by S R Silcox
“Well, maybe today should be the last day all about you then. Tomorrow can be all about me.”
I wish she’d tell me what’s on her mind, like she used to, but I guess she’ll tell me if it’s important. “Just so you know, you can talk to me about anything.”
She smiles at me. “I know.” She carries the box of towels over to the charity pile and comes back to stand beside me.
I open the next box and discover Mum’s photo albums. “Oh my God.” I open the first one and flip through the pages. “Look at all these old photos.” It must be one of Mum’s from before I was born. I don’t recognise any of the people or the names in it. Brooks picks up another one.
“Hey, this one’s got your name on it.” She carries it over to the lounge and I follow her. We sit down side-by-side, and Brooks starts flipping through the pages. The very first picture is of me, wrapped up in a blanket in a hospital crib. “This must be when you were just born,” Brooks says.
She flips the page over, and there’s a picture of me with Mum and Dad, big grins on their faces. I trace the picture with my finger and sniff back a tear. Brooks looks at me. “Okay?” she asks. I nod.
I flip the page over and Brooks bursts out laughing. There’s a picture of me in a baby bath, a washer covering my lower half. “I can see your boobies,” Brooks teases and throws her head back laughing. She puts on a baby voice. “Look how widdle and cute you are.” She prods at my side with her finger.
“So embarrassing.” I flip the page over. “I think we should go through your baby albums, to even the score.”
“No way,” Brooks says. “That would mean I’d have to ask my mother where they are and since I’m fighting with Mum at the moment, that won’t be happening.”
“Are you?” I look at her. Brooks rests the album on her lap.
“Yeah. We had a big argument yesterday afternoon.”
“Is that why you’re so tense?”
“I guess so,” Brooks says. “She just makes me so frustrated.”
“I know what you mean.” I put my hand on her leg and she looks at it for a moment before she puts her hand on top of mine.
She smiles at me and then picks the album back up. “I want to see if there are any more embarrassing photos in here,” she says. “They could come in handy for your eighteenth birthday.”
I laugh. “Your eighteenth is first,” I remind her. “So be careful what you wish for.”
She grins at me. Before we can look at any more photos, Brooks’ phone rings. “Hey, Gloria,” she says. “Tonight? I’ll be up for that. Okay. I’ll see you then.” She hangs up and says, “How would you like to help me do takeaway deliveries tonight?”
I glance at the pile of unopened boxes strewn around the place. I could definitely use a break from it all. “I am so up for that.”
Brooks stands up. “I should get home and have a quick shower. I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up. And then after we’re finished, we can go through those photo albums again.”
“Oh, I’ll be hiding those albums after you leave.”
Brooks laughs as she closes the door behind her.
I don’t feel like going through any more boxes, so I sit on my bed and look through the photo albums. The early ones of me when I was a baby, when Mum and Dad are still together, make me a little heart sick. I wonder what my life would’ve been like if we’d stayed at Roper’s instead of moving away after the divorce. Would Brooks and I still be friends? Would Dad have become a developer, or would he have just been happy building other people’s houses? Would Mum have gotten cancer? I know that’s a stupid thought, and I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway.
I flip the pages and the photos change to ones of me on holidays with Dad. In most of the early ones, he’s wearing really long board shorts and I’m in frilly little-girl togs and we’re both grinning at the camera. Dad’s hair is down to his shoulders and he’s even got abs. I can see what Mum saw in him back then. Back when he must have been fun.
A few more pages and I get a bit older, maybe around seven or eight, and Brooks starts appearing in them. There’s one of us riding our bikes along the esplanade, just after the footpath was built. There’s another one of us at her Uncle Pete’s house, me standing on a kitchen chair to reach the pool table and Brooks peering over the edge, watching me. I can’t help but smile. Things were so easy back then. Mum didn’t have cancer and the summer holidays were my favourite time of year.
I flip over to the next page and something drops out onto my lap. It’s an old, yellowing envelope addressed to me. It’s been opened. I can’t read the return address on the back because the flap is torn up. Inside is a small piece of paper, folded in half and when I open it, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Inside is a blue and red friendship bracelet; Brooks and my favourite colours. I immediately realise the significance of Brooks’ tattoo. I open the letter, excited to see what it says.
Dear Riley
I didn’t know whether you would still have your bracelet or not, so I made you another one. I hope you get it. I still have mine. I wear it everywhere. Even in the shower. I just wanted you to know that I miss you, and wish you would write to me and tell me why you haven’t come back. I wanted to ask your dad but Mum told me to mind my own business. As if you aren’t my business. I hope you’re okay and I hope you come back soon. (Or write to me.)
Love always from your best summer friend forever,
Brooks
There’s no date on the letter, so I have no idea when Brooks wrote it. One thing’s for sure, I never got it. If I had, I would’ve written back to Brooks and told her why I didn’t come back. I would’ve told her that no matter how much I wanted to come and see her, I just couldn’t because Dad didn’t have any time for me. I would’ve worn the bracelet too. I don’t know why Mum would have hidden the letter from me. I wish I could ask her. Maybe if I’d gotten Brooks’ letter, I might’ve made the effort with Dad and visited him again.
