Falling Away

by Allie Little

  “Great,” I mutter grumpily.

  Ben studies me in the glare of the early sun. I hold my hands above my eyes like a visor to shield me from the dazzle and his brotherly scrutiny.

  “Had a big night?”

  I nod. “I guess.”

  “So, what did you do?” he persists, rubbing sunblock over his face and down his arms.

  Without answering I grab my board and head to the water, leaving him abandoned on the beach. Throwing myself on I paddle out, squinting into sharply fractured light. The exhilaration when I catch a curling three footer raises me above the quagmire of the night before. I cut across the face, riding until it levels out to whitewash close to shore. But it doesn’t last, and as soon as it ends I feel crappy, embarrassed and stupid, like a naive, lost little girl. Awash in a nightmare that’s not going to end. Not for a while at least, anyway.

  Ben props right alongside me on the line-up, shoring himself up for the next big wave. But the surf flattens out and we’re adrift on liquid hills. He pushes himself upright, balancing in the water on his board.

  He ruffles the water from his dark hair. “So what’s up with you?”

  “Nothing,” I say, my interest in the horizon suddenly piquing.

  He pauses a moment. “Sam, from personal experience, I now realise that when a girl says nothing, they don’t actually mean nothing. There’s always something.”

  I glare at him. “Yeah? Well in this case Ben, it’s nothing.”

  “Yeah? Well I don’t believe you,” he answers childishly, just like he used to when we were kids, fighting over some silly toy, or who’d go first in a game.

  “Just leave it, Ben. It actually is nothing, so you may as well forget about psycho-analysing me.”

  “O-kay,” he says, hurt. “Jeez Sam, I just wanted to help.”

  An uncomfortable silence hangs between us. One that we don’t often experience. And I hate it, because it’s Ben.

  “Sorry,” I say, but he’s already paddling. Out past the farthest line of waves pushing glassily to the shore.

  Suddenly I don’t want to be here anymore, here in the glare and the green glassy waves. I want to be home, cocooned in my room where the world won’t touch me. I paddle belly-down to the sandbar, stumble across the bridging sand and wade out with my board tucked under my arm. I shove my stuff messily into my bag and head uphill over the dune beside the surf shed. I’m dripping with seawater but it’s a good time to go.

  The car park is filling quickly. I tie my board on the racks and fumble my key in the door. It’s stiff and needs attention but I manage to open it, slide into the seat and kick over the engine. Dizzying emotion coils through my chest, rising like a surging swell in the sea. The car feels hot and stifling so I switch the air-con to freezing and reverse swiftly into the parking lot.

  Suddenly there’s a jolt that splinters silence, throwing me and my belongings around the interior. It grates at the air like metal tearing metal, and the sound of shattering glass sends shivers up my spine. When the fine tinkling eventually stops, my heart rate’s so high it’s thudding through my throat. In the rear vision mirror I see the bonnet of an old Hilux ute rammed unceremoniously up my rear.

  Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. I hang my head in my hands and feel the weight of it. Can it get any worse?

  Three sharp knocks hit the window beside my ear. When I lift my head my heart sinks deeper, sliding through the chassis beneath my shaking feet. Jack’s standing by the car, gesturing way too calmly for me to get out. He doesn’t look too happy, but at least he doesn’t look livid. Can it get any worse? Well, yes. Yes, it can.

  I wind down the window. “Shit, Jack. I am so sorry.”

  “You all right?” he asks.

  I shrug in silence because I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to look at his sun-washed face and the light in his straw-coloured hair. I don’t want to look into those sea-green eyes because I’m scared I’ll never manage to pull my eyes away again. Even after this.

  He glances over the rear of my car. “It’s not that bad. Just a bump really. Move your car forward.”

  I roll the car into the parking spot, turn off the ignition and open the door. The world turns in slow motion, prolonging my pain. Grinding rather than spinning. Slowing to a halting, grating stop.

  I drag myself out, not really wanting to see the damage. “I didn’t even see you. I didn’t even look. Shit Jack, your car.”

