Forty Four

Have you ever had the feeling of complete certainty, that this is the final moment before your world turns to hell? People talk of "that sinking feeling". I'd describe it more as... being shoved over the edge of a clifftop and tumbling into a nameless abyss, the express elevator to the Earth's core, or a bowel movement of unexpected violence. Whatever the description, this was my moment of pending doom.

I rushed down the stairs. By the last third of the descent I had a clear line of sight of the front door and Mike's face pressed up against the glass. Lisa retrieved her top from the floor and threw it on. We froze briefly when I reached the lounge, both of us uncertain what the coming storm would bring.

Another thump on the door jolted us to movement. Lisa took a steadying breath and reached for the doorknob. I dived for a beanbag and squelched around desperately trying to find a casual and innocent sitting position. The stupidity of my endeavour dawned as Lisa turned the doorknob - I had just elephant-run down the stairs...

The door flew open from Mike's pressure. Lisa took several unsteady steps back to avoid being sprayed over the carpet.

Mike gaped at Lisa and then me - sprawled over the bean bag with legs crossed at the ankles and one arm behind my head - then back to Lisa. He seemed uncertain who to rage at first. 'Cosey,' he spluttered between seething breaths.

'Not too keen on vinyl really...' I guessed that wasn't what he meant.

Mike stalked about the lower level of the unit, glancing at the kitchen and then disappearing down the hallway to the laundry. I'm not sure why - maybe hunting for evidence of lude acts. Lisa and I swapped worried glances. The door to the garage squeaked open and Mike reappeared, pointing in the garage direction. 'Planning on staying a while?' he demanded.

I shook my head, staying ensconsed over the beanbag, figuring I was less likely to get cl0bbered while sitting down. 'It's hot, the door was open. Shade...'

I thought he was going to spit, but instead he stared at Lisa, his brow knotting into an interesting geographical formation. 'I bet that's not all that was open. Was it?'

If my heart wasn't jack-hammering its way out of my ribcage I would have been impressed. Mike's not usually one for comebacks.

Lisa held his gaze and didn't back down - it reminded me of how she'd stared down Dad- fearless, with no shame. 'Why bother asking? You've already decided.'

Mike didn't reply, instead he vaulted up the staircase three steps at a time. We heard his footsteps pounding around upstairs, first into the back bedroom, then pausing at the front one. I guessed he'd found a rumpled doona where Lisa had leapt off the bed in anger. It wouldn't look good.

'It's not what it looks like!' I called.

He didn't answer. The explosion of footsteps I expected to come flying down the stairs didn't come.

'I'm going to talk to him,' said Lisa.

I wanted to object but didn't know what to say.

'You should go,' she said. Her feet disappeared from view as she climbed the stairs.

Forty Five