The Tax Inspector

49

At the bottom of the fire escape, Benny took the car keys from the Tax Inspector’s hand. She let him take her briefcase, imagining he would carry it to her car, but he immediately set off across the gravel towards the back of the yard where a faded red sign read LUBRITORIUM.

‘Wrong way,’ she said.

He turned, and his lower lip, in trying not to smile, made a little ‘v’ that was disturbingly familiar. ‘You can’t go,’ he said. He threw her car keys in the air and caught them. ‘It isn’t over yet.’

‘It’s over. Believe me.’ She did not know how the audit could possibly be over, and she was confused, and mostly bad-tempered that it was. It was not logical that she should feel this, but she felt it. She held out her hand for the keys.

Benny grinned, then frowned and held the keys behind his back. ‘I’ve got stuff I want to show you.’

‘Come on, I’ve got work to do.’ She was going to the Tax Office to shout at Sally Ho. That was her ‘work’.

Benny pouted and dangled the keys between his thumb and forefinger. She snatched them from him, irritated. The minute she had done it and she saw the hurt in his face, she was sorry.

‘You should be happy,’ she said. ‘Isn’t this what you wanted when you came to my house? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to achieve?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Sort of.’

She began to walk slowly, purposefully, towards her car. ‘So?’ she said.

He was close beside her – a little ahead. She could feel his eyes demanding a contact she did not have the energy to give him.

He said, ‘I thought we might be, sort of, friends.’

She began to laugh, and stopped herself, but when she looked up she saw it was not in time to stop her hurting him. By the time they reached the car he had a small red spot on each of his cheeks.

‘I don’t see why not,’ he said. He held out his hand for the keys and she gave them to him, in compensation for her laughter. He unlocked her door and held it open for her. She squeezed herself in behind the wheel. He passed her the briefcase. She held out her hand for the keys. He wagged his finger and danced round the minefield of puddles to the passenger side. She watched him, wearily, as he unlocked the passenger side door and got in. He locked the door behind him.

‘O.K.,’ she said. ‘But now I’ve got to go.’

She held out her hand for the keys. He placed them in her open palm. She inserted the keys in the ignition switch then turned it far enough to make the instrument lights, the three of them, shine red.

‘I came to talk to you last night,’ he said. ‘I thought we could, you know … I came by myself.’

‘Why?’

‘Why not?’

She moved the gear stick into neutral.

‘I got the company books for you,’ he said. ‘I brought them to your house. I was going to leave them on the veranda, but you didn’t come home all night.’

She felt her hair prickle on the nape of her neck. ‘I was at my father’s,’ she said.

‘That’s who you had dinner with?’

‘Yes. It is absolutely who I had dinner with.’

‘But you went out to dinner with Uncle Jack.’

She turned to look at him. He was smirking.

‘You don’t want to waste your time with him,’ he said. ‘He’s a creep.’

‘Benny, what do you want from me? What is it?’

Benny shrugged and looked out of the window at a pair of men at A.S.P. Building Supplies loading roofing iron on to the roof-rack of an old Ford Falcon. ‘How old are you?’ he asked, still not looking at her.

Maria started the engine.

‘How old are you?’ He turned. He looked as if he was going to cry.

‘I’m thirty-four.’

‘I like you,’ he said. ‘I never liked anyone like that before.’

‘Benny, that’s enough.’

‘This is serious,’ he said.

‘Enough.’

But he was unbuttoning his shirt.

Maria turned off the engine and opened her door. ‘I’m going to get your father.’

‘My father is a joke,’ said Benny. He pulled down his jacket and his shirt to show her his upper arm. ‘Just look, that’s all. Please don’t turn away from me.’

Maria Takis looked. She saw a smooth white scar the size of a two-cent piece surrounded by a soft blue stain.

Benny looked at her with large tear-lensed eyes. ‘My mother did this to me. Can you imagine that? My own mother tried to kill me.’

‘Benny,’ Maria said. ‘Please don’t do this to me. I am an auditor from the Australian Taxation Office.’

‘I was three years old.’

‘What is this serving?’

‘For Chrissake.’ Benny kicked out and smashed the glove box. It flipped off and fell on to the floor. ‘I’m trying to show you my fucking life.’ He looked at her. His eyes were big and filled with tears. ‘You wouldn’t come with me. I wanted you to come with me. I can’t stand that.’

‘Benny, what can I do? I’m a stranger to your family.’

‘You’re kind,’ he said. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He picked up the glove box lid and tried to fit it back on. ‘I know you’re kind.’

‘Benny,’ she gave him a tissue from her bag, ‘just take my word for it – I’m very selfish.’

He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. ‘You care about other people, I know you do. You live all by yourself and you’re having this baby. That’s not selfish.’

Maria looked forward out the window, not wanting to hurt him, fearing his anger, wishing it would end.

‘You could have had an abortion.’ He persisted with the glove box lid. Every time he closed it, it dropped to the floor.

‘I often wish I had.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘You want to know the truth? I wanted to hurt the baby’s father. That’s why I’m having a baby – to make him feel sorry for the rest of his life.’

Benny took the glove box lid and squinted at it, as if trying to read a part number.

‘You’re kind,’ he said. ‘You can’t put me off by lying to me. I can replace this glove box,’ he said. ‘If you come back tomorrow I’ll replace it free.’

‘Benny I’m not coming back. I’m sorry.’

‘You come out here, you try to screw my life. I’m interested in you. I’m interested in your baby, everything. I like you, but you don’t even take the trouble to see how I live. You know how I live? I live in a fucking hole in the ground. You wouldn’t even use it for a toilet. Come and look at it. I’ll show you now.’

The Tax Inspector shook her head. She looked down at her skirt and saw it rucked above her knees. They looked like someone else’s knees – old, puffy, filled with retained fluid. In the middle of the anxiety about Benny she had time to register that she had developed œdema.

‘You can’t just dump me. You think you can go away and leave me to rot in my cellar, just let me rot in hell, and nothing will ever happen to you because of it.’ He was folding his jacket. He was opening the car door. He was leaving her life.

Maria Takis waited for the door to slam. It did not seem smart to start the engine until it did.