‘Yeah, called me a few names… cock teaser, stuff like that. By then I was out of there.’ He shakes his head. ‘Now I’m sure I’m straight. Actually,’ his grin is self conscious, ‘It’s a big relief. I don’t care how tolerant people think they are; they really aren’t,’ he gloomily adds.
Recalling Jon’s behavior, I nod. ‘No, guess not.’
‘These days if someone wants to say something’s bad, they say it’s ‘gay’.’
We reflect on this.
Before leaving the casino, I go back into the shop and buy that gorgeous glittery top. Aquamarine. Just right for Dessi. After that big win, spending $175 on one’s very best friend doesn’t seem over the top.
Sacha appears at my side. ‘Want to go back? Casinos are pretty boring if you’re not winning.’ We stroll back along the beach towards our apartment. Surf ripples towards us and retreats. The moon is high. Shadows like beached seals are spread over the sand. Most appear to be Schoolies. A couple of Toolies stagger towards us. There’s just enough light to take in their tatts, piercings and leathers.
I move closer to Sacha.
‘Cute chick,’ says the taller one. ‘Wanna come along with us?’
‘Nah’ says Sacha, his voice rough. ‘Sorry guys,’ he says grabbing me around the waist and sliding his hand into my top. ‘She’s with me.’
They have lots to say about that. But as we’re careful not to antagonise them, they decide to let us go. Watching them try to muscle in brings out my cubist woman. Once they’re at a safe distance, I say, ‘You have to wonder what makes them head for Schoolies.’
Sacha’s laugh is humourless. ‘Guys with too little self confidence to look for women their own age.’
We pass several groups of drunken kids. I feel sorry for them. Haven’t I been there and done that? Don’t I know from bitter experience how sick they’ll feel in the morning? Our stroll towards them takes us towards some phone booths. As for some reason my cell phone no longer works, I decide to use one to call Abdul.
‘Won’t be long,’ I tell Sacha and duck inside. I hope he thinks I’m calling home. So far I haven’t really talked much about Abdul to Sacha. Partly because he might tease me, another part suggests that he might be jealous now that he knows he’s into women.
I can’t believe how nervous I am when I dial. When Abdul answers, my mouth goes dry. ‘Hi. It’s me…Emma.’ Am I imagining or does he sound frosty? When I ask him how Dessi is... has he seen her...? he says ‘Got to go…’ and that’s it. Now I wish I hadn’t phoned. I glance outside to where Sacha waits patiently.
I decide to phone Dessi and find out if she’s heard from Abdul.
Hannah answers. ‘Sorry love; Dessi’s out.’
‘Oh… where’s she gone?’
There’s a faint pause before Hannah says, ‘I’m not sure, Leila’s I think. Why not call her cell phone?’
‘Oh, I don’t want to intrude. Tell her I’ll phone tomorrow night, please Hannah. You won’t forget will you? I’ll be at my dad’s place,’ and I give Hannah the number.
‘Being with your dad, you okay with it?’
‘Sure,’ I say quickly. Right now I don’t want to go into my confused feelings about Robert and Laura.
‘I’ll tell Dessi soon as she gets in,’ Hannah promises. ‘She’ll be sorry she missed you.’
On the walk to Broadbeach, Sacha puts his arm around me. But he’s casual, friendly, non-threatening. After Abdul’s rebuff, I find the contact consoling and snuggle into him.
When we walk into the apartment, there’s no sign of the others.
Sacha flops on the couch and grabs the remote. ‘Want to watch TV?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m going to have a shower. Have an early night. We’ve got the cruise tomorrow, remember?’
He nods. But there’s unexpected tension in the air. As I’m not sure how to cope with it, I shower, slip on my PJ’s and flop onto my bed with only a sheet as cover. The frangipani’s scent envelops me and I realise that I haven’t thanked Sacha for the flowers. Just as I’m tossing up whether to or not, he comes into our bedroom.
‘I’ll have a shower as well,’ he says and self-consciously goes into the bathroom. Five minutes later, he comes into our room, wet haired and gorgeous. He has a towel tied around his waist and I have to try very hard not to think about what is under it.
Then he comes and sits on the edge of my bed. The next minute he’s kissing me. He might be inexperienced. But instinctively, he’s a good kisser. I find myself unable to pull away as I should, as I certainly intend. But it doesn’t seem to be happening. The next thing, he’s in the bed beside me and somehow, the towel has disappeared.
