by Lang Leav
I laughed. “Well, that’s a long way off, isn’t it?”
“Is it really?” He looked at me, his expression serious.
“Of course it is, Duck. We’re way too young.”
“You used to say how you couldn’t wait to turn eighteen because then we could get married.”
I sighed. “I was a kid, Duck. Seriously.”
“Why are you acting like this?” He looked hurt.
“What do you mean? Like what?”
“Just—I don’t know. You seem distant lately, and I can’t work out why.”
I drew in a deep breath. I didn’t realize he had noticed anything was different about me. But now that he had brought it up, I knew I could no longer keep Rad a secret. This was the moment to tell him the truth. My heart was drumming loudly in my chest. I swallowed.
“Duck—” I began.
“Look—” he said at the same time. “Sorry, what were you going to say?”
“It’s fine; you go first.”
He sighed. “I know we haven’t been spending a lot of time together lately, and that’s mostly been my fault. I suppose I’ve been caught up with my studies and getting ahead. I’m just working toward the future, our future.”
“I’ve been working hard too.”
“Well, your work is different from mine.”
“Why is it any different?”
He looked away, and I realized what he was implying.
“God. You think my career is less important than yours, don’t you?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“Forget it,” he said, with a sigh. “I just have this whole plan in my head, you know. And you’re part of it. You always have been.”
“Having babies and scrubbing the floor—is that your vision for me?”
“You make it sound so awful. You love kids; you’ve always wanted them. What the hell has changed?”
“I think this is a conversation we should be having ten years from now.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Look, this is the first weekend you’ve had free for ages. I don’t want to spend it fighting with you.”
“Don’t do that, Audrey,”
“Do what?”
“What you’re doing. It’s emotional blackmail.”
“Emotional blackmail? Are you kidding me?”
He was quiet, and he seemed to be thinking things over. His expression softened.
“I was looking forward to spending the weekend with you,” he said after a while. “I’m sorry; I don’t want to fight either.”
“It’s okay. You’ve been busy. I’m not going to hold that against you.”
He smiled. “I just—well, I really miss you. Lately, you’re almost like a stranger.” He took my hand and pulled me to him.
“I’m still the same person.”
“I know, and I’m proud of you. Okay? Don’t ever doubt that.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“No more arguments today.” He smiled. “Deal?”
I put my head down on his shoulder. There was a dull ache in my chest. “Deal,” I said.
Eighteen
I sent Rad an e-mail with my article about him attached before it was due to go to print. A few moments later, my phone rang. “Shit,” I swore, digging through piles of paper and other office junk to find it. “Hi?”
“Hello!” It was Rad. “Nice article. Especially the reference to my boyish good looks.”
“That was Sam’s idea. I think she has a crush on you.”
“Who can blame her?”
I laughed. “Did you read the bit where I mention how modest you are?”
“I haven’t got to that part yet.” He was quiet for a moment. “Hey, did I really say that?”
“Say what?”
“‘An author’s first novel is always, at least in part, an autobiography.’” He was quoting a line from my article, word for word.
“You did say that. I have a recording of it.”
“Wow, that’s profound.” He sounded pleased with himself, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“That’s the reason why it got the extra attention.”
“Yes, the red type really jumps out against all that other stuff I said.”
“Not to mention the bump up in font size.”
“And the generous application of semi-bold.”
We laughed.
“Hey, are you doing anything right now?” he asked suddenly.
“I just got into work.”
“Can you take the day off?”
“Uh,” I said chewing the end of my pen and surveying the office. It was abuzz with activity, but since it was Friday, I knew it would slow down toward the afternoon. “I have to finish up an article, but I can probably slip out just after lunch. Why?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
“You know I hate surprises.”
“I think you might like this one.”
I stood on the sidewalk outside the office scanning for Rad’s car when a pastel-pink Cadillac—top down—pulled up beside me.
“Hi,” said Rad, looking up at me from the driver’s seat.
“Hi.” I looked down the length of the car. “Something seems different about you today, Rad.”
He laughed and pushed open the passenger door. I slid into the seat beside him. It was a beautiful day. The air felt electric, like anything could happen.
“So what’s with the car?”
“Just doing a favor for my dad’s friend. He asked if I could drive his new Cadillac up to his house in the Northern Beaches. Want to tag along?”
“Sure—why not?” I put my seat belt on. “We’ll be back in time for dinner, right?” Duck was coming over for dinner that night, and I had planned to tell him I was hanging out with Rad again, before my article went to print. I wasn’t looking forward to his reaction, but I was sure he’d come around eventually. After all, Rad and I were just friends.
“Yeah, we can be back by dinner,” said Rad.
“How are we getting back, by the way?”
“There’s a rental car waiting for us at the other end.”
