The Last Days of Us

by Beck Nicholas

  She hesitates.

  ‘Please, I’m interested.’

  Her gaze goes to the horizon. ‘I have this aunt,’ she says softly. ‘For as long as I can remember, she’s been travelling all over the world and bringing me back little gifts. Magnets or tea towels or teaspoons. It should have been lame, but I found myself collecting them. Each one had a story. Like a true love in Paris, or a brush with mobsters in Mexico City. I dreamed of following in her footsteps one day, and exploring the world on my own.’

  Goosebumps rise on my skin at the wonder in her voice. ‘This was one of her trips?’

  Her eyes shine with tears, but there’s a smile on her face. ‘This was her first.’

  CHAPTER

  10

  It won’t be long now, I can let myself rest. You’ll be beside me, your hand in my grasp.

  ‘The Road’—GRAY

  We stop for lunch in a small coastal town not far from the Twelve Apostles. At the bakery, which also doubles as the general store, I choose a spinach and fetta Danish, working on the theory that at least it has some green stuff in it.

  We eat outside in the sunshine, in a mostly civil silence. I sit as far as possible from Cass, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Although some of my annoyance has drained away, I’m in no hurry to share conversation. She’s too busy on her phone to talk anyway, eating her pie absently while texting like a fiend.

  She didn’t used to be like this. Not that I can remember. She’d be present, and we had so much to talk about—we were always halfway through a conversation. I thought we’d never run out of things to say.

  There are a few other tourists at the nearby tables, and some kids out enjoying the last of the summer holidays on skateboards and bikes.

  Luc’s standing a little way apart, talking on his phone. He’s so intent on the call he doesn’t react when one of the skateboards turns rogue and collides with his ankle. He kicks it back towards the shame-faced kid without missing a beat. I refuse to let myself imagine who he might be talking to that has him so entranced. Because I don’t care.

  I wipe flakes of pastry off my chin, hoping no-one noticed me making a mess with the buttery goodness. For once, Luc doesn’t witness my embarrassment. He’s off the phone now but too busy staring out at the water, his face mostly hidden by his aviators.

  ‘That looks good,’ says Finn, nodding at my lunch.

  ‘Tastes it, too,’ I reply, hoping I don’t have spinach stuck between my teeth.

  ‘The pies are good,’ he says. ‘You should—’

  Cass clutches at his arm and waves her phone in front of his face. ‘You won’t believe what someone posted on my wall.’

  Dutifully, he looks at the screen.

  But I notice that as soon as she has Finn’s attention, and he’s not talking to me anymore, she zones him out and returns to her phone.

  Pain spreads from my palms, where my fingernails dig in hard. Good pain. It keeps me from screaming at her and allows me to maintain the pretence that everything is normal, whatever that is. But only just, because she has everything. Everything I want is right there in front of her and she’s more into her freaking phone.

  In our long friendship there’s never been any hint of this strain between us. How can we erase the invisible battle lines that have been drawn?

  She won’t want my advice—to hold Finn close and appreciate him and never ever do anything that might screw it up—and I’m in no state to give it to her. I should be happy. After all, her actions give me a chance with him. But I’m not.

  When Cass and I were nine, we decided we’d meet twin boys one day, fall madly in love and have a double wedding with ten flower girls. We planned every detail, right down to the purple and silver theme, but our plan didn’t include wanting the same groom.

  When Finn and I first started dating, Cass complained long and loud that he was vain and boring. Obviously she forgot his flaws pretty quickly when I broke his heart and she decided to pick up the pieces.

  I take another bite of my lunch.

  The sheer inanity of my earlier conversation with Finn plays on my mind. It’s not that he’s shallow exactly, more that talking to him was like one of those classes where the teacher’s voice becomes an indiscriminate hum and your brain can’t help but wander.

  When I’ve licked the last of the grease from my fingers I head back to the van, pretending I need to check a text on my phone, although it’s not like anyone is in a hurry to talk to me. The others take their time eating, beginning to talk once I’m gone. That could be a coincidence, but I sigh anyway. Finn laughs loudly at something Jolie says, then goes back into the store.

