by Kate McMahon
The mass of whitewash looks like a herd of wild white horses bucking on the ocean, making Jaspa shudder. She’s not yet ready to accept that her brother might be out there somewhere. Tucking her legs underneath her in the front seat, she turns towards the driver’s side. ‘Dad, what exactly is our plan?’
Anthony takes his hand off the gearstick and ruffles her hair. ‘Sergeant Moss has arranged the search parties and we’re meeting our group back at Shellhaven cliff.’
‘Do you really think he went surfing out there?’ she asks, gripping onto the seat as the car winds around the continuous hairpin bends.
‘Who knows, button,’ he sighs, staring at the road behind his sunglasses. ‘I really wish I knew.’
A haze of dust surrounds them as they bump along the dirt road leading to Kamikazes. Jaspa places her palm against the window and presses her nose to the glass in silence as they pass their spare car, still parked where Tyler left it.
‘A few people are here already,’ Jaspa mutters as they skid to a stop. She draws in a deep breath to prevent her heart from pounding right through her ribcage. Fifteen faces look in her direction and although she can’t see behind their sunglasses, it’s obvious they all share the same expression of pity. Jaspa stays close to her dad, hanging onto the side of his T-shirt for security like a toddler would, and scans the crowd for Mel. Where on earth is she?
‘Good to see you, Anthony, Jaspa.’ Sergeant Moss tips his hat and leans in to grip Anthony’s hand in a firm handshake. ‘We’re just waiting for a few more volunteers and then we’ll split into two search groups. Mary and Tony will scale the cliff,’ he says, nodding his head towards two officers who are unravelling abseiling ropes.
‘Where will we be loo–?’ Jaspa croaks, not quite getting out the last word. She coughs into her hand. ‘Excuse me … looking. Where will we be looking for my brother?’
Sergeant Moss points north. ‘You and your father can join the team on Shellhaven beach.’
Jaspa nods, then turns to Anthony. ‘I’ll be back in just a sec, Dad.’ She wanders over to the path that descends to the main beach and looks down at the stretch of sand that’s becoming more exposed by the minute as the tide surges out to sea. A bubble of anxiety gets stuck in Jaspa’s stomach. The ocean is at her most ferocious, the swell pitching powerful waves onto shallow waters, the crash as loud as a semi-trailer dumping a load of concrete. The beach is carpeted in brown foam and entire tree trunks have wedged themselves into exposed sandbanks. Jaspa gasps as she sees black dots scattered along the shore, birds that took a chance and flew too close to the water.
She swallows back her tears as she returns to Anthony’s side. Feeling her phone buzz in her pocket, she pulls it out and sees a text from Carolyn.
‘Dad, Carolyn says sorry she can’t come, she has to work and can’t get a lift in time.’ Jaspa shoves the phone back into her pocket. ‘Have you seen Mel yet?’ she sighs.
As Anthony shakes his head, she spies a group of five people walking towards them, two in Institute school uniforms. As they draw near, Jaspa realises one of them is Mel. But what is she doing with Cooper?
#28
Tyler lies semi-conscious in the cave. Just before passing out again, he managed to pull himself behind a bigger rock into a slightly sunken alcove. It’s offered some protection from the pounding waves and blistering sun, giving him a chance to rest. In the moments he’s been awake, Tyler has thought mostly about his family. He half hopes they’ve noticed him missing so they can send help, but also wonders if it’s better they don’t know, so his mum doesn’t go nuts with worry. That way he can get himself to shore, rock up at home and it’ll all be sweet, with plenty of stories to tell over Christmas lunch.
The scrapes along his thigh throb like a dubstep drop. He looks down at the custard-like layering and touches the surrounding ring of inflamed red, sucking in a sharp breath. The last reef cut he endured was on a surfing trip in the Mentawais. His treatment was at the hands of three merciless friends: one to hold him down, one to scrape a scourer over the cut then squeeze in the lime juice, and one to film it. In that moment he hated them with vitriol, but their quick thinking meant he was back in the water the next day. Now, he’ll probably be lucky to keep the limb.
Suddenly Tyler is jolted out of his thoughts. Are those voices? He could be tripping out, but he’s pretty sure he just heard people shouting. He eagerly props himself up, leaning against his hands and trying to zone out the thumping noise of the ocean.
