by Kirsty Eagar
I roll over onto my belly and a little while later I feel Ryan scratching something over my legs and bum. Not hard, just sort of tickling-scratching. It feels good. I think it must be a twig or something, but when I turn over I see the grin he gives me and the way his hand goes behind his back.
‘What’ve you done?’
‘Nothin’, mate. You’re paranoid.’
I stand up and twist around, seeing the pen marks all over my legs. ‘Very funny.’
I lie down again, resting my head on his stomach, and I tell him about Danny surfing with black ink all over his face.
‘I think I know the kid you mean. He’s all right,’ Ryan says.
‘How come Shane has so many tattoos?’ I ask.
He shifts and his stomach pushes my head up for a second. ‘Dunno, mate. It’s just a thing he likes to do. He reckons it’s relaxing getting a tatt.’
‘How come you don’t have a tattoo?’
‘Can’t see the point.’
‘If you had one, what would it be?’
‘Dunno. You?’
I think about it for a long time and finally concede defeat. ‘I don’t know, but not a butterfly.’
Later, when I’m going inside, Ryan calls me back.
‘What?’
‘Come here.’
‘I want a drink.’
‘No, come here.’
I go over to him. He’s still lying on his back.
‘Sit down for a sec.’ He pats the deck beside him with his hand. I sigh loudly and sit down with a thump. He takes my right hand and places it palm down on his chest. Then he traces around it with the pen, craning his neck to see, giving himself double chins.
‘What are you doing?’
He shifts my hand away and starts scratching out letters on his skin. ‘I worked out a tattoo – if I had one.’
I look at what he’s done. He’s got the outline of my hand over his heart and in it he’s written, Her.
I want to tell him that he’s blown me away, but I think he knows.
28
trust
From there, things fall into a pattern. Whenever Ryan comes back it’s great, then when he goes back to work it’s awful. Time ticks by between long, aching phone calls. We’ve got rules for when he’s away. If he’s short and terse on the phone I have to know that it’s nothing to do with me. It’s the situation: long shifts, being away from me, not being able to surf. And if we fight on the phone I can’t just hang up. We have to sort it out that night because leaving an argument to fester is too cruel when you’re away from each other.
Some phone calls he doesn’t say much and I know he’s called just to hear my voice. That’s all he wants – to hear me tell him about my day, what the surf’s like, what work’s like. And that’s humbling, knowing that your voice can mean so much to another person. I know it helps him if I sound cheerful, and it’s not good for him if I sound down. And I try not to make things hard for him by telling him I wish he was with me.
Georgina asked me about it once, about being in a quasi long-distance relationship. She said, That’s crazy, I don’t know how you do it. And I looked at her thinking she was crazy, because it’s not like you get to pick. You don’t get to choose who you want to be with.
Danny asks more questions about the situation than anybody. We’ve started meeting up for an early on the Saturdays when Ryan isn’t around. We always line it up the night before, when we work together. He says that if he knows he’s got to meet someone he gets up. If it’s just him, he turns the alarm off and goes back to sleep.
Danny is fascinated by the finer details of what’s going on between Ryan and me.
When’s Rhino back?
Next Monday, I already told you that.
How long is he back for?
A week.
Then he goes back there for two weeks?
Yeah. You know this.
What do they call it again? You know – the flying thing.
Fifo. Fly in, fly out.
Do you guys talk on the phone a lot?
Yeah. He rings when I finish work. But not every night because he’s usually on day shift and he needs his sleep.
Do you guys have phone sex and stuff?
Jesus Christ, Danny.
Saturday night, Ryan’s second last night. I meet him out after I finish work. I didn’t want to. He’s having drinks with some guy, Dean, who used to be a local but who’s since moved away, and I don’t like meeting new men. But Ryan tells me that Dean’s a good mate, even though he doesn’t see him much anymore, and that he’d like him to meet me because I’m important. Well, I’ve never been that before – important – so I say yes.