  The front of his car is pretty badly dinged, but mine is worse. The metal’s all buckled, like a shrinkie curled up in an oven. The tail-lights and brake-lights are completely shattered, and the boot’s pushed up like it’s hugging the window. This is going to cost a fortune, and frankly I’d like to die. Right now I’d like the ground to open in a huge chasm and just swallow me whole. Cover me in earth and leave me. It’d be kinder than this.

  “Um, I’ll pay to get it fixed,” I offer, nervously avoiding his gaze.

  He looks right at me, running a hand through his scruffy blond hair. “No need. I’ve got a panel-beating mate who can do it cheap. Yours is worse. Maybe he could fix yours while he’s doing mine.”

  “I have insurance,” I add, hoping it’ll make a difference.

  He shakes his head. “Nah, mate. Don’t worry about it. The excess’d be more than the job.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jack. I really am.”

  “Stop apologising. These things happen, mate. It’s no big deal.”

  Oh god, get me out of here. Let me shrivel up and die. Anything ...

  “So what’s your phone number?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your phone number? So I can let you know about my mate. I’ll see when he can do your car if you like? His name’s Matt.”

  He rifles through his glovebox and finds a pen, then etches my mobile number on a scrappy Bi-Lo receipt he uncovers on the floor in front of the passenger seat. I’m doing pretty well to remember my phone number with my brain so addled from collision-shock.

  He swings himself into the front seat and parks his ute next to mine. His fishing rod’s in the tray with a bucket and tackle box. He grabs for them, lifting the rod up and over the side with the bucket in the same hand.

  “You sure you’re okay, Sam? You seem a little dazed.” Despite everything he’s smiling, which almost makes it worse.

  I shake myself from my stupor. “Yep. Fine, thanks.” No need for any further concern. I will happily get into my car and drive home now, adding this to the long list of my ever- increasing tales of woe.

  He tilts his head as if to get a better view. “Okay, well if you’re sure. I’ll see you later then. I’ll call you, about the car.”

  I raise my eyes that have glued themselves to the ground, willing it to crack into a chasm. As I nod an acknowledgement, he saunters off toward the beach.

  The road from Bennett’s Beach to Tea Gardens passes in a blur. I don’t even remember crossing the Singing Bridge, let alone turning toward the river. Tears begin to well in my eyes, but I can’t give in to the salty surge. I won’t. Because if I do they’ll never stop, running like a high-tide river to the sea.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Hello, love,” Dad says volubly. “Come and have a scone.”

  I power a smile from my otherwise solemn face. “Ah, no thanks Dad. I’m not really hungry.”

  “Since when do you refuse one of my scones?” Mum sings from the table. “Are you eating properly?”

  “I’m fine, Mum. Really.”

  She peeks behind me, as if searching for someone. “So where’s Ben? I thought he was with you at the beach?” Accusation fills her tone. She wants him right here, in plain sight. Because he leaves on Monday.

  “He was. I mean, is. He’s still down there.”

  “Everything okay?” Dad asks, furrowing his brow. “You seem a little ... I don’t know ... serious.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “I backed into Jack Foster’s ute when I left the beach.”

  Predictably, Mum glowers. “What?
How on earth did you do that, Sam? Didn’t you look where you were going?” The air around her is layered with shrill negativity. I hear the ticking of her mind through the momentary silence. Confirming everything she thinks she already knows. Everything she believes - about me.

  I stare hard in her direction. “Well, obviously not, Mum. He’s going to help get my car fixed though.”

  “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters,” says Dad, softening the blows so I fall softly, mellifluously into feathers. “I’m going fishing later, Sammy. Why don’t you come? I’ve got the day off. It’d be just like old times.”

  I smile at him because he always does this. Attempts to shift the dark aura sitting like a cloud above my head. “Yeah, why not,” I say, forcing out unfelt chirpiness.

  ***

  Dusk falls over Bennett’s so the dune’s silhouetted against a twilight sky. We reach the back car park and it’s devoid of human life, which is just the way I like it. The sea falls messily, pretty with pink stretching low across the horizon. It’s hard to stay gloomy in the presence of such beauty.

