Love Lies Dying Read online

  “Then just say it,” John said as he pulled his zipper up over the bulge. “I know you were in a pretty strange relationship and maybe this is the way that Fox guy got you to say thanks, but you don’t have to do that any more and you don’t have to do it to me.”

  “Didn’t you like it?” she asked.

  “What?”

  You’re kidding? he thought. Did I like it?

  “Didn’t you like it? You know, what I was doing. Isn’t it nice to wake up to that warm, lovely feeling?”

  John didn’t know what to say. “Well, ah, yeah, of course it was nice, but you don’t have to say thank you that way. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Zoe still looked sad.

  “Don’t be upset, Zoe. It’s just not right. We just don’t do that sort of thing here, okay?”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Why can’t I do that to you if I want to? You enjoyed it. I enjoy it. So where’s the harm?”

  John sighed. “The harm is, I’m married! And Helen is your friend. We can’t do it.”

  Zoe crawled closer to him and placed her face inches from his. Her dark brown eyes enveloped him as they searched his whole face. She lifted her right hand to play with his hair.

  “Does that matter?” she asked.

  “Does it matter? Of course it matters!”

  “But are you really happy?”

  “Happy?

  “Yeah, with Helen. Can she give you everything I can?”

  John was speechless.

  This girl shoots straight, that’s for sure, he thought.

  “I mean, is she as good as me?” Zoe continued in a whisper. “Is she?”

  Her left hand rubbed across the bulge in his pants. She squeezed slightly.

  John just stared at her.

  “Is she?”

  John grabbed her hand and pulled it from his pants. He pushed her aside and bolted from the sofa.

  “Look, Zoe,” he said over his shoulder as he walked over to sit on the dining chair on the opposite side of the room. “I know you’ve had trouble and everything. But we just can’t do this, okay? I love someone else. I’m with someone else. Do you understand that?”

  Zoe’s face fell, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. I really do. Just as long as we know what the boundaries are. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good.”

  They stared at each other across the lounge room for a while.

  “But have you ever thought about it?” Zoe finally asked, her head tilting slightly.

  “Thought about what?”

  “You know, having sex with someone else.”

  John shook his head and sighed. “I don’t think we need to talk about this.”

  “No, I’m just interested.” Zoe rearranged herself on the sofa into her favourite yoga-like position once more; legs spread, arms resting on her knees. “When I was with Ricky, towards the end when things were rough, I always had to fantasise that I was with someone else. Like I was doing it with someone else. It was the only thing that kept me going.”

  “Well, when you’re with an asshole like that, I’m not surprised.”

  “So do you think about it?”

  “I don’t see what good discussing this will do.”

  “Have you ever thought about having an affair? I mean, you must have, right? Who hasn’t thought about it? You know, you’re in a stable relationship, but things can get boring. The same old same old. People get boring, the positions get boring, the sex gets boring. You get bored and you start thinking.”

  “Zoe, this isn’t going to help…”

  “Haven’t you thought what it would be like to do it with someone else? Even for just a minute?”

  John sighed. What’s the use? he thought.

  “Okay, you win. Of course I have. Everyone does. It’s not that unusual.”

  “I know,” Zoe said as she pushed herself up off the sofa and walked towards him. “I agree. It’s not unusual.”

  She stopped when she reached him and kneeled down in front of him.

  “So, all I’m saying is,” she smiled at him again, “if you get the opportunity, you should go for it.”

  She reached out towards him once more, her deep eyes and wide smile drawing him closer.

  John leaned forward, reached out and took both her hands. He brought them together inside his and pulled her closer.

  “I’m sorry, Zoe,” he whispered to her. “I love someone else.”

  Her face fell as he let her hands drop. She sat back on her haunches and looked to the ground.

  “Now, I think you’re tired and a little upset,” John continued. “Which is certainly understandable considering what you’ve been through.”

  He stood and looked at his watch: 3:19am.

  Boy, what a night!

  “It’s been a long night and I think it’s time you got some sleep. You want to be fully recovered when Helen returns with whatever news she has.”

  Zoe turned her head to stare up at him. “You’re right,” she said as she began to stand. “I’ve been a fool and I’m sorry that –”

  “Ssshh,” John interrupted her. “Say nothing more now. Just go to bed and try and sleep. Okay?”

  She smiled once more, “Okay. You’re right, Johnny. Thanks.”

  “Good night,” he said.

  She stood slowly and walked past him.

  “Good night,” she said over her shoulder. “Pleasant dreams.”

  He swung around to watch her leave the room. Her ponytail swung from side to side, mirroring her buttocks. She made a detour to pick up the unfinished glass of water left next to the sofa. She turned to face him and smiled once more.

  “Thanks for all your help, Johnny.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “Now, go to bed.”

  She nodded and headed for the bedrooms.

  John watched as she opened the door to the main bedroom and walked straight through, leaving the door open behind her.

  He waited to see if she was moving her clothes to the spare bedroom, but no light came on and she didn’t reappear.