“Perfect.”
I enjoyed our conversation as we sped away from the city and through the streets of suburbia. I had never felt more alive, with the wind rushing through my hair and Duran Duran blaring on the stereo. “What’s this radio channel?” I called over the music.
“It’s a cassette. This car comes with a tape deck. There are stacks of them in the glove compartment.”
I pulled the latch, and, sure enough, there was a small collection of cassette tapes scattered inside.
“They’re ’80s tracks,” I said, delighted.
“I thought you’d like them. They were thrown in with the car. Dad’s friend is crazy about the music of that era.”
“I don’t blame him.”
“Neither do I.”
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen one of these.” I held the cassette tape in my hand like it was a holy relic. “Look at this compilation: the Bangles, Tears for Fears, Talking Heads.”
“Great mix!” Rad agreed.
I ruffled through the collection and picked out another tape.
“Oh my God. Dazzle Ships! I loved this when I was a kid.”
“By OMD?”
“Uh-huh. Can I put it on?”
“Sure.”
I fiddled around with the buttons on the dash and got the deck to spit out Duran Duran. I put it back carefully in its casing and popped in Dazzle Ships.
The sounds of orchestral trumpets rang through the cackling speakers in what sounded like the lead-up to a radio broadcast. Then a man said something in Czech before the track broke into an upbeat melody. I began
bopping to the music, and Rad joined me as best as he could.
“Do you know this album basically killed them? OMD, I mean,” I said.
“I read something about that. It was the follow-up to Architecture & Morality, which was a huge commercial hit. Then they released Dazzle Ships, and it bombed. It’s such a shame. I’ve always thought it was underrated.”
“I suppose it was just ahead of its time. Now the album is getting the acclaim that it didn’t back then. It’s like when Blade Runner first came out: half the critics didn’t like it, but now it’s a classic. Isn’t that weird? You can create something that is pure genius, but you have to get your timing right. I always thought that was so unfair,” I said.
“Especially if you don’t live to see the applause. Like van Gogh.”
“That would be tragic. He died a failure, and look how revered his work is now, over a hundred years later.”
Rad shook his head. “Crazy, huh?”
We had almost reached our destination when Rad suggested we take a short detour.
“Isn’t your dad’s friend expecting you?” I asked.
“It’s cool. I’ll just send him a text.”
Moments later, Rad pulled over outside a quaint-looking general store with a wraparound porch and a grandfather clock by the entrance.
“So this is what you wanted to show me?” I teased.
“No, Audrey,” he said wryly. “I just thought we should pick up a few supplies.”
We got out of the Cadillac and walked up the steps and through the entrance. A blonde woman with her hair in a bun and wearing a blue sweater over khaki slacks was sitting at the counter, engrossed in a crossword puzzle. She looked up at us with a nod of acknowledgment and went back to her puzzle.
We walked along the aisles past imported biscuits, raspberry licorice in old-fashioned packaging, and tiny jars of artisan honey. As we browsed the shelves, I wondered what Rad had planned. I felt a flicker of excitement, and I let my imagination run wild. Then I immediately felt guilty because a majority of the scenarios I imagined were X-rated. I bit my lip and tried to get my mind out of the gutter.
We walked by a section of fresh fruit and picked up some grapes and mandarins. We added a couple of bags of Kettle chips and Diet Cokes and put them on the counter. The lady looked up at us and smiled.
“Will that be all?” she asked, as she tallied up our purchase.
Rad nodded. “That’s all, thanks.”
We arrived in the small seaside town of Newport and drove for a short time through the hilly streets, the ocean slipping in and out of view.
Rad slowed and turned into the drive of a charming cottage painted a muted turquoise with gray-and-white striped awnings over the windows.
“What an adorable house,” I said.
“It’s my dad’s place. We used to come here all the time before he and Mum split up.”
The inside was quaint and cozy, decorated with conch shells and antique oil lamps, wall hangings of old maps, and nautical paraphernalia. In the center of the room was an overstuffed couch with candy-striped pink-and-red cushions that faced an old stone fireplace. Toward the back, there was a tiny kitchenette and an alcove with a small bedroom. Rad threw open the bifold doors to reveal a large wooden deck and a jetty, with the sea stretching out into the horizon.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, looking out at the view. Suddenly, I got an overwhelming sense that everything was going to be okay. Tonight I would tell Duck about Rad, and he would be fine with it. Then I would be able to see Rad anytime I wanted without feeling guilty.
“Dad and I used to fish off that jetty. We caught a bluefin once. It was huge.” He smiled at the memory.
“So does this place just sit empty now?”
“It’s mostly rented out as a holiday house, but it’s pretty quiet this time of year. Dad comes up with my stepmother whenever they can.”
