The Trouble With Paper Planes

by Amanda Dick

  “So, you wanted to work for a fictitious government agency, saving the world from aliens?” Bridget chuckled. “That was your life’s goal?”

  “What proof do you have that it was fictitious?” I rallied, mentally praising myself for my quick wit.

  “Ah. Touché.”

  Maia smiled and my heart skipped a beat. I took a sip of my beer, trying hard to recover. It was unnerving, staring at a stranger with Emily’s face.

  “How old were you when you saw that movie?” Bridget asked, thankfully, so I didn’t have to think of something else clever to say. I didn’t think I was capable of it.

  “Ten, I think. Or eleven. I’m not sure, I can’t remember. I just liked the alien stuff. It was cool.”

  I felt like that ten-year-old boy again, over-heating thanks to the outrageously hot suit. Maia took a sip of her drink and I found myself staring as her lips enclosed the straw. Full and rose-red, with just a hint of gloss.

  The collar on my white shirt suddenly seemed far too tight, and I reached in to loosen it with my fingers.

  “Anyway, moving on from alien-hunting,” Bridget said, winking, “We were just talking about surfing. Have you given any more thought to giving Maia some lessons?”

  My heart fell, lodging on top of my shiny black leather loafers.

  I wanted to do it, for Bridget, but there was no way. I could barely think straight when I was around Maia. She’d pick up on it, and I’d feel like an idiot.

  “I completely understand if it’s an imposition,” Maia said quickly. “I mean, I’m a total beginner, and you’ve obviously been doing it a while – I get it, really I do, and it’s perfectly okay.”

  Another difference between her and Em. Em had been a great surfer.

  “It’s not an imposition at all, is it Heath?” Bridget insisted.

  God almighty. I hated to disappoint her. I owed her. She was a good person, who wanted to help someone. I should want to help. I was a good person too, wasn’t I?

  I took a quick sip of beer as I tried to gather my thoughts, but when I looked up, it was directly into Maia’s eyes.

  They were so like Emily’s, and right now, they were full of hope.

  I had the fleeting thought that maybe that’s what was making this such an impossible situation for me. Hope was something I had found was in short supply these days. It was intoxicating, seeing it up close like that. It made me want to say yes, if only to keep it close, but still I couldn’t quite manage it.

  “Heath?” Bridget prodded gently, squeezing my arm.

  The walls were closing in on me.

  “I think I need some air,” I mumbled, forcing a smile. “I’ll be back in a minute. Sorry.”

  I turned my back on them and made my way through the kitchen until I was pushing open the back door. The warm air tumbled over me and I sucked in a deep breath. For the first time that night, I gave some serious thought to ditching my promise to Vinnie and Jas, and just getting the hell out of there.

  I SANK INTO ONE of the chairs set up beside a table in the delivery lane that ran along the back of the café. Bridget used this as a break table, somewhere to take five from the chaos when she could. Right now, it was just the sanctuary I needed.

  The wall behind me had been painted with a colourful mural years ago, but now it was covered in graffiti. The lane was tar-sealed but full of pot-holes and loose gravel, and the fence opposite guarded the back section of the shop next door. Weeds poked up between the fence posts, the only greenery out here. It was dusty and close, and the breeze was warm, not cool.

  I felt like I’d been transposed onto this landscape, into this scene. Layered over the top of the grime and the dust, completely out of place in my pristine black suit, white shirt and shiny, black, life-sucking shoes. I didn’t belong here. I was a loner once again, standing out in a sea of t-shirts, shorts, superhero masks and ballet costumes.

  I felt like Spiderman in a room full of Batmen.

  I needed to get rid of these damn shoes. I couldn’t breathe with them on. I toed them off, ripping my black socks off and shoving them inside. My jacket quickly followed, and I threw it over the back of the chair. I undid the top button of my shirt and loosened my black tie. Finally able to wiggle my toes, I tried to relax.

