The United States of Us

by Kate Sundara

  Endless blue tranquillity – that’s what he thought he was getting with her and she doesn’t want him to regard his earlier compliment with the putrid hues of disappointment and irony.

  It’s just performance anxiety. His gig will be over in a few hours…

  Downtown they duck inside a Mexican café, busy with people on their lunch breaks. Mia likes that it’s bright, the walls painted hot salsa hues, Aztec suns and colourful piñatas hanging from the ceiling. She peels off her sodden Red Riding Hood top. Zak’s wet grass-stained clothes are stuck to his body, his hands covered in mud. They meet a girl called Ruth Badger in line, the first of Zak’s friends Mia encounters. Ruth’s dry and clutching an umbrella. Short and sturdy with a pierced nose, bandana and stonewashed jeans, she seems more reticent than her robust attire. She only stops twiddling her fingers to shake Mia’s hand with a polite introduction, a little pun about her name, Badger, being fitting for the animal psychology student she is, how the Rocky Mountain region is notorious for its rich and diverse wildlife.

  ‘You and Mia can hang out at the gig tonight!’ gushes Zak, putting the girls on the spot.

  Ruth’s taken aback. Then, ‘Sure,’ she agrees, smiling graciously.

  Zak digs into his pockets, says he’ll get this round, asks if either of them would like anything to eat – they decline. ‘Are you going to get some lunch?’ Mia asks him.

  ‘I’ll grab something later. I’ve got to scoot off after this to prepare for tonight. You going to be okay by yourself till the concert?’

  ‘Of course!’ She plans to spend the afternoon trying to process what happened earlier today, Zak having that tantrum, the unhinged intensity in his eyes. A good session of journalling might bring her some solace and calm her nerves. The upside to her worry is that it spurs her on to write again.

  Zak waits at the counter while the girls go grab the table that’s just freed-up by the window.

  ‘I love your accent,’ says Ruth. ‘You must be from around London, right? Reminds me of when I used to live in England. I really miss it.’

  ‘You lived in England?’

  ‘Oh sure. My Dad worked in the forces.’ Ruth’s grimace suggests she regrets her father’s vocation. ‘He used to drag us all over the world. I even lived on an aircraft carrier for a time.’

  ‘Well, I’m not from London, just my accent is,’ explains Mia. ‘How people talk where I’m from…?’ She gives Ruth a sample of West Country dialect, full of elongated vowels, cute epithets and ‘lovely’s.’ They giggle and Ruth, quite endearingly, puts her fingers over her lips. Being in Ruth’s presence Mia already starts feeling a little more grounded. Ruth Badger seems down-to-earth.

  ‘So, what do you think of the valley?’

  ‘I could get used to it.’

  ‘You might have to. Looks like Zak might not let you go!’ Ruth’s eyes come over all glossy.

  ‘Are you and Zak close friends?’ asks Mia.

  ‘Ah, not really. We were both involved in a volunteering scheme and chat whenever we see each other around – which happens to be fairly often, given that River’s not the biggest of towns. Zak talks to everyone, but he’s always seemed real private, y’know.’ Mia thinks that sounds just like herself, only it can’t be for the same reason, because I’m her reason. ‘And then the band…’ continues Ruth.

  All of a sudden a girl appears at the window, glaring straight at Mia through a circle of mist. Her face is fair and thin, water beading off her nose and eyelashes as she stands surrendering to the rain. Her blonde hair’s stuck miserably to her face, a strange sad look in her eyes. Mia’s heart speeds up and she’s holding her breath, she looks at Ruth, hesitantly, then, in a second, the girl is gone.

  ‘Who was that?’ breathes Mia, clearly creeped out.

  Ruth looks down, toys with a napkin. ‘Guess you don’t know about Neve then…’

  ‘Neve?’ The hairs on the back of Mia’s neck are stood on end.

  ‘I don’t know anything,’ says Ruth clamming up again. ‘You should ask Zak. Look, all I know is… they were together a long time. She used to sing in White Raven – Zak’s band before this one. He broke it off with her, like a month ago—’

  ‘A month?’ Before Mia has time to take it in, Zak arrives at their table with a carefree smile and a tray of hot steaming drinks, his wild hair dripping water into the cardboard cups.

