Still Waving

by Laurene Kelly

  ‘This is my sister’s brother-in-law, Wayne.’ Aunt Jean indicated Wayne.

  Carla grabbed him and kissed both cheeks. ‘Benvenuto.’

  Uncle Wayne seemed overwhelmed and I couldn’t hear what he mumbled.

  ‘Bambini.’ Carla turned her attention to Toby and me.

  ‘Bella Julia. You grow beautiful like your madre. Toby, regazzo!’ Carla hugged us both. I was embarrassed, but pleased as well.

  Carla shouted out orders and sat us at our table.

  ‘Gee, it’s pretty chaotic in here,’ Uncle Wayne said, looking around.

  ‘It’s always like this on a Saturday night. Aunt Jean looked around, waving at a couple of people at other tables.

  I looked at the menu. My mouth watered at the thought of all the delicious food. Another sign I was getting better. I felt like my appetite had returned, in a big way.

  Uncle Wayne asked Aunt Jean for her suggestion from the menu.

  ‘I imagine you don’t get fresh seafood often, so I’d recommend pesce del giorno.’

  ‘You’re not wrong there.’ Uncle Wayne closed the menu. ‘Pes whatever sounds fine by me.’

  I saw him wink at Toby.

  ‘Carla is a superb cook.’

  ‘Is she the cook?’ Uncle Wayne turned and eyed the kitchen.

  ‘Only for special people,’ I butted in, smiling at Aunt Jean.

  If he and Toby could exchange glances, so could we.

  ‘I eat river fish and eels, occasionally. I ate fish every day when I was on the boats up the north of Australia.’

  Eels. Yuck, I thought. Dad used to catch them sometimes, but I refused to eat them. I glanced at Toby. Had he eaten eel lately? I wondered if when we stopped living together, the absence would make us become strangers. Would we know each other in ten years, like we do now?

  ‘Why are you looking at me? What have I done?’ Toby asked me.

  ‘Nothing. Sorry. I wasn’t really looking at you.’

  ‘You were staring at me.’ Toby gave me a look, implying I was crazy.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Our meals arrived. Carla busily super vised placement of the dishes on our table. It was like a banquet. We each had a whole fish on our plates. The first time I’d been served a whole fish, I’d freaked out at its staring eyes. I couldn’t eat it unless they cut it up and hid the eyes. I wasn’t so bad now. I could eat a whole fish. I’d put lemon slices over the eyes, so I could eat without being stared at.

  ‘Mangiare; enjoy.’

  ‘Grazie.’ Aunt Jean held Carla’s hands. ‘Molto bene.’

  ‘This smells fantastic.’ Uncle Wayne closed his eyes and inhaled steam, arising from the fish.

  I hurriedly looked around to see if anyone was watching.

  ‘The fish is divine.’ Aunt Jean held a piece up on her fork. ‘It melts in the mouth.’

  ‘It’s bloody fresh, I can tell that,’ Uncle Wayne said between mouthfuls.

  The voices at the table blended with the hum of the other patrons. A waiter appeared with a bottle of wine, compliments of Carla. I wondered if Uncle Wayne turned nasty like Dad? Any sign, I was out of there. I hadn’t asked Toby about Uncle Wayne and alcohol. I tried to attract his attention. Toby was too busy eating to notice. I’d have to ask him later.

  When we’d finished eating, the table looked like a tornado had passed by. I helped Aunt Jean stack the dishes, and straighten the table out. Our waiter removed the plates, chatting to Aunt Jean in Italian about his family. As far as I could make out from snippets of similar-sounding words, they were absolutely fabulous. The noise level in the restaurant rose several decibels. The clanging of cutlery jangled my nerves. I tried to blot it out, and felt a slight ache in my right temple. I glanced at a table nearby. They were celebrating a birthday and everyone at the table was smiling and laughing. I felt happy for their happiness. We were asked to join in the birthday singing when the cake was wheeled out. The refrain commenced with a hesitant start, but quickly grew to a crescendo. The happy birthday song was belted out with much gusto, not least by Toby and Uncle Wayne. My head still had a dull ache, so I sang rather softly, and watched all the other customers, singing to a perfect stranger’s happiness.

