by Melissa Keil
He bursts out laughing. ‘No need to shout, Alba. Okay, fine – new subject.’ He hangs an elbow over the back of his chair. ‘So what’s your take on this? I mean, what sort of gods wait for us to finish school and then pull a Night of Eternal Darkness? You bummed the last city on Earth didn’t turn out to be Berlin or Vegas or someplace cool?’
I take a deep breath, my still-flaming face warring with my tingly hands. ‘Well, this crazy is annoying, for sure. But I was thinking maybe I’d stay put anyway, for a bit. I love working at the bakery so it’ll be cool to do that –’
Daniel baulks. ‘Really? You’re planning on staying here?’
I glare at him. ‘Man, don’t you start! I know you skipped out and never looked back, but not all of us think this place is a giant dump –’ ‘No, that’s not what I was going to say. I realised I probably sounded like a bit of an arse this morning, but I didn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to coming back. I’d forgotten how much I missed the Valley.’
‘You did?’
‘Sure. I missed heaps of things.’ He shuffles closer and clears his throat. ‘Alba, I never got to tell you … I was really sorry to hear about your dad. But I was ten, and wasn’t big on emailing … and I’m a bit shit at that stuff. I didn’t know what to say.’
In the DJ booth, Pete is twirling haphazardly while Tia ducks around his arms and the CD cases they periodically send flying over the dance floor. Caroline is in front of them, beer glass in hand as she sways to the music. For a moment I think I see Tia and Caroline’s eyes locked in my direction, though when I blink again they’re focusing on nothing but the music.
‘It’s okay, Daniel,’ I murmur. ‘It was sucky for ages and then … I guess it sucked a bit less. What can I say? Life went on. Though I really wished you’d kept in touch.’ I catch his eyes, only to find that he is staring at me pensively. ‘I really missed you.’
‘Hey. I missed you too,’ he says quietly.
My eyes roam across the pub again. Involuntarily, they seek out Grady’s curls, but there are way too many people here and I can’t find him anywhere. I dunno why, but I feel strangely exposed.
I thump my hands on the table. ‘Ugh. This is getting maudlin. Quick – tell me something else about the wacky life of a celebrity. Do you have your own mini pig? I keep reading on the internet that they’re popular among your people?’
Daniel shakes his head. ‘Jesus, do you not remember Lucy Davidson’s birthday party? A certain Merindale petting zoo, and a certain crotch-biting incident? I can’t even watch Babe without breaking out in a sweat.’
I laugh, and he laughs back, and just like that, I’m filled with that cosmic, universal rightness again. His boomy laugh is exactly the same. I relax into my wonky chair, surrounded by a cosy blanket of all my stories.
Daniel glances at the DJ booth. He smooths back his hair with both hands, but the shiny strands stubbornly fall back into his eyes. When he looks at me again, there’s something odd about his demeanour. Something sort of … calculating. Last time that look was aimed at me, little Daniel was trying to badger me into sneaking on the bus, fuelled by rumours of the opening of a Merindale Wendys.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Well I was just wondering … why does everyone here still call you Alba?’
‘I … dunno. No-one calls me Sarah. Well, Grady when he’s pissy, but –’
‘But a nickname’s only cute when you’re a kid.’ He swings back on the rear legs of his chair. ‘And, Sarah, you haven’t been a little girl in a really long time.’
I narrow my eyes. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He considers me for a moment. ‘Well for starters, you wear a lot of make-up, don’t you? I mean, someone who dresses like you obviously doesn’t want people to think of them as a kid. Right?’
I draw myself up to my full height. ‘Daniel, this may surprise you, but I don’t care what people think. I like how I dress. I like my name. Is that okay with you?’
The music changes to some croony Johnny Cash song. Daniel’s eyes widen. He leans down so his lips are beside my ear. ‘All I meant was, I’m surprised you think you belong here. You aren’t a small-town girl at heart. I knew that about you when we were six, and I wasn’t the most perceptive kid in the world. I always thought you were awesome, and cool, but I’m finding you really … fascinating now. Is that okay?’