  I lean against the side of the van, inhaling the scent of the sea and the faint musty smell that lingers from inside the old vehicle. The sun is warm on my face and my arms are radiating their own heat. I try to remember whether I put sunscreen on when I got out of the shower or if I was too busy being upset about Cass and her assumptions.

  ‘Zoey?’ I open my eyes to see Finn standing in front of me. ‘I bought ice-creams for everyone.’

  I can see the others a little way behind, all carrying ice-creams. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t forget you.’ He grins his usual perfect, adorable grin, but it neither makes my heart race or my belly flip. I’m not sure why not. His generous nature is something I always liked about him.

  ‘Thank you,’ I begin, but then I look down at the cone he’s holding and words fail me.

  ‘Mint choc-chip,’ he says. ‘Your favourite.’

  My brain floods with memories of the green puddle on the tiles near my front door, my dad’s face when he said the words: ‘It’s Daniel’. For weeks afterwards I’d walk around that spot every time I went through the front door.

  Finn shoves the cone towards me. ‘Quick, before it drips everywhere.’

  It’s in my hands before I can think and my stomach is churning at the minty smell. Finn is watching, waiting for me to eat it.

  And now the others have caught up and Cass looks pissed, probably because her boyfriend bought me an ice-cream despite the fact that she thinks I’m a slut—or maybe because of it. And Luc is watching from behind his aviators and there’s no chance he’s forgotten what I told him last night. No freaking chance at all.

  Now they’re all looking at me and a fine trail of icecream drips over my hand, splatting onto the concrete below. I look away.

  Just take a bite.

  I bend towards it. The smell is stronger up close and I’m suddenly terrified that if I taste it I’m going to be sick. But I know that not eating it will hurt Finn’s feelings.

  I close my eyes. It’s just an ice-cream. Maybe I won’t vomit.

  ‘Watch it.’ The shout comes from Luc. I sense movement and as my eyes fly open, he stumbles forward and cannons right into my arm. The one holding the ice-cream. It jerks, twists and . . . thunk. The ice-cream rolls off the cone like a bright green bowling ball, hits the side of the van and comes to rest in a pile of leaves in the gutter. I can breathe again.

  Luc’s concern is evident despite half his face being hidden by his sunglasses. ‘Sorry. Are you okay?’

  I blink. Words won’t come.

  Jolie punches him on the arm. ‘Of course she’s not okay. You destroyed her ice-cream.’

  ‘Good one, doofus,’ adds Finn.

  I must look as surprised as I feel because Luc hurries to explain. ‘Sorry, some kid on a BMX jumped off the footpath and nearly hit me.’ He jerks a thumb towards the street corner. ‘The little brat didn’t even have a helmet. Don’t worry, I’ll get you another ice-cream.’

  He seems sincere.

  I find my voice. ‘Forget it.’ I look down the road but there’s no kid, and I’m pretty sure I would have noticed one. My heart is still beating erratically and the faint sense of nausea lingers as, incident already forgotten, everyone else finishes up their treats and climbs into the van.

  * * *

  An hour later I’m still thinking
about Luc’s ‘accidental’ collision with me. Wondering why he bothered—what it means. Wondering why I didn’t just tell Finn the truth.

  I can’t remember whether I ever told him the story of that afternoon. He must have asked. He must have cared.

  If I’d said something earlier, would he have understood?

  Luc is driving, and Cass is next to me in the back, but she hasn’t tried to talk. Suits me just fine. Behind us, Jolie is spread out, taking up a ridiculous amount of space for someone so petite. The last time I glanced back she was asleep, with a smile stretched across her face and a postcard of the Twelve Apostles clutched against her chest.

  I’m trying to listen to Gray’s album. Usually losing myself in his lyrics brings a little peace, but I keep having to stop myself switching to a house track. Specifically, one of the ones Luc had on his phone. Then once I start thinking about him I lose long minutes replaying the feel of his body against mine on the basketball court and the understanding in his voice when I told him about Daniel.