  The birthday girl sat the whole time with her face in her hands. I wasn’t sure if she was dying from embarrassment or what? When the singing stopped she was crying. The others at her table hugged her, while a queue formed of other patrons, to wish her well.

  I didn’t join in but I felt good. The ache had gone. The atmosphere in the restaurant had changed from a hectic pace, to an air of congeniality. Everything had slowed down. It felt like we were at one big table and that we were all long-time friends. I wondered how often this happened in restaurants? The right crowd, the right night, the right atmosphere, and boom, instant party.

  A guitarist appeared from the kitchen. I was surprised to see it was our waiter, strumming like a professional. The music was soothing and rippled through my senses. I closed my eyes and imagined I was somewhere sunny and green. Huge trees towered over me and all kinds of creatures played and danced in the sunbeams.

  ‘Puccini,’ Aunt Jean whispered to me.

  I didn’t know what she was saying. It sounded Italian.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Puccini.’

  ‘Oh.’ I went back to watching the guitarist’s hands. It looked so easy, but I knew it was quite difficult. It was like surfing. To be good, you had to practise heaps.

  The music stopped and cheers erupted, followed by prolonged clapping.

  ‘I didn’t know all this came with the meal,’ Uncle Wayne said. ‘What’s the GST on entertainment?’

  We all laughed.

  ‘It’s not always like this,’ Aunt Jean assured him.

  I might have my next birthday here, I secretively thought.

  We ordered dessert. The restaurant had returned to a more businesslike atmosphere, as different people left and new ones replaced them hurriedly, at the barely cleared tables.

  Carla came up to our table.

  ‘Would you like a sliver of birthday cake? The birthday girl wants my favourite customers to each have a piece.’

  ‘We’d be honoured, thank you and thank her.’ Aunt Jean nodded in the direction of the birthday table.

  ‘I made the cake from a very old family recipe.’ Carla clapped her hands together. ‘Iced lemon curd cake. The lemons come from my own tree, the cream from a cousin with a small dairy herd at Dural. If I don’t sound too immodest, it’s more than delicious.’

  ‘Sounds heavenly,’ Aunt Jean responded, patting Carla’s hand.

  ‘I’ll have it wrapped. Don’t forget to ask for it before you leave.’ Carla gave us all a huge smile. ‘Here’s your dessert. Enjoy.’

  I already felt quite full, but ate it all anyway. Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne had a coffee and a special liqueur. They’d drunk two bottles of wine. Toby and I had looked at each other when they’d ordered the second bottle. Toby’s eyes said ‘Here we go again. Run.’ We didn’t. I guess we weren’t scared enough to feel we had to take off.

  Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne laughed at each other’s stories. They seemed to be getting on really well. Toby and I exchanged glances.

  ‘I’m stuffed,’ Toby said holding his belly.

  ‘I’ve overdone it,’ I groaned. ‘Aunt Jean, I need air.’

  ‘Right, you and Toby go out and wait.’

  Toby stood up. I suddenly wanted to get out of there fast. I felt hemmed in and I couldn’t breathe. I waved a thank you to Carla and fled out the front door.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Toby asked.

  ‘I just needed air.’

  ‘You call this air?’

  I didn’t have the strength to debate. The Parade seemed busier than before. There was more hooting of car horns than previously. Eventually, Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne appeared. We walked along in pairs towards Uncle Wayne’s hotel.

  We said our goodbyes and crossed the road. The path was well lit and we hea
ded past the pavilion.

  ‘Do you want to walk on the beach?’ Aunt Jean asked.

  ‘Cool.’ I looked towards the rolling surf.

  There were a few people on the beach, having parties, or writhing in the sand like snakes. Some were in the water. Everyone sounded loud and drunk. I wondered if any of them would stupidly drown, or be taken by a night-feeding shark. We walked along the water edge. I took off my shoes. The water felt as warm as the night air. The moon wandered across the sky, as if looking for a friend. The glow from the street lights made an orange haze in the black sky.

  ‘Look,’ I shouted, ‘stars!’

  In the far-off distance of the horizon I could see weak twinkling stars above. I couldn’t make out any constellations, just these far-off lone stars, following the moon.

  I started humming the old star song of my mother’s. Aunt Jean and Toby joined in. We linked arms and even got a little dance routine happening as we made our way along the beach.

