The Fall Ch. 03

'Oh, there you are.'

Lydia and Kyle turned around to see Cora walking towards them. Her tone had been light, but the quick darting of her eyes showed she was weighing up the situation. She was trying to see if Lydia had been seducing her fiancé. Lydia wanted to tell her not to bother being concerned. She wasn't, and never would have been, interested in Kyle. Especially not after Dylan. She adored the stupid, fat oaf.

'Want a cigarette?' Lydia offered.

Cora shook her head. 'No thanks.' She sat on the stairs with them and wrinkled her nose at her husband's smoke. 'Kyle, you're going to kill yourself doing that. You both will.'

'Gotta die somehow,' Lydia replied. 'And I challenge anyone to live with Cyril and not smoke.'

'I'd be horsing through a pack a day,' Kyle agreed. He stubbed out his cigarette and turned to Cora. 'Although living with you, I suppose I have no excuse.'

She smiled and ruffled his hair. 'None. I'd be doing something wrong if you did.'

The exchanged more smiles and a kiss. Lydia looked away and thought that perhaps she should try being nicer to Dylan. Men seemed to respond very positively to saccharine sweetness and femininity, regardless of how contrived it was.

She got up and went to find a bathroom. The house was incredible. The VJ walls and fretwork were smooth and beautifully painted, the furniture looked expensive, and the display cabinet of china was probably worth more than Lydia's annual income. The guest bathroom was clean and smelt of vanilla. She peed, washed her hands, and inspected her make-up. All good.

She'd left her empty glass on the floor outside the bathroom, and she took it into the kitchen. You could see out onto the back deck from the window. All of the men were out there, talking and drinking beer. It was a sea of denim and cotton shirts, just as she'd predicted.

All of a sudden, she felt tired. She wanted to go back to her flat. She wanted time away from the country, the cattle, and caring for Cyril. She was sick of the cleaning, the caring and the trips to hospital. But, she supposed, if she did that, she was also giving up Dylan. She could hardly bring him back to her flat, even if he wanted to go.

As she stood gazing out at the crowd, Cora and Kyle joined the others on the deck. Lydia headed back out to the front and lit another cigarette. She stared distractedly at her feet. She felt like a freak out here. An ugly, incompetent, drunken freak.

Just as Cora had done, Dylan appeared and said; 'here you are'. She smiled tiredly at him. She should make an attempt to be more like Cora. More feminine and pretty, and less argumentative. Especially about guns. And refugees. And the rights of single parents.

He sat down beside her, the stairs creaking under his weight. He had legs like tree trunks, a barrel chest and thick, muscular arms. Not just fat, solid. And certainly not an oaf. She should stop thinking about him in those terms.

'Is everything alright?' he asked. 'Everyone's worried they offended you by the gun comments.'

She rolled her eyes and smiled at the same time. 'That's the least of my problems. I'm due for my period and my hormones are all over the place.'

'Oh.' He kissed her, and stroked her hair. 'You're brave, wearing a white dress.'

'I have a... never mind. I was just thinking to myself that I should be nicer to you. Less gross.'

'You're not gross.' He hugged her. 'Neal's going to take Cyril out to take care of those pigs tomorrow night. We should go out to dinner together.'

'There's no point. I'll have my period by then.'

He was confused. 'You don't like going out when you have your period?'

'Of course I go out. It's just that there's no sex. It kind of removes any reason for you to come and see me.'

'I like you. I want to spend time with you.'

'You say that now,' she assured him. 'Trust me, when the sex dries up, I'm not much fun. Besides, I drink heaviest on Mondays. It gets ugly.'

'Then don't drink.'

Oh, if it was that simple. She smoked her cigarette and stared at the Charger. It was parked next to a ute that had a bumper sticker that read 'Stop the extreme Greens'. It was from the Shooters and Fishers Party. She thought 'oh fuck'. She was two abortions down and she was only twenty-eight years old. She kept quiet about where it was most of her income originated. She was such a raging drunk she knew she'd never be able to stop. Not out here. What a mess. What the fuck was she doing?

She finished her cigarette and was contemplating lighting another when Dylan kissed her. He'd made an effort with his clothing and he looked nice. Smelt nice, too. Before she knew it, she was sitting across his lap. He brushed her hair to the side and nibbled the back of her neck. Goosebumps pricked along her arm and she thought about sex. About Dylan.

'I should stop that,' he said regretfully. 'I was just telling you I like you without sex, but I still can't seem to stop myself from trying to get down your pants.'

'But sex is fun,' she said quietly.

'Yeah, with you it is.'

'I'm sorry I'm such a mess. I was looking at Cora and thinking how I should try and be like her.'

He laughed softly. 'You provide entertainment. I laughed so much watching everyone's reactions.'

'Half of the men looked like they wanted to kill me.'

'Well, before that, they were looking at you like they wanted to fuck you, and I know which option I prefer,' he admitted. He buried his face in her hair. 'You're so fucking hot, Lyddy. But I still like you as a person. I still want to go out to dinner with you.'

'Okay.' She nestled into him. 'I'd like that.'

It was just such a shame she couldn't bring herself to sober up. He was a good man. He obviously liked her a fair bit. And when he picked her up the next evening he was wearing jeans and a shirt she hadn't seen before. His hair had been cut, he'd fixed up his beard, and he was looking extremely attractive.

If only it wasn't a Monday. She hated Mondays. She hated them because even though she was self-employed, she tended to do most of her work during the weekdays, and Monday meant five whole days of head down, bum up work. Moreover, as Tuesday was a dry day, she needed to prepare for a day without booze.

She was drunk by the time they left the restaurant. She asked him to stop by a drive-through bottle shop but he refused. He didn't want her to keep drinking. He suggested she'd had enough.

She told him he was a cunt and chain smoked for the journey back to Cyril's place. When they got there, she made him come inside. She poured herself a drink and drank it in front of him, just to spite him.

He tried to take her to bed.

'I've got my period,' she reminded him.

'I know that.' He was annoyed. 'You need to go to sleep. Cyril's worried about you.'

'Oh, fuck you both,' she slurred. 'Like I owe either of you anything. I used to be happy. Did you know that? Back in my flat, I was FUCKING HAPPY.'

Dylan was flummoxed. He'd had the same expression on his face over dinner, when she'd kept knocking back the drinks. He'd tried to slow her down. He'd wanted to spend time with her. Oh, if only he knew. If only he knew her secrets, he'd run away and never be seen again.

The next thing she knew, they were in her bedroom. She couldn't remember getting there. That wasn't unusual. She looked around and saw Dylan sitting on the end of the bed. She giggled.

'What's so funny?' he asked.

'You. You're so funny.' She lit a cigarette and stared at him. 'I like you. I wish I didn't drink. I wish I wasn't a cunt. I wish I was someone like Cora. I wish I was beautiful and pretty and femi...femin...'

'Feminist?'

'No, I already am that. That's half the problem, isn't it? I shouldn't be a feminist. I should like guns. I should simper after you. If ever there was a man I'd do it for, it's you.'

He laid her down. 'You need to sleep.'

'Did I remove my tampon?'

He shook his head.

'Shit. Then I need to do that.'

He helped her to the bathroom. She didn't even close the door behind her as she did what needed to be done. He got a good view of what periods were really about. She didn't care. She was drunk, fuck it.

She let him take her back to the bedroom. He pulled off her clothes, and handed her a shirt to sleep in. Then he went and got her water and Panadol.

'Take these,' he said.

She nodded numbly and took them. Less than a minute later she threw the lot up, all over him in his beautiful new shirt.

She wondered where and when she'd find her rock bottom.