by Claire Zorn
23
Minty drove Sam in the Datsun up to Gretchen’s house. Sam knocked on her door and saw her shape skipping down the stairs through the glass. She opened the door, hair out, short lacy dress, converse sneakers and red lipstick. She looked amazing.
‘Good evening.’ She beamed at him.
‘Hey, I got us a ride.’ He stood aside to let her walk in front of him. He opened the garden gate for her and Minty revved the engine of the Datsun, holding up a devil’s salute with his tongue out. ‘Ignore him.’ Sam opened up the back passenger door for her and she got in. He slid in next to her and took her hand.
Minty slammed the car into reverse and shot backwards out onto the street before accelerating in a screech of rubber. ‘Bye, Mum!’ he yelled out the window.
‘Thanks for that,’ said Sam.
‘Where you lovers going?’
‘I heard there’s a Chinese restaurant on King Street. Do you like Chinese?’ he asked Gretchen.
‘They deep-fry things, don’t they? I never get to eat deep-fried things.’
Minty drove them as if he was performing a time trial. When they arrived and got out of the car, Gretchen looked a couple of shades paler than she normally was.
‘Sorry about that.’ He squeezed her hand.
‘We’re getting the train back, aren’t we?’
‘Yep.’
The restaurant was crowded and noisy, a whole lot of tables and chairs crammed into a small space, most of which was taken up by a giant fish tank in the middle of the room. Everything – walls, tablecloths, napkins – was apricot coloured. They were rushed to a small table in a corner, the waitress taking their order without writing anything down. Then they sat in silence and waited for the food to come. Sam was overthinking everything and couldn’t decide on a single thing to say so he pretended to be studying the wallpaper.
‘I overshare when I’m nervous,’ Gretchen blurted. ‘Sorry in advance. I’m probably going to give you a detailed account of the last time I shaved or something. It was recently, by the way. Coastal living really has its drawbacks.’ She scrunched her eyes shut and her cheeks flushed pink, showing up her freckles. ‘See, there I go. That’s the last thing I’m going to say. I’m not going to speak the entire time we’re here. I’m just going to mime everything. Like charades.’
‘No, please, tell me more.’
She pressed her lips shut, shaking her head and trying not to laugh.
‘What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever said?’
‘Um, weren’t you just listening?’
‘No, there’s gotta be worse than that.’
‘Um, let me think, there’s so very much to choose from. At my old school, in Sydney, we used to get heaps of exchange students. I’m really, really bad at geography, like, appalling. And this one time I was talking to a Swiss exchange student and I asked where he lived and he said Zurich and I asked if that was close to Stockholm.’
‘That’s bad, but it’s not terrible.’
‘I’m not telling you the terrible one.’
‘Yes you are, look at you. You’re dying to tell me.’
‘No really, you will have zero respect for me afterwards.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I was talking to this other guy and I asked him where he was from and he said Montreal and I said “Cool. What part of America is that?”’
‘You did not.’
‘I did.’ She was laughing so much she had to wipe tears away. ‘It was his accent! Now, if someone’s talking about anything at all geography related I don’t say a word.’ She made a zipping gesture across her lips. ‘Even if I know all about the place, I’ll be about to open my mouth and say something like, I don’t know, “I’d love to go to Spain, especially Barcelona,” and I’ll be all like do not say that, Gretchen. Barcelona isn’t in Spain. Even though I know it is.’
‘Have you ever been overseas?’
‘Yeah. The US, Asia, Europe a bit. We lived in France for six months a few years ago.’
‘Wow.’
‘It was pretty cool. You?’
‘Um …’ He unfolded and refolded his napkin. There was Bali with his mum. It had been the best holiday he’d ever had.
‘You know, a bit. Here and there. Never for long. You lived in France? Whereabouts?’ As if he knew France at all.
‘Loire Valley, a few hours out of Paris. I mean we did Paris as well, of course.’
‘Sure.’
‘We lived in a little village. It was the quintessential French village: cobbled streets, a chateau, a bakery with amazing croissants …’
Sam nodded wondering how she managed to use the word ‘quintessential’ in a conversation and not seem like a total wanker. She was so warm, so unassuming despite all the talk about European holidays. When he spoke she leaned in, weighing everything he said as if he was intelligent and important. Plus she had a heart-shaped birthmark on her clavicle and it made him want to touch her skin.
‘We stayed in this restored monastery that was like five hundred years old. Our neighbour, she was thirty or something, we could see directly into her backyard and she would spend all day in a T-shirt and lacy underwear painting and smoking. So French. It was hilarious. It was obvious we could see her and she just didn’t care.’
‘Maybe she did, maybe that’s why she wore lacy underwear.’
Gretchen laughed and nodded. ‘That’s it! You’re onto her.’
‘Do you speak French?’
‘Juste un petit peu.’
‘I don’t, so you’re going to have to translate that.’
‘Just a little.’
‘Yeah, right. More than me.’
‘I did go to school there, so … I’m not as good as I used to be, though.’
‘Sure.’
‘Really, I’m not. Like France is cool, but it’s not everything Australians think it is.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I’m serious. Before I went I just assumed everyone there was really stylish, but there are French bogans.’