I turn the bracelet over in my hand, remembering back to the day Brooks and I sat cross-legged under the camphor laurel tree in the caravan park, weaving together some scraps of wool we found when we cleaned out one of the cabins. I don’t remember exactly what we said when we tied them on each others’ wrists but it probably would’ve been ‘friends forever’, or something like that.
I realise too, that our friendship must’ve meant a lot to Brooks if she chose to get our friendship bracelet tattooed on her wrist. For some reason, that thought makes me tingle inside. I can’t wait to show her the letter and the bracelet when she gets back.
Eighteen
Brooks
Riley and I have so far delivered a ham and pineapple pizza to the Jamesons, fish and chips to a family at the caravan park, and a big box of stuff from the hot box to the Sea Breeze Motel where some of Scott Fisher’s construction crew are staying. Sam’s beeped and waved at us from his little Suzuki van a couple of times as we’ve passed each other on our way out or back to the Hut. He was roped into doing deliveries too, just for tonight to see how we all went. It’s been busier than usual for a Monday night which is good for Gloria and Stav, and the weather’s cooler which means I’m not sweating as much as I normally would be with Riley hugging into my back on the scooter. There’s a storm off the coast looking like it might roll in later on, which explains the cool change and the breeze picking up.
After we drop off our last delivery, (the Katsidis brothers obviously didn’t catch anything today judging by the eight pizzas they ordered), I park the scooter at the back of the Hut. We’re hoping we get to pick over the hot box before Gloria turfs out what’s left. Riley pulls off her helmet and shakes out her hair. I almost laugh because it looks like one of those shampoo commercials.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I reply, and lead her inside through the back door. Ben pulls me aside as I head past the fryers.
“Hey,” he says. “Think you can make yourself scarce at home?”
“
Why?”
He takes a quick look behind him. “Nicki’s coming over,” he whispers.
“To go over the new menu?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Funny,” he says. “You’re a comedian.”
“What do you want me to do? Lock myself in my room?”
“No. Just, can’t you find something else to do? Just for a couple of hours.”
I smirk.
“We’re just watching a movie, Brooks. Please, can you just not be there?”
I decide to stop joking around and let him off the hook. “Yeah, fine. Riley and I have some crap food to eat so we’ll find somewhere else to eat it.”
“Thanks,” he says.
“You owe me one,” I say to his back. He gives me the finger over his shoulder without even turning around. I laugh it off and head out to the front of the shop to see what fried food is left.
Back outside, with a box full of chicken wings, potato scallops, chips and a chicko roll (which I’ve called dibs on), I say to Riley, “Did you want to go to the park or something? Stay out a bit later?”
The breeze picks up and whips Riley’s hair across her face as she tries to put on her helmet, and there’s a rumble of thunder in the distance. “That storm’s a bit close, don’t you think?” she asks.
I shrug. “It’s a while away yet.”
She doesn’t look convinced, and I do remember how much she hates storms. “Ben’s asked me to give him and Nicki some privacy, so we can’t go back to my place.”
“We could go back to mine. I do practically have a whole little house to myself.”
I nod. “Great idea, Riles.”
Riley swings onto the bike behind me, takes the box of food and we head off.
As I ride the bike up the driveway, Riley points to the back patio. I pull up beside it, and she gets off. “Put it under there,” she says. “It’ll be protected from the storm.”
“It’ll be fine. It’ll just be a bit of rain.”
I follow Riley across the patio and to the back door of the house. She sticks her head inside and says, “Hey, Jason. Are Dad and Julie home?”
Jason comes over to the back door. “Julie’s in bed and Scott’s in the study. Do you want me to get them?”
“No,” Riley replies. “Just wanted to let them know I’m home, that’s all.”
“No worries.” He sniffs the air. “What’s in the box?”
Riley flips open the lid and Jason peers inside. He goes to take the Chiko roll but I grab his hand. “I called dibs,” I say. He looks up and grins.
“Take whatever else you want though,” Riley says.
He digs into the box and takes a handful of chips and a potato scallop. “Thanks.”
“We’re going to wait out the storm in the guest house,” Riley says. “You can come hang out if you like.”
“Nah. I’m kicking Damo’s arse in Halo. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He turns and shuts the door, and Riley and I head over to her place.
By the time we’ve stuffed ourselves full of fried food, the storm has well and truly hit. I’ve successfully managed to not tell Riley about Jo or my mother, and thankfully, she’s not pushed me. It’s not that I don’t want to tell her about that stuff, because I would, normally. It’s just that she’s had such a rough few months that she doesn’t need to hear me bitching about my mother, who is alive and kicking when her mother isn’t.
We’re spread out on the floor in front of the lounge, flipping through a folder full of Riley’s school report cards and random pieces of artwork, when Riley jumps up. “You’ll never guess what I found today,” she says excitedly. She takes something from the drawer in her bedside table and sits back down beside me. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
I do as I’m told and when Riley tells me to open my eyes, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “You’re kidding me?” I turn the bracelet over in my hand. “Where did you find it?”
“It was in one of the photo albums,” she replies. “Can you believe it’s lasted so long?”