‘We’re not going to do this, Sacha.’ I wish I sounded more convincing. ‘Besides, I haven’t got any…‘
‘I have,’ he whispers and snuggles against me. His body is warm and hard. The kissing starts up again and his hands are all over me and I’m falling…falling...
He is so sweet, so…so grateful. What can I do? As I gather him closer, feel his hands all over me and direct him to where I want him to be, my last thought is of how Abdul sounded on the phone. Cold. There is nothing cold about what is happening here. Quite the contrary. Sacha’s need is even more than mine… we’re both so lonely and confused.
So needy.
So why… why not?
After, we sleep like the dead.
27. DESSI, Melbourne
I sleep like the dead only waking at dawn to ponder over the night before. Falling asleep again, I dream I’m in a Magistrate’s Court. The judge is pointing an accusing finger. ‘Desiree Lawrence-Cowan, we find you guilty on three counts. One, of stealing your best friend’s boyfriend; two, of extreme disloyalty; and three, of telling lies. You are sentenced to a lifetime of loneliness.’
I lie there staring up at the ceiling. I know what this dream means. But why must I always worry about Emma? I’m quite sure Emma doesn’t worry this much about me. The thing is, we’re just too different. Where I haven’t a clue about my future career, Emma knows exactly where she’s going and she’s sure to be a success. But if she doesn’t, I know it’ll be because of Abdul, because she’ll be totally devastated, and get sick, and draw knives sticking into her chest, and it will all be her best friend’s fault. Is there anything I can do, apart from giving up Abdul, to stop this happening? If only Emma had more confidence. She’s always saying, ‘Okay for you, Dessi. You’re pretty and brainy and your family cares about what you do.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ I retort. ‘You’re prettier than me, your scores are just as good if not better, and you know how much Julie worries about you.’
‘Yeah? Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.’
But she’s always been so insecure, even before Robert left home. There was the time I invited Belinda from our Year 3 class, home and Emma hid Belinda’s doll in the laundry. Though she kept claiming it was a joke, I never did know if she did it out of spite. And what about her unreasonable attitude towards Leila? Isn’t it because she hates the idea of someone else being my friend? I’m far more generous about her closeness to Sacha.
So last night with Abdul… when I chickened out at the last minute, how much was it because of Emma? Was I telling myself that if we didn’t actually have sex, that I wasn’t being disloyal? I wish I knew. At the same time I’m so much in love, I can hardly bear to live inside myself. I really understand why Romeo and Juliet killed themselves rather than be separated.
A buzzer sounds. I grab my crutches, hop into the hallway and open the front door. Nanna Pearl enters in her usual whirlwind fashion. ‘Darling how are you?’ I follow her into the kitchen where Hannah is working. Nanna talks non-stop, ‘Picked up a lovely Calabrese sausage and here’s something for this poor sick girl…’
‘Nanna, it’s only a broken ankle...’
‘Pearl, you spoil the children outrageously...’
Nanna flows into a chair and says to Hannah, ‘Darling, you look exhausted. You must get y
ourself a housekeeper.’
Hannah grimaces. ‘No point with all this mess going on…’ Left unsaid is, ‘We can’t afford it.’
‘Why aren’t the children helping?’
‘Well, Dessi can’t do much. And if I didn’t have to tidy up after Jeremy, that’d be a help.’
‘Then I insist you take work a little easier.’
Hannah manages a laugh. ‘I haven’t been there long enough.’
I study my mother. Since the accident I’m able to view my family somewhat dispassionately. Those dark circles around Hannah’s eyes are a reminder of how hard her new job is. Maybe she should have stayed with her old branch, not been so ambitious. Though Hannah’s new boss is impossible, sometimes when she keeps on and on about him, I say impatiently, ‘Why not report him for being sexist?’
‘Women who report their supervisors get labelled as difficult. Anyway, it’s not as if he tries to grope me. It’s more like he thinks females can’t be trusted.’
‘Apply for another branch?’
‘I need to stay six more months, otherwise I look unreliable...’ and this closes the conversation.
Nanna hands me a small parcel wrapped in newspaper with an unusual typeface.
‘Nanna, what writing is this?’