‘French bogans?’
‘Absolutely. They wear tracksuits made out of that parachute material stuff, with like these gross Adidas slide things on their feet. And the bogan French women have mullets.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Definitely.’
‘The one who lived next door?’
‘No, she was hot. She had a pixie kind of haircut. She didn’t shave her underarms, though.’
‘Ew.’
Gretchen laughed. ‘I don’t know, there was something cool about her … she didn’t care. Maybe if you have a face like she did you can get away with it.’
‘You have a pretty good face. Do you shave your underarms?’
She laughed loudly. ‘What would you rather: have your whole head waxed, or your armpits and pubic hairs waxed at the same time?’
‘Um. Head definitely. You?’
‘Arms and pubes! I’m a woman! We have to do that crap all the time.’
‘What would you rather,’ he asked. ‘Have a purple cloud come out of your butt every time you fart and it hangs around for twenty minutes, or have all your thoughts displayed for everyone to see for three hours a day?’
‘The purple fart. Because I think that would become a novelty, you know, like I could go on breakfast television. I would become a minor celebrity. I could do it at parties, people would love that.’
‘I did not expect you to say that.’
‘What would you rather: your life partner be the most beautiful woman in the world but really into Star Trek, like really into it – only wears Star Trek T-shirts, has a whole house full of Star Trek merchandise – or have a great personality, like your best friend, but covered in blue fur, all over. This is the person you are spending your whole life with. And you’re completely monogamous.’
‘Fur?’
‘Like cat fur. All over.’
‘Do they moult in the summer?’
‘That’s your conc
ern?’
‘Well, would it get all over the furniture?’
‘You’re worried about your furniture? You have to have sex with this person!’
‘There’s a lot to weigh up, here. And I feel I’m going to be judged …’
‘Are you kidding?’ she laughed. ‘Take the Star Trek fan!’
‘I don’t want to be superficial.’
‘No way. I take the fan. You’re not going to care about the Star Trek merch when this person is naked.’
‘I think you’re a very shallow person.’
The food arrived and Gretchen used chopsticks like a pro. She tried to teach him but he couldn’t do it properly.
‘It’s been twenty minutes and I still haven’t got any food in my mouth,’ he laughed. ‘Is this your scheme to make sure you get all the food? Or are you hinting that my bum is getting too big?’
‘That’s it. Definitely. You need to lose weight.’
‘Good to know.’
They shared fried ice-cream for dessert and he decided that it was a success as far as dates go. He paid the bill with his mum’s keycard, opened the door for her and they stepped out into the night. He slipped off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. ‘You look cold.’
‘Whoa. You’re good at this. Should I be worried?’
He grinned and took her hand. They walked along the road toward the train station. At the ticket office he pulled out his wallet and asked for two tickets. The teller pointed to a sign. ‘Track work,’ he grunted. ‘There’s a bus in forty-five minutes.’
‘For real?’
‘Afraid so.’
Sam shook forty cents out of his wallet and went to the pay phone. He dialled the house number, not really expecting anybody to answer. He was right. He hung the phone up and the coins cluttered down. It was embarrassing that he didn’t have a car.
‘Let’s walk,’ she suggested.
‘Walk?’
‘Yeah, it’s about forty-five minutes along the coast. There’s a path most of the way.’
‘You’re happy to walk?’
‘Of course,’ she tugged on his hand. ‘Come on.’
So they walked and she told him stories about embarrassing things she’d said in French.
‘Do you want to go back to France?’
‘Yes. I want to do a semester of uni over there.’
‘You’ve got it all planned.’
She shrugged. ‘I want to go to Sydney Uni. Live in a college up there. I’ve been waiting to do that for so long, it would be so cool. What about you?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘Not be on the dole. Other than that …’ He shrugged. ‘Nothing really seems important anymore, you know. I had plans before. Mum had a little fund, saving up for uni fees. I could have stayed living at home, it was close to Sydney Uni. Now, it’s all gone to shit, hasn’t it?’
‘Don’t you have access to that money? Didn’t your mum leave you something?’
‘My aunt controls it all. She said Mum was in debt so all her assets have been sucked into that. There’s nothing left for me.’
‘That doesn’t sound right.’
‘Well, that’s the way it is. I dunno. Minty’s going to go to Hawaii. Maybe I’ll go with him.’
‘What would you do in Hawaii?’
‘Surf.’
‘But that’s not you. That’s not really what you’re into.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just do, I can tell.’
‘Based on my secret favourite song?’
‘I know what you should do! You should be a sound engineer.’
‘Yeah, as if that’s going to happen.’
‘Dude, your attitude sucks.’
He stopped walking and swung round in front of her. He tried to speak gently. ‘Can we talk about something else? I’m over talking about it.’
She looked hurt. ‘Sure. Whatever.’
They walked in silence and he felt the heavy tension between them. He hated it. He reached over and took her hand in his, pulled her closer to him.
They were near the beach now, the roar of the waves amplified in the quiet of the night. Misty salt hung in the air.
