Summer in between, p.23
Summer, in Between, page 23
‘All good?’ Paul’s hand is heavy and hot on my knee. I nod, crossing my legs, nudging his hand, my eyes fixed on the screen. I can’t make sense of what’s playing out in front of me, the actors could be speaking another language. The audience laughs, and I flinch, startled. I turn my head to look behind me and all I can see through the dark is buns; it feels like every person in the entire cinema is watching me. I dig my fingers into the armrests and will myself to calm down. The movie can’t end soon enough – the lights are barely up and I’m on my feet, shifting and fidgeting, waiting for all the people beside me in the aisle to leave the cinema.
‘What did you think?’ Paul says, his hand low on the back of my hip.
‘I think if these people don’t stop taking their sweet time and get their act together, I might actually lose my shit.’
‘I meant the movie. You like it?’
‘Yeah, it was good. Funny. Look, I just really want to get out of here,’ I say and finally people begin shuffling their way out into the aisle.
‘You okay, babe?’ Paul takes my hand as we step out into the night, the smell of a thunderstorm hovering in the heat.
‘I was,’ I say, ‘right up until a glamazon in the ladies told me to stick to someone my own age. Bec, she said her name was. Another one of your hundreds, I’m guessing?’
‘What?’
‘Well, she said she went to school with you and Cavey. Said to say “hey”. “Hey from Bec Farmer.” She also said you’ll give me a disease. Charming, hey? I’ve always loved being bailed up in the ladies by someone’s ex-girlfriend.’
‘Bec Farmer? I haven’t seen her in years. I didn’t even know she was still around. Last I heard she lived up north. I think Cavey keeps in touch, but I haven’t seen her since school.’
‘I can’t tell you how much fun it was being patronised by one of your ex-girlfriends.’
‘Oh man,’ Paul rubs his hand across the back of his head and sighs. ‘She’s not an ex-girlfriend. Not even close. She was just a pain in the arse freakin’ drama queen at school. Looks like nothing’s changed there.’
‘Okay, so how do you grownups put it? You’re saying you never went there?’
‘Oh no, I went there; I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face, Cat. But we were never a thing. God no. We just hooked up a couple of times. In fact, if I had a disease, which I don’t, she would have been the one handing it out.’
‘That’s like poetry. They should put that on t-shirts.’
‘Very funny,’ he laughs and tugs my hand behind his back. ‘It’s crap you had to deal with that. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ I drop my head to my chest. ‘It was just a bit weird, you know? Like at school being told off by one of the teachers. I’m standing there feeling like an immature, grungy hobbit next to this glamazon with perfect makeup.’
He holds my chin between his thumb and finger and lifts it so I have nowhere to look but his eyes. ‘Number one, stop saying glamazon. She was never a glamazon. Her name at school was cake-face because she used to cake it on. Number two, don’t ever call my beautiful girlfriend a hobbit. You want to talk perfect? Look in the mirror, Cat. You could be a model.’
‘You are so sweet, Lightwood.’ I rise onto my toes, my arms around his neck. ‘You’re also a massive liar. I don’t even wear makeup.’
‘I’ll let you in on a secret, Kelty. I hate makeup.’ His thumb sweeps the side of my face from my chin to the scar in my hairline and circles back down again. ‘The fact that you don’t wear makeup is right up there in the top ten of my I Love Cat list.’
‘There’s a Cat list?’
‘There is. All about why I love you. It’s massive.’
‘Interesting. What else is on this list?’
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out, babe.’
‘Come on, what’s number three?’
‘Well, I’d have to look.’
‘What? You don’t know?’
‘It’s a pretty big list, Cat. Too big to keep track of. I’m adding to it every day. Seriously, I’ve had to start a spreadsheet. It’s taking up so much space, I might have to upgrade my data. Anyway, you hungry? Want to grab something?’
‘After dinner and then that giant tub of popcorn? And the ice-cream? I’m about to explode. Although, I could go some chocolate... Are you still hungry?’
