13

The sun sat on a clear blue bed. Its ferocious rays stalked the world with an intense heat. With great exertion, Joseph Lee forced a heavy shovel into the muddy ground. The wooden handle scratched abrasively against his reddened hands, the metal head slicing easily into the dry gray mud. He applied as much leverage as his tired muscles would allow, opening the ground further.

With sweat beads forming on his forehead, dripping salty rivers down his face, he paused to catch his breath. He leaned on the handle for support, studying his surroundings. They had destroyed half of the garden. The top end had been turned into a mass of mud. All the grass, weeds, and dead flowers had been removed, along with the few levels of earth on which the deceased foliage sat.

After an hour of digging, both men noticed a flaw in their lethargic plans: they had no idea what they wanted the garden to look like. They didn’t know the specifics of what they wanted to plant, where they wanted it and how much of it they wanted. Many mental pictures and blueprints had been created but nothing had been set in stone. They began without any direction and didn’t want to continue that way and then discover that they had destroyed the garden beyond repair.

They came to a simple conclusion, requiring no immediate thought and allowing them to continue mindlessly: they would dig up the entire garden and deal with the re-turfing issues when they arose. They reasoned that as long as they didn’t dig too deep and didn’t damage the decking and paving slabs that adorned the head of the garden, they would be okay.

A few meters away from Joseph, Riso stood hunched over, his broad back—which looked like it would explode through his shirt and expose rippling green flesh—facing Lee. Riso’s grunts and moans were constant as his tireless body worked without pause, his back muscles contracting and relaxing rhythmically.

Relaxing on the deck, her slender body reclined into a padded deckchair, her sunglasses and hair framing her face, rested the beguiling figure of Zala Lechnen. She had been there for the last hour and a half, putting her feet up as soon as the two men started digging. At her side, on a wooden table, was an ice-cold glass of lemonade. On the other side of the table, two slightly warmer pints of beer stood in wait for the busy workers who had been pausing to gulp down the liquid as often as they could.

Sitting up carefully, Zala took a small sip from her glass, her pursed lips kissing the cold rim. Her eyes met Lee’s as she drank. She tilted her sunglasses and grinned teasingly at him. He was red raced, jelly legged, and breathless. And she knew it.

“Joseph!” she called. “Come over here.” She pointed to an empty chair opposite her, waving him toward it. “Keep me company for a bit, would you? I want to ask you a few things and I’m sick of shouting.”

Joseph immediately glanced at Riso, and the big Austrian, whose expression was completely unflustered, nodded. “Go keep her busy.”

Relief swamped across Lee’s face like a tsunami. He left the shovel in the ground and walked over the freshly dug earth, his weak legs trembling like petrified jelly. He crossed the decking and sat down, moaning in relief when his backside touched the stable seat.

Instantly a sensation of sedation swamped through his legs. He knew he wouldn’t be getting back up again anytime soon.

He stretched and took some weight off his lower back, where a mild annoying twinge had developed over the last half hour. He also stretched out his legs and toes. The soles of his feet were bruised through repetitive digging; the action of pushing them down on the blade of the shovel was not only new to him, but it had quickly become painful. He dragged the chair near to the table where Zala sat, convincing his defiant legs that the small exertion would be worthwhile in the long run.

“You look tired,” she noted from beneath her tinted glare.

“I am. It’s been a long time since I’ve worked so much.” He turned to look at Riso. The big man was still hard at work. “Riso hasn’t even broken a sweat.”

Zala said, “You should have said something. You’ve been struggling with that shovel for the last twenty minutes.”

“I was struggling from the beginning.” Lee laughed. “My feet were hurting after five minutes, and I wanted to quit after ten. I was hoping to continue until Riso started sweating, then I could have suggested that we take a break. He looks in high spirits. I didn’t want to be the first to suggest giving up.” He checked on Riso’s progress as he spoke. The big man seemed to be enjoying his exertions.

“Even so, Riso would have just sat down for ten minutes, drank a pint or two, and then continued in even higher spirits,” Zala said.