Maybe I am a tad dense, but it takes me a full five seconds to figure out that Daniel Gordon – who once ate a tub of neapolitan ice-cream on a Grady-inspired dare and then yakked in my sock drawer, and who used to have sleepovers at my house in Toy Story jammies – is actually attempting to flirt with me.
I blink away the mental flash of a golden six-pack. I shove my chair backwards and punch him in the arm. ‘Daniel, was that a line?’ I say with a laugh. I gesture to the contingent of girls who are still staring at his back. ‘You already have a fan club. Doesn’t Indigo have a thing for blondes?’
He grins. ‘Yeah. But I’ve always preferred brunettes.’
I roll my eyes, but thankfully I’m saved having to respond because I catch a hint of blue from the corner of my eye, and I turn around to see that Grady is right beside me.
Grady slips into a chair. ‘Hey guys,’ he says lightly, folding his legs under the table. ‘So … see you found the Junction, Dan. If this is the last pub at the end of the universe, then we are in serious trouble, right?’
Daniel shrugs. ‘I dunno. I sort of like the fact that nothing has changed since I left. And this place has character.’ He taps Grady’s arm and points to Mr Grey, who is currently trying, unsuccessfully, to start a conga line near the door.
‘Character?’ Grady says with a grin. ‘Right. And that character would be a hobo in a questionable trench coat shouting obscenities on the street?’
I toss a coaster at Grady’s head. ‘Domenic here already has one foot out of Eden Valley’s door, Daniel. Check your car, cos you might have yourself a stowaway.’
Daniel drapes an arm over the back of my chair. ‘Grady, man, you haven’t changed a bit,’ he says with a smile. ‘You were always tripping over your own feet to run forwards. Dude, can I give you some advice? Chill out. Look around. The rest of the world isn’t going anyplace.’ He bursts out laughing. ‘Well, you know – theoretically.’
To an outside observer, Grady’s face would be expressionless, but I know that look of his – what I have dubbed his baby-lawyer face. I can tell he’s sifting through the responses in his head, carefully picking his words before he lets himself speak.
‘Sage advice.’ Grady says eventually. ‘But trust me, one week of listening to the guys at the post office talk about the price of cheese, and you’ll be hoofing it out of here.’
He smiles. ‘And I remember you had big plans of your own, once upon a time. I think they had something to do with building the world’s biggest Lego fort, but still. You can’t tell me that you’re not hanging to get back to your real life?’
Daniel blows his hair out of his eyes. ‘Maybe not. I don’t have to be on set for another month – maybe I’ll stick around. Assuming we’re not attacked by Dark Elves or killer tomatoes or something.’ He tugs lightly at the end of my hair in that familiar, naughty way he used to do when we were little. ‘Whaddya think, Sarah? I promise I will be on my best behaviour. Not a single mini pig shall cross your eyeballs.’
Grady looks at me with a raised eyebrow, but I see his confidence stumble. Man. How had I forgotten that Daniel could put Grady on the back foot like that?
‘Well … sure Sarah and I can rustle up some stuff to keep you entertained,’ Grady says. ‘Though it might involve navigating more cow poo than you’re used to –’
‘Anyway, our holidays plans have gone out the window, what with the invasion of the moon people,’ I add. ‘Stay, Daniel. We’d love that. You can get to know our friends – I could even be talked into hosting an X-Men marathon and cookie-fest. It’ll be just like old times. Except you’ve probably ditched t
he Buzz Lightyear jammies?’
He winks. ‘I’m strictly an undies-only guy now.’
Grady grunts. ‘Nice mental image. Sure Sarah was desperate to hear about your jocks.’
In my memory, my boys were always like Spider-man and Superman to my Wonder Woman. I guess I’d forgotten that they were more like the duelling halves of Bruce Banner and the Hulk; sort of half in love, half one step away from poking each other’s eyeballs out.
I stand. ‘Actually, Sarah would really like to dance. You guys coming?’
Daniel sits back. ‘Nah. Happy to hang here and admire the view.’
I grab Grady’s hand and drag him onto the swarming floor, ignoring his bewildered face. He swings me into his arms and loops one hand lightly around my middle.