  Maybe she doesn’t know there’s a spare bedroom, he thought to himself. Or maybe she’s tempting me.

  John stood there for a minute or two, just in case she did reappear. But she didn’t.

  She is tempting me! he thought. She’s going to be a handful. But you can’t say no to a beautiful girl in trouble.

  He smiled and turned out the lounge room light. Shaking his head, he followed Zoe towards the main bedroom.

  Five

  John stopped in the doorway to the main bedroom. He peered into the darkness but couldn’t see any movement. Zoe must have been so tired that she’d fallen asleep straight away, not realizing she was in the main bedroom.

  Or had she?

  He reached out and grabbed the doorknob and slowly closed the door.

  He ran his hand through his hair as he walked down the small hallway that housed entrances to the bathroom and spare bedroom.

  He hoped Helen was able to find something out to help Zoe; any kind of news that would give her some certainty as to what her next moves should be.

  Otherwise she was just going to be a bundle of nerves for days on end.

  Then again, no news meant she’d have to stay with them longer, and John began to think he’d enjoy that.

  She’s going to be a handful, he thought again.

  He walked into the bathroom, turned on the light and stared at himself in the mirror.

  It had been a long day and he was exhausted. He really couldn’t be bothered doing anything other than standing there staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes looked tired and his short brown hair was all ruffled from his nap on the sofa.

  But what a way to wake up! John thought as he smiled to himself. Her mouth, hot and wet around him, had felt so good.

  “You’ve still got the pulling power,” he whispered to himself as he lo
oked at his reflection.

  He smirked, Yeah, right! Who am I fooling?

  He had always thought of himself as quite attractive to the opposite sex, he’d certainly had no trouble in his college days, but he’d never had women just throw themselves at him. He was good looking with sharp defined features, and college football had kept him in good shape. He looked in the mirror now, stared at the few strands of grey hair that had begun to appear on his head and at the slowly forming wrinkles around his eyes. Still, not bad for a guy in his early thirties.

  And Zoe proved that he was still attractive to at least some of the female population.

  He remembered then the first time he had seen Helen. It was part way through his senior year of college. He’d never seen her before then, because she was a freshman.

  He’d spent so much time trying to impress the cheerleaders that any girl not on the squad just wasn’t worth his time. And that had been his big mistake.

  Sure, he was good looking, but he wasn’t the best looking on the team. The cheerleaders were more interested in Donny DuBois and Marty Klavan.

  Some guys had it easy.

  Meanwhile, guys like John and his best pal Richard Dunbar had to work for their conquests.

  And, for John, Helen had been the sweetest of them all. So sweet, because it had been so easy.

  John folded his arms on his chest and watched as his reflection did the same.

  “Yeah, you’ve still got it,” he said.

  Part way through his final year everything was going great, except for his love life. It was a black hole of loneliness and depression. But then out of nowhere Helen appeared.

  He’d been dragged into a post-game party that Donny DuBois had thrown at the house he and a few friends were renting just off campus. He really didn’t want to be there, but with nothing much to do and the adrenaline still pumping, he had decided to go along.

  Richard had told him to blow the guys off and tell them to jam their party where the sun don’t shine. But Richard was like that. He was the one who was always going to be the writer and would return to his dorm and type out page after page of one novel or another on an old rickety typewriter.

  John had told him he was going to the party and that Richard should come along.

  “It’ll be fun,” John had said to him.

  “Jam it,” Richard had replied as he fed another blank page into his typewriter.

  But when he got there he wished he had listened to Richard in the first place.

  It was a boring party full of boring people who were only interested in getting on Donny’s good side, or naked side, depending on whether they were male or female.

  Most of the guys were from the team and John had nothing too much to say to them – he saw them every day of the week anyhow. And most of the female flesh was better left on the rack.

  Girls like Patricia “Pattie the Fattie” Bourke and Maureen O’Reilly were there hoping to get lucky. But the rolls of fat around their stomachs and their truly sad make-up made them only good for teasing and laughing at.

  Some girls just didn’t get it. Or, more likely, they were hoping someone would get drunk enough to help them get it. But you’d have to be mighty drunk to want to pop their stale and tasteless cherries.

  Sad, sad girls, John shook his head as he thought back. What kind of a life would they lead?

  John remembered standing in a corner for most of the night, checking out from afar the breasts on Christie Baker, Donny’s number one squeeze and the team’s number one cheerleader. She was also number one wet dream pin-up girl for most of the male population on campus. Now there was a girl with class, tits and ass. How she managed to have her tits defy gravity was of constant amazement to John. They were large and nicely rounded, but Christie never wore a bra and they just stuck out from her body, on display for everyone to see. Her nipples were usually erect and enchanting too. An absolute feast for the eyes, and a true natural wonder of the world.

