Chapter 3-2
562 Words
As Carlene pulled out onto Junction Road, Reuben turned the car air conditioning to warm and pointed the vent on his side towards his bare feet. His socks and favourite shoes, blue Lacoste plimsolls he’d bought with his prison release welfare payment, were bundled in a plastic bag on the back seat. Even though they’d been washed in hot soapy water in Nancy’s laundry, Reuben fancied he could still detect a whiff of urine.
A steady stream of traffic whizzed past; it was still early for a Saturday night. He’d only had one drink, not bothering to refill his glass after the accident, but Carlene had insisted on driving home.
He glanced at her. The line of her jaw was taut; her hands tight on the steering wheel. In that moment she was her mother, the Nancy of thirty years ago. An image flashed into Reuben’s mind, of him and Carlene in their advancing years, reincarnations of Nancy and Alec: Carlene, her effusiveness moulded by age into disapproval; and Reuben trying to jolly her out of it, to smooth the waters and avoid conflict at any cost. The premonition was so strong, it gave him goosebumps.
He shook himself back to the present. ‘I’m sorry about your mother’s tablecloth. And the swearing. But it wasn’t totally my fault. How could I know the little brat was going to pee on me? I’m the one who should be mad, it’s my shoes that are ruined.’
Carlene’s mouth softened a fraction. ‘I know, honey. Your shoes will be as good as new after I put them through the washing machine. He’s only a baby, he didn’t do it on purpose.’
Reuben was sure he’d detected an evil gleam in Brayden’s eye as Wayne had hoisted him out of the highchair to clean him up. Was his unerring aim an accident too? The kid had a bladder the size of an elephant.
‘By the way, you put Wayne up to offering me the job, didn’t you?’
‘I asked Jo about it and she asked Wayne.’
‘You should have asked me first.’
‘I thought you’d be happy. Wayne’s one of the best roof tilers in the business, it’s a good steady job until something better comes up.’
‘That may be, but I’d still like to be consulted first.’
‘Fine. I thought it would be a nice surprise for you, but obviously I was wrong.’
Carlene pulled up at the traffic lights leading into Kedron Park Road. Still staring straight ahead, she said, ‘Have we just had our first fight?’
‘I’d say it was more of a disagreement,’ Reuben said.
‘What’s the difference?’
‘A disagreement is when you have different points of view on something, a fight is when you yell at each other.’
The lights changed. Carlene planted her foot and the Corolla shot ahead like a racehorse out of the barriers. On their left, trucks and cranes huddled silently together, dwarfed by the concrete ramps of the Northern Bus route still under construction.
‘That’s such a man thing to say. You don’t have to yell to have a fight, you can be very civilised about it. That was more than just a difference of opinion, it was a fight.’
‘So we’re disagreeing about whether we’re having a disagreement or a fight.’
‘I suppose so.’
Reuben stole a glance at Carlene and caught her doing the same. He reached over and squeezed her leg.
‘It had to happen, sooner or later. Your first argument’s always nerve-racking. I think every couple should have an argument on their first date, then it’s over and done with.’
‘You’re crazy, you know that?’
She was smiling. Reuben slid his hand up her thigh. ‘And you know the best part about arguing...’
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