by Allie Little
Berating myself for spilling too much, I sigh. Because this stuff is raw. And usually kept hidden. But he’s driving at a hundred and focused on the road. In the confines of the ute, time stretches with silence.
As we approach Karuah his mobile rings. I assume it’s Matt because Jack says, “Yeah mate, we’re on our way. We should be there in five.” And then, “Thanks mate, that’s great. I’ll let her know,” before clicking off the call.
Jack turns sideways with a smile. “So your repairs ended up being a bit cheaper, which is good, right?”
I give him a grin. “That is definitely good.” A wave of relief floods through me because cash isn’t easy to come by. Board, petrol, food, ferries. It seems to go out as fast as it comes in.
Matt reverses the Excel out of the lot as we pull up. Shiny and mirror-like, the new paintwork gleams in the low afternoon light.
“Here she is,” Matt says, gesturing at the car like a corny television game-show host. “Looks all brand new.”
“Nice finish, buddy.” Jack runs his hand along the rear end of my car, rubbing the paintwork with his fingers. Tiny metallic flecks shimmer in the light.
“What d’ya reckon Sam?” Matt asks. “Came up beautifully, I reckon.”
“Wow, it looks great Matt. Thanks so much.”
“It ended up being cheaper, even with the discount. Come into the office so we can settle up the account,” he says, leading the way to the rear of the yard.
I follow him into a dark room at the back of the lot. Framed pictures of racing cars hang haphazardly on the walls, and a soupy mix of engine oil and petrol-scent invades the air. Matt ducks around the back and materialises behind the counter to pull out the invoice.
He hands it over. “Four hundred’ll do it, Sam.”
“Gee, thanks Matt.” I hand over my credit card and he waves it over the machine after punching in the particulars. We wait while the sale goes through, then he hands the card back to me with a written receipt detailing the work he’s done. Knowing the huge discount he’s given, thank you doesn’t really seem enough.
“Anything for a friend of Jack’s,” he says.
Jack appears in the office behind me. “So when are we having that drink? You free tonight?”
Initially I think he’s asking me out, then quickly realise the question’s not aimed at me. Not at all. And I colour at the assumption.
Matt’s eyes light. “Finish at four, mate. I could meet you round six?”
“Cool man. I’ll see you at the pub then.” Jack gives him the thumbs up, backing out the door.
“Are you gonna come?” Matt asks, winking cheekily from behind the counter. “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t mind. In fact, I know Jack wouldn’t mind. Unless of course you’ve already got plans?”
“No, no plans,” I reply hastily, wondering what Jack would think if I turned up. “I’d love to Matt. But Jack didn’t invite me. Maybe it’s meant to be a boys’ night.”
“Well, I’m inviting you,” he encourages, waggling his eyebrows. “So what do you say?”
I giggle. “Thanks, Matt. Maybe. I’ll check it out with Jack.” I give him an appreciative smile and duck out the door with the receipt still clutched in my hand.
Jack’s waiting by his car. “So, um ... do you want to come tonight, too?”
I look up at him. All six-foot-two of him, and realise that this time, he is actually asking me out. “Yeah, I’d like that,” I say, finding it hard to hide the smile niggling at the corners of my mouth. “Matt just invited me, but I wanted to check if it was okay with you.”
A grin fills his face completely. “Mate, that is definitely okay,” he says, beaming that irresistible smile of his.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Six p.m. Tea Gardens Hotel. Tonight I feel weightless and frothy like the sea. In the fading autumn glow the river’s a hazy grey, and trashy coloured lights flicker on above the road. The reek of stale beer and pungent fish and chips fills the public bar. I glance around, trying to locate Jack. He and Matt are already here, concealed in an obscure corner.
Jack spots me as I approach, pushing back his chair. We meet near the bar and greet almost gracelessly. Do we kiss? Do we hug? Eventually he enfolds me in his arms and brushes his lips across my cheek. My jolting heart skips several critical beats. With his arms wrapped round me he’s warm and smells salty like the sea.