‘Tibetan.’
I unwrap the parcel and examine the cylindrical metal object. ‘What is it?’
‘A Tibetan Prayer wheel. Offer a prayer. Make a wish.’
I close my eyes and twirl it above my head. The wheel makes a faint whirring noise.
I wish... I wish...I wish for Emma to meet a new man.
The end of the wheel falls off.
Nanna is furious. ‘Told that stall holder to make sure it wouldn’t break.’
I smother a grin. ‘Nanna, you’ll have to go back and complain.’
‘Darjeeling summers are colder than Melbourne winters. Anyway, I’m planning my next trip. Next summer, Dessi,’ she casually adds, ‘you might like to be my companion.’
Hannah’s cup stops in mid air.
I actually feel my chin drop. Oh, no. That means leaving Abdul…
Nanna waits for a response.
‘Awesome,’ I manage. ‘Sounds great, Nanna. Where are you going?’
‘Europe’s always been my first love. We’ll fly to London first. Then I want to look at Berlin and spend more time in Prague and Paris. And you’ve never been to Italy, have you?’
‘Nanna. It sounds awesome,’ I repeat.
Hannah carefully places her mug on the table. ‘Sure you’ll want a teenager along?’
‘Teenager?’ Nanna’s eyebrows rise. ‘Dessi will be nearly twenty. The thing is, will she want to travel with this old dinosaur?’
I lean over to hug Nanna. Europe! How fabulous. A succession of picture postcards run through my mind: myself in front of the Colosseum, the Eiffel Tower, Buckingham Palace…
‘You ever been to the Middle East, Nanna?’
‘Course. Why you asking?’
‘The girls have found a new flame,’ Hannah answers for me. ‘He’s Lebanese.’
I round angrily on her. ‘Do you mind?’
‘I’m only telling your grandmother.’
‘If I want to tell people about Abdul, I’ll do it myself.’ If only I could storm out of the room. I do the next best thing by hopping through the doorway and nearly knocking over Graham. I hear Nanna’s, ‘Who’s this boy who’s arousing so much passion in our Dessi?’
‘Shhhh,’ says Hannah. ‘You’ll only make things worse.’
I stop to listen.
‘Trouble is both she and Emma are keen.’
‘That’ll put a spanner in the works.’
‘They’ll just have to figure it out between them.’ Graham is, as usual, placatory.
‘That accident came at such a bad time. It’s hard with so much else on your plate.’
‘We’re managing.’ Hannah’s tone is terse.
‘I’d already met my future husband when I was offered a fantastic job,’ Nanna reminisces. ‘That job would take me away from George, so I picked marriage. At twenty-one I was all emotion and hormones. But try and tell that to someone Dessi’s age. When you’re young you rarely consider options.’
‘I’ve got a terrible feeling this is going to create a problem none of us will have the energy to handle.’ Hannah sounds worried.
I don’t wait to hear more. Instead I head for the safety of my room and collapse on the bed. As I stare at the ceiling, I drift into a pleasant daydream where Abdul and I are in a gondola floating to the strains of ‘O Sole Mio’.
Unexpectedly our Year 11 end-of-term party pops into my mind.
Our class went to a recording of ‘Karpet Kapers’. What made this event memorable was Kaz chucking Emma’s bag onto the stage. To the accompaniment of boos and cheers, Ben McDermott pulled out her cell phone, purse, lipstick, hairbrush and a packet of condoms. I recall how angry Emma was, how many months it took her to forgive Kaz for ‘that total invasion of privacy.’
How will she react to what I’m doing now?
I climb off the bed and begin sorting through the wardrobe for something halfway decent to wear.
28. EMMA, Surfers
Next morning as I’m searching in my bag for something halfway decent to wear, I try hard to pretend nothing happened. But of course it did, and it’s too late wishing it hadn’t. In the bustle of getting ready for the cruise, I hope the others won’t notice the way Sacha keeps giving me soppy looks. ‘Anything happen last night?’ I ask Kaz.
Jodie answers for her, ‘Some kid got drowned.’
‘How come?’ Sacha’s eyes never leave me.
‘He went surfing by himself,’ says Kaz. ‘Got sucked under by a giant wave.’
