by Paige Toon
Sam starts to tell a story about his day at work but it’s barely registering with me. Nathan’s leg is jigging up and down at the edge of my vision, and the muscles on his bare arms tighten every time he reaches for his beer. It’s the strangest sensation. I know people talk about chemistry and all that, but I’ve honestly never felt it before. When I met James at that party it was a gradual attraction, liking him more and more over the course of an evening and, at the end of the night, agreeing to go on a date with him. With Nathan I feel like I’m tuned into every movement he makes. I’ve got to get a handle on this. I take a large gulp of rosé and will myself to relax. I wish I’d put more make-up on.
Stop it! I have a boyfriend, for crying out loud. Who might be cheating on me. Oh, who gives a shit right now?
‘Lucy, what are you smiling about?’ At Sam’s voice I realise that everyone around the table is looking at me. Nathan seems amused.
‘Nothing!’ I answer gaily and top up my glass with rosé.
We sit there, in the warm night air, and after a while Sam lights some coils and a couple of citronella candles to keep away mosquitoes. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ Nathan directs his question at me. I’m not really that keen but I’m hardly going to tell him that, so he lights up. I glance at him furtively out of the corner of my eye as he puts the cigarette to his lips. I wish I was that cigarette. Lucy! This is crazy.
Nathan shifts in his seat and turns to face me, being careful not to blow the smoke in anyone’s direction. ‘So what do you do now, Lucy?’ he asks. Dark stubble grazes his jaw and I notice his eyes are bluey grey.
I tell him about my job at Mandy Nim.
‘So that means you get shed-loads of free stuff?’
‘Yep.’
‘CDs?’
‘Yep.’
‘DVDs?’
‘Yep.’
‘Make-up?’ That was Molly asking.
‘Yep.’
‘You lucky cow.’ She shakes her head in amazement.
‘And sometimes I have to go on trips abroad.’ I tell them about how a few months ago I went to Amsterdam where we were taking on the PR for a plush hotel chain. ‘It’s pretty jammy, isn’t it?’ I don’t deny it–it is brilliant.
‘So what was the last free thing you got?’ Nathan asks.
‘These sunnies, actually.’
‘I was just admiring them,’ Molly exclaims. ‘Can I see?’ She puts them on and looks at Sam, who nods his approval.
‘I might be able to get you some.’
‘There’s your birthday present sewn up, Mol.’ Sam smiles.
‘Actually, that’s the only infuriating thing about this job,’ I say. ‘It makes finding Christmas and birthday presents for people a nightmare. You almost have to give them a receipt to prove you bought it.’
‘Oh, our hearts bleed!’ Molly laughs.
Nathan stubs out his cigarette; the hairs on his arms have been highlighted by the sun, even though he’s naturally dark. He picks up the ashtray and places it at the other end of the porch, away from the table.
‘What about you, Nathan? What do you do now?’
‘Oh, this and that,’ he replies, as he sits back down.
‘Nathan doesn’t really work,’ Sam explains.
‘He’s too busy surfing.’ Molly laughs fondly.
‘I do enough to get by.’ Nathan leans back in his chair and puts one tanned foot up on the opposite knee. He’s not wearing any shoes and I imagine that if he were, his choice of footwear wouldn’t extend further than flip-flops–or thongs, as they call them here.
‘What’s the time?’ he asks.
‘Eight o’clock,’ Molly and I answer simultaneously.
‘I should probably be getting off.’
No! Don’t leave!
‘Why don’t you stay for something to eat?’ Molly asks.
Yes! Stay!
‘Yeah, go on, mate, we’ll just order in a pizza or something,’ his brother says.
Nathan seems to be wavering.
‘Go on,’ I bravely encourage. ‘You can keep me company around these two lovebirds,’ I add lamely.
‘Oh, alright, then.’ He grins. He has the most lovely smile.
Pizza, a few beers and a couple of glasses of rosé later, the sun sets and the mosquitoes zoom around more fervently so we move inside. Nathan looks out of the front window down to his beat-up car.