‘No, I’m all good.’ He opens my car door. ‘I’m just not in a hurry to take you home.’
‘I’m in no hurry to go home.’
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘What about your house?’
‘And watch the late-night news with my oldies? Yeah, nah.’
‘Come on, I’d love to see your bedroom. You’ve seen mine.’
‘Nothing to see, babe, and it’s the last place I want to hang with you. We can do better than that.’
44
WE pull into the car park at Rip Bay. We’re the only car here and as Paul kills the ignition we sink into darkness. The ocean is black before us, and the lights of Batter’s Cove seem impossibly far away. The horizon is the faintest sliver of light and the stars fan over us.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ I say. ‘You know when you look straight out to sea and the horizon looks flat? You can kind of understand why people thought the world was flat. But when you look up at the stars, see them curving up and around, it’s like, of course, the planet’s a globe, yeah? And yet there’s those people out there who still believe the world’s flat and that billionaires want to insert a freakin’ computer chip into humans for better phone reception. People really freak me out.’
‘People are the worst.’ Paul unclicks his seatbelt and turns to face me, leaning against his door. ‘That’s what you’ve been thinking? That the world isn’t flat?’
‘I’m also thinking it’s cold tonight,’ I hold out an arm. ‘Look, goosebumps. Do you have one of your giant hoodies?’
‘For some strange reason they keep disappearing. Now, there’s a conspiracy for you. Come here, I’ve got you.’ I nestle against him like a baby koala. He’s like the world’s best hot water bottle.
‘Question,’ I say against his chest, his heartbeat thrumming in my ear.
‘Here we go.’ His lips graze the top of my head.
‘Do you not want your family to know about me?’
‘What are you talking about? You met them when we went to get your books.’
‘Yeah, but that was in the context of working for my dad.’
‘You know that driving Miss Caterina isn’t part of my job description, don’t you? I did that because I had a massive crush on the boss’ daughter and wanted to get you alone in my car for four hours.’ He gently tickles my ribs and I squirm closer into him.
‘Why didn’t you want to take me to your house tonight? Are you embarrassed about me?’
‘Cat, no, why would you even think that? In what universe would I be embarrassed?’
‘Maybe I’m overthinking it, but it feels like whenever I mention your family you just shut it down.’ I’m so glad it’s dark because I can feel my cheeks heat. ‘Did your mum not like me? Is it the whole jailbait thing?’
‘Fuck, I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that,’ he chuckles softly and rubs his head. ‘Of course she liked you, who wouldn’t? She was just a bit shocked. I walked in the house with a beautiful girl and threw her for a bit of a six.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know the other day, when you were saying you never have time for yourself, that there’s always people at your house?’
I grimace, picturing myself in full tantrum-mode.
‘Your house is a place where people like hanging out,’ he continues. ‘Your brothers’ mates are in and out. The way JB turned up was like he lived there. I know this summer’s a bit weird with your friends away, but Mick’s told me that most weekends you have friends staying over.’
‘That’s true,’ I say. ‘Especially Em.’ I tell Paul about Em’s father, always travelling for work for a company that’s a mix between the government, a bank and the church. ‘Her parents aren’t together,’ I say. ‘Her mum lives on a farm on the other side of the city but Em wanted to stay down here with her dad, even though he’s never home. They have this amazing beach house. Bliss, yeah?’
‘Sounds awesome.’
‘According to Em, it’s lonely and boring. She hates it, but the rest of us love it. She used to have a live-in nanny but her dad got rid of her once Em turned 16. She has no one to answer to, she can come and go as she likes. The only place she wants to come and go to is our house.’
‘I get it,’ he says. ‘That’s my place. I’d rather be anywhere than my house.’
‘So where do you go with your friends?’
‘Surfing. The pub. Sadie’s.’
‘But, why?’ I’m truly flummoxed.
‘You were there, Cat. The creepy fucking dolls, my old man in the recliner talking non-stop about nothing, Mum cleaning all the time. Don’t get me wrong, they love me, I know that. It’s just different since... well, since we lost Pete.’
