Free Praise by Andrew McGahan Page B

and got just the tip of her finger up my arse again. The fucking picked up, short quick jabs. There was no room to move. I pulled her own cheeks apart and wriggled a finger into her arse. She had the tips of two fingers in mine, I slid two into hers. We were both panting and grunting. Our arms were straining. Sweat pooled on the seat.
    Then she was coming. I came with her. We jammed our fingers in as far as they would go. It was all cheap and low and satisfying. The toilet could be proud of it. Shitting was good but this was better ...
    Cynthia got off me.
    â€˜Coming back to the tub?’
    â€˜No. No, I think I’ll stay here a minute.’
    â€˜Okay.’
    I sat on the seat.
    The shit was on its way.
    Afterwards we went back into the flat. We switched on the TV and got into bed. I had a small amount of leaf. We smoked it, propped up on the pillows.
    I made us some toast. We weren’t very hungry. We followed a prime-time movie through, smoking and sipping on cask wine. Then we moved against each other and started kissing. We did it for a long time without pressing it. Cynthia rolled on her stomach and asked me to scratch her back. Even with the heroin, the itching still bothered her. I sat across her hips and ran my fingers up and down between her shoulders. I did it very lightly. I didn’t want to draw blood. She told me that I had nice hands.
    â€˜They’re not writer’s hands, though,’ I said. ‘Look at them. Short fingers, big fat palms. Creative geniuses are supposed to have long, thin, supple hands.’
    â€˜So you’re not a creative genius. You don’t have to be a creative genius to be a writer.’
    â€˜True.’
    We got more active, sucking and licking each other, and Cynthia went through her bag for the K-Y. She crouched over me and opened the tube and squeezed some of it onto her hand. She rubbed it over my erection. Then she squeezed out some more and reached down between her legs, slid her fingers in.
    Then she climbed on and
I
slid in. The lubricant certainly made a difference. There was no pain. We didn’t attack each other this time, we were tired, we did it slow. It took a little longer, but it worked.
    We curled up, looking at each other. This was good. Everything about Cynthia was good. Things were going to be a little sad for a while when she left. I thought about the long empty weeks stretching out. I wouldn’t be working, I wouldn’t be writing, I wouldn’t be doing anything ... how many more Cynthias were there out there? And where were they?
    Cynthia said, ‘We’d better not sleep here. Mum and Dad’ll be wondering where I am. We should get back to the hotel.’
    â€˜Okay.’
    â€˜I don’t want to go, y’know. To Darwin.’
    â€˜No?’
    â€˜No.’ She was quiet for a time, then she said, ‘I think I’ve fallen for you. I’m sorry. I swore it wouldn’t happen, and I swore I wouldn’t tell you about it. I can’t help it. I certainly didn’t need to fall in love again.’
    â€˜It’s okay.’
    â€˜What about you?’
    â€˜I don’t know about love, Cynthia. But I don’t want you to go. It’d be very good if you stayed.’
    She smiled. ‘No, I don’t think you do know anything about love. But that doesn’t worry me. I don’t think you’d fuck me around or anything, or have other women ... I don’t think you even know how to do that.’
    â€˜No. I don’t.’
    â€˜I really could stay, I suppose. But Christ, if things went wrong ... Are you sure it isn’t just the smack talking? Do you really want me to stay?’
    â€˜It isn’t just the smack. I mean it.’
    She was quiet for a while longer.
    â€˜Okay then, I’ll stay.’
    I kissed her. The smack in fact had long since faded away. It wasn’t a magic kiss, but it still felt good. I wasn’t worried about her staying. I