‘You can’t drive home now,’ Molly says. ‘Crash here and get up early in the morning. Are you surfing tomorrow?’
‘I was going to.’ He seems undecided and my stomach flips.
‘Do you want to borrow the phone and call Amy?’
Now my stomach flops. Who’s Amy? I don’t need to ask out loud because Molly turns to me and explains. ‘Amy’s his girlfriend.’
‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ Nathan protests.
‘Well, she should be! Honestly, Lucy, she’s beautiful. They live together and I swear they’re perfect for each other.’
‘Yep, you’re nuts, mate,’ Sam interjects. ‘You oughtta snap that one up before somebody else does.’
‘Mind your own business.’
‘He’s getting aggravated now.’ Sam laughs and ruffles Nathan’s hair.
‘Gettoff!’ Nathan waves his big brother’s hand away and grabs another beer from the fridge before heading back into the living room.
‘I guess that means he’s staying, then,’ Molly says.
Nathan’s at the stereo when I walk into the room, flicking through Molly and Sam’s CDs.
‘Do you still play the guitar?’ I ask.
‘I do. I’m surprised you remember.’
‘How could I forget? All you ever seemed to do was lock yourself away in your room playing that thing. You were pretty good.’
‘Why thank you, miss.’ He glances at me, smiling.
‘What are you putting on?’ Molly comes into the room. ‘Can we have Kylie?’
‘No, we bloody can’t.’ Nathan rolls his eyes at me theatrically. ‘What do you want to listen to, Lucy?’
‘I don’t know if I dare say…’
‘Go on, we’ve got The Killers, The Dandy Warhols, Jet, Beck…’
‘No Mariah Carey?’ His head shoots up and he looks at me in alarm. I laugh. ‘I’m joking, you idiot–let’s have The Killers.’
Molly and Sam go for the sofa and Nathan and I take a single-seater each. I slip off my shoes and curl my feet up underneath myself to get cosy.
The pizza has done a good job of soaking up the booze so I feel nicely tipsy, but nothing like during the dreaded flight on Singapore Slings. I push that memory right out of my mind and concentrate on the present. It’s not difficult when you have the view I have.
‘So, Lucy,’ Sam says, ‘are things all sorted with James now?’ Nothing like a mention of your delightful boyfriend to bring you back to your senses. Nathan looks over at me but doesn’t say anything.
‘Um, I’m not entirely sure, to be honest.’
Molly turns to Nathan. ‘Lucy had a bit of a rough journey over here. You don’t mind me telling him, do you, Lucy?’ I shake my head, and that recurring–if now much duller–feeling of nervousness wafts through me as she starts to tell a short version of my story. I try to laugh it off when she gets to the part about the air hostesses, but Nathan just listens and nods, taking it all in. His quietness unsettles me.
‘On that jolly note, I think I’ll hit the sack,’ Sam says.
‘We can’t go to bed now–Lucy won’t be able to fall asleep with all that on her mind,’ Molly counters.
‘Don’t be silly; I’m fine!’ I insist.
Nathan smiles. ‘I don’t know about you, Luce, but I could do with another drink.’
So we stay seated, Nathan and I, while Sam and Molly head upstairs. I finish the last mouthful of wine and place my empty glass on the coffee table.
‘Right, what are we having next?’ Nathan jumps up to go to the kitchen. A second later he stage-whispers, ‘Oi! Come here!’ so I
get up and join him. He’s peering in the fridge. Wine, beer, soft drinks. ‘I’m bored with beer,’ he says, slamming the fridge door. ‘Why don’t we crack open the vodka?’
I groan. ‘That is a bad idea.’
‘Why, what are your plans for tomorrow?’
I picture another day sprawled out on a sunlounger. What the hell, I decide. By then he’s already got a couple of glasses out. They chink together noisily and I tell him to ‘Shh’. I feel like we’re two teenagers sneaking into Mum and Dad’s booze cabinet.
We carry glasses, a carton of cranberry juice and the bottle of vodka through to the next room and settle ourselves back into our comfy armchairs.