“Hey,” he says softly, pulling away. His eyes flicker in the darkened bar and his face is immersed in shadow.
“Hi,” I croak back with a jolt of nerves.
“So what’ll you have? I’ll get it for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll have the same as you.”
He releases me from his arms. “Too easy,” he says, turning for the bar.
I wait for him, hovering a few feet behind while the bar-girl pulls the beer. And he’s gorgeous. His coarse blond hair flops messily over his forehead when he sinks a hand into the pocket of his nicely fitted jeans. He passes over a ten dollar note and spins to face me holding the beer.
“Over here.” He thumbs toward the table, as if I hadn’t seen where he was sitting.
“Hey, Sam. Long time, no see,” says Matt with a grin.
I laugh. “Yeah Matt, it’s been way too long.”
“A full three hours. I’m looking forward to that beer you’re going to buy me for doing all that cheap labour on your car.”
I colour. “Totally. It’s the least I can do.”
“Don’t hassle her, Matt. She only just got here,” says Jack, catching my inelegance.
“All right, I’ll give you ten minutes then, hey? Then I’ll start.”
I laugh. “How about fifteen? At least let me have one drink so I can dish out a few clever comebacks.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “You’re on.”
Jack just shakes his head, giving a dramatic eye roll.
Pulling out a heavier-than-expected chair, I sit myself down. Matt reminds me of my brother. The droll humour; harassment for his own amusement. So I’m kind of attuned to it.
“Jack’s running ferries at nine a.m. tomorrow morning, poor bastard. As for me, I’ve got the day off,” Matt boasts, chugging on his beer.
Jack rolls his eyes again at the mention of work. “Thanks for the reminder, mate. I’m trying to enjoy myself this evening.”
“Early to bed for you then, eh buddy?” He flashes a suggestive look at Jack, who glowers back.
“Give it a rest, mate.”
“Rest? Rest is what you’ll need after tonight.”
Jack glares fiercely at him just as Matt’s phone buzzes on the table. Slightly startled, he glances down at the screen and immediately pushes away from the table. “Sorry guys, I’ve got to take this.” Answering the phone he leaves, heading out to stand by the river.
“Sorry about him,” Jack says, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sometimes he forgets you can’t say that stuff around girls.”
I smile reassuringly. “It’s okay, Jack. I have an older brother. That was nothing, honestly. I’ve endured a lifetime of smartarse remarks.”
Jack looks immediately relieved. “Good. Because he never stops dishing it out.”
“So how do you know him?”
“Jeez, I’ve known him forever. Our parents are good mates. They moved to Maitland when he was sixteen, so he lived with us at Palm Beach while he finished his apprenticeship. I suppose we’re like family.” He sips his beer, clunking the glass down heavily on the table. “Brothers, really. He was there when Charlie died.”
“Living with you?”
“Yeah.” His face tightens.
“You guys seem close.”
“We’ve been there for each other, over the years. We look out for each other. It makes a difference knowing someone’s got your back. He might carry on with a bit of crap, but he’s always been there for me.”
“So, why did he fix your car for free?” I ask, fiddling with the coasters.
Jack laughs. “Ah, long story. Short versi
on, Matt ran away from home when he was fifteen. He hid in the room above our garage and I took him food for a month before our parents found out. It was round the time his parents were planning to move to Maitland. And Matt really didn’t want to go.”
“Wow. That all sounds very dramatic.”
He sits up higher on the edge of his seat. “It was dramatic. The police got involved. He was listed as a missing person. Until one day Dad cottoned on that I was making lots of late night trips into the garage. I think he thought I was smoking cones. Or something. But we were discovered anyway.” He smiles at the memory.
“So what happened? Did you guys get in trouble?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, heaps. But in the end Matt got what he wanted. My parents could see how much he didn’t want to move to Maitland. They took him in and he lived with us for a few years. So he’s like a brother to me. Especially since ...” He breaks off. “Well, you know ...”