  Finally, after only about an hour or two, John decided to go home. There was no action at the party and the only thing worth waiting around for was another sly glimpse of Christie Baker’s breasts. But he knew he was never going to get his hands on them, so there was no reason to hang around. He slipped out of the main lounge room skilfully dodging the hot and clammy hands of “Pattie the Fattie” and Maureen. He was wiping his hands and heading down to the front door when it opened and Helen walked in.

  He remembered stopping in his tracks, amazed at her long curly blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders.

  And then he saw the angry look on her face.

  “What the hell do you think you’re looking at?” she’d yelled across the hall at him.

  John was stunned. He tried to speak, he even tried to turn and walk away, but he couldn’t.

  “Well?” she placed her hands on her hips.

  “Ah, I was just leaving,” he said as he continued towards her and the door. “The party’s in the main lounge.” He pointed the way.

  “I’m not here for some stupid party,” she yelled at him.

  “Oh, okay, sorry,” he pushed past her and walked out the door.

  “Hey,” she called from behind him. “Where are you going?”

  He turned to face her after he walked down the front steps.

  “Home,” he said.

  She still had her hands on her hips but she had a strange look in her eyes.

  “You know anything about cars?” she asked.

  “Well, yeah, a little,” he replied.

  “Think you can fix mine?”

  “Don’t know,” he shrugged his shoulders and placed his hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong with it?”

  She rolled her eyes, “If I knew that, I’d be fixing it.”

  She smiled and he laughed.

  “Okay,” he said. “Where is it?”

  “Just across the street,” she pointed. “It’s that old shit-heap of a Buick. My dad won’t buy me anything new.”

  “Well, let’s go and have a look at it then.”

  They walked across to the car and he checked under the hood. Helen climbed in the car and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sounded pretty dead to him and he suggested maybe it was the battery.

  “Shit,” she hit the steering wheel. “How the hell am I supposed to get home now?”

  “I could take you,” he’d replied. “If you don’t mind a bike?”

  And so he had taken her home on his bike, and she had invited him inside for coffee.

  And that was when they really hit it off. He found out she was at college too, but they were doing different courses and subjects for the most part. She found out he was on the football team, “A game for small-minded people played by athletes with even smaller minds,” she had said, and he had discovered that there was something much more interesting in the world than football. And even more interesting than Christie Baker’s breasts. Helen was cute, intelligent, great to talk with and fun to be around.

  But she had spunk too. She would call it as she saw it and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. He liked that, and he hadn’t found it in any of the cheerleaders he knew. Most of them would bend over backwards without a word of complaint – literally. They would lie and cheat to get what they wanted. The girls he knew had no substance at all. But Helen did. Helen was completely different.

  After working so hard with so many relationships that had never worked out, John suddenly found himself talking with someone who was just right for him. He didn’t have to try hard or pretend. He just had to be himself and everything clicked into place.

  And he had fallen in love right there.

  Nothing mattered any more. All that did matter was the girl sitting across from him.

  Helen…

  John sighed as he rubbed at the stubble on his chin. His mirror-image did the same.

  How things can change…

  The reflection of the light from the chain around his neck caught his eye. He pulled at the chain and
the pendant attached to it popped out from his shirt. He held it in his hand and stared down at it. It was a gold half-heart pendant, the other half he had given to Helen when they decided to get engaged. It was cheap, all they could afford at the time, but it had meant so much to both of them.

  He had one half of the gold heart-shaped pendant. The other half of the heart still hung around Helen’s neck after all these years.

  He stared at the pendant now, and smiled. Helen had fallen for him just as quickly as he had fallen for her.

  So many years ago, he thought to himself. But you’ve still got it, John.

  “Yeah,” he said to the man in the mirror.

  Some girl who’s been treated like shit by her asshole boyfriend goes down on you to say thanks and you think you’re the hottest guy ever to walk the earth.

  John shook his head. “Dream on.”

  He turned off the light and walked out of the bathroom. He stopped in the hall to listen for any sounds from the main bedroom, but he could hear nothing.

  She’s asleep, poor kid. The events have finally caught up with her, he thought.

  Opening the spare bedroom door, he walked inside and got undressed in the dark. He closed the door behind him and climbed under the cool sheets of the single bed.

  The single bed.

  The bed they bought for his son.

  The son they had never had.

  He remembered the excitement when Helen had told him she was pregnant. He remembered all the champagne corks popping and the celebratory messages from their friends and family.

  He could recall how they rushed around town, buying clothes and a cradle, a cot and toys. And the bed for when the baby got older.

  And he also remembered the doctors telling him that his son had no heartbeat and was dead. There was nothing they could do.

  Nothing.

  He remembered walking back into this room after hearing the news, dismantling the cot, packing up the toys. They would never be used.

  They hadn’t got around to selling the bed. In fact, they hardly ever talked about it any more.

  It was something Helen never liked to talk about. It was as if she blamed herself, as if it were her fault the baby had formed the way it had. He’d tried to talk to her about it countless times, but she just wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t open up. She’d just leave the room.