Lee nodded. “I was hoping to slip something into his drink.”

“Like what?”

“Well, at first I was thinking Valium, maybe a sleeping tablet or two …” He turned to look at Riso when he spoke. “But he’s a big man, and I’m not sure if he’s drugable. How do you make a man that big go to sleep?”

“You have sex with him.”

“With all due respect, I’d rather dig.”

Zala laughed. Her exposed stomach rumbled gently from the vibration, and her breasts heaved with each respiratory exertion.

Joseph stared at her reclined, slender body. He found the urge hard to resist. She lay a mere meter away, her body stretched out, fully visible and framed by the sun. When he averted his eyes, he felt even more awkward, being resigned to absently stare at the patio door or the surface of the table. He couldn’t see her eyes. They were shielded by the sunglasses. But as his eyes fell instinctively on her body again, he felt the need to justify his staring, adding dialogue to his wandering gaze. “You having a lazy day then?” His eyes were on her attire.

“Yep,” she said happily. “Nowhere to go and nothing to do so there’s not much point in dressing today. Not now anyway.”

“Anything planned for later?” he wondered. He wasn’t fishing for a date—far from it. He was tired and in pain, and a couple of painkillers and a long sleep was all he wanted.

“I might watch a film,” Zala said unsurely. “I rented another one. I don’t think Riso will watch it though. I was hoping he would tire himself out and have an early night so I could relax in front of the television with a glass of wine and control of the sofa.” She lifted her glasses, tilted her head, and stared at her diligent husband. “But he never tires himself out. If you’d have drugged him, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“You think I should go back and help him?” He looked over his shoulder, watched Riso tear up another patch of grass, tossing the big slab of turf into a wheelie bin like it was a slice of toast. He didn’t want to help and was pretty sure he was incapable of it, but empathy suggested he should at least try.

Zala shrugged, the soft skin around her neck creased and straightened, her breasts lolled to the side. Lee quickly decided that this was the best place for him.

“Maybe later,” he reasoned.

____

Thirty minutes passed before Riso seemed to notice the idle worker. The ex-army man lifted his muddy face from a dust cloud of newly dug ground and stared at his tired neighbor.

“Have you had enough?” His voice boomed across the garden. He dropped his shovel and trotted over to the table. His chest rose and sank as he walked; his breathing was beginning to slip from its steady rhythm.

Lee nodded. His entire head had succumbed to sweat, heat, and fatigue. The front of his hair had formed a wet fringe and was sticking to his forehead, and the rest was beginning to mat. His forehead and cheeks, despite feeling like they were burning up, were clammy and cold to the touch. His legs gently pulsated and throbbed, and his back and feet had become numb and oblivious. He was relaxed, but he knew that the feeling would pass when he tried to work again. Or even stand. He’d needed to use the toilet for nearly twenty minutes but resisted the urge, preferring to stay seated.

“I’m completely shattered,” Lee confirmed. The big man drained the beer in his glass and plonked it on the table.

“That’s okay,” Riso said, glaring down the garden through squinted eyes. “We’ve done most of the work. We can finish off another time.”

Lee followed his line of sight. The garden had been completely demolished save a small strip of turf at the bottom, six feet long and spread across the entire width of the lawn. It would take them less than an hour to complete. What was once a mass of graying grass, blooming weeds, and dying flowers was now a field of mud, tumbled together with dead strands of greenery and numerous stones. It looked like a building site.

“Can I get you another beer?” Riso held up his glass and nodded toward the empty one in Lee’s hand.

He smiled gratefully and passed the big man his glass. “Thanks.”

Zala sat upright for the first time in over an hour, took off her sunglasses, and stared distastefully at the heavens. “Sun’s gone,” she declared, blaming the sky for letting it slip out of view. She set her sunglasses down and curled her legs underneath her.

Lee fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, his full bladder making his tired movements even more awkward. Zala watched him squirm with a curious look on her face.