He holds his breath and listens.
Listens.
Listens.
There it is! Someone – people – are definitely nearby. And what’s that shuddering above him? A chopper? It is, it’s a freakin’ helicopter. He gets a flip of excitement in his stomach and grins for the first time in at least eighty hours, since before he lost at the contest.
A male voice bellows out his name and he screams in response, ‘I’m here. I’m down here!’ But nothing releases from his voicebox beyond a weak crackle. He tries again, summoning the sound from the depths of his stomach.
Nothing.
The helicopter continues to circle above, but he’s hidden behind the stupid rock that was supposed to save his life. Maybe he should drag himself back off the reef ledge and into the ocean in the hope that someone might see him? But that’s a stupid idea, right? His instincts are giving him nothing. He has no idea what to do.
Cooper and three friends are searching the base of the cliff track at the Kamikazes jump-off spot. But the waves spraying up against them make it hard to get close. Their group’s leader has shouted at them several times to get the hell away from the area, but they ignore him.
‘Dude, how would he have even planned to paddle in, it’s a junkyard out there,’ says Jeremy Weeks, unzipping his fly and taking a leak.
‘Jesus, put that away,’ Cooper says, shoving him in the chest. ‘There are cops everywhere, you’re a bloody idiot.’
Cooper stares out to sea as his friends start the trek back up the trail. He watches the powerful lines of swell march in from the open ocean, pitch up and throw themselves towards shore. Cooper guesses some of the waves are at least 10 feet – it’s difficult to tell, but the low tide surges mean they’re far from anything you would want to try and surf. They move in dangerous, mesmerisingly beautiful slow motion. Cooper hopes that if he concentrates hard enough, Tyler will suddenly appear. He may’ve been a tool lately, but he’s still his best mate.
Regret continues to torment Cooper. He should have been more compassionate and supportive. If he was the one who hadn’t qualified for the tour he’d have been gutted, too. Tyler’s definitely not the most gracious of losers, but he’s not the sorest Cooper has encountered, either.
He cups his hands over his mouth and hollers Tyler’s name, heaving his chest to throw his voice as far as he can, but the onshore easterly cruelly throws it back towards him. He wipes the wetness from his face, his sadness flowing like a tap on full, and turns with a sigh to return to the car park. If he had just loitered a little longer, looked north towards the headland and focused his gaze underneath the hanging cliff, he just might’ve seen an arm waving frantically at him from behind a large triangular rock.
#29
Jaspa wakes to find herself sobbing. Mel is contoured behind her with an arm draped over Jaspa’s chest. The best thing about spooning is you can draw on the other person’s emotional support without having to look them in the eye. She can feel Mel’s face nuzzled into the base of her neck. It feels damp. Mel sniffles quietly. ‘Do you want a tissue?’ Jaspa asks into the pillow.
Mel’s not usually a crier. Well, she’s not usually a subtle crier. Her tears are more likely to flow in fits of passion, exploding after being wound up like a jack-in-the-box. ‘No thanks, I’ll just keep using your shirt,’ Mel smirks, blowing Jaspa’s hair away from her mouth.
Through the sheer bedroom curtains, wisps of purple scatter across the sky like marble. Jaspa’s pained by the beauty of the
sunset, which triggers a hopeless desperation within everyone she knows as they settle in to endure nine hours of darkness, hoping Tyler is somewhere safe, sleeping. Her gaze travels towards the small television she’d moved from the study.
‘Do you want me to turn that off?’ Mel asks as yet another news report appears on the screen.
Jaspa shakes her head, reaches for the remote and turns up the volume. A reporter stands on the clifftop at Shellhaven beside the ‘Hazard: dangerous surf’ sign that has been ignored by many a surfer. Wind whips her perfectly styled hair in every direction as she speculates on the reason for Tyler’s ‘daredevil act’. Stupidity? Angst? Adrenaline? The broadcast cuts away to footage of waves thumping into the rocks with inset shots of Tyler throwing his board after losing the competition, and another of him taken at Easter, a surfboard under his arm, his face covered in white zinc, smiling straight at the camera. It’s the face of someone whose story has now caught the attention of the entire nation.