  ‘I should go,’ says Ruth. ‘I just remembered there’s somewhere I gotta be.’

  ‘Here, take yours with you…’ insists Zak.

  ‘Thanks. Great to meet you, Mia. See you tonight.’

  A quiver of fire and ice runs down Mia’s spine.

  ‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Zak tells her on the walk back home.

  She’s still smarting over his violent outburst a couple of hours ago – that savage look he flashed her like a snapshot of a dog bite. And now she’s freaked out by Neve.

  Neve. She can’t get that gaze out of her mind, eyes piercing through her like some drenched ghost of sadness standing on the outside of life looking in.

  Mia murmurs something about the weather, afraid to broach the subject, afraid that it might cause Zak to have another turn. Still, she has a right to know. She thought Zak was a man of integrity.

  The rain’s eased off. She keeps turning around, thinking someone’s trailing but it’s only wind rustling through wet trees, or a twig falling, or a bird taking flight. The thought of being followed by Neve gives Mia the heebie-jeebies. An idea like that isn’t just going to vanish like the girl.

  Zak beams at her blissfully, his smile like a puddle when the sunshine hits it, full of colour and light. It throws Mia off track. ‘I’m gonna take you to one of my favourite places,’ he tells her, leading her up a quiet side road. There they stand beneath a huge oak tree. Water drips down through the branches. He looks up and tastes the rain. ‘I love it here… This is where I come to think.’

  ‘About what?’ she asks, mustering the courage. ‘About when to tell me you had a girlfriend this whole time?’

  ‘I don’t…’

  ‘–Who’s Neve?’

  ‘Well hey, since you seem to know everything…’

  ‘Everything? Zak, I don’t know anything! Why does everything have to be such a mystery?’ She’s trying to make a joke of it but truth hijacks her tone. ‘Were you with her when we met on the island?’ She watches him but he only watches the rain.

  Zak hangs his head hopelessly, closing his arms across himself as if suddenly sensing the cold – from the weather, from Mia? ‘Neve is emotional. She has some mental problems. She depended on me. For everything. Needed me to be her father, therapist, brother, boyfriend.’ Zak suddenly looks vulnerable, making Mia feel unreasonable for not being more understanding. She recognises that maternal air about him, that nurturing air she loves about him. I see that.

  ‘You didn’t like having to be all those things to her.’

  ‘No! It was too much. I can’t be everything to one person. I don’t have infinite emotional resources. It was too much!’

  A long silence. The smatter of raindrops on the earth.

  ‘Okay. Alright. I get that you were just trying to help someone who’s troubled. That’s what I like about you. I’m just used to you being my one and only, that’s all.’

  Zak gives a little smile. He looks cute, fluffy. A far-cry from the wild animal he exposed earlier today.

  Another silence allows Mia to accept that the ghost in the window is just that: a thing of the past. One she could happily forget. Needy Neve…

  ‘Well, just so you know, I’m nothing like her,’ Mia asserts herself.

  ‘I know,’ says Zak with a parting kiss.

  ‘I’m independent. I’ve got my own things going on. I’d never want to make you feel trapped.’

  As she walks to the Great Hall a few hours later to see him in concert Mia’s conscious of how she’ll conduct herself around Zak from now on, careful to never appear emotionally clingy – she’s written it all
out in her journal.

  ‘Excuse me! Excuse me! We’re with the band!’ April yells above the hubbub as she muscles her way through the crowd. Mia weaves behind her, smiling apologetically.

  The Mach Band are warming up. Zak drifts on and off stage, making technical adjustments, the other band-members fine-tuning their guitars, counting down the microphone, looking serious, purposeful. Someone in the crowd wolf-whistles, prompting hollers and cheers. Mia’s stomach folds in on itself, heart bumping all around.

  At the bar, she slides a ten-dollar bill under April’s arm, not taking her eyes off the band.

  ‘I’ll get these!’ yells April above the rumpus. Mia slips the note back in her pocket, still not looking away. April, losing her patience, stands up on the silver railing, leans over the bar and wails at the flustered barman. ‘Excuse me! Hey! Hello-oo? We’re band-aids! C’mon guys, we’re thirsty!’ Her speech is full of stretched vowels and inflections not typical of this region. Zak had said that April spoke like a Valley Girl, and he didn’t mean River Valley.