  I was blowing this all out of proportion. She was just a girl. A girl who happened to bear a striking physical resemblance to Em. That explained the so-called ‘connection’ I felt to her. It was purely physical, that was all. Unnerving, yes. But understandable, given the circumstances.

  I felt like a lawyer, giving an opening argument to a jury of my peers. Who exactly did I think was going to judge me?

  I was twenty-eight, for God’s sake – hardly over the hill. Yet if I carried on like this, I’d be alone for the rest of my days. I’d be lying if I said that spending the next fifty or sixty years or more by myself wasn’t depressing the hell out of me. Yet ‘moving on’ had a hollow ring to it, too. Wasn’t moving on synonymous with giving up? To use one of Vinnie’s favourite expressions, I was all over the place like a madwoman shitting.

  Suddenly aware that I was no longer alone, I glanced up to find Maia standing in the doorway.

  For a moment – a nano-second, really – I felt that same gravitational pull I’d felt when I’d first met her. It put me on the back foot, just like it did yesterday, and I’m sure it was written all over my face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, backing away. “I didn’t mean to… I’ll leave you to it.”

  But for reasons unknown, and despite everything I thought I wanted, I found myself unwilling to let her go.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said quickly, loosening my tie further, my heart pounding. “I just needed some fresh air – this suit is baking me alive. Bloody costume party. He’s thirty, not thirteen.”

  She glanced down at my shoes and socks in their haphazard little pile beside me, and smiled. “I thought it was kinda fun. He looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

  I looked behind her, towards the café, as the music came filtering out through the open door. He did look like he was having fun. That was good, he deserved it. I should stay. If I left now, he’d worry, and that wasn’t fair. He needed to let his hair down, especially after what happened this morning at the beach.

  Maia stood in the doorway, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.

  “It’s okay, I won’t bite,” I smiled, trying to put her at ease. God only knew what she must think of me, running out like that. “Grab a pew.”

  She glanced behind her for a second, as if unsure, then stepped out into the lane, walking over to join me at the table. It was darker out here, away from the light of the doorway. The warm breeze lifted her hair, sending tendrils fluttering around her face. She tucked them behind her ear as she settled into the chair across from me. Our backs to the wall, staring out at the rickety wooden fence opposite, I was grateful we didn’t have to look each other in the eye.

  “I’m sorry for running out like that, that was really rude,” I said, trying my best to relax. Just being in close proximity to her like this was disconcerting, whether we were opposite each other or not. I could feel her looking at me, but I didn’t feel brave enough to do the same. I watched her out of the corner of my eye instead, hoping she wouldn’t notice in the dim light. She sat so still. I was the complete opposite, my leg bouncing with nerves.

  “I’m the one who should apologise,” she said. “I got the impression Bridget was bullying you into teaching me how to surf, and I really didn’t want that. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  I was such a bastard. “Look, I promise you it’s not that – at all. I’m sorry if that’s how it looked.”

  “It’s okay. I totally get it. I’m a beginner, after all. I gather from Bridget that you’ve been surfing for a while?”

  I nodded, glancing over at her briefly before studying the shoes and socks on the ground beside me. Even the dusty gravel beneath my feet was still warm from the sun’s h
eat. I longed for some cool grass, or the beach. Something to ground me, because it felt like I was out of my depth here.

  “When did you first learn? I bet you were just a kid.”

  Memories came rushing back and I smiled in the half-light, leaning back in my chair. Although I was staring at the forlorn fence opposite us, what I saw was Dad, the back-yard, the hose, and lots of laughter and advice. Things were easy then. It was a simpler time. Our family was a unit – the four of us, against the world. Before everything came crashing down around our ears.

  “I was eight,” I smiled to myself.

  “Eight? Wow. That’s younger than I thought.”

  “My Dad taught Vinnie and me at the same time. Boogie-boarding to begin with, then we moved on to surfboards. He had the coolest longboard. It was white, with a big red stripe right down the middle. I used to lay it down on the back lawn and practice my pop-ups on it while he squirted me with the hose and tried to put me off.”

