Differently Normal

by Tammy Robinson

“No. Some girls probably find that kind of look sexy.”

  “You think I’m sexy?”

  “I said some girls. I didn’t say I was one of them.”

  She frowns to cover her blush and I resist the urge to tease her further. After our first date I thought she was a bit of a tough nut to crack, but as I’m learning, it’s more of an act.

  “Did you grab your bag?” I ask.

  She nods, lifting up one arm to show the blue and white striped backpack she was trailing near her feet. “Right here.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  She follows me down the narrowing path as it weaves up and over a small dune. I hear her sigh gently as we crest the top and the beach and ocean come into view and I can tell right away it’s a sigh of appreciation. It makes me like her even more. We pick our way along the beach a hundred metres in the opposite direction of the only other person in sight for miles. A fisherman with a long line out in the water, he waves a friendly greeting then turns his attention back to rolling himself a cigarette.

  “How about here?” I ask, because really any spot is as good as another.

  “Here is good,” Maddy answers, dropping her bag to the sand and stretching her arms up over her head. When she does her short t-shirt rides up and a sliver of her stomach is exposed. It’s creamy, in contrast to her arms and legs which have a light golden colour. Not all of her legs though I notice, while trying hard to make it look like I am not looking. Today she’s wearing white shorts that come down to her mid thigh, and a navy T-shirt that hangs lower on one shoulder. With her dark hair loose, curls forming in the salt spray and wrapping themselves around her face, she looks amazing. More than amazing.

  “Are you going to be ok on your own if I hit the waves?” I pull my T-shirt over my head and kick off my jandals.

  She gives the question the gravity it deserves and rolls her eyes. “I think I’ll survive.” She looks around with a frown.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “If I’d known I was coming to the beach I could have worn my togs underneath my clothes. There’s a distinct lack of changing facilities around here.”

  “That would have put a crimp on the whole ‘surprise’ aspect of the day though. I promise to look the other way and you can strip off here.”

  “Yeah, I almost believe you. But I think I’ll find somewhere up in the dunes all the same.”

  I watch her walk up the beach, and don’t realise how big my grin is until she turns and catches me staring. She puts one hand on her hip.

  “Thought you were going surfing, dude,” she admonishes.

  “Forgot which way the view was for a second.”

  The water is cold but refreshing. It feels so damn good against my skin so I stand for a moment in the shallows, with the foamy breakers swirling around my thighs. I shut my eyes and breathe in deep. I smell the ocean and adventures waiting to be had. Other countries hide just over the horizon, and although I can’t see them, the promise of them is there. My board is tucked safely under my left armpit, and it fits there like I was carved to accept its shape. I trail my right hand at my side, letting the water eddy around my fingers. It checks me out like a puppy does a stranger, curious at first and then embracing as it recognises I am a friend.

  I have missed this, and I cannot keep the grin from my face.

  Maddy

  I find a discrete spot in the dunes behind an aged and twisted pohutukawa tree, and open the bag. Knowing my mother, there’s a fair chance it could contain all of the things I might need today, or none at all.

  Thankfully it’s a little of both.

  I pull out a large beach towel and a bottle of sunscreen she’s dredged up from the depths of the bathroom cabinet. I shake it experimentally; might be enough to cover a leg if I’m lucky. There’s a spare pair of shorts, a baseball cap and a water bottle. At the bottom of the bag I see a flash of hot pink and my stomach drops.

  She didn’t.

  With trepidation I reach in and pull it out slowly.

  She did.

  Instead of packing my barely worn, perfectly proportioned to cover as much of my torso as possible bathing suit that I wear to the indoor pool in town when I take Bee swimming, my mother has packed a bikini. More specifically, a hot pink bikini that I last wore when I was approximately fourteen. I hold it up in front of me and stare aghast at the tiny scraps of material. There’s no way my butt is fitting in that, but it’s all I have. The sun is warming up the air nicely and, dammit, I’m at the beach for the first time in a long time and there’s no way I’m missing out on a swim.

  I try it on.

  Without mirrors, I can only guess at the amount of flesh left uncovered by the tickles of breeze on my skin. One particular tickle in the buttock region nearly has me changing my mind, but after popping my head around the tree I confirm that Albert and I and the fisherman are still the only inhabitants on the beach, so I decide screw it, and I wrap the towel around myself and head back down to the beach.

  At first glance I can’t see Albert anywhere on the water, but then he pops up on the other side of a wave and I realised he is dolphin diving beneath them as he heads out to deeper water. His wet blond hair curls around the nape of his neck, stark against the skin on his back which is a deep brown and evenly tanned. I wonder how it is he can spend so much time with his shirt off, as he so clearly does. Taking advantage of a lull between swelling waves, he sits astride his board and turns to scan the beach, checking for me I presume, and when he sees me he waves. Even from a hundred or so metres away I can see the white of his teeth as he smiles. He lays back down on his board and paddles until he meets a wave, this time going over the top in one graceful move. I see the tip of the board point up to the sky and it pauses there for a full second as the wave curls, before plunging down the other side of the wave. He disappears from sight for a moment. I don’t realise I’m holding my breath until he pops back up and I release it again.