  “You shouldn’t take her comments to heart, you know,” Dad says. “You just can’t take them seriously.”

  We trudge across rippled sand on the ridge of the dune. With each step the fine sand squeaks in protest at our footprints traversing the pristine hill. I think about what he’s said, and I do take them to heart. Her criticisms strike at me, time and time again. Perhaps there’s no malice, but a lifetime of disapproval drives roots into your soul. And those roots leave scars twisting outwards from within.

  “You’d think I’d be used to them by now,” I say off-handedly.

  Dad seems sad fleetingly. “If you need a hand with the car, you only have to ask.”

  “Thanks, Dad. But Jack said he’d ask his friend to do it. So I’ll wait and see what happens there.”

  He nods. “Okay. But just remember the offer’s there.”

  I glance across the dune, giving him an appreciative smile. “So how come you’ve got the day off? I don’t remember the last time you weren’t at work.”

  He looks over, giving a forced smile. The smile that gets me worried. The one where I know his workload’s too much. With only two cops on duty at any given time, including Dad, it’s relentless work. “Yes, I just felt I needed it. Extra staff are coming in for a while, so work should ease up for a bit.”

  “Pleased to hear it, Dad. You work too hard.”

  He grunts an acknowledgement. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  It’s a long walk to Yacaaba, but worth it once you get there. Hawks circle above the beach, adrift in currents above the headland. Plonking our fishing gear on the sand we pull out the bait and thread it onto hooks. Dad casts out first before driving the handle of his beach rod into the sand, securing it so he can sit with the sundown. The fishing line dips and twitches, harder to see as light fades out across the steely sea.

  I notice his new reel. “Nice reel, Dad. Where’s mine?” I ask with a jealous grin.

  He laughs, taking a quick peek at it. “Down at the hardware store, I expect. That’s where I got mine,” he says proudly, wiping over it with his hand.

  I chuckle. “Nothing like an Alvey, eh Dad?”

  “Let’s just hope we catch ourselves a decent meal.” His face is alight in the elements. The sea-wind has blown through him, lifting hard-set worries away.

  He breathes deeply, before changing the subject. “It’s been great having Ben visit. It might be a while before he makes it up here again.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Dad. I get the impression he wants to spend more time here. Now that it’s just him. No Lily...”

  “It’s been a blow for him, that’s for sure. He’s really got to get home and sort through things. Their house at Narrabeen – I s’pose he’ll stay on there?”

  “He won’t move unless he has to. That old place is right on the beach. It’s perfect for him.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m surprised Lily moved out. Do you have any idea where she went? I’m going to miss that girl.”

  I sigh, because I will too. “Ben didn’t say. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it. Not yet, anyway.”

  Dad sits silently, until the tip of his rod spasms sharply toward the sand, shuddering with weight. Dad jerks the rod from the sand and is on his feet in one swift movement, reeling in the line through luminescent waves. He pulls at the fish, releasing it, guiding it until it reaches the shore. He guffaws rowdily as he lands the fish on the waterline, grabbing it firmly with one hand to extricate the hook with the other. When he holds it up I can’t help but giggle. It’s a big shiny bream, flashing silver as he throws it into the bucket.

  “Breakfast tomorrow, Sammy!” he cries over the roar of the waves. “And we’re not leaving till you’ve caught one too!”

  I chuckle at his positivity. “We might be here all night then, Dad,” I call back, but it’s not long before I feel the familiar pull on my line, challenging me to a tug o’war. The fish makes a mockery of my strength, but I beat it in the end.

  ***

  Eight a.m. Monday. Ben pulls open the boot of the Subaru and throws in his duffel amongst the surfboard and wet tub. A decaying straw hat lies crumpled and out of shape, fraying. Kind of how he must be feeling about going home.

  “It’s gonna be lonely,” he says, hugging me.

  I pull away to look at his anguished face. “You’ll be all right,” I encourage. “You’ll have so much to do when you get back you won’t have any time to think about Lily at all. Assignments, essays, exams. Focus on those.”

  He scans me as if I’m mad. “If I can concentrate at all it’ll be a miracle.”