‘So … Dan seems to have slotted right back in? Then again, he never had a problem fitting in,’ he says as my feet move easily alongside his. Cleo did rope Grady into taking dance classes with her when she was going through her ballroom phase, but secretly – and he would die before admitting this – I think he loved it. Either way, my boy has rhythm.
‘It’s weird though,’ Grady says thoughtfully. ‘It’s Dan, but not Dan.’ He smiles wryly. ‘I dunno, Alba. Abs or no abs – maybe this whole trip down memory lane thing is kinda pointless?’
I’m only half-listening, because now that Daniel’s twinkly eyes aren’t focused on me, I’m replaying our conversation and my thoughts are getting all … jumbly.
‘So what’s wrong?’ Grady says.
I look up at him with a start. ‘Nothing. Why?’
Grady taps his forefinger between my eyes. ‘You have frowny line. Which you only get when you’re annoyed, or when you’re doing algebra. And I’m guessing you’re not puzzling out quadratic equations, so …?’
Through the crowd I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar. The feathery sweeps of eyeliner are visible even in the hazy reflection.
‘Hey, Grady?’
‘Yeah, Alba?’ he says distractedly.
‘Do you think I wear too much make-up?’
He frowns at me. ‘No. It’s just your thing. Why?’
‘Nothing,’ I say sheepishly. ‘You just never say anything about how I look. Was just wondering, is all.’
His rhythm sputters slightly. ‘I never say anything about how you look because you always look great,’ he says carefully. ‘And I know you don’t care what I think. Does that … bother you?’ He clears his throat. ‘I mean, do you want me to tell you –’
I give his side a poke. ‘Relax. I’m not fishing for compliments. You’re just a closed book sometimes. You know, this chick was giving you all sorts of eyes earlier, but you didn’t seem to notice. I’m just curious what goes on in that curly head of yours.’
He shrugs. ‘Boobs, cars. The catastrophic destruction of humankind. And she was? You need to point these things out, Alba! You’re a useless wingman otherwise.’
‘Right – suppose I should take my wing-person duties more seriously now that there are real girls in town.’
He laughs. ‘And girls who haven’t snogged my brother. That’s a nice change.’
Pete’s song changes to something breathy and slow. I’ve finally noticed a theme to the music; pretty sure Petey has spent the last week crafting his very own end-of-the-world playlist. I forget about Daniel, and the itchiness in the back of my skull that our conversation stirred.
I glance up at Grady. ‘Maybe this is your chance to test some moves?’ I nudge my head towards a crowded booth behind him, where trilby-girl is propped on a tabletop.
Grady glances over his shoulder, and she smiles and waves at him. He gives her a shy wave back. ‘Ah. Yeah. That’s Jess. We … sort of met earlier. She’s from Melbourne.’ He grins at me. ‘I oughta have more sense than to take chances with strangers, Veronica,’ he purrs in his husky old-movie voice.
‘Aw, but I would’ve thought strangers would be just your bag, G. No mess, no fuss – no ol’ ball-and-chain tying you down. You should talk to her. Say something smooth. Come on, man! You must have some moves. Practise on me if you like.’
Grady stops moving. He squints at me. In the dim light, his eyes are vaguely amused, and mildly terrified. ‘Um … I like your dress, Alba. It’s very blue. And, ah … shiny?’
‘Man, you are hopeless,’ I say with a giggle. ‘I said be smooth, not be weird robot-guy.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Well, maybe I should be taking pointers from Daniel? He seems to have the smooth thing sorted.’
‘Please. Daniel is all talk. Or don’t you remember that either?’
‘Yeah, I don’t know about that, Sarah. Pretty sure I was detecting some moves. Not that I’m judging. I mean seriously, woman – he’d have to be blind not to notice you in that dress.’
I slap his arm triumphantly. ‘See, that was a line. Aim some of that at hat-girl and you’ll be set.’
He shakes his head with another laugh, and he pulls me towards him again.
In the DJ booth, Pete is bleating something into his microphone that I think is supposed to be rousing, though he really doesn’t need to pump up the crowd; the Junction already looks like a circus, and smells like an explosion in a BO factory.
Caroline shuffles across the floor, steering some random guy towards us. She gives me a thumbs-up behind his back. Random-guy is just Caroline’s type, all muscle and slightly confused vacant eyes.