  He’s back on stage now. The other guys are shaking their heads, mouthing things at each other, making important-looking gestures and ignoring everyone else in the room. April quits sipping her beer and downs it in one smooth gulp, slams her empty glass on a table and laughs liquidly – all peppy now with the drink on the other side of her. Her eyes sparkle like soda. She winks at Mia like a fun-time-party-girl. With sunshine hair and a Vaseline-grin she looks like she should be clutching pom-poms. April is cool in Mia’s book – a firecracker of a girl, a Catherine Wheel of whizz and colour. Mia learns she drives an old pink Mustang and her favourite word is awesome; she works in the record-store downtown and is in an on-off relationship with drummer of The Mach Band, Ryan.

  ‘You and I are gonna be great friends, I can tell. How d’ya feel seeing your boy up there? I keep forgettin’ you haven’t seen ’em play before!’ Says April.

  ‘All these people!’ Mia’s astounded by the multiplying mob. She screws up her nose, laughs a little, ‘Feels sort of weird actually.’ She pauses, hesitant about approaching the subject still playing on her mind – Zak’s unnerving flip-out before. ‘Hey April, does Zak usually get really… distressed before a concert?’ She tries to sound casual about it, but I know her better.

  April shrugs. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before a concert, and you know that was my first time inside his house. Zak’s like the most private guy I know. He never lets people in his space. You’re the exception.’ April grins with another wink. ‘Still. You’re here now and that can’t be helping his stress-levels any.’ It takes Mia a moment to register that she’s actually being criticised, to get her head around the discordance of an insult delivered with a smile. Not a first from April. That remark in her caravan when they first met, the one about Zak’s ex being ‘really, really pretty.’ Was she talking about Neve?

  As Mia queues to buy them more drinks she can’t help but think of sweet and sour combinations she learnt working in foreign bars: Amaretto Cherry Sour, Side-Car, Texas Tea – April serves her sharp slights in a sugar-rimmed glass. When the drinks come, Mia takes a sip, softened by malt liquor – she’s sure April didn’t mean to be mean, she’s just feeling susceptible, probably took April’s comment the wrong way. Besides, Mia’s prime concern is Zak. The girls make a bee-line for the stage.

  ‘Excuse me! Excuse me! We’re with the band,’ April steams on, taking Mia’s hand, guiding her through the crowd.

  Mia stops walking, April turns back on her.

  ‘D’you think we should get any closer?’ asks Mia. ‘We don’t wanna seem too…’ Needy?

  ‘C’mon! We gotta get close – we’re band-aids!’

  ‘What’s a band-aid do anyway?’

  Right then, Ryan, April’s guy, strikes up a beat on drums, resonating deep in Mia’s chest. She wants Zak to know she’s here to support him but the way he’s been behaving today, does he even want or need her here? Of course he does, she tells herself, he was just worked up about the concert, that’s all. Looking around her, it’s easy to see why – the place is packed. Nevertheless, Mia’s on a mission to prove her independence; it’s a fine line she’s walking and she fears April’s walked her far enough. Conscious of clinginess, she looks around for Neve in the crowd and spots Ruth from the Mexican café, close to the edge of the stage. Zak glances up and his focus falls straight upon Mia. He looks happy to see her – seems almost serene – a soft white cloud of a smile lighting up his face. When April throws him a peace-sign, Mia is glad to watch his smile grow into that gorgeous grin, confirming that meltdown in his bedroom was just a pre-concert panic attack; this sort of pressure enough to send anyone all Jekyll and Hyde. Funny though, Zak’s grin reminds her of the way he looked on the island – laid-back, brimming with charm and confidence.

  Mia, April and Ruth stand together in anticipation. And after what seems like hours in suspense, the lights begin to dim.

  Zak gives a killer performance. Mia wasn’t ready for that though she should’ve expected it. There’s a unique, compelling quality to his voice, a haunting, painful beauty, I’d agree.

  ‘I could spread him on my cracker!’ she hears someone in the audience gibe between songs. Mia turns to look at the woman and her friend.

  It’s not just his voice; Zak has amazing stage-presence. And maybe, it occurs to Mia, watching him up there, it’s that same beguiling energy that hooked her on the island.