I don’t dare meet Sacha’s intense gaze. ‘Will you please hurry,’ I butt in. ‘Laura will be here any minute now. Don’t forget your bathers.’
‘I won’t be able to swim,’ Jodie whines. ‘Not with my infection.’
Kaz goes bug-eyed. ‘That’s your fault, isn’t it?’
‘I’m going down to the foyer.’ I go to the bedroom to throw some clothes into a bag.
Sacha follows. ‘You won’t need all that stuff, will you?’
I can’t look at him. ‘I’m going to stay with my dad a day or two.’
He sits on the bed and stares at me like a whipped dog. ‘But…but what about us?’
I hate the way he looks at me, mostly because it makes me feel so cubist distorted. What can be worse than unwanted affection? Last night, did Abdul feel like that when I phoned? I try not to think about it. But I don’t want to lead Sacha on any further. I like him too much and want to keep him as a special friend. ‘Well, there’s no way you can stay with me, Sash,’ I say as gently as I know how. ‘My father wouldn’t approve. Besides…’ it’s hard to look at his mournful face, ‘I don’t really know my dad any more. We’ve got to get to know each other again.
‘Sure…course.’
He accepts this explanation far too quickly to appease my conscience. I mentally kick myself. If only last night hadn’t happened. I could kick myself for being a fool.
‘When will you be back?’
‘In a couple of days.’
Downstairs, Laura is already waiting. ‘Hi gang,’ she says and we all pile into the Jeep.
‘You didn’t introduce me,’ Sacha whispers. He sounds so desolate I have to force myself not to give in to his distress. But if I don’t want lead him on, what else can I do?
We head off down the highway to a spot on the river just near the entrance to the Broadwater. Laura leads the party down one of the jetties to a big catamaran. I spot my father leaning on a rail waving. He looks so good, I can’t help a surge of pride. Deckhands are busy untying ropes. We troop on board. Robert points us to a cluster of deck chairs. Kaz settles into the nearest. ‘How about a drink?’
‘Bar’s not open yet,’ Laura says shortly. ‘We have to be on the water. You can wait until then, can’t y
ou?’
I glare at Kaz. ‘Sure we can.’
This trip is spectacular. We pass homes reaching right down to the riverbank; palatial houses with swimming pools, many with sleek boats moored at their private jetties. I could be part of all this! Then I shove the thought away. What if it corrupts my art?
The boat picks up speed and the Broadwater opens out ahead. Laura comes around with savories and Kaz works her way through several vodka-oranges. When we arrive at Tipplers, a barbecue is quickly set up. When Dad joins us, Sacha says, ‘Great place, Mr Simpson.’
‘Call me Rob,’ he says. ‘We’ll be here for a couple of hours. That path will take you to the surf beach. Don’t swim. It’s not patrolled.’
‘Feel like a walk, Emma?’ Sacha whispers.
I feel so bad about pushing him away, I agree. As we walk Sacha says ‘You’re lucky, your dad being so cool.’
‘Oh I don’t know. He’s okay now. But he left us in the lurch, and now he wants me to stay up here.’
‘I’d stay if I had the chance,’ he says. We’ve finally reached the surf and are lying in the shallows. ‘I don’t want to go back to Melbourne.’ His face clouds over. ‘I won’t get into any uni. And you know what? I don’t care. Maybe I’ll ask your dad for a job. I can do the same stuff as those guys on the boat.’
I sit up. ‘But what about your art?’
‘Lots of artists work at other jobs before they settle down. They use the experience. I’d keep on sketching, you know.’
I frown, still trying to put him off. ‘How do you know you’d be any good on a boat?’
‘After all that gym work, I’m pretty strong. What do you reckon, Emma? Could you put in a good word for me? He’s suddenly full of purpose. ‘Will you, Emma? Please?’
I refuse to meet his gaze. ‘I don’t know, Sacha. It’s not really up to me, is it?’
‘He can only say no, can’t he? Maybe I could come back with you tonight?’
‘Let me think about it, Sacha,’ I say trying to ignore his hangdog look. My problem is he knows too much about my earlier escapades. The last thing I want is him spilling the beans. Still, he might really like it up here and it’s hard not to feel mean. Thankfully he doesn’t push and we wander back towards the boat to be met by Kaz who’s drunk too much and is furious at being left behind. Plus a sober, if sulky, Jodie.
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