“Are you okay?” she wondered with an eyebrow raised.

“Just a bit sore,” he said. He shifted again and then added: “And I need the toilet.”

“Well, go.”

“I can’t be bothered to stand,” he confessed, a statement his rebellious limbs backed-up.

“So you’re going to just sit there and piss yourself?”

“If that’s okay with you.” He instinctively looked toward the house; in the kitchen Riso wandered around, snacking on a chocolate bar while retrieving two cold cans from the fridge.

“Do you want a bottle?” Zala wondered in jest.

Lee shook his head. “Just a sponge for afterwards.”

“Go to the toilet, you lazy man.”

Lee tried to stare her out before he eventually gave in. “Okay,” he said, forcing his reluctant legs into action. “I’ll give it a go.” He stood slowly and made his way forward, dragging his legs as he walked.

“Are you drunk already?” Zala wondered, her eyes on Lee’s intoxicated walk.

“I think my legs are; the rest of me hasn’t caught up yet.” He paused to stretch his awkward limbs, moaning with each elongation of his muscles, and then stumbled into the house.

He passed Riso in the kitchen—receiving a few smiles of sympathy for his pains—and made his way across the hallway and into the downstairs bathroom, a room barely big enough for a sink and a toilet. As he entered, he heard a mobile phone ring behind him. He drowned out the noise by shutting and locking the door.

After relieving himself and washing his hands, he unlocked the toilet door and stepped out. He had a problem trying to flush the toilet, the handle was completely unresponsive. He had given up after five attempts. As he walked back into the hallway, a direct line to the kitchen, he heard Zala and Riso speaking, their voices blasting through the kitchen and vibrating off the hollow walls in the hallway.

“How did he get your number?” he heard Zala say, her voice surprisingly harsh and toxic, hissed in a venomous whisper.

“I don’t know.” Lee recognized worry in Riso’s voice for the first time.

“And he threatened you?”

“He tried to intimidate me, he seemed pretty urgent,” Riso deliberated. “He said he would take legal action.”

“Legal action?” Zala’s reaction was one of surprise.

“He suggested a few other things, as well. Either way, he knows. We have to act quickly.”

“It’s too early.” Zala snapped back, beginning in English and then breaking into her native tongue. Lee didn’t catch any of it. They bounced more foreign words around. Lee slowed his footsteps. Their voices grew louder as he nudged closer to the kitchen.

“We’ll be okay,” Riso assured in English, his voice softer. “Just relax.”

Lee’s lazy leg strayed and his foot clipped the top of the skirting board. A scraping noise interrupted his eavesdropping. Thinking fast and not wanting to seem like he was listening in, he strode into the kitchen.

The Lechnens’ stood next to each other. They had been embracing but broke away in Lee’s presence. Shock came and went on Zala’s face and, after exchanging a quick glance with Riso, she smiled at Lee. “I didn’t hear you there,” she said, her voice soft and calming again.

“The toilet wouldn’t flush,” Lee said, hooking a thumbing over his shoulder. “Is everything okay?” he wondered.

The couple looked at each other, many contemplations and conversations crossing between their glances before Zala spoke. “Just a few financial problems,” she said with a protracted sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“Here you go, big man.” Riso handed Lee his glass, filled to the brim with cold lager.

“Come on,” Zala ushered. “Let’s see if we can get drunk before the sun goes away completely.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Lee agreed, following.

“One or two couldn’t hurt, I guess,” Riso uttered. He was still standing in the kitchen, watching the other two disappear outside.

“Huh?” Zala mumbled, turning to her husband.

“I have to go and meet Barry in a couple hours, and I don’t want to be caught driving drunk,” he explained to his wife before turning to Lee. “Sorry,” he said sympathetically, holding his hands up in a submissive gesture. “I promised I’d go over to a friend’s place tonight and help him out with a few things.”

“That’s okay,” Lee said, watching a cloud of relief spread across Riso’s rough features.

“We can get drunk and merry together another time, right?”

“Of course.”