Read Online Luck in the Greater West by Damian McDonald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Damian McDonald
Ads: Link
But her father, although heâd been compulsive with alcohol, was much more in control of his emotions. She could at least trust him â particularly as he was in a hospital bed â to react without succumbing to fits of yelling and tears.
Zakhar regarded her now. His eyes had the look of a child; a child much younger than his daughter. He looked away.
âI donât think your mother will allow.
âI havenât asked her. I wanted to know how you feel, Sonja said, but couldnât look at him now either.
âBoys, Sonja, he sighed. Boys can be friends, but boys can be friendly because they want something that is not friendship.
âWhat about older boys? Or men? she asked.
âI donât know, Sonja. I think there is little change from boys to men.
âBut some men must love their girlfriends.
âA man is something you will have to wait for, Sonja.
Sonjaâs mother, brother and sister walked into the ward.
âI like someone, Dad, and I think he likes me, she whispered, and glanced at her mother, hoping she hadnât heard.
Â
Sonja liked the smell of the hospital. And the hospital staff looked happy today. She walked through the corridors. She wanted to get lost in them. Yesterday sheâd made love. Sheâd really made love. Itâd felt stranger and nicer than sheâd imagined. It was so â so physical. The part when he put it in. She could still feel him there. And his body on hers. His muscles tensed over every part of her. And lying, smiling at each other.
But did he love her?
It wasnât like with Raz; but it could end up like the Raz thing had â nodding at her the first time heâd seen her after their â what? Fling? Affair? Whatever it was â and then never even looking at her again for the rest of the term.
Would she see Patrick again? How would it be? How could another situation be created where they could spend that sort of time together? Would her parents allow her to see him again if they found out what sheâd done with Patrick? She wanted them to know. But Patrick was a man. A man. She had a man. Or, at least, sheâd had a man. She couldnât bear not seeing him again.
TEN
Natalie looked at the small bag of heads sheâd just bought. Sheâd hoped to smoke some of it with Whitey, but heâd simply handed it to her at the door and told her he was way too hungover to smoke. His flat smelt of sex. He could have at least told her. Just like when they were seeing each other before he went to jail: heâd just stopped. Stopped calling her, stopped talking to her when they ran into one another, and given no explanation. Well, it seemed now sheâd gotten an explanation. He was fucking someone else. She put the bag in her pocket as three guys got on the train and sat across from her.
âHey, one of the guys said.
âHey.
âGoinâ in ta town? he asked, nodding in a north-easterly direction.
âNah, she said. Just heading home. She shifted a little.
âWhereâs home?
âWentworthville.
âWith ya boyfriend?
âPft. Boyfriend. Nah, I live with my mum.
âWhat nationality are ya?
âWhat do ya mean? Aussie, she said.
âYa look Italian or somethinâ.
âMy parents are Maltese, Natalie said, and pulled her shirt down over her slightly exposed stomach. She could feel their eyes on it. It made her feel cold.
âMaltese. But ya call yourself Aussie, hey? Weâre Lebs. Ah, except this bloke, heâs a choco, but heâs a Leb in traininâ, he said and ruffled the younger guyâs hair.
âOh, she said. The âchocoâ was cute.
âSo, do ya smoke pot? the speaker asked.
âI dunno. Do you? she shrugged.
âFuckinâ A, the cute one said, the subject seeming to give him the confidence to talk. His attempt at a moustache was still soft, feminine, like the hair on her arms â but he was definitely on the way
Zakhar regarded her now. His eyes had the look of a child; a child much younger than his daughter. He looked away.
âI donât think your mother will allow.
âI havenât asked her. I wanted to know how you feel, Sonja said, but couldnât look at him now either.
âBoys, Sonja, he sighed. Boys can be friends, but boys can be friendly because they want something that is not friendship.
âWhat about older boys? Or men? she asked.
âI donât know, Sonja. I think there is little change from boys to men.
âBut some men must love their girlfriends.
âA man is something you will have to wait for, Sonja.
Sonjaâs mother, brother and sister walked into the ward.
âI like someone, Dad, and I think he likes me, she whispered, and glanced at her mother, hoping she hadnât heard.
Â
Sonja liked the smell of the hospital. And the hospital staff looked happy today. She walked through the corridors. She wanted to get lost in them. Yesterday sheâd made love. Sheâd really made love. Itâd felt stranger and nicer than sheâd imagined. It was so â so physical. The part when he put it in. She could still feel him there. And his body on hers. His muscles tensed over every part of her. And lying, smiling at each other.
But did he love her?
It wasnât like with Raz; but it could end up like the Raz thing had â nodding at her the first time heâd seen her after their â what? Fling? Affair? Whatever it was â and then never even looking at her again for the rest of the term.
Would she see Patrick again? How would it be? How could another situation be created where they could spend that sort of time together? Would her parents allow her to see him again if they found out what sheâd done with Patrick? She wanted them to know. But Patrick was a man. A man. She had a man. Or, at least, sheâd had a man. She couldnât bear not seeing him again.
TEN
Natalie looked at the small bag of heads sheâd just bought. Sheâd hoped to smoke some of it with Whitey, but heâd simply handed it to her at the door and told her he was way too hungover to smoke. His flat smelt of sex. He could have at least told her. Just like when they were seeing each other before he went to jail: heâd just stopped. Stopped calling her, stopped talking to her when they ran into one another, and given no explanation. Well, it seemed now sheâd gotten an explanation. He was fucking someone else. She put the bag in her pocket as three guys got on the train and sat across from her.
âHey, one of the guys said.
âHey.
âGoinâ in ta town? he asked, nodding in a north-easterly direction.
âNah, she said. Just heading home. She shifted a little.
âWhereâs home?
âWentworthville.
âWith ya boyfriend?
âPft. Boyfriend. Nah, I live with my mum.
âWhat nationality are ya?
âWhat do ya mean? Aussie, she said.
âYa look Italian or somethinâ.
âMy parents are Maltese, Natalie said, and pulled her shirt down over her slightly exposed stomach. She could feel their eyes on it. It made her feel cold.
âMaltese. But ya call yourself Aussie, hey? Weâre Lebs. Ah, except this bloke, heâs a choco, but heâs a Leb in traininâ, he said and ruffled the younger guyâs hair.
âOh, she said. The âchocoâ was cute.
âSo, do ya smoke pot? the speaker asked.
âI dunno. Do you? she shrugged.
âFuckinâ A, the cute one said, the subject seeming to give him the confidence to talk. His attempt at a moustache was still soft, feminine, like the hair on her arms â but he was definitely on the way
Similar Books