  The flat was several degrees cooler than the outside air. I shivered at the sudden change in temperature. There were lots of messages on the answering machine. My friends had rung, enquiring about my health. I’d definitely ring everyone tomorrow. I felt a million times better. In fact, I felt great.

  ‘I hope tonight hasn’t worn you out too much, Julie. I didn’t expect to be out this late,’ Aunt Jean said as she put our birthday cake in the fridge.

  ‘It was great. I’m tired though. I think I’ll sleep like a log tonight.’

  ‘It was a good night. Did you enjoy yourself Toby?’

  ‘I’d forgotten how good restaurant food tastes.’

  ‘I’m going straight to bed,’ I yawned.

  ‘Me too,’ Toby said.

  ‘Goodnight, sleep well,’ Aunt Jean said to us both.

  ‘Oh, before I go Aunt Jean, I nearly forgot. Toby and I want to go for a walk tomorrow. If I handled a crowded restaurant, I think a little walk around the rocks won’t kill me.’

  ‘I think that’ll be fine.’

  ‘Thanks, Aunt Jean. See you tomorrow.’ I walked over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  ‘Goodnight dear. Pleasant dreams.’ The moonlight streamed in my window. I looked at the sea. I could make out the little whitecaps riding the waves. The night sky was cloudless. I slipped under the duvet into bed. Sleep came slowly. My mind had once again turned to the letter in the top drawer. I wondered if Toby would back out again, or if he really did want to read it. I still couldn’t make up my mind. Oh well, no point worrying about it now. I asked my mind to think about something I liked, something good. I wanted to keep the happy feeling I’d had by going out. Doing something a bit different cheered me up. I could hear the music from the guitar in my head. I tried to capture a consistent tune. I’d have to find out more about this Puccini. I fell asleep to lyrical notes floating out into the distance, while the sea monotonously eroded the rocks around me.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sunday

  I was surprised to see Toby sitting at the kitchen bench. I had slept in again, way past my usual surfing hour. I’d woken at dawn to look out at a perfect swell breaking over Bondi. There was nothing I could do but go back to bed. I must have fallen straight back to sleep, because I was shocked when I’d awoken and saw my clock said eight-thirty.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you up.’

  Toby looked up. ‘The bloody traffic woke me up and I couldn’t get back to sleep.’

  ‘It’s quieter than usual.’

  ‘I’m not used to it.’

  ‘You haven’t been away from here that long.’

  ‘It feels like forever. The sea’s so noisy too, banging on with crash, boom, crash the whole time.’

  ‘I love the sound of the sea.’

  ‘You can have it. I can’t wait to get back to the farm.’ Toby stared into the distance.

  ‘I worry we’ll grow apart with you living up there,’ I said softly.

  ‘We are anyway.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I guess it’s like we’re changing.’

  I said nothing. What could I say? I knew it was true. We were growing up, fast. What seemed a small age difference, was growing into an ever-widening gap. I know I didn’t share as much personal stuff with Toby as I used to. There was nothing we could do, to prevent drifting further apart. It wasn’t just the physical distance but an emotional one. Toby was letting go of me. Uncle Wayne was becoming the one he was now turning to. My stomach flip-flopped at his imminent departure.

  ‘I never thought you wanted to be a farmer.’

  ‘Me either. It was only when I went back that I knew it’s where I wanted to live. You know more than half of it’s ours Jules.’

  ‘I thought you’d never want to live back there.’ I tried to picture myself at the shearing shed, but couldn’t. I felt distaste for the dust and red dirt. ‘I couldn’t do it.’

  Toby said nothing. I knew he was struggling for words. I understood that. It happens to me when I can’t describe my feelings.

  ‘I know it’s hard Toby. Whatever we want to do, it’s going to be hard. I just want you to be happy. I worry you’ll get lonely and become like a tortoise and hide in your shell.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. I’m cool, I really am. No bull,’ Toby smiled. ‘You worry too much.’

  ‘Do you think?’

  ‘I sure do Jules. Sometimes I worry about how much you worry.’

  We laughed.

  Aunt Jean came in, a newspaper tucked under her arm.

  ‘I heard you two laughing in here.’