Matt arrives back frazzled and obviously on edge. “Hey guys, I gotta go. My mate’s broken down on the highway near The Rock. I’ve gotta go rescue him.” Slamming down the rest of his beer, he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. “So I’ll see you two later.”
“You guys be okay?” Jack asks.
Matt nods emphatically. “Yeah, mate. Catch up soon.”
“See you, Matt,” I say.
He kisses me on the cheek. “Enjoy your evening,” he says, exchanging a raised eyebrow glance with Jack.
Jack lifts an irritated brow. “Don’t worry. We will,” he says, like he finds him pesky and irksome, but it’s just their relationship. “So,” Jack says when he’s gone.
“So,” I reply.
We lock eyes and laugh. I can’t help but notice the way his t-shirt hangs on his shoulders, and how broad they are. I drag my eyes forcibly away.
“Want some food?” he asks, his gaze collecting mine.
I just nod, speechlessly mute, completely in awe of this impossible perfection sitting in front of me.
We order fish and chips which arrive packaged in a bulging cone of coloured newspaper. Jack tears at the paper.
“So did your mum settle down?” he asks, grabbing a handful of hot chips and shoving them in his mouth. “That was pretty funny this afternoon, you have to admit.”
I look at him with disbelief. “Are you kidding? That was so not funny. I got a lecture about consideration and respect, and then she forgot about it. Once she said what she needed to it was over and done with.”
He regards me closely. “And your dad’s a cop. What’s that like?”
I shrug, popping a chip into my mouth. “He’s actually fine. Which is surprising, huh?”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I would’ve thought it’d be the other way round.”
“He’s a mouse in comparison,” I say, smiling. In fact, since Matt left I’m finding it hard to wipe this silly smile off my face.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and notice a text from Ben.
Party on tonight at the Surf Club. Do you want to come?
“My brother,” I explain. “There’s a party tonight at the Surf Club.”
“Do you want to go?” he asks, looking right at me with those eyes.
I stifle a gulp. “I’m not sure. Do you want to go?” I ask stupidly.
“We could swing past and see what it’s like,” he suggests.
Self-deprecating doubt skulks in. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be alone with me after all. “I’m happy either way.” I say dishonestly, glancing away.
***
Jack pulls up at the Surf Club, the ute rattling audibly over loose gravel. I’m blissfully content in his car. In here I feel closer to him. The beach is dark, with waves rolling in luminescent foamy strips transversely to shore. Muffled music thumps through the night, and the sound of squealing girls radiates from the upstairs function room.
Jack looks at me. “Want to check it out?” he says eagerly. “Come on.” He shoves open the door and steps out, his feet crunching gravel like boots in the snow. He makes his way round to my side and pulls open the door.
“Okay,” I acquiesce.
“If it’s no good we’ll get some beers and sit on the sand.”
“Deal,” I say, hoping like hell for the party to be a dud.
The room is full of gaudy lights, and everyone inside looks just as gaudy. It must be an eighties party because they’re all wearing bright garish neon. A hand-painted sign hangs over the door: Happy 18th Ryan!! Must be Ryan O’Halloran from school. He’s part of the Boy’s Club, which must be why Ben’s here.
Ben spots us from the back of the room. He’s wearing bad eighties fashion and teased-up hair. He looks ridiculous but he’s having fun in a tawdry, showy way. He shimmies over in time to Psuedo Echo’s Funky Town, with a what’s going on here? expression on his face. “G’day, g’day,” he says, obviously under the influence.
I laugh at him. “You look silly.”
“No sillier than someone not dressed up at a dress-up party,” he replies, with an over-exaggerated wink. “How’re you goin’ Jack?” he asks.
“Not bad, mate. Hey, thanks,” he says as Ben offers him a beer.
“And ... none for you,” he teases, holding another one out of reach above his head.
“Ha ha, hand it over.” And he does.
“Where have you guys been?” he yells over the music.
“At the pub.”
“Soaking up alcohol with greasy fish and chips,” Jack adds, glancing around the room.
Ben pats his stomach in mock hunger. “There’s no food here. Wish I’d eaten before I came.”