  I bash the bottle of sunscreen against my palm a few times to dislodge as much of the cream as possible. It’s enough to cover one and a half legs. As I’m putting the bottle back in the bag I notice the expiry date on the bottom; two years previous. I may as well not have bothered. I put my t-shirt back on, at least it will offer some protection. My legs are white, and I struggle to remember the last time they saw the sun. Between work and home I’ve not spent much time outdoors recently, not unless you count the riding stables.

  Now what? I’m not feeling warm enough for a swim yet, and I’m not one for sunbathing, so I just sit, wrapped in my towel and I watch Albert.

  I watch him for over an hour, almost two, but it feels more like five minutes. Not once do I feel bored or restless. I can’t take my eyes off him in fact. He is a natural out there, and the way he rides the waves it’s as if he can read the water. He dips and dives and coasts along the tops as if he’s dancing, making it look effortless. For the first time in my life I find myself wishing I was extraordinarily good at just one thing, instead of being remarkably average at everything.

  When he’s had enough he catches a big wave that deposits him just on the other side of the shallows. I try and look like I’m not watching him walk up the beach, but it’s a bit hard considering there’s nothing else to look at.

  “Oh man, you should feel the water” he grins, dropping the board gently onto the sand beside me and shaking his head like a retriever dog. His hair flies in all directions and water splashes me on the face.

  “Hey,” I protest.

  “Sorry,” he says, looking anything but. He flops to the sand beside me and leans back on his elbows, looking out over the water with a look of deep satisfaction on his face.

  “You love it out there, don’t you.” I quietly state the obvious.

  He nods. “I do.”

  “When did you learn to surf?”

  “When I was about five we moved to the east coast, a small seaside settlement on the Mahia peninsula. Back then my father used to accept any small town police
position offered, so we transferred a lot. He preferred to work alone rather than with others, and still does, but my mother made him move to a big city when my brother and I hit high school to give us a better education. He’s probably regretting that now.” He laughs, but without real mirth.

  It’s not in my nature to pry into other people’s relationships. Plus I have enough to worry about with my own complicated family to give time or thought to anyone else’s. But when he talks about his father he’s in pain, I can feel it. It bothers me because he’s starting to grow on me, and I don’t like it when people I care about are hurt. “Did you teach yourself?” I ask in an attempt to change the subject.

  “Sorry?”

  “To surf.”

  “Yeah mostly. School holidays I would leave the house before the sun was up and head for the beach. I wouldn’t go back home again until the sun went down. My mother bought me a second hand board for my seventh birthday and I just spent my days in the water, watching the big boys and copying their moves.”

  “Sounds idyllic.”

  “It was.”

  “You must miss it now, being back in the city.”

  He sits up and hangs his arms over his knees, staring out to sea broodingly. “Hell yes I do. As close as it is I don’t get here anywhere near as much as I’d like. Now that I’m officially working at the stables it’ll be even less.”

  “You’re like some kind of outdoorsy boy wonder,” I joke, trying to lighten his mood.

  “You can’t tell me you enjoy your job stuck inside all day.”

  “Of course not. But it pays the bills.”

  He looks down at where he’s burrowed his feet into the sand. “Speaking of, I have a question I’ve been trying to think of a way to ask you without sounding like a stalker or jealous and obsessive.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  “Promise you won’t think bad of me?”

  “No. I can’t promise that until I hear the question.”

  “Ok.” He takes a deep breath. “Is there something going on between you and that guy you work with? Kyle?”

  I snort. “Kyle and me? No.”

  “Was there ever -?”

  I shake my head. “No. Never. Never, ever, ever, ever. Ever.”

  “That’s definitive.”

  “I can’t be any more so.”

  “Right. Ok then.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “I’m just a bit confused.”

  “Because?”

  “Well the first time I asked you out, in the shop, he practically forced you on me.”

  ‘I wouldn’t say it happened quite like that.”

  “You know what I mean. You wouldn’t have come to dinner with me if he hadn’t persuaded you to, would you.”

  “No, probably not.”

  “But yesterday when I called him to ask for your mum’s number he was all weird and demanded to know why I wanted it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah he gave me the total third degree.”

  “That’s weird.” A thought occurs to me. “How was he after you explained why you needed my mother’s number?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe slightly nicer now that you mention it, why?”

  “Kyle and my mother had a thing. Well not really a thing. They had a one night stand after my eighteenth birthday.”

  Albert’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Almost thirty.”

  “And your mum is?”

  “Forty five.”

  “Woah.”

  “Tell me about it.” I trace circles in the sand with one finger. “Not exactly the memory I wanted to take forth from the night I officially became an adult, but there you have it.”

  “I kind of got the impression he was gay.”

  “A lot of people think that. But no, he’s straight, as far as I know. He just has dramatic tendencies.”

  “So you think he was weird on the phone because he was jealous? Because he thought I was after your mother?”