“No. I can’t.”
She touches my tattoo with her finger. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you pick that?” she asks.
I could say it’s because I never wanted to forget her, but I know she’d freak out, so I say, “It reminds me how happy I was when I was little.”
“It must’ve meant a lot to you,” Riley says, tracing the outline of the tattoo with her finger.
“You did,” I reply without even thinking.
A smile spreads across Riley’s face. “There’s something else,” she says, dropping a small envelope into my hand.
My breath catches in my throat and I swallow hard. I know exactly what it is. Before I can say anything, Riley says, “I never got it, Brooks. I didn’t even know you wrote to me.”
I let out a breath and open the letter. It’s bittersweet reading the words, and even now I can remember how much I missed her back then. The bracelet was my last ditch effort to get her to write to me. “This was the last one I wrote,” I say, staring at my twelve-year-old scrawl.
“Last one? There were more?”
I nod slowly. “Heaps.”
Riley takes my hand and squeezes. “I’m so sorry. I never even knew.”
“It’s okay. Really.” I glance up at her and if there was any bit of anger left for her not writing back, and for her leaving Roper’s and not coming back, it’s gone now. I smile back at her and we stay like that for what seems like ages.
A huge crack of thunder booms outside, and Riley jumps. Instinctively, I put my arm around her shoulder. “It’s just a storm, Riles.” The wind howls and the rain starts bucketing down again. The lights flicker off and Riley whimpers. When they come back on, she’s got her eyes squished shut and she’s sucking in short, sharp breaths. I have to think of a way to stop her from panicking. I glance around the room and my gaze settles on the piles of boxes that are meant to be going to charity. They give me an idea.
“Hey, Riles. Remember what we used to do at Uncle Pete’s during the storms?”
Riley opens her eyes and looks at me. “Hide under the pool table?”
“Exactly,” I reply.
She looks over at the dining table pushed up against the wall. “We can’t fit under there.”
“We’re not going to hide under the table. Just give me a minute, okay?” I jump up off the floor and head over to the bed. “Mind if I take the sheet off?”
Riley shakes her head. Thunder booms again and she squeals. I pull the top sheet from the bed and head over to the boxes. I take the smaller ones off the top and then pull the bigger ones forward. Eventually, after moving them around like a Tetris game, I’ve created a U-shaped space. I race back over to the bed and grab the pillows, and the cushions from the lounge chair as well. I lay them out on the floor between the boxes, and then I drape the sheet over the whole thing, stacking the smaller boxes back on top to stop it from slipping off. I turn back to Riley. “Ta da!”
“You made a fort.” She tries to smile but I can see how hard she’s trying not to panic.
“Uh-huh. Do you want to come and check it out?”
She jumps up and comes over to stand beside me. I sweep aside the sheet so she can duck under and crawl inside. She crawls right to the back, turns around and sits, cross-legged on the cushions.
“Comfy,” she says. “Are you coming in?”
“Of course.” I crawl in and sit beside her. It’s smaller than I thought, so we’re a little squished. Our sides are touching from our shoulders down to our hips. I stretch my legs out so my feet are sticking out from the sheet. Riley does the same thing and she nudges my leg with hers. When I look at her, she’s smiling, just a little. “Thanks,” she says. “I really, really hate storms.”
Thunder rolls around outside again and she shudders. I take her hand in mine. “The storms are quick up here. It won’t take long to go over.”
<
br /> She swallows and nods her head. “We’re safe in here, right?”
“Rols. We’re in a fort. Of course we’re safe.”
“I haven’t heard anyone call me that for ages,” Riley says. “You used to call me that when I was angry at you, remember? Or when you wanted to get my attention?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “It wasn’t a very good nickname. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I actually don’t mind it now.” She gives me a half smile and just when I think she’s doing okay, a loud crack reverberates through the air. It even makes me jump. Something crashes down outside and Riley screams. She starts hyperventilating. “We’re going to die. We’re going to die,” she says, over and over again.
“Riley, it’s okay. We’re safe.” She’s not listening to me, so I turn her head to me and when I see the terror in her eyes, I do the only thing I can think of to calm her down. I kiss her.
Nineteen
Riley
Mum told me once that the first time she kissed my dad, her world just melted away and she felt like there was just the two of them. I was totally grossed out at the time at the thought of them kissing that passionately, but I have to say that I can now totally understand what Mum meant. It’s not that I haven’t kissed anyone before, because I have. And it’s not that I haven’t ever thought about kissing Brooks either, because I’ve done that too. I mean, I wanted to kiss her yesterday on the beach, but that would have been really embarrassing, and I wanted to kiss her this afternoon when she was upset, but it just didn’t feel like the time. I just never thought I’d be kissing her in a box fort in a storm. Totally new situation for me. A totally new and wonderful situation that pushes the storm to the back of my mind, at least for the moment.
Her hand moves to my hip and I feel her fingers squeeze my skin. Before I know it, my hand is on the back of her neck, pulling her into me. Her lips are soft and warm against mine and a little salty from the fried food we ate earlier. She tilts her head slightly and touches my lips with her tongue. I don’t mean to, but I shiver.