The music’s bad, the crowd is garishly dressed, and I’d really like to leave. Jack discerns my discomfort and leans forward, closer to my ear. “So do you want to leave?”
I look at him. “Nothing would please me more.”
“Let’s get out of here then, if you’re not enjoying it.”
I haven’t given it a chance and don’t want to. I shift closer to Ben who’s bouncing in time to Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.
“We’re gonna go,” I yell at the side of his head.
Ben looks down at me and grabs my shoulders. “You are such a loser.”
“I know, thanks Ben. Have fun.”
“Yeah, yeah. Steal my beer and leave.”
I laugh. “That was always the plan.”
Jack gives him a wave over the music because it’s easier than hollering. Ben salutes him drunkenly and eighties-dances back to his surfing mates by the bar.
Relief hits me the moment we step outside. The warm March evening still smells of summer, and stifled music drifts with the night’s ocean breeze.
“Too full on?” Jack asks at the lookout. He stands so close, the ocean a black, rolling mass. So many times I’ve stood here, checking the coiling surf. But this time with him, feels different.
“Just a bit.”
“So do you want to head back to mine, grab some beers and find a beach?”
I take a deep breath and nod, because the thought is immensely attractive.
***
Jack drives over the Singing Bridge with its orange lights blushing in the sky. Turning off the main street, he follows the road which curves with mangroves lining the shore. He pulls into the drive of an old weatherboard place, the verandas encasing it on all four sides. A dog barks, breaking the silence.
“Ssh, Rosie,” he whispers sharply from the window, and an old black Labrador trots back to her resting place near the steps.
Jack releases the door and leaves it ajar, taking the front steps in the darkness. On the porch he fumbles for the light, flicking it on with his thumb. Immediately the house is bathed in ruthless light. It’s right on the river, just like ours, but further around where pelicans perch on rough-hewn poles. Rosie doesn’t move, just lies curled up in a furry black ball.
The deafening buzz of cicadas hums the air. And they’re all I hear while I wait. After a few moments the light on the porch sn
aps off, and Jack slides back into the seat beside me.
He hands me a bottle. “Dad must’ve drunk the rest of the beer. But I found Baileys.”
I chuckle, looking across at him through the darkness. “Baileys is much better.”
He gives life to the engine and reverses onto the road. “So which beach is your preference? Bennett’s or Jimmy’s?”
The car is motionless, like him, awaiting an answer. The engine is a deep clattery idle, the sound pronounced with anticipation between us.
I grin excitedly. “Ah, no contest. Bennett’s for the breeze.” Even in a short festival dress, the humidity is like liquid lead in the air. I wipe at my forehead because it’s so balmy for March.
He eases the car slowly along beside the river. Rosie gives chase, giving up at the bend. High-tide boats sit loftily at jetty level, the water replete with possibility and dreams. At least that’s how it looks tonight.
***
The beach is empty with millions of stars layered densely through the sky. Some seem close enough to touch, while others fade off into infinity. Jack lies against the dune sipping Baileys and stargazing, pretty close to where I’m sitting. He wriggles casually into position, marking out a place in the sand. Orion is in the north, iridescent in the sky. And my world is so perfect my heart hums. Tonight I feel with absolute clarity that here is where I want to be.
Jack is pensive. He swigs straight from the bottle, looking straight up at the stars. “He’s out there somewhere, you know? Up there in the sky.”
I follow his gaze, wondering briefly about life after death. “Is that what you think?”
“Nope. It’s what I believe. Sometimes when I sit by the river, or here, I feel him. And it’s so real. Wherever there’s big sky. Usually at night, but often during the day too. It’s like he’s in the atmosphere, floating over the horizon. Just hovering, waiting for me.”
I shudder with goosebumps coursing across my skin, wanting to believe. “That must be comforting ... feeling he’s around.”
“Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? But I want it to be real. I need it to be real. I need to believe that he’s still here. With me. That part of him never really left.” His face changes, his eyes like the sea in the onyx night.