  “Now darling, you’ll be fine,” Mum interjects. “Don’t let it get you down. We’ll see you in a few weeks?” She reaches across to kiss him on the cheek, patting his arm repetitively.

  “I’ll try to visit again soon.”

  Mum nods approvingly. “Yes, do darling. You know I don’t like too long between visits.”

  “See ya, mate. Don’t work too hard. Life’s about living,” Dad says, pulling Ben into a manly bear hug and giving him a few thumps across his back.

  Ben sniggers. “That’s rich coming from you, Dad.” He slides into the seat and cranks the engine over, revving until the stutters have smoothed. Reversing out the driveway with a high pitched whine, he gives us a wave and disappears into the milky-lit morning.

  ***

  I’m almost ready for work and notice a missed call. Seeing Jack’s number, I dial message bank, surprised at how super happy I am to hear from him.

  Hey Sam, it’s Jack. I’m uh ... just ringing to let you know I’ve spoken with Matt about your car. He can start it today, if you can drop it off. You may have found someone else to fix it, but if you haven’t, just give me a call. My number’ll be on your phone. So anyway mate, I’ll uh ... I’ll see you later.”

  Running very late, I finger a quick text to let him know I’ll call later. But feeling compelled, I replay the message to hear his voice one more time.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Apprehension sits like a low-lying cloud, drifting with me when I walk. The thought of Café Blue and Riley sends my stomach contents tunnelling south. If I could be optimistic I would, but with Friday night flashing through my mind like a beacon it’s unlikely I’ll rise to the occasion. I shudder when I think of him, wincing sharply at the memory.

  It’s uphill all the way to Café Blue, and even slower because I dawdle. My legs are heavy, filled with the weighty dread of foreboding.

  I peer like a nervy meerkat from the doors of the café. Riley’s nowhere in sight so it seems safe enough. Gemma spots me when I arrive, giving me a perplexed look from behind the counter.

  “What on earth are you doing, Sam?”

  I glance around the interior. “Um, nothing,” I say nonchalantly.

  “Well, what’s the matter?” she asks. “Come inside. Nothing’s different in here since Friday.”
<
br />   Maybe not for you, I amend silently. “So is Riley in yet?” I ask, hoping to sound offhand.

  “No, he called in sick. Said he wasn’t up to a day in the kitchen. Maybe he had a big night.” She looks at me as if she knows, as if she sees right through my casual façade. “So what happened with you guys on Friday, eh?” she asks, her eyebrow cocked skyward.

  I rake over the events, deciding what to omit. Scraping the protective haze from my memory, I gather myself for the encounter.

  “Sam!” Emily cries when she sees me. “How was your weekend? What’s the goss? You have to tell us everything!”

  I flinch, physically recoiling at the sourness of the memory. The beach, the sand, the moon. Riley... “Um ... sure. Though there’s really not much to tell.”

  “You and Riley left the party pretty early,” she persists, obviously hungry for information.

  “We just went to the pub on the Corso,” I say, sounding flippant.

  “Come on, Sam. Give us all the juicy details,” pleads Gemma from the next room. Luckily the place is empty.

  I sigh, realising there’s no escape. “Look, nothing happened. And I didn’t have a great weekend at all, actually. I backed into this guy’s car down at the beach on Saturday. I just didn’t look where I was going. It was really bad. I damaged his car … and mine,” I say, waiting for some support.

  “Oh, that does sound bad,” Gemma concedes briefly. “Well anyway, I met someone at the party after you guys left. And he called me over the weekend. Didn’t text. Actually called.”

  “Yeah, he seemed nice, Gem,” Emily says. “He was hot, too.”

  Gemma smirks, obviously pretty pleased with herself. “He wants to go out this weekend. So, any ideas where we should go?”

  “Well, you’re the local,” Emily replies, giggling. “Surely you must know somewhere?”

  In the banter I realise Gemma’s self-interest, and that Emily’s along for the ride. Front seat passenger, sunglasses on, hair blowing wildly in the wind. “So anyway, I’ve got to get my car fixed. This guy has a panel beater mate who can do it cheaply for me.”