  She has to disconnect herself from the Zak she sees on-stage. Being in his audience evokes contradictions within her: she’s bursting with pride but simultaneously uneasy, seeing him perform with all the certainty and self-assuredness she saw in him on the island, when he took her hand and swept her up onto his magic carpet. It’s hard to believe this is the same man she witnessed breaking down in his apartment just a few hours ago. And so she regards him in his combat cut-offs, singing songs of love and anti-war sentiments, trying not to be intimidated by his never-ending talents and appeal. She surrenders to the music and montage of flashing images that Zak himself created as a backdrop.

  The guys go off stage and the lights come up and the ringing in Mia’s ears is suffused by the sounds of people leaving. Should she leave as well – or go seek out Zak – would that be clingy? Ruth catches her amid the dispersing crowd. She’s accompanied by a lanky guy with the bushiest beard and the sort of magnifying jam-jar glasses prescribed in the 1970s. He takes an interest in Mia’s accent, says something about being of Dutch descent, tells Mia he was named after his grandfather, thus his name, Wil, being spelt with only one ‘L.’

  ‘Interesting’, replies Mia. Suddenly she spots Zak talking to some pretty-boy. Shrouded in black stage-curtains their conversation looks clandestine even to me.

  The crowd and hubbub dwindle until Mia’s left with the handful of people she knows. Ruth’s tall, beardy friend Wil invites Mia to a party at his house next week before he goes on his way.

  April flies over, totally tipsy. ‘The guys are off to be interviewed by the local paper,’ she says, ‘Then they’ll have their downtime, which usually lasts all night.’ April rolls her eyes then introduces herself to Ruth. Ruth suggests that if the girls are at a loose end then they could go back to her place.

  Seeing Zak alone now, Mia shoots over to congratulate him. ‘You were brilliant!’ she whoops, ‘Absolutely brilliant!’ She kisses him – a quick peck – resists the urge to throw her arms around him. He smiles and kisses her too, then picks up some equipment.

  ‘Want me to carry anything?’ she offers.

  He gives a sparkling smile, high on adrenaline. ‘Only my children.’

  He and Mia both laugh, even though she finds his humour just a little too off-beat.

  ‘So what will you do now? April says you have an interview?’

  ‘Yeah, I want a quiet night in – just me and the guys.’

  ‘So you don’t mind if I stay at Ruth’s tonight?’ Mia’s keen to prove that autonomy.

&
nbsp; Zak smiles. ‘Course not, it’s rad you’re making friends. Enjoy.’ He leans in, kisses her again.

  ‘See you in the morning,’ she tells him, feeling great for being the cool, understanding, space-giving girlfriend she is. She’s proud of Zak, but I’m proud of her.

  * * *

  April is wasted by the time the girls arrive at Ruth’s house. Mia is intoxicated with the satisfaction of demonstrating her independence to Zak tonight – that she’s more than capable of making friends and adapting to his lifestyle. I know she can adapt, she’s had to, I’ve seen it.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ cries Ruth, seeing her living-space filled with boxes, bags, tyres, skating gear and bedding. ‘My room-mate had to move out immediately and didn’t want to pay to put everything in storage, so I said he could leave it here a couple days while he sorts things. This was all meant to be gone by tonight, now he’s left me a note saying he’s out of town until next week and hasn’t even left the key for his room, which is locked for reasons yet to be explained.’

  ‘Clearer than my caravan ever looks,’ slurs April.

  Ruth stomps around between the junk. ‘I’ve got my family coming to visit in a few days,’ she fumes. ‘There’s not even any place to sit!’

  ‘Maybe you need a lil’ drinky!’ suggests April, waggling a large bottle of rum.

  ‘Where d’ya find that?’

  ‘In a box by the front door.’

  Ruth smirks, plucks a bottle of red wine from a crate. Her little reprisal.

  ‘We’ll find some place,’ chirps April, staggering off. ‘Hey, here’s good!’ she yells. Ruth and Mia go to join her in the empty bathtub.

  ‘Did you enjoy the concert?’ asks Ruth as they drape their legs over the side. Ruth pours the wine into the science beakers she snatched, hands Mia and April each 250ml of wine.