After work I get changed into jeans and a top and I fuss around for too long with my hair, nervous all of a sudden because I think this Dean mightn’t think I’m good enough for Ryan. Not good-looking enough, or with big enough tits, or whatever it is that men think. And underneath all that is the old worry I get when I’m about to meet a man, the worry that I might already know his voice. But then I bury that because I don’t want to think about that stuff any more.
I think Dean’s going to be awful, like that Mick guy at Dee Why, or worse, like Shane, but he’s not.
He’s just normal.
By the time I get to The Steyne – they went there so I wouldn’t have to go far to meet up with them – and find them in the roof bar, they’re both pissed. But Dean’s still nice and he talks to me, not around me, and when he asks me questions there’s nothing in his eyes that shouldn’t be there. He’s tall and gangly with curly dark hair and gentle brown eyes, and he’s wearing a polo shirt and jeans, both of which have been ironed. Definitely not the hardcore surf maniac I was expecting.
‘Ryan tells me you surf, Carly,’ he says.
I nod. ‘You do too, don’t you?’
‘Oh, yeah, now and then. Not as much as I’d like. We’ve got a little boy, so he keeps me busy on the weekends. But it’s worth it. Changes your life, hey.’
I’m surprised by that. I didn’t think he’d be part of a ‘we’, have a child. He takes a sip of his beer and I spot the gold wedding band on his finger. He sees me looking at it.
‘Ryan was my best man,’ he says.
I’m surprised by that, too. I look at Ryan and he nods, looking slightly abashed.
‘Lost the rings, got in the shit for it. Dean’s wife, Sally, hasn’t talked to me since.’
‘Come on, she’s talked to you,’ Dean says, laughing. ‘Everybody’s got to have at least one mate who’s a black sheep.’ He winks at me. ‘That’s why she’s dragged me up to the Central Coast, to get me away from this guy.’
I tell him I grew up in Forresters. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Bateau Bay. We only bought up there because we couldn’t afford anything down here. But Sal loves the place. So whatever makes her happy, eh?’
And I can see that if she’s happy, he’s happy. I just didn’t expect Ryan to have friends like this.
Dean asks Ryan, ‘So life’s good for you, Ry? On the up since you got out?’
And when he says it, you can see he’s been worried for Ryan.
I’m sitting on a bar stool and Ryan’s next to me, swaying a bit on his feet, in this really good mood.
He says, ‘Yeah, mate. Life’s good. Got a job, got it together.’ He puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘Met Carly.’
My face burns red and I take a sip of beer.
But Dean just nods, looking serious. ‘That’s good, mate. That’s important’
Ryan and I get a taxi back to his place. My Laser’s there: Ryan drove me to work in it and then went back to his place to get ready to meet Dean. Shane’s borrowed Ryan’s Commodore, it’s missing from the driveway and I’m glad he’s not home. I figure because it’s so late he probably won’t be back tonight.
Ryan sways on his feet as he struggles to unlock the front door. When he gets the door open, he gives it a hard push so that it smacks into the wall, then reac
hes around for me. ‘Come here, you.’
We walk down the dark hallway together, bumping from wall to wall like a pinball. He switches the kitchen light on and squints at me like I’m smudged.
‘You want a drink of water or something?’ He runs his hand over my hair, staring down at me, his face much softer than it would be if he was sober. ‘Hey?’
I can smell the beer on his breath and I like seeing him like this, drunk and gentle, his guard down. And here’s the thing: I’m drunk, too. I am absolutely smashed. And though I drink, I haven’t been drunk for over two years. But tonight I knew I could get drunk because I’m with Ryan and I trust him. Yeah. I trust him.
And right then I want him, and for once there’s nothing complicated about it. I kiss him fiercely. Then I reach for his belt and tug it undone, watching his face change while I do it.