“I don’t blame them—I would live here if I could.”
We were putting our supplies away in the fridge when Rad pulled out an unopened bottle of rosé.
“Do you want a glass?”
“Are you having any?”
“I shouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “But no reason why you can’t.”
“Sure.”
He rummaged through the cabinets and found a wineglass.
“Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I said.
He opened up the freezer. “There are some frozen pizzas in here. I can put one in the oven.”
“Sounds good.”
“Pepperoni was your favorite, right?”
I smiled, touched that he remembered. “Yeah.”
The day seemed to slip away as we nibbled on our makeshift banquet set up on the small wooden table that overlooked the sea. The sky was a perfect blue as we watched the seagulls glide through the cool breeze while the sun dived in and out of the thin, translucent clouds.
“I bet the sunsets here are amazing,” I said with a sigh.
“They are. It’s a shame we have to leave soon. Looks like it will be a stunning one.”
“I can imagine.” I smiled and took another sip of my rosé.
“This is also the perfect spot for stargazing. You can almost see the outline of the Milky Way.”
“I bet it would be magical.”
Rad turned to me. “Well, why don’t we stay? I can always drop the car off tomorrow morning.”
“Your dad’s friend won’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
I thought about it. I did have dinner plans with Duck, and I wanted to tell him about Rad, but there was no reason why I couldn’t do it on Saturday night instead. I could always text him with an excuse. The truth was I would rather hang out here with Rad.
“Yeah, what the hell,” I shrugged. “Why don’t we stay?”
“Great. Well, in that case, I’m going to pour myself a glass of wine.”
The bottle of rosé was almost empty when the sun began its slow descent.
“Do you want the rest?” Rad asked, his hand on the bottle.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I teased.
“I thought you already were. I know I am.”
He poured the rest into my glass, then he got up and positioned his chair so it was next to mine. We were quiet as we watched the sky transition from pink to gold to orange in a stunning interplay of color and light.
“You weren’t kidding about the sunsets, were you?” I said, downing the last of the rosé.
“No.”
“God, it’s so beautiful.”
“I’m glad I brought you here. This place has always been special to me. It reminds me of a time in my life when things were less complicated.”
“How old were you when your parents split up?”
“I was fourteen. Mum moved away, so I chose to live with Dad. A few years later, he met Sophia, my stepmother. She’s great.”
“So the two of you get on?”
“Yeah. She’s a belly dancer.”
“No kidding!” I had never known anyone with that job title before. I imagined it would be a great topic of conversation at a dinner party.
“She performs with a band. They do the odd birthday or office party. She’s really good.”
“That’s so cool.”
“It is. I’m just glad Dad’s happy.”
“Mum cheated on Dad when I was a kid.”
“She did?”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking back to that dark period. “She always wanted to be an actor, and I get the feeling I came along and took her off that trajectory. When I was about eleven, she ran off with some hotshot producer who promised her the world. Dad and I never saw it coming. One day she was there, acting her normal self, then the next she was gone.”
“God, how awful.”
“She called us up the day after she disappeared and said she wasn’t coming back. Just like that. She sounded so cold on the phone—like a stranger. Then a few months later, she turned up crying on our doorstep, and my dad took her back. But it was never the same. It was like something vital was missing. It didn’t feel like we were a family anymore—we were just going through the motions.”
“That must have been so hard.”
“Yeah.”
“I knew my parents were having problems, but it was still a shock when they split up.”
“Was there someone else in the picture?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think so. I suppose they just grew apart. My mum was probably in a similar situation to yours—she wanted more.”
“Did she ever get to do that road trip?”
Rad shook his head. “Strangely enough, no. It’s not like there was anything to stop her. She had the freedom and the means to do it. But she moved back to the small town in New Zealand where she grew up. Now she lives with her partner, Miriam, and their brood of horses.”
“Do you visit her often?”
“I used to spend my school holidays there, but it’s been awhile now. We talk on the phone regularly, though.”
“That’s nice.”
“I think I resented her for leaving, but in hindsight, it was the right thing for her to do. I mean, the alternative would have been worse. I think if my parents had stayed together purely for my sake, the bitterness would have eaten away at them.”
“I think that’s where my parents are. They’re together, but I don’t think they’re happy. I know Mum definitely isn’t.”
“Relationships are weird like that. Most people I know are together out of habit more than anything else. I don’t know many couples who are truly happy.”
“Other than Lucy and Freddy, of course.”
“Lucy and Freddy are an anomaly.” He smiled.
The light was fading fast now, and soon the sky was a different kind of beautiful.
“It’s not even completely dark yet, and you can already see the stars,” I said.
A small gust of wind came from nowhere, and I shivered a little.
“Are you cold?” Rad asked. “Do you want to go back inside?”
