I guess cooking became my way of showing I care.”Her face lit up.“Dad gave me this cookery book as a birthday present, a kids’ one, with easy recipes.I’ve still got it; for you know… if I have kids one day.”She rushed on, “Anyway, I made most of the recipes out of it.Jam drops, macaroni cheese, chocolate brownies…” She picked at the edge of a table mat, her face pensive, and he badly wanted to reach over and take her hand.
“How long did you get your brother’s tea for?”
“Oh, a couple of months maybe.I don’t exactly remember because I still helped out when Mum came home.She spent a lot of time in her dressing gown.And I would rock Pippa to sleep and play with her to stop her crying.Mum couldn’t stand the crying.”She looked up and huffed out a laugh.“Honestly, I don’t think I ever felt like a kid.I was so worried about everyone.”She got up and picked up his plate.“Hardly surprising I ended up in a helping profession.”
“I get that.”Carts stood up too.“I only went into accounting because I was good at maths.Wish I’d been more artistic, like you, but there you are, I’m just a boring number cruncher.”
She turned to him as he handed her some dishes.
“There’s nothing wrong with that.I’d love to understand maths better.But you’re so much more than a number cruncher.”
“Really.In what way?”
“You’re highly intuitive.”
Carts scoffed, went back to the table and started clearing the condiments.“I don’t think many people would agree with you.”
“Well, they’re wrong.I can tell by the way you talk about your sister, and your friends.How you were last night with Pippa and Shaz.”
Flustered, he muttered, “I—I care.That’s all.”
“That’s everything.”
Inside he glowed, but he couldn’t manage to say a plain and simple thank you, so he grabbed hold of the segue as he put the salt and pepper shakers on the bench.“Talking of Pippa… have you spoken to her since last night?”
“I’ve tried to call her all day.She texted just before I left work saying she’s been super busy and she hopes I liked Shaz and that I understood, to which I replied of course I do, one hundred and ten per cent.I did start to write I was sorry for not being there for her, but after what you said, I stopped myself.I’ve thought about it and you’re right, Pip probably wasn’t ready to share before now.”She came back to the table and filled up their wine glasses.He watched her fingers curl around the bottle, and remembered how wonderful her hand had felt holding his.“Our family have never talked about it… sex and all that related stuff.”
He took the glass from her and sat down.“Mine are the same.Mum still acts like Avery is ten years old.And my dad’s only comfortable talking sex if it involves two-celled animals dividing.I have an intimate knowledge of the reproductive cycle of the amoeba, thanks to Dad.”
“That sounds exciting.”Judith took a seat opposite him.“I think my parents expected school would take care of it.”She giggled.“But our sex ed was useless.Mrs Bendigo, who the boys all called Mrs Bendover, ran a couple of sessions.I remember watching a movie with close-ups of a sperm fertilising an egg, and some horrible pictures of venereal diseases.She left handouts at the front of the class about how saying no to sex was the only safe sex.”
He snorted.“Oh Christ, yeah, don’t remind me.We had a guy called John Prior, with a terrible high-pitched laugh who got everyone stretching condoms over bananas.They were all around the school grounds for days afterwards.”Carts had found one hung on his locker with a note saying, “You won’t need this, stick dick.”No way was he going to tell Judith that.
“Eweey, that’s enough to put you off dessert.Talking of which, I almost forgot.”She jumped up, went to the fridge and brought out two crystal glass bowls.“Chocolate orange mousse—wait.”Her head dived into the fridge again, and when she turned around she brandished a can of whipped cream.“This was the only cream they had left at the IGA.”