29
Shadows
I wake up so much drunker than when I went to sleep, not sure where I am, upside down in my own body, knowing something’s wrong because there’s light spilling in and I don’t know the shape of this light, the way it cuts across the wall. It’s not familiar to me; it’s not the light that comes through my window when I’m in my bed, when I know where I am. I lift my head to find out what’s happening and when I look my heart stops because there’s the shape of a man standing in the doorway. I’m naked and there’s a man on the bed beside me, I can feel the mound of his body, and I don’t know who’s in the doorway, but I know why he’s here. He’s here for his turn.
The shadow steps forward holding up something dark and he throws it towards me and I shudder, but it falls short and lands on the floor with a soft thud. Then he holds up something white with his other hand and my eyes are more awake now because I can see it’s my underpants. He throws them at me and they land on my legs.
‘You left these in the kitchen.’
And I scream. A raw howl of a noise that rips my throat and jolts the man beside me awake.
‘Carly? … Aw, for shit’s sake, Shane, piss off!’
Ryan climbs over me, switches the bedroom light on, grabs the towel hanging over the end of the clothes rack, wrapping it round his waist. ‘Shh, Carly, it’s all right. Hang on, I’m just going to –’
He’s out the door, the house shaking with the thud of his steps. I roll off the bed and find my jeans on the floor where Shane threw them. I’m wobbly and have to sit, shaky-shaky hands can’t drag them on fast enough, got to get covered up, because they might come back.
‘What the hell are you doing, Shane? That’s taking it too far. I tell you what, it’s not funny, mate, so you can wipe that grin off your face.’
Out – before they come back. Shirt on, stuff my underpants in my jeans pocket because I don’t want Shane to get them. Wavy legs, my head spins, and it makes it hard to think where my purse is, or the keys to my car. There, on the desk – God, I’ve got to get out of here, please help me, please help me. Not again.
The back way, the back exit. I can hear something smash, Ryan shouting still.
‘You’re out, mate. I have had it with your shit. I don’t need this anymore. You’re all over the friggin’ place and I’m sick of it. Next week, you get yourself sorted. You’re out.’
The handle turns but the door won’t open even though I’m jerking it as hard as I can. I’m not thinking properly because I can see then it’s deadlocked and the key’s sitting in the lock; my head’s not clear. There’s a ramp down into the yard and I hurry around the side of the house. There’s light coming out of a window and I pass it with my head down as though they’ll see me if I look up. I can hear Ryan’s voice.
I’m at my car now and I’m too drunk to know at first that I’m trying to unlock it with my house key. But then I get the right key and the door opens. I remember to lock it after me, which is good because something thumps on the bonnet. Ryan’s there, that’s his shape, his pale chest I can see in the glow of the streetlight. I block out his shouting, I’ve got to think and get this car started. Now, put it in first, that’s good, work the clutch, move off, don’t panic, you’re moving, you’re getting away. Change gears, go a bit faster – he might get his car. Change gears again. I think it’s the end of the street so I start turning right, but everything’s dark, I can’t see. I remember lights; that’s why it’s dark – I haven’t turned the lights on.
But I don’t get time to turn them on because then the crash happens.
30
after
‘Who was it?’ Ryan sits down and my bed dips with his weight. I don’t turn away from the wall.
‘Carly?’
He’s quiet, then, for so long I can almost believe he’s gone and I’m here by myself, which is what I want. Except I can hear him breathing, so I know he’s still there, wanting to know.
31
the trouble with you
‘Hey, Cookie, you want sugar?’ Hannah’s legs stop directly in front of me.
I look up from the paper, blinking at her.
‘You want sugar in your tea?’
I nod, but I don’t know why she’s asking. She knows I have two sugars. Hannah knows all the little things.
‘And milk, yes?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
She puts the tray she’s carrying down on the deck and sits cross-legged in front of it. I watch her take the lid off the sugar bowl and measure out two spoons of sugar into a cup.
‘Have you always had that tray?’ Every other time we’ve sat out here on a Saturday morning Hannah’s brought things down from her place in two trips.
‘No, I bought it from the Garden Street Bazaar. Especially for tea with Cookie.’