‘Why didn’t your boyfriend come here with you?’ Nathan asks. I tell him about James’s promotion, and can’t help comparing the two of them in my mind. Lawyer, surfer. Two years older, two years younger. Job, no job. London, Sydney.
I realise I don’t like this game very much.
‘So what’s it like being back? Does it still feel like home?’
I answer yes, and feel depressed all of a sudden. In ten days I’ll be leaving again.
‘It doesn’t seem like nine years ago that you left,’ he muses. ‘Even though a lot has changed since then. You do look different, but still the same.’ He pauses. ‘I like your hair long.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile. ‘You look completely different. Are you really only twenty-three?’
He chuckles and climbs to his feet. ‘I think I need a smoke.’ He goes outside, leaving me still smiling. A minute later he calls to me, so I head out onto the porch with the vodka and cranberry to find that he’s forgone the wrought-iron chairs and is instead sitting on the stone paving, leaning up against the wood-panelled house.
‘What’s up?’ I ask.
He silently motions at the sky with his cigarette. Above our heads the Milky Way shines coolly like billions of flecks of silver glitter.
‘Wow.’ I look up in awe for a few moments. ‘Where’s the southern cross?’
‘I wouldn’t have the foggiest,’ he responds, ‘but there’s the saucepan over there…’
I laugh and go to sit down. He moves his ashtray to his other side to make room for me.
We sit there in silence for a minute, looking up at the sky. ‘I’d forgotten how bright the southern hemisphere stars are,’ I finally say.
‘They’re even brighter from Manly beach.’
‘Is that where you surf?’ He nods. I like the thought of him surfing.
‘I was there only this afternoon,’ I tell him.
‘Were you?’ He glances sideways at me in the darkness. ‘You might’ve seen me; I was out for a couple of hours.’
‘Really? Those waves were enormous!’
He laughs. ‘Not really. Good surfing conditions actually.’ He tops up our glasses. ‘Can you surf?’ he asks after a second.
‘No. I stick to boogie boarding.’
‘You should come with me sometime. It’s better early in the morning, though.’
‘I’d love to. When?’ My heart skips a beat.
‘Whenever you like. I’m going tomorrow.’
‘Sounds good!’
Too eager?
His face lights up with a warm glow as he takes another drag. I can feel the warmth of his body heat combining with mine as we sit side by side, and I have to force myself to concentrate.
‘So what’s the deal with Amy?’ Where did that question come from?
He exhales deeply. ‘She’s my flatmate.’ He pauses, then explains. ‘She’d like us to be more than friends but…I don’t know.’
‘Has anything happened between you?’ I hold my breath as I wait for his answer.
‘Yeah.’
Those nerves come creeping back and I don’t know what to say. He doesn’t seem to know what to say either, so we sit there silently for a short while.
‘Molly and Sam like her,’ I prompt, and immediately regret it. What am I trying to do–force her on him?
He sighs. ‘Maybe that’s why I’m confused. She’s a nice girl. But I don’t know…I think Molly just loves a love story. And Sam just wants me to be happy like him.’ He flicks his cigarette ash into the ashtray and his arm brushes against mine, giving me goosebumps.
I wonder what Molly would think if she knew what was going through my mind about her fiancé’s younger brother. I get the distinct feeling she might find it funny. Or disapprove. Neither thought makes me feel very comfortable.
‘What about your boyfriend? Do you believe him?’ Nathan asks quietly.
‘I don’t know,’ I answer truthfully.
‘How long have you two been together?’
‘Three years. But sometimes it feels like only weeks. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know him at all.’
He nods his head in the darkness.
‘He tells…stories,’ I say cautiously. I’ve never really spoken to anyone about this before. I don’t know why I feel compelled to tell Nathan now. ‘They’re not serious–just a bit bonkers,’ I explain.
‘Give me an example.’
So I tell him about the Big Feet.
When we first started going out James came on holiday with my family to Spain. On the first day, by the pool, he told my stepbrothers Tom, who at the time was eighteen, and Nick, fifteen, that he really wanted to buy some Big Feet.
