I drink my wine and hold my glass out to him, indicating I want more and he had better fucking well go and get it for me. Say no and see what happens, prick. I fucking dare you, is what the loo I give him is saying. He does exactly as he should, and I can’t help but smile, his shoulders are slumped and I watch him give out a deep breath as he turns his back and walks inside. Enough with the punishment, or should I make him suffer some more? I need to hear all of the facts first I think. He comes back with the bottle in a cooler and Bourbon for himself. We both smoke another cigarette in silence. If I wasn’t so fucking angry, this would actually be quite funny, I can imagine Gabe retelling this story and getting big laughs and much respect for it. So am I angry with him for having a past or am I angry at myself for being jealous about it? Two different issues, but he is being punished for both, well for now anyways. He starts to talk.
“We had quite a privileged upbringing, the best private schools, overseas holidays; we had a lot of material things but no Mum to love us. My Dad was devastated when she died. We all were. She was five months pregnant with Stella, my little sister, when they found a tumour on my Mums’ spine. She refused treatment until after Stell was born” He gulps on his drink as his voice waivers and I feel so bad for being such a bitch, he continues “By then it was too late. It had spread to her bones and her lymph glands. It took her eighteen months to die. By then it had spread to her lungs and her brain. I knew she was dying but I was four for fucks sake. I had no concept of the finality of death; I didn't get what forever meant. It was harder on my brothers; they were older and had more idea about what was going on. Anyway, when she finally died, my Dad threw himself into work. He had inherited the business from my Mums’ Dad. He worked for my pop and married the boss’s daughter. Grandma and Pop had no sons so my Dad took over running things. When Mum died, he just wanted to make it into even more of a success, in her honour I suppose. Any way, he did exactly that, turning it into what it is today. For us boys it meant as soon as we turned thirteen, fourteen we were all expected to do our bit and it wasn't to be done in the office. We were all set to work with the tradies, weekends, school holidays, we were at work. When I was sixteen I was labouring for one of the bricklaying contractors that worked for us. They were renovating an old place in Glen Ira for some television personality. Anyway, there I was sixteen years old, working on a house reno’ during a Melbourne summer, so not wearing a lot. Karen Palmer, who was the wife of the client, was at the property quite a bit. There was lots of publicity at the time that Steve Palmer was shagging around, I was there on my own one Saturday morning having a clear up ready for the painters to start on the Monday, and she turns up, is was a shocker, about 30 degrees by 9o'clock so she calls me in and makes me a cold drink and we get chatting, an hour later she makes me another drink. I'm all done by 12 and as I say goodbye she asks if I wanna have a shower as I had told her earlier I was going straight to the beach to meet some mates. I'm hot, sweaty and dusty so I say yeah thanks, I'm in the shower and she gets in and joins me, without saying a word she gives me a blow job and gets out again. Over the course of the summer she doesn't leave me alone. We meet up any time we can. I'm 16 and getting to bang my brains out, seriously, she's up for anything, anywhere, so I'm happy to oblige. Summer ends, I go back to school and for me that's the end of it but she starts turning up outside the school, I walk out with a girl one night and she goes fucking mental and hits me when I get in the car so that's my lot, I don't need that shit. Over the next few months she bombards me, letters, phone calls, turning up at places she knows I will be. She just won't take no for an answer, in the end I threaten to tell her husband and my dad if she doesn't leave off.” He drags his hand through his hair and shakes his head at the memory. “It does the trick and I've never seen her since, till I walked in that house earlier” He squeezes his eyes shut, is he trying to recall the image or shake it from his brain, I must of looked so pathetic standing there, all smug about showing off my new hot man, boy, lover. And she had already been there, long before me, well that’ll teach me. And then he does the old mind reading thing again.