  I smiled, looking over at her, my courage bolstered by the memories.

  “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds very cool,” she smiled back.

  “What?”

  “Pop-ups. I don’t know what they are.”

  “It’s when you go from lying down to standing on the board. Kind of the first thing you learn. It can be tricky at first, but you get the hang of it with a little practice.”

  She nodded, and we fell into an awkward silence.

  “Why do you want to learn?” I asked, desperate to break it.

  She took a few moments to think about it. “I don’t know. It seems kind of… magical.”

  “Magical?” I turned to her, intending to rib her good-naturedly, but the faraway look on her face threw me off. I was suddenly hot and bothered, and I knew it had nothing to do with the unseasonably warm summer night.

  “Oh God – that sounds stupid doesn’t it?” She grimaced. “Ignore that. I can’t think of the right way to explain it.”

  I gave her a small, indulgent smile and tried my best to recover. “It’s fine, take your time. It’s not a test, I’m just curious.”

  She glanced over at me again as I fought hard to keep my expression neutral. The truth was, I found myself enjoying talking to her out here, in the semi-darkness, with the warm breeze teasing us. It was crazy, and it was the complete opposite of what I thought I wanted, but there you have it. I kept telling myself I could get up and walk away at any time, if it got too weird.

  But I didn’t move.

  Oblivious, she continued. “It seems like a metaphor, for life. I mean, skimming across the surface of the earth, not getting caught up in stuff you can’t explain. Being in control, rather than letting it control you… ” She shrugged self-consciously. “Or something like that, anyway. I don’t know.”

  She was right. And she was intuitive. In some ways, she reminded me of Bridget.

  “I liked ‘magical,’ personally.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” She smiled.

  “Not at all,” I chuckled, sitting forward again. “But you do realise you just gave me an intimate insight into your psyche with that answer?”

  She looked flustered and I wondered why. I was only kidding. Mostly.

  “I’ll teach you,” I said, from out of nowhere. “If you still want me to?”

  She grinned, the first genuine smile she’d given me. She had little crinkles in the corner of her eyes.

  And dimples.

  MAGICAL, SHE’D SAID.

  I don’t really know what I expected her to say, but that wasn’t it. And what unnerved me even more was her explanation of wanting to be the one in control. It had struck some long-buried chord deep within me, one she couldn’t have even known was there, simply because I didn’t know it was there.

  The more I thought about it, the more anxiety pecked away at me. What the hell had possessed me? I’d spent my entire life trying to straighten things out, make them simpler and uncomplicated. And yet here she was, a tangle of question marks, and she had me jumping in without even bothering to properly think things through. I wasn’t impulsive – that was Vinnie’s domain. I was the sensible one, for God’s sake. And none of these feelings remotely resembled sensible.

  I tried to talk myself down from the ledge, rationalising it. She seemed genuinely keen to learn how to surf, and it was something I could do well, and enjoyed. It made sense, didn’t it? I was doing her a favour, and I was doing Bridget a favour, and God knew, I owed her enough, after all she’d done for me. I was doing the right thing here. And besides, familiarity breeds contempt. The more time I spent with her, the more differences between her and Em I was likely to see. That would make things a whole lot easier.

  Standing in the kitchen doorway last night, the light illuminating her from behind, she’d looked so much like Em that I’d almost given myself a heart attack. It wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t fair to avoid her just because of it, either. She didn’t deserve that, and as I stood at the kitchen sink, watching the morning sun glittering on the harbour, I was determined to put all that behind me. If I was going to do this, I had to make a real effort. None of the half-hearted shit I’d become famous for lately.

  It was just surfing lessons, after all. It wasn’t a marriage proposal.

  When I opened the door to her shortly afterward, she stood in front of me wearing a pair of red shorts and the same white lace-trimmed singlet from last night. The straps of her red bathing suit were clearly visible beneath the singlet and, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but wonder what that bathing suit might look like on the rest of her. Two pieces or one?