‘What are Big Feet?’ we all asked, and James told us about these cool giant, inflatable feet-shaped shoes which literally allowed you to walk on water. He’d had a go with some in the South of France the summer before and he’d never had so much fun.
That night, Tom, a hard-up student, refused to buy a third pint of beer because he wanted to save his money for the Big Feet he was hoping to buy the next day. Every day for the rest of the holiday the four of us were on a mission to track some down. We’d drag my mum and Terry on trips via places that we thought might stock them. We scoured store upon beachfront store, department stores and sports shops. In pigeon Spanish we’d ask: ‘Los Big Feetos! Grandes Feetos!’ We’d mime gigantic webbed shoes, while Nick pretended to walk on water in big, astronaut-style steps.
The fact that we couldn’t find them, and the fact that nobody else on the beach had them, only made us want them more. We imagined with glee the looks on other beach-goers’ faces as we stepped onto the waves and strode out to the open ocean.
We never did manage to find those Big Feet.
Six months later when Tom, who’d just started university in London, joined us for a few pints at our local, James told him he had the original Darth Vader mask at home, which his uncle had bought for him after winning a small fortune on the lottery. I’d never heard this story before so we went back to our flat, Tom brimming with excitement. When James opened the cupboard under the stairs and pulled out a box containing a thin, vacuum-formed plastic mask that very obviously did not belong to Mr Vader, Tom accused him of telling porkies. And while James, perfectly straight-faced, continued to insist, Tom just laughed it off.
A couple of months later, it occurred to my stepbrother, still bitter about the time he’d wasted on holiday traipsing around looking for Big Feet, that maybe James had lied about that also. Were they real?
‘No,’ said James, he’d made them up.
Tom and Nick have never quite forgiven him.
Nathan shakes his head. ‘That’s mad.’
‘Yeah, but it’s not that big a deal, is it? I mean, we’re just talking white lies.’
He doesn’t answer.
‘You know, it’s pretty darn funny when you think about it,’ I persist. ‘There he was, leading us around the Costa del Sol in search of these great big inflatable feet, knowing all the while that they didn’t exist.’ I laugh. ‘It’s quite imaginative.’
‘It certainly is that.’
I sigh. ‘No, I know it’s weird. I keep trying to kid myself that it’s not. But it’s hardly on a par with cheating, is it?’
‘Don’t you suspect he’s been doing that too?’
>
‘No! He would never, ever cheat on me. I really don’t think he has. I don’t know why I…Oh, I don’t know.’
Nathan doesn’t press the issue. Instead he moves on to a lighter subject of discussion: Molly, Sam and the wedding. We sit there and chat to each other for ages until eventually I stifle a yawn.
‘What’s the time?’ he asks.
‘Bloody hell, it’s four o’clock!’
‘In three hours from now I’d usually be getting up to go surfing.’
‘In three hours from now I’d usually be getting home from work.’
‘You must be knackered. Still jet-lagged?’
‘I should be. I have no idea how I’m still awake and talking to you.’
But of course I have every idea. There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be right now. Must be the vodka talking. But Nathan is already getting to his feet. He holds his hand down to me and I take it. His hands are rough, I notice, as I hang on for a second longer than is necessary. We make eye contact in the darkness. I can’t see the expression on his face; I’m just glad he can’t see me blushing.
Chapter 3
I’m hung-over, I’ve barely slept and my eyes feel like they’ve been doused in vinegar. But regardless of all that, I’m walking on air. I can’t stop thinking about Nathan. James barely registers in my thoughts. I don’t care if he’s shagging a planeful of air hostesses–I just want to think about that sexy, messy-haired surfer.
The disappointment was crushing when I woke up this morning, expecting to see him at the breakfast table.
‘Where’s Nathan?’ I asked Molly.
‘He would’ve gone at the crack of dawn,’ she answered casually.
But we were sitting outside under the stars only a couple of short hours before that, so I was sure he’d still be around.
‘What time did you get to bed?’ she enquired.
‘Oh, I’m not sure. Not too long after you guys went.’
I don’t know why I couldn’t tell her we stayed up talking until 4 a.m. That’s something I want to share with Nathan and Nathan alone.