  I hadn’t realised Aunt Jean had been on the balcony all this time. I wondered if she’d heard us. I looked at Toby and I knew the same thought crossed his mind.

  ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ Aunt Jean said.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ I said, grabbing my breakfast things and heading for the balcony. The swell was up and there were perfect waves rolling in. Trust my luck. I stared at the ocean. The surf was the best I’d seen it all week and the waves were crowded. The beach was filling up rapidly with day trippers. Aunt Jean came back out with a cup in her hand.

  ‘I love it when the sky is this colour, so blue.’ Aunt Jean stared up.

  ‘It’s hard to describe blue, isn’t it?’ I said.

  ‘I wouldn’t begin to try.’

  ‘I know. Sometimes I want to say the sky is perfectly blue, but it can be so many shades of blue. You know like light blue, dark blue whatever.’

  ‘What about sapphire blue?’

  ‘That sounds ridiculous,’ I laughed. ‘Who ever heard anyone say that?’

  ‘What about cornflower blue?’

  ‘Stop it.’

  Aunt Jean sipped her coffee and opened the newspaper. I hoped that she wouldn’t read anything that would set her off. Sometimes she became so angry with an article she’d start arguing with me, as if I’d written it. I tried to glimpse which section she was reading. It was the letters to the editor page.

  The sky is blue, the sea is green, I said to myself. I looked at the sky. Blue. I looked at the sea. It was an entirely different blue. The phone rang. I looked at Aunt Jean, who gave me the same look back. Neither of us moved. It stopped ringing.

  ‘Toby must have answered it,’ I said.

  ‘Jules, it’s for you,’ Toby yelled out.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Dunno, didn’t ask.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi Jules, how are you?’ It was Kate.

  ‘Much better, thanks.’ I felt shy and embarrassed. ‘I sort of spun right out.’

  ‘Total, it was so weird. It scared the pants off us, I can tell you. What happened?’

  ‘I don’t really know. The doctor said maybe meningitis or something.’

  ‘You poor thing, one minute you were with us, next you were lying on your bed like Linda Blair out of The Exorcist. Have you seen that old movie?’

  ‘Kate!’ I felt upset. Why did she have to make fun of me?


  ‘Sorry Jules. I’m exaggerating.’

  ‘I feel so embarrassed.’ I’d seen the movie and the rotating head and projectile vomit flashed before my eyes. Did I really look like that?

  ‘Don’t be. It could happen to anyone, but fingers crossed it never happens to me.’

  Kate was the most insensitive person I’d ever known and I felt like hanging up the phone. I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Jules. Are you there? Jules, don’t give me the silent treatment.’

  ‘Sometimes, Kate, you say some pretty off things.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was only trying to make a joke. I thought it would make you feel better, but once again, wrong. I’m sorry Jules. I guess I was pretty freaked by it. I was so glad when your aunt got there. We all were.’

  ‘How do you think I felt? It freaked me right out. It’s never happened before and I don’t ever want it to happen again.’ I paused. ‘I can’t remember much except the light hurting and feeling really sick suddenly when I was at the sink. The next thing I woke up and the doctor and Aunt Jean were there.’

  ‘You looked like death warmed up.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’ I didn’t like this conversation. I suddenly wondered if I had been dead for those lost hours, like Toby had said.

  ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better, Jules.’

  ‘Enough about me, already, I thought you’d be out surfing. It looks perfect from here.’

  ‘I went earlier. It got so damned crowded, so fast. Everyone dropped in on everyone. It was so aggro. I got out of there. That’s not what surfing is for me, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean. I’ve had a few scary moments with total losers on the weekends. Too much testosterone for me. It doesn’t feel safe.’

  ‘It’s the first time I’ve ever experienced such a negative vibe, surfing. Lucky at first light, I scored a few good rides. I’d been there a couple of hours before that scene arrived.’

  ‘It’s the worst thing. Can you believe I’m not allowed to go surfing.’

  ‘When do you think you’ll be allowed to?’

  ‘Not sure. I’m having a CAT scan tomorrow.’

  ‘Whoa, that sounds heavy.’

  ‘It’s painless. You go into this sort of machine thing like on a conveyor belt into a closed-in tunnel, where they take millions of images of your brain.’