That hurts for some reason. I look back down at the paper.
Hannah places my tea in front of me on the deck. I think she’s going to be quiet then, but she stretches and says, ‘Ah, this sunshine. It’s good, eh?’
I sigh.
‘Ah, come on! It’s good for you. You needed to be out of bed. Ryan came around before. When you were pretending to be asleep.’
I keep staring at the paper.
‘He’s very worried about you. It was in his eyes. He is kind, I think.’
I don’t answer.
‘He told me that you could use his car. But I said, “Ah, don’t worry about it. She can use mine.” ’
‘What are you going to do for a car?’
‘I’ll get Victor to drive me. And if not Victor, then Gavin.’
‘Who’s Gavin?’
‘Gavin, I work with.’
‘You work with, or are working on?’
‘A euphemism?’
‘I don’t know. You tell me.’
‘I’m working on Gavin.’
‘Jesus Christ, Hannah.’ Shaking my head, I flap my paper.
But she’s back to Ryan. ‘He said to tell you that he has taken care of your car.’
My car had been left where it was, crumpled into a tree. It wasn’t something to report, that accident, given that it involved me and a tree and neither of us was hurt and I was drunk out of my head when it happened.
‘He shouldn’t have done that. It’s not his problem,’ I say.
‘Ah, but what does it matter? He said he knows someone who owes him a favour. They’ll do it for free. A friend of his will beat it for you.’
‘Panel.’
‘Panel?’
‘It’s called panel beating.’
I had to be near the break feeling all mixed up like this: sweet, sour, hurting and sad. The ocean’s flat as flat and it reflects the sky so perfectly you could be upside down. I’m glad there’s no surf because there’s no chance of seeing other people who surf, the ones who know me and Ryan and know we’re together. If there was surf I couldn’t surf anyway: my board’s at his place.
Barefoot, I can feel the sunshine still trapped in the sand. There are a lot of people down on the beach tonight – people eating fish and chips, kids running around, lovers sitting side by side, loners like me. The sweep o
f the beach south to Collaroy is framed by lights. It’s just beautiful and it puts an ache in my throat.
I’ve got a towel slung around my shoulders and I dump it down near the water’s edge and then wade in. The water is cold at first, but after I dive under the surface either it gets warmer or my blood gets colder because it feels like nothing at all.
On the beach not far from me is a redheaded boy. He’s watching over a toddler, who I see when he pulls his nappy down and kicks it off is a little boy. The toddler gurgles and laughs up at the redheaded boy, then waddles off as fast as he can, and the redhead knows the game because he crouches down and runs just fast enough to always be there behind him.
And I’m struck by the redhead’s face. He looks so gentle and joyous, completely wrapped up in this moment with a little streaker. How can he be so pure? How can he know such peace?
I park Hannah’s Barina in the carport, noticing there are no lights on at her place. Gavin, or perhaps it was Victor, was coming to take her to the movies tonight.
It’s dark now, but the air’s still warm, so I put my wet towel down on the deck and sit there in my bikini. I’ve been there for maybe twenty minutes – two cigarettes worth of time – when my mobile starts ringing inside the house. I let it ring, feeling my scalp prickle because it’s too late for Emilio or Mum to be calling, so that just leaves Ryan.
I won’t check for a message. Tomorrow he’ll be gone.
A short while later I hear the noise of someone wearing thongs walking down the side steps to my place. For a second I think about unlocking the sliding door and hiding inside, but it’s too late for that. I’m hoping it’s going to be Hannah, but she doesn’t wear thongs. I get up and quickly shove my cigarettes, matches and smoking jar into my wet tub, then throw myself back down on the towel.
Ryan appears around the corner of the house carrying my board. When he sees me there, sitting in the dark, he gives a start.
‘Whoa shit … Hey. How’re you goin’? Didn’t expect you to be here.’ He glances around and sniffs and I wonder if he can smell cigarette smoke. ‘Wanted to drop this off for you before I leave tomorrow.’