Review of Australian Fiction, Volume 16, Issue 6 by Craig Cormick

Author:Craig Cormick [Cormick & Klousia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781922171986
Publisher: Review of Australian Fiction

Tuesday Fucking

James Klousia

He had an hour each Tuesday. She was supposed to arrive at six-thirty p.m., but would usually get to his place anywhere between six and seven. When they had finished making love—she preferred to call it fucking—he would dress quickly while she took care of herself in the toilet, and then sit on the edge of the bed and listen to her talk. She’d lay on the sheets, fully naked, and tell him the wildest stories about her week in reverse.

She’d tell him what she had for dinner, what movies she had seen, who was sleeping with who on Neighbours, while he would make a mental note of the changes to her body. Her breasts, so perky and taught ten years ago, had drooped. Her nipples were now always red and irritated, the areola chafed. He could smell the moisturiser that she’d slathered on them.

Every week something new and exciting had happened to her. He was amazed at the variety in her life, though it was strangely terrifying for him to imagine. He once asked if her stories were made up, but she’d threatened to slap the sense out of him. He didn’t ask again.

Yesterday arvo, I went to Launceston to do a bit of shopping. I got halfway to Campbell Town and my engine started making a clunking sound. Thumpa-thumpa, thumpa-thumpa, thumpa-thumpa. A guy in a ute pulled over behind me. Really big arms. He reckoned it was some rod or something, so I ended up waiting an hour for a bloody tow truck back to Hobart. Then the mechanic tells me it’s not even worth fixing. Bastards. So I sold it to him for scrap. I needed the money anyway, but he totally ripped me off.

Her face had changed the most drastically over the last decade. She’d quit smoking five years ago, but her lips still crinkled at the corners when she spoke. The edges of her eyes were lined, as though she were permanently squinting at the sun.

I’m thinking about changing my hair colour, just to spice things up a bit. Maybe doing something crazy, like red. I think I’d make a sexy redhead. Maybe even shave down there so no one will know the difference. What do you think?

She had two tattoos. One was a turtle on the instep of her foot, the other was the word angel across the small of her back. The angel had become slightly mottled from the small amount of extra cushioning around her midsection. He guessed that she’d gained about ten kilos over the years, but knew better than to ask. It was a different attractiveness, one he’d warmed to over the years, his taste maturing with her changing looks.

He once asked what her tattoos meant, but she just shrugged. She’d gotten the turtle on her eighteenth birthday because she thought it was cute, and the angel was what her daddy always called her.

On Sunday, I had tea at that little pub off Liverpool, that one with the fireplace.

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