‘What was he like?’
‘He was much older than me. There was him and then Michael, he’s the smartarse prick that lives in Melbourne, and then six years later there’s me. Surprise! So, there were eight years between us. Michael treated me like shit, but Pete wasn’t like that. He was funny, everyone loved him. He’d walk into the room, and we’d all be laughing over nothing. It was just good being around him, you know?’
‘When did you say that he died?’ I can barely get the words out.
‘It’s nearly been five years.’
‘So, you were younger than me now?’ I do the maths in my head. ‘That’s so awful, Paul.’
‘Yeah, it was pretty shit.’ His fingers drum against the steering wheel. ‘I was going into Year Eleven. He wasn’t living at home then or anything, so nothing really changed, but everything changed.’ His chest rises and falls against me. He sighs heavily. ‘I never knew what I’d be coming home to with Mum crying or the old man just sitting there, so I stopped letting my mates come home after school. Mum was famous for her after-school snacks, but after Pete, that all stopped. Except for Cavey, he kept coming, I couldn’t stop him, and he was cool. But you’re the first girl I’ve ever brought home.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yep, and I only did it because your mum pushed you into my car. But you were so cool with everything, you just sat there talking, so natural.’
‘I’d love to see them again, Paul,’ I say. ‘My parents know you so well, I’d love yours to know me too.’
‘Dad’s been busting my balls about you coming for dinner. But don’t feel obligated.’
‘Are you kidding? I’d love to.’ His arms tighten around me.
‘Cat?’
‘Paul?’
‘I’ve never told anyone any of that shit.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep,’ he says. ‘I don’t even know the last time I said my brother’s name.’
‘I’m glad you told me.’ I kiss his hand, clutching my shoulder. I put my hand under his t-shirt to feel his skin. ‘Man, you are so warm. How aren’t you cold?’
‘I read about this weird way to get warm once, but it’s kind of hard to get your head around.’
‘I’m a smart girl, so try explaining it to me and I’ll see if I can understand. Maybe talk slowly.’
‘Well, it involves taking your clothes off first.’ His fingers move up and down my bare arms.
‘Hmmm, that does seem counter-productive,’ I say.
‘I saw it on a movie once. It was one that you have to be 18 to watch, so I don’t think it’s something you would have seen. It had this really weird soundtrack, like “boom chicka wow wow.” From what I saw, it works in raising body heat.’
‘That a fact?’
‘If I saw it, it must be true.’
‘Who am I to argue with that?’ I yank my t-shirt off over my head.
‘No, Cat, I’m only kidding,’ he says. ‘Honestly, babe.’
‘Your turn,’ I tug at his t-shirt, and he moves away from my hand. ‘What? Come on, Mr Never-Wear-A-Shirt. We have a hypothesis to test. Do not make me rip this off you; I’m stronger than I look.’
‘No doubt about that.’ He pulls off his t-shirt. His elbow collides with my temple as he lifts the fabric over his head. ‘Oh shit, babe, I’m so sorry, are you okay?’
‘I’ll be better when you kiss me,’ I say and then my pulse races, my heart stops, my skin burns and angels descend from the heavens singing. Well, actually, they don’t, which is a complete travesty because the way he kisses? The way his hands move up and down my spine? The feel of his skin against mine? They should. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’ He shifts in his seat.
‘You know you’ve got me trapped here.’ He pushes my hair back out of my face. ‘I’m jammed between the most beautiful, amazing girl in the world and the door. This is why I need a new car, something with a bit more room to move. This freakin’ door handle is sticking right into my back. Can you sit up a bit?’
‘You just whacked me in the head with your enormous manly elbow. I think you can tolerate a door handle in the back.’
‘I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.’
‘I nearly had, but then you stopped kissing me. You’d better kiss me again.’
‘You’re so bossy.’ He smiles and slides a finger along my jawline.
‘You love it.’
‘I do. And I love you.’
I lose all track of the conversation and time and gravity and all the fundamentals of life on earth until he pulls away.