‘Oh, Daddy,’ Jaspa whispers as Anthony appears on the TV, squinting against the wind and pleading for everyone to keep their eyes peeled, insisting that he believes Tyler will be found.
‘No way, what’s this? Turn it up,’ Mel urges when a picture of B-grade celebrity Tom Tansy, who plays the part of a surf hippie in locally filmed soapie Pacific Dreams, flashes on the screen. The report explains that Tom has shared the Find Tyler Ryder Facebook page with his fans, helping it reach 20,000 shares in under an hour.
Jaspa turns off the television and throws the remote onto the end of the bed. ‘You know what the weird thing is?’ she asks Mel rhetorically, running her thumb over her friend’s fingernail. ‘I don’t even know how I should be feeling right now. Should I be happy because in my heart I know we’re going to find him? And am I delusional to even believe that? Should I be grieving right now?’ She rolls onto her back, arching it so Mel can pull her arm out from underneath. Jaspa’s insides keep threatening to hurl up the contents of her stomach. She now realises the term ‘sick with worry’ is an actual thing, not just an exaggeration mothers throw around to guilt-trip you.
‘Jazz, I feel pretty helpless, and it’s eating at me,’ Mel says, both of them staring up at the ceiling. ‘I’m such a control freak. I can’t handle not being able to steer a situation in the direction I want it to go, or to at least find a solution.’
Jaspa turns towards Mel and forces a grin. ‘Well, one of us has to be like that, otherwise we’d never get anything done. You know how bad I am at making decisions.’
‘True,’ Mel agrees with a whisper. ‘And you know how bad I am at accepting other people’s.’
They lie in silent stillness for a while, their thoughts hovering above them. Jaspa doesn’t need to kid herself. She knows very well why Tyler’s been so harsh on her the past couple of years. When Jaspa inherited his old banged-up board, the last thing he expected was that she’d go on to be a more successful surfer than him. All those industry eyes that are on her should be on him. That’s probably one reason she’s so nonchalant about trying to be one of the best; she doesn’t want to rub his nose in it. She makes a silent promise that if Tyler doesn’t want her to go on the world tour, she won’t. In the brief moment between her win and Tyler’s disappearance she had started to get excited about being a professional surfer. But she would give it all up in the click of a finger to have her brother back home.
Jaspa shivers, and slips her feet underneath the sheet. ‘Hey, I saw you pulling Cooper aside at Kamas. What were you talking about?’ She can’t believe she’s even brought it up.
‘Oh, errr,’ Mel stumbles. ‘Nothing too important. I was just grilling him about getting everyone he knows to help look for Tyler.’ She chews her lip as Anthony pokes his head through the door, his timing impeccable.
‘Honey, your mum and I are going to bed. We’re not hungry – can you fix yourself something?’
‘Sure, Dad,’ Jaspa says through a yawn. ‘How’s Mum doing?’
They had arrived home from the search to find Ellen in Tyler’s room, lying on his bed staring at the wall. Anthony had gestured to the girls to give them some time alone, so Jaspa and Mel had flopped on Jaspa’s bed and snoozed.
‘Not too good, she needs some sleep. They’ll resume the search in the morning.’ He walks to the bed, bends down and holds Jaspa’s head with one hand, drawing it against his lips. ‘Good night, button. Love you,’ he says with a quiver in his voice.
‘Love you to Venus and back,’ she replies to the closing door, feeling like a kid again. They used to play with terms of affection when she was younger; thinking up faraway places to mark the enormity of their love.
‘Are you hungry? I’m not hungry.’ Jaspa gets up and fishes out a pale blue T-shirt from her laundry basket. She gives it a sniff and deems it acceptable for one more wear.
‘No, not yet. Do you want me to crash here with you tonight, or would you rather some alone time? Either way, I’d better let Mum know.’ Mel scoops up her phone from the bedside table.
‘Please stay, it’s a good distraction.’ Jaspa walks to her sliding doors and opens them to greet the cooler night air. The moon, almost full, beams onto the ocean, glistening with the movement of each wave. How could something that brings her such joy be the cause of such pain?