  Gray. I should focus on my favourite singer—his concert is tomorrow. His rough voice with all its pain reaches out through my headphones.

  It’s late (so late),

  We’re here together.

  Stars burn distant fire.

  And flames are dancing in your eyes.

  I shiver. The lyrics to ‘First Kiss’ tug at that primal part of me that wants to be consumed by love. That stupid part that I’m trying to ignore.

  But I’m singing along in my head as I stare at the hard edge of Luc’s jaw and the soft outline of his lips. I bet Luc’s kisses would burn.

  What am I doing?

  I drag my gaze away, but not for long. Now that I’ve made the mistake of letting myself watch him, it’s almost impossible to stop. His skin is tanned and there’s a fine dusting of sand on the tiny valley where his collarbone juts out before it disappears under his T-shirt.

  Something’s up with him. I can tell. I’m convinced he’s grumpier than usual.

  As if on cue, he presses two fingers against his temple. I’ve seen him do that before—when I’ve said something particularly obnoxious, or when Jolie’s driving him crazy.

  I force myself to watch the scenery instead of the driver. I should really be watching Finn, even though I can only see the back of his head. It bobs up and down as he snorts at some joke he made and I try to remember how I used to feel when he laughed.

  Luc ignores whatever Finn said and pulls over to the side of the road.

  The van rumbles to a stop and Luc drapes an arm across the seat as he turns to face us. ‘I think we should keep going all the way instead of camping tonight.’

  ‘Camping?’ I say. I thought we’d booked a place in Apollo Beach. It’s not that I care or anything, but it would be nice to know what’s happening.

  His eyes flick over me but he doesn’t meet my gaze. ‘We were talking about it at breakfast. Jolie’s obsessed with some free site right on the beach.’

  ‘Must have been after I’d gone.’ I’d escaped as soon as possible to avoid Cass.

  He shrugs. ‘Anyway, Dad said the weather doesn’t look good for later tonight.’

  Now it makes sense. The low-voiced conversation he had on the phone outside the general store when we stopped for lunch.

  Jolie’s eyes narrow. ‘You spoke to Dad?’

  ‘He called,’ Luc snaps back. ‘Was I supposed to ignore it?’

  ‘You’re supposed to be on my side.’

  He hesitates and the look on his face makes me ache. ‘I’m not trying to spoil anything.’

  Jolie’s usual ready smile is gone. Instead, she’s on the edge of tears. ‘I really want this, Lucien.’

  They share another of those brother-sister looks, full of so much history and emotion I can’t bear to see it.

  ‘Who cares? Just decide already. It’s only one night,’ says Cass, without even looking up from her phone.

  It’s all I can do not to elbow her. How can she be so oblivious?

  Even Finn, who’s usually about as perceptive as a rock, is frowning. ‘Jolie, you know Luc means well.’

  His words have gravity beyond the surface conversation. Whatever is going on here, he knows about it. My belly is tight. I’ve missed more than one conversation, clearly. ‘I don’t mind what we do,’ I say.

  Jolie’s smile is grateful. ‘Please, Lucien. I’ll sleep in the tent and I’ll rug up and if there’s a single drip I’ll let you walk next to me with an umbrella.’

  A pulse beats in Luc’s jaw. He glances out at the blue sky and white fluffy clouds dotted across the horizon. The balmy breeze drifts in through his open window, pushing his hair into his eyes. He seems torn with indecision.

  ‘Please,’ Jolie begs one more time.

  He sighs. ‘If I say we go, then we go. No questions asked, no matter what the time.’

  ‘I promise,’ she squeals.

  Luc doesn’t look any happier as he starts the van up and pulls back out onto the road. ‘We’ll be there soon.’

  He’s right. About fifteen minutes later, we arrive at the free camping area. Surprisingly, it’s not too crowded. Jolie insists that roughing it is part of the experience, but we pick a spot close to the minimal amenities. There’s no power here so we’ll need to save the charge in our phones.

  Just in case the weather does turn, we all help to set up the bigger tent Luc and Jolie brought with them. Well, most of us. Cass insists she needs to check in with her mum. I try not to comment on the convenient timing. As we work, Luc frowns at the horizon, where more clouds are gathering, but he doesn’t say a word.