  “It’s the only explanation I can think of. He certainly wasn’t jealous about me.”

  “I must say I’m relieved. I thought I was going to have to compete for your affections against him, and there’s no way I can compete against someone who wears black nail polish.”

  I laugh. “Yeah he’s trying out a slight gothic look at the moment.”

  “He tries out different looks?”

  “He’s harmless. Confused, eccentric and a little mental, but totally harmless. He’s pretty much my only friend.” I don’t know why I said the last bit and I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, aware it makes me sound like a total loser.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  I look out to sea. “It’s true. It’s hard to make friends when you can’t do things normal friends can.”

  “Like what?”

  I try and think of how to explain it to him. “Like drop everything at a moment’s notice to go to the mall, or movies. I can’t take Bee with me because she doesn’t like crowds or loud noises. Or go to a sleepover, because mum would have to leave early to work in the morning and I’d need to be there to look after Bee.”

  “It must have been tough.”

  I shrug. “It is what it is. When it’s all you’re used to you don’t really know any different. I mean, sure, there were times I felt sorry for myself, or got angry or cried because everyone else seemed to be carefree and having so much fun and there I was wiping my sisters bum and making sure she didn’t miss her meds because if she did there’s a high chance she could die.”

  “That’s a lot for a teenager to deal with.”

  I give a hollow laugh. “Teenager? I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. My mum stopped hiring babysitters because for one, we couldn’t afford them, and two, they had no idea how to look after my sister. I’d end up having to babysit the babysitter.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a while, but I can feel his eyes on me as I stare resolutely out to sea.

  I am not going to cry, I tell myself, blinking furiously to banish the tears that are welling. I don’t even know why, because I’m not in the habit of feeling sorry for myself.

  “I’d really like to be your friend too,” he says finally. “If you’ll let me.”

  I flick him a quick smile. “I’m pretty crappy at it, remember. You’d never be first on the priority list.”

  He shuffles sideways in the sand until his leg is mere centimetres away from my own. I’m acutely aware of the warmth coming off it. He reaches out his hand and lifts mine, weaving our fingers together. The simple act of holding hands makes my heart beat faster.

  “I can accept that. And maybe, just maybe, one day we could be more than friends?”

  I duck my head, letting my hair fall like a curtain to cover my face so he can’t see the brief panic that flits across it. I like him. I really like him. I don’t know what to say or do and I’m worried about saying or doing the wrong thing and making a fool of myself.

  I’m not a blushing virgin. I’ve had boyfriends before. Two, in fact. I wasn’t particularly attached to either of them, and when the relationships ended I was more relieved than anything. I was already stretched thin with Bee and helping mum make sure we didn’t end up without a roof over our heads, so devoting time stroking some guy’s ego into thinking I couldn’t live without him just didn’t interest me. They ended up resenting me for it. Worse, they resented Bee. And I could never be with anyone who resented an innocent soul such as my sister.

  Albert is different to any boy I’ve ever met. I want to let him in, but at the same time I am scared.

  “Last one in the water is a rotten egg,” I say, dropping his hand and climbing to my feet. I let the towel drop and it’s not until I hear his sharp intake of breath that I remember the bikini.

  Albert

  Considering two seconds ago she went all shy on me af
ter I held her hand and mentioned being ‘more than friends,’ it surprises the hell out of me when she jumps to her feet and drops her towel, revealing a tiny pink bikini that barely covers anything it was designed to cover. I can’t help it, my mouth drops open and my eyes nearly bulge out of my head. If I was a wolf whistling kind of guy I’d whistle.

  “Don’t stare,” she squeals, trying to cover her boobs with both hands. It just draws more attention to them.

  “I’m not.”

  I look away, at the sea, the sky, the sand; anywhere except her. But she’s like a magnet and my eyes keep getting dragged back against my will.

  “For your information this is not my normal bathing suit. My idiot mother packed this instead of my proper one. Which is your fault of course. If you’d just told me where we were going I could have packed my own bag.”

  “Sorry.” I’m not really though.

  “You’re still looking.”

  “Sorry.”

  “This is so typical of my mother. She doesn’t think.”

  “Mm.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “I just want you to understand that I don’t normally make a habit of walking around with this much flesh exposed.”

  “I’m not complaining if you do.”

  She scowls, but smiles at the same time. “You go first. I’ll walk behind you.”

  “I thought the last one into the water was a rotten egg?”

  “I’d rather be a rotten egg than be ogled thank you very much.”

  When the foamy water is churning around my knees I stop. “Now what? It’s going to be awkward to swim if I can’t look at you.”

  There’s a blur by my right side as she runs past me through the water and dives, leaving only ripples that linger on the surface. I’m glad she’s not one of those girls who take forever to get in the water, inch by inch, squealing as the cold touches each new section of skin.

  Maddy’s head pops up a few metres in front of me and she takes a deep breath, turning to grin as water streams off her head down her face.

  “Shit that’s cold,” she laughs.

  I follow suit, diving underneath a small wave and aiming for where I think she is, but when I pop up she has moved and she laughs, splashing water at my face.