Mel joins her, leaning on the railing and drawing in a deep breath of salty oxygen.
‘The wind’s dropped right off, and the swell’s about half the size it was this morning. That’s a good thing, right?’ Jaspa asks, digging deep for optimism.
‘That’s a great thing,’ Mel comforts, giving her a slight nudge with her elbow.
‘Do you want to go to bed yet? I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to sleep after our nanna nap.’ Jaspa flops against the railing like a towel hung out to dry.
Mel walks back inside, over to Jaspa’s antique dressing table, and checks her skin for blackheads. ‘Nah, I’m not tired yet, either,’ she says, attempting to excavate one from its crater. ‘But there is something I reckon we should do.’
‘What?’ Jaspa questions dubiously, suddenly exhausted at the thought of a Mel adventure.
‘Well, what’s that saying you always have about the universe, like when crappy things happen?’ Mel asks, rubbing her chin with a tissue.
Jaspa turns to face Mel and closes her eyes. ‘That when the sea of life is rough, to ride through it knowing it’s this way for a reason, that the next journey or lesson is on the horizon, even if you can’t see it yet. Trust the universe, basically.’ She opens her eyes and jumps onto the bed, hugging her pillow. ‘I didn’t make it up, though. I kinda adapted it from Buddhism. Why?’
‘I reckon we should sit on the beach and send out some positive vibes to Tyler and the universe, almost like praying.’
‘Melissa Appleby, are you suggesting we meditate? I never thought I’d see the day …’ Jaspa teases, not forgetting the number of times Mel has taunted her for her interest in ‘hippy crap’.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Just don’t go buying me sandalwood-scented tie-dyed fisherman’s pants for Christmas, okay?’
#30
Tyler’s not sure how long the blue swimmer crab has been crawling on his collarbone, but he vaguely remembers dreaming about being tickled. He was weight training at school, finally nailing a 100-kilogram lift, when a 5-inch tall elf-like man started tickling him with a feather, challenging Tyler to focus his energy on his weightlifting task and not be consumed by the distraction. The mini-man repeatedly told Tyler this would be the biggest obstacle in his life; to stay in the present moment rather than allowing his mind to stray and obsess over the things he can’t control. The more he focused on the weights and ignored the feather, the lighter the lift became. Soon he had no awareness of a feather, or an elf-man, or anything at all other than the bar above his head, and he’d never felt more proud of himself than in that moment.
He instinctively brushes the crab away before opening his eyes to see it scramble like a ballerina towards
the rock cave behind him. It takes a few seconds for him to register where he is, and the situation he is in.
The ocean is still lapping against the rock he is using as shelter, but its viciousness has calmed, like a rabid dog finally laid to rest. He chews on a bit of the kelp he used as a pillow last night. He’s not sure if it’s a good thing to do, but at least it’s something to do.
Tyler has thought a lot about his sister over the past twenty-four hours, even before he jumped off the Kamikazes ledge. He doesn’t enjoy being an asshole, it’s just become habitual. It’s like he can’t be nice anymore, because that would require admitting his meanness. Is he jealous of Jaspa because surfing comes so easily to her? Or because she’s got the potential to be the best? Maybe it’s because she doesn’t think about any of that, she just surfs for the love of it. All of the above, probably. He promises himself that if he finds his way home he’ll lay right off and appreciate his sister for who she is – sweet, vague, gangly, light-hearted and accepting.
He rolls onto his stomach to give his back a break from the rocky surface. His throbbing ankle just feels like it’s part of him now. As do the weakness, migraine, stinging skin, sea mite bites, sleepiness, open wounds and the desire to drink a swimming pool’s worth of fluids. The rising sun melts away the goosebumps that have covered him thanks to a night submerged in water.
Tyler hears a humming noise and a whoosh of water coming from the south. He grits his teeth and props himself up on his elbows to concentrate on the approaching sounds. After what he can only assume is an engine cuts out, male voices can be heard laughing and talking over each other. He guesses there are three, maybe even four of them – he hears several bodies splash into the ocean. He can’t see them, but they can’t be more than 50 metres away, just around the corner of the headland. Tyler assumes they must be diving for lobster, which are in abundance along this stretch of coastline.