‘Let me swap sides.’ He lifts himself across to the passenger seat in one motion. Even with me on top of him, it’s like I’m no heavier than a napkin placed across his lap. ‘That’s better.’ His arms wrap around my body, enclosing me against his skin and for a moment I wonder if you can die from feeling this incredible flush of craving, so acute, so delicious in the pit of my stomach.
Passing headlights illuminate the whole car. I cover my bra with my hands. ‘Hope they enjoyed the show.’
‘I know I am,’ Paul says, head back against the seat, his hand on my hip, fingers tracing the arch of my hip bone.
‘It’s got an amazing soundtrack.’ Music fills the car, low, the singer almost growling and purring through the speakers, doing nothing to assuage my, well, lust is the only word for what I’m feeling right now. ‘What is this, your sexy time playlist?’
‘It is now,’ he says. ‘Cat, what are you doing?’
‘Getting comfortable,’ I say, unbuttoning my denim skirt.
‘Yeah, no you’re not.’ He stays my hand. ‘We probably should get going now, get you home.’
‘Are you freakin’ serious?’ I say. ‘You want to go?’
‘Leaving is the last thing in the world I want to do.’
‘Well why would you say let’s go?’ I grab his face between my hands, my fingers spread wide. ‘Here’s the thing: I love you. Do you love me?’
‘You know I do, that’s not even a question.’
‘Why do you keep pushing me away? Are you just not that into me? Because it feels like you are. Seriously. I can feel you’re into me, right now. You know what I’m saying?’ I look down between us.
‘Cat, I’m so into you I could explode. I really, really want to be with you, not just now, not just tonight, but for the long haul.’
‘So, we’re in agreement, because I really, really want to be with you too. Like really, really. I thought me sitting on top of you barely dressed is evidence enough. And you went to all the trouble of making a sexy time playlist.’ I lean in to kiss him but he holds my face between his hands.
‘I just don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you into anything you don’t want to do or that you’re not ready for.’
‘Here we go again. Yes, yes, I get it, you’re so much older and wiser than me. How could I forget? You’re worse than my parents, worse even than Nonna, and she’s the actual worst of the worst. Can you please stop treating me like a child?’
‘So, making sure you’re okay with being together is treating you like a child? It’s called consent, Cat.’
‘Well, I’m giving you my full consent to take off this annoying skirt that’s cutting off my circulation. We’re staying here, and we’re fogging up these windows.’
‘You’re the boss,’ he says. ‘They’re pretty fogged up already, though. Look.’ He reaches across me, index finger extended. He draws a heart in the condensation, then touches the middle of my chest, the tip of his finger cold against my skin. I shiver. ‘I didn’t make a sexy time playlist. But I know for a fact that I won’t be able to hear any of this music ever again without thinking about you and how beautiful you look tonight. I never knew that it was even possible to feel so in love like this. I swear, touching you feels freakin’ sacred.’
My heart rate is spiking, my chest lifting in anticipation ‘Then, touch me.’
45
IT’S been hot since I woke up. I can see the peaks of the ocean from the balcony, choppy and rough. I’m buzzy and tingly all over, the feeling that only comes from being taken way past the point of delirium by a beautiful walking surfer god. I feel so happy I could sing as I walk to the beach, and to prove it, I belt out a tune, our song, while no one is around.
As I reach the surf beach car park I decide to stop and use the bathroom before I hit the beach. I must still be delirious; normally I’d prefer to pee myself in public than expose myself to a plague from that toilet block. It’s an ugly, roofless brick box, divided in two by a sad, solitary brick wall. Inside, the floor is covered with sand and what I hope is sea water. I’m barefoot as usual, so go right up on my toes to avoid stepping in the tea-coloured puddles. There’s a row of three toilets with that special ambiance only found in public toilets. The bowls are rust-stained, the toilets sans seats – not that in a million years I’d ever sit down on one – and opposite the toilets are three showers, all missing doors. Water cascades from the middle shower and there’s Isabel, standing inside in only her undies.