  “Hi,” she smiled shyly. “By showing up here exactly on time, I’ve probably forfeited any cool points I might’ve had, but I’m really keen to get started. Does it show?”

  I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Just a little bit. Come on in.”

  She was enchanting, and completely oblivious to what that was doing to my insides. In a blinding flash, I realised something.

  She knew nothing about me. I knew nothing about her. It was a fresh slate. I could be anyone I wanted to be. I didn’t have to be the bereaved boyfriend or the pitiful loner. I could reinvent myself. It was an intoxicating thought.

  She stood in the hallway, waiting, her hands clasped behind her back like an impatient schoolgirl.

  “Are we going to the beach?” she asked, as I closed the door. “It’s a beautiful day for it. I was at Whale Bay yesterday morning, just watching, trying to pick up some pointers.”

  I’d almost forgotten about that. Already, I could feel the fantasy beginning to circle the drain.

  “Were you there early? I thought I saw you,” I said, hoping she would say I was wrong, that I’d imagined it.

  She nodded, looking uncomfortable suddenly, although she did her best to hide it. She probably saw everything. I didn’t know how to explain it to her without having to go into the whole sordid mess. Maybe I couldn’t reinvent myself after all.

  “Yeah, that was me,” she said carefully. “I went out to watch the sunrise. It was really pretty.”

  I waited for her to ask about what else she might’ve seen, but she didn’t.

  “Best place to watch it from,” I said.

  “I can see why.”

  That was it. No awkward questions. No probing. No interest at all, really. She just looked embarrassed. Not what I expected, at all. Apparently, we were just going to leave it there. She was there, she saw – possibly – what happened, but it was none of her business. Or she didn’t care enough to ask. Either way, I felt like I’d been let off the hook. Maybe I could keep the awkward truth at bay for a little while longer after all.

  “Anyway, no. Not going out to Whale just yet,” I said, buoyed by the thought. “You really have to know what you’re doing to surf there. Those rocks’ll chew you up and spit you out, even on the calmer days.”

  She screwed up her face, wincing. “Ouch.”

  “So, today we
’re staying right here, in my backyard. And once you’ve got the hang of popping up, we’ll go to Manu. It’s safer there, better for grommets.”

  “Grommets?”

  “Beginner surfers, like you.”

  “I’m a grommet? Not sure I like the sound of that.”

  “Not magical enough for you?” I teased. “You’ll get used to it. Do you want something to drink before we start? Coffee, tea, water?”

  “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

  “How do you have it?”

  “Lots of milk, two sugars,” she said, glancing around the living room.

  Jesus, she even took her coffee like Em. I brushed it off. Lots of people had plenty of milk and two sugars in their coffee. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of mugs and flipped on the kettle.

  “I like your place,” she called from the living room.

  “Thanks.”

  Em was responsible for the interior look. I’d let her do whatever she wanted, concentrating on the outside. Maintaining the gardens, the lawns, the shrubbery. That was my forte, not the cushions or the wall colour or the furniture. My only stipulation was that we had to have a comfy couch, and we did. Five years later, everything was almost exactly the same as it was when she disappeared. Changing the décor meant facing things I wasn’t ready to face just yet, so I told myself it was easier to just leave everything as it was.

  I concentrated on making coffee, catching Maia’s reflection in the kitchen window. She was staring at the photos on the wall. The ones of Em and I. The ones I couldn’t bear to take down. Shit. This could get awkward. So much for reinventing myself. My whole life was up on that wall, staring her in the face. Staring me in the face.

  I stepped out of the kitchen and stood there, leaning back on the counter, watching her. I wasn’t sure what to say. She had to have noticed the similarity between her and Em by now. Even though I could only see her face from the side, I knew she had. She stood there, transfixed, then backed up slowly and sank down into the couch behind her.

  “Who is she?” she asked quietly, turning to me. “The girl in the photos?”