‘Heya all,’ she says. ‘This is Raymond.’
‘Randal,’ random-guy says sullenly.
She gives his arm a pat. ‘Sorry. Randal’s mates have driven all the way from Brisbane. And they’ve brought nothing but gas masks and Bear Grylls DVDs with ’em. How stupid is that?’
Eddie and Tia appear beside us, Tia dragging him into a rigid, half-hearted sway; in her silver dress she’s what I imagine a fairy might look like trying to dance with an unwilling side of beef.
‘Alba!’ Tia yells. ‘How’s Daniel? Is he having fun? Why isn’t he dancing?’
‘Maybe he’s holding out for the stripper music,’ Eddie grumbles. ‘Bet he’s busting to get his shirt off.’ He scowls at random-guy, who gives him a pained look back.
Caroline spins around so Randal is forced to shimmy on the outside of our circle. ‘Okay, I’ll say it. This apocalypse totally rocks! Is it wrong that I’m starting to look forward to it?’
Grady laughs. I’m still squished against him, and I feel his laughter rumbling right through me. ‘Don’t get too excited, Caroline,’ he says. ‘It’s still Eden Valley. The post-apocalyptic world is going to be less of a giant party, and more like a rotary lunch with a handful of stoners and a couple hundred confused cows.’
Petey lands breathlessly on the dance floor, black hair clinging to his face in sweaty strands. ‘Guys, this is awesome!’ Pete yells. ‘There are more than four people dancing! Some chick puked in the deep-fryer! It’s the best night ever!’
He grabs Tia’s hand and hauls her into his arms. ‘Like, when we’re ancient, it’ll be this story that we bore our grandkids with!’
Tia giggles hesitantly. ‘Petey, maybe your grandkids will be more interested in hearing about life with electricity and, you know, deodorant and stuff.’
Random Randal wanders off, and my friends close in on his space. I tug Grady’s phone out from the back pocket of his jeans – only before I can snap a photo, out of nowhere, I’m enveloped by this sweeping sense of ending that makes my breath stick somewhere behind my tongue. Grady seems to realise that I am having a freak-out, cos the hand that’s resting lightly on my waist tightens around me.
‘Alba?’ he whispers. ‘What’s the matter?’
I look up at him and I try to smile, but I just know it comes out all wavy and wrong.
The first time the six of us hung out here together was just after year-eight graduation. Grady and I got totally sugar-highed on green jelly and spent the night making beer-coaster hats for all of Mr Grey’s ducks on the walls. It was the first time Eddie
worked up the courage to have more than a monosyllabic conversation with me. It was the first time Petey shyly asked Tia to dance, though it would take him years to make another move. It was the first time Caroline kissed a boy – I remember that she left him in the carpark as she pulled me and Tia aside to give us a report of how gross it was.
Maybe the earth will continue to spin, and the stars won’t implode for a bazillion more years, but I know, with a certainty my stupid brain has done its best to ignore, that this moment – right here, with the people I love most – is not going to last.
My back is to the door, my cheek resting against Grady’s arm. But I’m suddenly trapped in one of those tingly moments, like the hairs on the back of my neck know something the rest of my brain hasn’t caught up on. The atmosphere in the pub has changed, too; there’s a weird hushy hum beneath the babble.
‘Oh. My. God,’ Caroline says. She grabs Grady’s arm from my side and points both their hands in the direction of the door.
I spin around, and almost fall sideways off my heels.
The crowds near the entrance have parted, allowing a man into the pub. He’s of mid-height and medium build, unremarkable except that all pairs of eyes near the door have glued themselves to him.
He’s wearing pinstripe pants, and suspenders over a shirt the colour of rain-sky. He glances around, nonchalant, like he’s just a regular who’s popped in for a pot-and-parma. Then he saunters to the bar, seemingly unaware of the kerfuffle following in his wake. I can tell he’s trying his best to appear nondescript.
But the bald head and Fu Manchu? He may as well have walked into the pub wearing a spandex onesie, or a Batsuit.
‘I don’t believe it,’ I whisper.
Daniel appears beside us. ‘Well. This is unexpected,’ he says cheerfully.