“I’ll tell her we’ll see her Friday. You’re coming too. It’s our last summer in the Cove.” He turned to Shea and explained there was a bonfire later that week, and we were all going to attend.
Shea looked between us and took a breath before speaking. “I think you two should make this summer about firsts. Do everything you’ve never done and don’t give a fuck about the consequences.”
Zeke grinned, and I could see the mischief in his eyes. “We should show them all what fun really is.”
I shook my head, wondering what we really knew about having fun that didn’t involve long conversations about getting out of the Cove. But, I smiled along with them anyway, feeling the energy coming off them as they grew excited at the thought of partying like it was the last summer we’d ever have. “What kind of fun are we going to show them?”
“Our kind of fun. It’s time we shook this place up, Dawn – leave our mark. We need to have the most epic summer we’ve ever had, so that when we misfits leave this place they’ll all wonder what the hell happened.” Zeke seemed so excited at the prospect of going wild that I had to smile.
“Well, they’ll freak the fuck out when Mary Poppins here goes floating away on the wind,” I said, gesturing toward Shea.
Shea laughed and stretched out her arms, spinning around and acting as though she was floating away.
“All right, you want to party on Friday, Mary Poppins?” I asked with a laugh.
“Every day and night should be a party, but sure, Friday it is,” she said, linking her arm with Zeke’s and hugging herself into him as she held her other hand out to me, pulling me to stand with them. “This is going to be such fun. I’m so glad I met you two.”
She kissed us both on our cheeks.
***
We’d arranged to meet at my house after dark on Friday, knowing that, as always, I’d be the only one home. My mother would inevitably be going out on one of her ‘dates’.
It wasn’t always like that though. There was a time in my life when my house was filled with life and love, and I never felt alone. A time when I had to head home the moment the streetlights turned on. A time when my mother still smiled…
Each night when the sun slid from the sky and those little guiding beacons above were illuminated, I’d know my dad was home and that it was time for dinner. I loved my dad. I loved spending time with him. So, I’d drop whatever I was doing and race home, bursting through the door as I called out to him. I remember feeling instantly hungry when I opened the door to the smell of a home cooked meal. My mother wasn’t a particularly good cook, but she was a good wife and had dinner prepared for when my father got home from work every night without fail. Often, I’d get inside and find them standing together in the kitchen greeting each other in a passionate kiss or embrace. It should have embarrassed me, but I loved it. I loved seeing their love with my own eyes. It made me believe in true love.
Whenever he heard me come inside, my father would turn to me with a big grin on his face and say, ‘There’s my little mermaid’ because he always took me surfing and I loved the water. Then he’d pick me up and twirl me around to the tune of my giggling. ‘Let’s go get you washed up while mummy gets dinner on the table.’ He’d kiss her once more then escort me to the bathroom, switching on taps, handing out soap and holding the hand towel while I regaled him with tales about my day. He listened well, and he always smiled. It was my favourite part of the day, and that moment is something I still hang on to, looking on it fondly while wondering where it all went. It was gone all too quickly.
By the time I was twelve, he wasn’t home when the lights went on anymore. Since he was always working late, the house stopped smelling of home cooked food. Without my father around to give her purpose, my mother simply stopped. The glow of happiness I’d looked forward to was replaced with the glow of a cigarette out by the pool while my mother waited for the phone to ring and for my father to explain where he was that time. At first, there was always an excuse then he just stopped coming home altogether. Except that one time when he came back to say goodbye…
After that, my mum started her voracious ‘dating’, and without any real parental guidance in my life, I grew up way too fast. But, I held onto that memory of our happy times. I always held onto that ideal…
“There’s some Lean Cuisine in the freezer.” My mother sauntered down the staircase, her focus on the clutch purse in her hands as she checked over its contents before her night out. “Or you can always call for take out. Just put it on the card.” That was my mother’s answer to everything – the card. My father still paid all of our bills, and she did her best to spend as much of his money as possible. So did I, really. I suppose it was our way of punishing him for leaving. And he could afford it; he was a senior partner at one of the big law firms in the city. Money wasn’t an issue for him. Keeping his dick in his pants during dental appointments was. “Although, if I were you, I’d go with the Lean Cuisine – you need to watch your figure.”
Rolling my eyes, I bit my tongue as I watched her stop in front of the hall mirror to fidget with her hair and check her teeth for lipstick. “Where are you going tonight?” I asked, not really needing an answer since I already knew exactly where she was going. Same place she was always going – out to land some guy who didn’t really care, just so she could feel desirable for a few moments before returning home to an empty bed, drunk.
“The city.” She smiled. Still so pretty, her eyes were blue like mine with only slight creases around the edges. She’d had her breasts lifted six months ago and always kept in shape. Her hair was all blonde foils that set off the spray tan she maintained to golden perfection. My mother was what many referred to as a cougar. Although, I really wished she wasn’t. I missed the old version of my mum. “Don’t wait up.” She grinned and winked. My stomach turned and twisted.
I watched her tuck her clutch under her arm and head out to her Mercedes in the driveway. I’d turned away, planning to rummage in the freezer for something to eat before I got ready for the bonfire, but voices outside made me stop to go and investigate.