  Jolie tries to joke him out of his bad mood but he answers her in grunts and she gives up pretty quickly.

  ‘I’m going for a swim,’ I announce when the tent is up and I’ve picked out my sleeping corner. I don’t wait for a response, grabbing my towel and heading for the beach.

  I need a few minutes by myself.

  Road trips always look so fun in the movies. They don’t mention that you have to share oxygen for hours at a time. I’d pictured sharing special moments with Finn and reminding him of how good we’d once been together. I hadn’t factored in Cass being a bitch or Jolie making me feel guilty or Luc being, well, Luc.

  I breathe a little easier once I know I’m out of sight.

  ‘Wait up.’

  I glance back, the tension returning to my shoulders, and see Finn following me along the track, his chest bare and his board under his arm.

  ‘Hey,’ I say.

  His smile is wide and relaxed. ‘The surf here is supposed to be awesome.’

  My brain blanks. Talking should not be this hard. Think, Zoey. Something witty, interesting and normal.

  ‘I’m hoping it’s good for swimming.’

  He falls into step beside me. ‘Didn’t I promise you a surfing lesson sometime?’

  Is this . . .? I sneak a look sideways, but his eyes are hidden by his sunglasses and I can’t tell if there’s anything more than a friendly offer in his words. I’m not sure if I want there to be, I realise. ‘Are you offering now?’

  He doesn’t answer straight away and I die a million deaths. Have I said the wrong thing? Of course he doesn’t want to give his ex a surfing lesson, not when his current girlfriend could come down to the beach at any moment. Besides, surfing isn’t really my thing—I’m more of a spectator.

  He still hasn’t said anything. Is that relief or sadness settling in my gut?

  He switches the board to his other arm as we file down the steps to the beach. He goes first, his steps sure and his back straight and strong. He has the confidence of a guy who figures everything will work out somehow.

  I lost that belief the day Daniel died.

  The beach stretches out ahead, sparkling in the sunshine, perfect for swimming or surfing. A calm, protected bay is flanked by small but consistent waves, breaking onto the rocks further out.

  A few young families are splashing in the calm shallow water, a to
ddler’s chubby arms and legs whirring in excitement like mini-propellers. A skinny kid flies a rainbow-coloured kite high in the sky and some teenagers throw a Frisbee back and forth, laughing loudly. But it’s a big enough area that everyone seems to have their own spot in the sand or the water.

  Finn looks up at me from the sand, holding out his hand to help me down the last two steps. Steps I could take easily on my own. But I let him help me and I do my best not to glance behind me to check if anyone’s watching.

  His hand is warm and familiar in mine. I jump to the sand and he laughs as I stumble on the hot surface.

  ‘Careful,’ he teases. But he doesn’t let go of my hand straight away and I laugh a little at my own clumsiness too. ‘I’ve always loved the sound of your laughter,’ he says.

  And we’re still holding hands.

  Let go.

  Unable to make a decision, I stand there like one of those jellyfish that sometimes wash up on the shore. A little wobbly and completely unable to move.

  He brushes my hair back from my cheek. ‘How about that lesson?’

  Right. A surf lesson.

  His mouth tightens and he drops my hand. ‘Unless you don’t want to.’

  We are just talking about a surf lesson, aren’t we? ‘I do, but . . .’

  My reasons for hesitating are all jumbled up in Cass and my lame talk with Finn at the apostles and maybe a little of Luc.

  He looks past me, up towards the campsite. ‘Cass didn’t want to come down to the beach. Apparently she has a headache.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say. And then, ‘Oh.’ Because he’s telling me we’re not going to get caught. Or maybe he’s saying there’s nothing to catch.

  Either way, I need to lose the uncertainty. Spending time with Finn is the reason I came on this trip, and now’s my chance.

  I force a wide smile. ‘Let’s do it.’

  CHAPTER

  11

  There’s rain upon the window, baby, but I’m coming home to you. I’ve left her far behind us now and the sun is coming through.