‘Wanna go for a paddle?’ she asked.
‘Absolutely.’
They took off their shoes and walked across the cold sand to the water. It was pitch dark and for a while they giggled and stumbled until their eyes adjusted to the darkness.
He kicked water at her and she squealed, ducking away. He chased her and caught her around the waist. The knowledge that she would do better than him crept up and stunned him. He would be a sweet memory for her – that surfer guy she had a fling with before she moved on to someone more serious. The feeling dug away at his insides. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, pulling her hips close to him so their bodies were pressed together, moulded into each other. His hands were in her hair and she held onto his neck; they staggered backwards up out of the water to the dry sand. He pulled her down onto the sand, she on top of him. He rolled her over, his mouth over hers, her tongue everywhere in his. He ran a hand up her thigh, under her skirt and she didn’t stop him. He pulled her dress up and over her head so she was there in her sneakers and underwear. She pulled at his shirt, taking it off him. Her skin was so warm against his: skin and sand and salt on his tongue. She tilted her head back and he kissed her smooth neck.
Suddenly she stilled and spoke into his ear, ‘Not here. Stop.’
He pulled away and tried to get his breath.
‘I can’t. I’ve … I’ve never done this, it’s going to be messy. I can’t here. And I don’t have a condom.’
‘I do.’
‘Not here.’
‘Okay. You’re going to have to put your dress on. I need a minute. Sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’
She reached over and pulled her dress from the sand, standing up to shake the sand off it. She handed him his shirt and he pulled it over his head.
He held her hand and they walked back up the sand to the path. He put his jacket over her shoulders and when they got to her house she started to take it off to give back to him.
‘Hang on to it. It’s cold.’
She kissed him and let herself into the house. He watched her go up the stairs and liked the thought of her in his clothes.
24
Over the next two weeks Sam learned things about Gretchen. He learned that she used to be scared of swimming, but was asthmatic and swimming was supposed to help, so her parents made her do it and she discovered that she loved it. She also loved running, but she didn’t play team sports because her co-ordination was crap. Now she was training for her first triathlon with her dad. He was a long-distance runner. Sam knew that she hated horror movies and had a low tolerance for any sort of fear in general; roller coasters were out of the question. She played the violin. She had knocked her front tooth out when she was twelve, the result of a misjudged backflip into a pool. Her front left tooth was false and she wanted the dentist to fix the gap when they put it in, but her parents wouldn’t allow it. She was allergic to tomatoes. She didn’t like chewy caramel that got stuck in your teeth. Her mum made her learn Keats’s poems in primary school during a brief stint of homeschooling. ‘Before she realised it was hell spending all day everyday with her own kids,’ Gretchen laughed. Her brother was four years younger and his name was Roan. He was nerdy. She didn’t usually cry in books or movies except for Bridge to Terabithia which brought her undone every time she read it. Her favourite artist was Mark Rothko and he liked that she was the sort of girl who had a favourite artist he’d never heard of.
Sam was aware that if someone asked her what she knew about him she would struggle to produce an extensive list.
Now they were lying on the grass on the headland and he was trying to explain the plot to The Usual Suspects without giving away the ending. He concluded that she would just have to watch it.
‘Mayb
e I will. Maybe tomorrow after dinner. What are you doing for dinner tomorrow?’
‘Nice segue.’
‘I know, right? I should be on the radio.’
‘I’d listen to you.’
‘Thank you. I was just, I mean, do you … My parents kind of want to have you over. They’re those sort of parents. It’s unfortunate, but I can’t seem to change them. Will you come have dinner tomorrow? You don’t have to stay ages. You don’t have to come at all. I understand if you don’t want to come. I wouldn’t have dinner with them at all except they are my parents. Don’t worry about it, forget I said anything …’
‘Sure.’
‘Really?’
‘I have to have dinner with you? Sounds alright to me.’
‘Dinner with me and my family. My pretentious, annoying family. You do realise they’re going to be there, right?’
‘I’ll cope.’
‘I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t expecting that at all. I’m stunned. I’m in shock. I can’t speak.’
‘That’s a first. Don’t worry, I can handle parents. They’re a novelty ’cause I don’t have any of my own.’
She was quiet and he could tell she didn’t know what to say.
‘Plus, mums love me.’
She laughed. ‘I bet.’
Minty lent him another shirt. Sam tried it on in Minty’s room, in front of his mirror. He wondered if he should shave; the stubble and the shaggy hair made him look like some kind of unkempt wolf man. Her parents wouldn’t want her with a wolf man. He went into the bathroom and Minty followed him, leaning on the doorframe, flicking through a surf magazine.
‘Gonna be good tomorrow, Mint. Southerly wind. Groundswell and that cyclone from up north.’
‘Yeah? You’re good to have around, brah … Dinner, ay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘With her olds?’
‘Yep.’
Minty grinned and shook his head. ‘I’ve never met any girl’s parents. She’s got you on the leash, brah.’
‘As if. Just because I’m going to meet her mum and dad?’
‘Oath. She’s got you by the balls.’
‘Because I actually talk to her?’
‘Ha. Brah, you don’t talk to anyone.’