“Your daughter has been so kind to show my Shea around.” A foreign accent. French?
“I’d be more than happy to do the same for you. Surely you could use a personal tour.”
I could hear the flirtation in her voice. Oh god, mum. Not the neighbour…
“I may take you up on that.” He was flirting too!
Soft laughter. I moved to peek out the window beside the front door and saw a brunette man with one of those hairstyles that looked as though it was once short and neat, but was now a little too long and curling at the base of his neck. He was wearing a white lightweight shirt and a pair of brown linen pants without shoes. And he was talking to my mother with an intent that was so very obviously sexual. I rolled my eyes, wishing my mother had a little more self-respect, or at least some self-control. The man was Shea’s father I presumed. She hadn’t mentioned the whole French thing, although I supposed it explained the whole moving around business – perhaps he was some sort of ambassador or diplomat or something…
“I’d like that.” My mother’s voice was light and girly. It turned my stomach and made me consider packing my bags and moving early so I didn’t have to witness another moment of this…this old people hooking up thing. He had to be almost fifty and my mother was forty-two. It was gross.
There was a pause where they smiled at each other for a ridiculous amount of time. It was like watching a train wreck. I couldn’t look away.
“Listen,” mum went on. “You wouldn’t be interested in joining me for dinner would you?”
Oh, god, mum. Please stop hitting on him.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
Good. Go inside your house then.
“Oh, you wouldn’t be. I mean, I had planned to meet a friend for a drink, but I can easily reschedule.”
He smiled. For an old guy, he was almost as handsome as Shea was beautiful.
; “As long as you’re sure.”
My eyes rolled and I stepped away from the door, heading to the back of the house where I couldn’t hear them anymore. It was bad enough that she was sleeping with every guy she met in the city, now she was bringing it to our front door. Didn’t she care how her behaviour affected her daughter? I was the one copping the stares for buying condoms so she didn’t end up with some disease. I was the one going into the city to find her car when she was too smashed to bring it back on her own. I was the one holding her hair back as she puked, and I was the one making sure she was still breathing whenever she passed out. My mother was a mess. And her mess spilled onto me and seemed to cover everything as if it was The Blob in real life. I couldn’t wait to get away. I couldn’t wait to leave. I hated this life, and if I was honest, I spent a lot of time hating and resenting her for abandoning me the same way dad had. The difference being that he said goodbye and left, whereas she just stopped being my mum right in front of me. Some days I struggled to work out which one hurt more.
Opening the pantry, I dug out the bottle of Jack I kept hidden in the back and unscrewed the metal lid, drinking straight from the neck in great burning gulps. Then, shoving it back behind the cereal, I closed the pantry and rested my head against the cool white surface of the door as I waited in the quiet of the house while the alcohol entered my bloodstream in calming waves.
One more summer. A few more months. Then I’d be out.
***
“You look smoking hot tonight.” Shea stood in my doorway taking in my fitted dark jeans and the oversized zodiac print tank top I was wearing. It had a racer back and wasn’t sexy at all. It was cool and casual. I had purposely dressed down so I didn’t look as though I was trying too hard. I’d washed my hair and let it dry naturally before pinning up one side with a red clip, and of course I had my Chanel red lipstick on with dark eyeliner and heavy mascara. It was just how I rolled.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that lately. I know for a fact I don’t look hot at all,” I scoffed, my eyes grazing over her effortless boho goddess appearance. “You on the other hand…” She was wearing one of those cheesecloth dresses that had long flowing sleeves and some leathery plaited belt that cinched in the waist. You could see she had a bikini on underneath the thin fabric. Her long tan legs were bare and smooth, her hair was loose, and her face was once again make-up free. She seemed to be my exact opposite – light to dark – yin to yang. But somehow, we were getting along. I’d spoken to her daily since we met, and each time, our conversation never stalled. I liked hearing her worldly ideals and views on relationships and society. She thought it was all a strict regime pressed upon us by our government and religion. I guess that’s why I liked her – she didn’t care about fitting in, and she questioned everything.
She waved my compliment off and kissed my cheek before taking my hand and walking with me into the house. I’d found that she was a little handsy for my liking, although, now knowing that her father was European, the whole hugging and kissing and touching thing she was doing kind of made sense – it’s just what they did.
“Is your mum still here?” she asked, releasing my hand to slide onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. I moved to the refrigerator and pulled out cans of drink.
“She left a couple of hours ago.” I set a can of Coke in front of her. “Hey, you didn’t tell me your dad was French.”
“My dad?”
“Yeah. I saw him with my mum earlier. They got talking and they’ve gone out to dinner together.”
She paused, her can halfway to her mouth as I saw a look of dissatisfaction flit across her features. It was the first time I’d ever seen her serene expression falter, and it looked a lot like how I felt about the situation too – disappointed.
She took a sip of Coke and reset her expression before responding.
“Belgian.”
“Excuse me?”
She set her can on the white marble counter in front of her. “He’s not French, he’s Belgian.”
“Oh, sorry.” I felt bad for misinterpreting his accent.
