fence and I couldn’t remember what number she’d told me to buzz. But someone had left the security gate ajar and so I walked straight up the short path to the lower balcony. She lived on the lower level, I remembered her telling me that. The floor beneath my feet was painted red and was stained dark from all the feet that had passed over it. A thick fern in a pot was thriving like a pubic bush in frigid panties. I got the feeling the sun seldom shone where I stood.
I tried to peer through the stained glass panes in the centre of the first door. But they were grooved and dented and I could see nothing. So I plucked up some courage and rang the bell, hoping it would be her who answered. It was. Her eyes were big, her hair was tied back. I felt like a child who’d stumbled across a strange house in the middle of the woods.
‘Come in,’ she said, and opened the door.
There was a brief one-two, should we, shouldn’t we, a step forward, a step back. She broke the situation by kissing me on the cheek. The entrance way was painted yellow and there was hardly enough space for us both to stand comfortably. Above my head was a stained glass light, and the whole house smelt of clean linen.
‘We’ll be using that one.’ She pointed at a closed door to my immediate left. ‘Just go change quick.’
‘OK.’
I walked through her yellow, shoebox-shaped lounge and into her bathroom. I shut the door behind me and sat down on the toilet. I got undressed and changed into the skins. I’d decided to wear the tight briefs and pulled my balls into the triple P. When I was changed I stuck my legs out in front of me and stared at my stupid feet. The big right and the baby left. I suddenly thought of a way to hide them from her.
Her bathtub was an antique, separate from the wall. It was raised a few inches off the ground by golden eagles’ feet, and the taps were antiqued brass. I turned the hot tap on and the whole house began to shake and scream as the water made its way through the piping. I waited for steam to rise from the bath then quickly held my left foot under the hot water hoping it would cause it to swell a little. But I just burnt it.
‘Are you all right in there?’ she called from outside the bathroom door.
‘Yes!’ I said.
I went to the room near the entrance and closed the door behind me. Through the large windows I could see my car parked on the street. There was a blue-grey backdrop stuck on the wall behind me, a stool in the centre of the room. Her floors, like mine, were made of wood, but they were much wider, yellow and recently polished. I sat down on the stool and watched my feet hanging there stupidly at the bottom of my legs. Now, thanks to my ingenious plan, the left foot was not only visibly smaller, but also red instead of white.
Suddenly the door burst open and she came walking in, a gust of wind following her.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I forgot to close the front door properly. It’s windy today, hey?’
‘Yeah.’
She fiddled with her camera. Her fingers were fidgety, but she didn’t seem nervous. She looked like a possessed person, totally focused on what she was doing.
‘OK, Byron, I want you to just push that aside. The stool. And then stand. OK?’
I tried to hide my left foot behind my right, then swapped it around and tried to hide the right behind the left. Then I tried to stand on the floor, and nearly tripped over myself.
‘Oopsy,’ I said, and tried to laugh.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing.’
I stood up straight and moved my right heel backwards so that the toes of my right foot were level with those of the left. She had the camera to her eye and was focusing it on me. My fingers nervously picked at the leather skins. Moving my right foot back causes my body to go slightly out of line, and my right knee to look unnaturally straight.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You really don’t need to do that.’
She dropped the camera from her face and looked at me with her eyes. She smiled, and shook her head.
‘You really don’t need to do that.’
And so I didn’t.
I smiled at her, and suddenly felt completely relaxed. It was as if we had discussed the issue at length. As if lawyers representing both parties had met and drawn up a prenuptial understanding, that the feet were fucked up, but that it was fine.
She laughed some more, and shrugged her shoulders.
Then she raised the camera to her eyes again and focused it, while directing my body into the right position. Then she paused for a moment and again dropped the camera from her eyes.
‘There’s something,’ she said. ‘It’s not uniform thinking. Well what is, I suppose? But I think it’s important. Things must be accurate. Even where the lens can’t see.’
‘All right,’ I said. I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
‘It’s just that well. Here’s the thing. Real tribesmen. And Scots too. You know. With their kilts. They don’t. Ug. OK. Please would you take your underwear off?’
Now that we were past the feet, the request felt suspiciously normal.
She raised her shoulders and laughed some more. But now her laugh was more like a little girl’s giggle. She held her purple-gloved hand over her right eye, and said ‘Am I being rude? I don’t know. I’m sorry.’
‘No.’ I shook my head.
‘It’s weird I know. But, it’s important.’
‘OK.’
‘I’ll cover my eyes if you want.’ She raised both hands over her eyes, and made an obvious show of peeping through them.
‘No peeking,’ she said, and started laughing again.
‘OK,’ I said.
She dropped her hands from her face. I leant against the blue grey backdrop and pulled up the back of my skirt. I felt like one of the dirtier hobos I’ve seen in my neighbourhood, pooing against the wall of a house. I blocked the thought out of my mind, and slipped my fingers around the elastic and pulled the underwear down my legs, making sure never to lift the front of the dress up too high. Victoria kept covering her eyes with the front of her hands, then dropping them again.
‘Sorry,’ she said, and started laughing. ‘It’s just a bit funny.’ Then she raised her hands to her face, covered her eyes again and said, ‘No it’s not. I’m only joking. I feel so awkward now. Should I feel awkward?’
‘No.’
When I’d taken them right off, I sent them skidding across the floor towards where she was standing.
‘Those look quite um, sorry. But they look quite uncomfortable.’
‘We need them to protect ourselves.’
‘I see. OK. I’ve just had an idea. I’ll be back. Wait. Just wait.’
She