“It’s fine.” She pressed her lips together in a forced smile, and I felt a twist in my stomach, worried I’d upset her. It was strange. I’d never cared if I upset the girls around here before – especially ones who showed such an interest in Zeke. But, for whatever reason friends became friends, I felt strangely comfortable around Shea. I actually wanted her to like me. I never wanted anyone to like me. I only ever cared about my friendship with Zeke.
“Listen, I’m not too crazy about them going out together either. But, if it’s any consolation, my mother is a total mess of a human being. There’s no way this is going to turn into anything more than a one night stand.”
She lifted her can again, taking a long sip before placing it down and twisting the pull-tab with one of her long fingernails. “He’s allowed to see whomever he chooses.”
I shrugged and looked at the can I’d gotten for myself and pulled the tab, opening it with a hiss. “That’s parents for you though. They have a habit of doing all the things they would go nuts at us for doing.”
Our heads turned as a new voice entered the room.
“Please tell me that isn’t straight Coke,” Zeke said as he walked into the kitchen after letting himself in. In his hand he held a bottle of Bundaberg Rum.
“It’s straight Coke,” I replied with a smile, handing him my can, which he then topped up with rum. He did the same for Shea while I got another can from the fridge and opened it for him, taking a long mouthful before handing it over.
“Thanks, doll,” he said, giving me a wink while he poured rum into his can. When he set the bottle on the bench, he held his can aloft to make a toast. “To the best summer we’ve ever had.”
We lifted our cans and tapped them together, their fullness giving off a muted clunking sound.
“Something tells me we’re going to spend a lot of this summer hungover.” Shea laughed as some of the sweetened black liquid spilled from her can and onto her hand. She licked it up, snaking out a pink tongue to remove any trace. Zeke seemed mesmerised before realising I was watching then cleared his throat.
“It’s the Aussie way,” Zeke reminded her. “If you’d spent more time in the country growing up, you’d know that.”
“I grew up in Australia,” Shea retorted. “I just haven’t been back since I was sixteen. My mother remarried, and my stepfather is an anthropologist. We moved from country to country with his research.”
“So that’s who I saw today, your stepdad?”
She met my eyes, and I felt a slight agitation within her gaze before she nodded. “My mum married young and things didn’t work out with my dad so they separated before I can remember. He’s in some country western band touring all the outback pubs. I get a birthday card, and a Christmas card, but that’s about as far as it goes.”
“What made you come back to Australia?” Zeke asked. At the same time, I wondered where her mother was if her stepdad was out with mine.
“My mother, actually. She died not long ago and since she grew up not far from here she wanted her ashes scattered off some point.” She flicked the pull-tab with a twang. “I don’t know exactly where it is yet. It just holds some sort of meaning for her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Zeke said, the mood of the room suddenly very sombre. I joined him in offering condolences.
Shea let out her breath before taking a sharp inhale and plastering a broad smile on her face. “Don’t be. These things happen. It’s the cycle of life.”
Knowing now that her stepfather studied religion, culture and the human condition, all the comments she’d made about human behaviour made perfect sense. It was like she was an anthropologist in the making – an observer seeking understanding and acceptance of all that she saw. I supposed that was part of what made her so interesting.
“Don’t look so grim,” she said after a moment where neither Zeke nor I knew what to say. “I’m
fine. But I can promise you, if you don’t start drinking those cans of yours, this Aussie hangover isn’t likely to happen. This is supposed to be the summer of your lives, and I’d kind of like it to be the summer of my life too. So let’s start doing that. We can make a pact – anything that makes us feel shitty doesn’t get talked about. We only focus on the fun stuff.”
Zeke shrugged then glanced at me. “Dawn?”
I thought about the million and one things I was angry about on a daily basis – Shea’s father out with my mother being the current top of that list – and I decided I could do with a break from caring.
“Sure.” I lifted my can. “Not only are we going to have the most epic summer, we’re also going to refuse to let our problems drag us down. Here’s to fun and nothing else.”
Zeke lifted his can. “To fun and nothing else.”
Shea lifted hers. “Here, here.”
We all looked at each other, our eyes shifting, the energy in the air moving between us as we held our drinks together and made the decision to let go. In that moment, it felt like we could do anything.
6
Whispers.
I was used to them. And walking along the beach with my arm linked with Zeke, and Shea on his other arm, was no different. I heard the words of bored teenage minds that thought everything to do with men and women was about sex, and that every rumour was true.
So judgemental. So hypocritical.
I began to second-guess my choice to attend the bonfire and made a move to pull back. I could change course and go to The Palms, Luke wouldn’t mind. I could keep him company during his long shift. But, Zeke caught my hand and held on to me, his large warm hand reassuring as it enclosed around mine.
Somehow sensing my distress, Shea shifted position and slipped her arm into mine, making light conversation about how clear the night was. She was a welcome addition to my tiny friendship group as she pointed out the constellations she could see that matched the zodiac signs on my tank top. She showed me Scorpio, Sagittarius and Aquarius. “That one is supposed to be Pisces, but I struggle to see how it’s a fish. As far as I’m concerned, it resembles a sperm.”
In the Wind Page 4
