Falling Away

by Allie Little

  “Another?” Em prompts, handing the tequila bottle to me. I pour it out and we down those too, the heat coursing through my long-chilled veins.

  One more and I’ll be gone. And with Jack only metres away, I’m desperate to be gone. In more ways than one. To look at him turns my heart over, flipping it in my chest. And the devastating fact is that I did this. I turned him away. And now I have just what I wanted. Which is nothing at all. And have only myself to blame.

  “Go talk to him,” Em prompts, looking in Jack’s direction. “He’s been staring at you ever since he arrived. You know you want to.”

  “I know I don’t,” I say, although I have to admit that each time I sneak a peek our eyes meet across the glow of the fire. But he doesn’t smile, just looks quickly away as if scared of what he might do.

  The beach is already starting to roll in my tequila’d head. Two shots and a beer and honestly? I’m anyone’s.

  “More?” Em asks, handing over the tequila bottle again.

  Lily takes it from me and pours, and this is my third, and I know that on top of the beer I had when I first arrived, this could be a mistake. But really, I don’t care. I like this feeling. Being here, under revolving skies on this swaying sand. Even the fire spins before my reeling eyes. And the feeling’s delightful. I haven’t felt this good since …

  Ben’s hanging with the Boy’s Club, their laughter carrying into the ink-black night. All the matey backslapping starts, the jibes and wisecracks. Lily and I just roll our eyes, knowing he’ll be there a while. She doesn’t care though. My partner in crime. And my tequila-providing accomplice gives me a wink, before shooting more of the brain-altering liquid down her throat.

  “Do it, Sam! Last one. Drink it down.” Em’s face is warped under the star-wrapped sky, and as I try to focus on her, I down my third tequila.

  Lily giggles stupidly. “Good girl. Now let’s dip our toes in the waves.”

  We link arms to steady ourselves in the softly swaying sand. Us three. Em, Lily and me. Teetering as we rise. My brain will hardly focus at all, let alone on this mammoth task. I pull at the hem of my tight red dress which has managed to hitch itself higher up my thighs, and then I link my arm with Lily’s. Emily drags us down, closer to the water’s edge where luminescent foam runs warmly over my feet. And I love this. This feeling inside of me. I want to feel this forever. Because if I can’t have Jack, and as Dad has definitely gone, then this is the next best thing. Tequila comfort. My new-found friend.

  “So tell me,” starts Em. “I have a question for you. Why is it that when someone says there are billions upon billions of stars up there in that beautiful sky you believe them, but when a sign says ‘wet paint’ you just have to touch it?” She chuckles as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever come up with.

  I giggle too, because it’s pretty silly. “Maybe you have to touch it, Em. But I never do.”

  Lily laughs out loud. “But I do!” she exclaims. “I always do. I have to touch the wet paint. Just to be sure.”

  Em and I look at her fuzzy face and break into fits of giggles. It’s problematic even focusing, the way the ocean sucks light from the sky.

  “Well that says a lot about you two,” Em surmises. “Lily, you like to test boundaries, test the truth, whereas Sam, you’re just a bloody goody-two-shoes who takes everything at face value.”

  “What? Who’s calling who a goody-two-shoes? I don’t reckon it says anything of the sort. And there’s nothing wrong with taking facts at face value. Believing them for what they are. Facts. Not necessarily having to prove anything to myself. Because honestly? That would take a lot of work.”

  “Now, now girls. This is getting deep,” says Lil, trying to keep a straight face. “Let’s keep it light.”

  We fall in a heap on the wet sand, laughing our asses off, because Lily tests boundaries and I’m apparently a goody-two-shoes.

  “Hey hang on, Em,” I say. “You never said what you do. Do you touch wet paint?”

  She laughs stupidly. “Hell, yeah. I have to. There’s no way I can’t. So, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, you are definitely the odd one out.”

  And hasn’t it always been so?

  Emily pauses for a minute, as if an enlightening thought has just struck her alcohol-fuelled mind. “Take you and Jack, for example,” she says seriously, although with Lily raspberrying into laughter on the other side of her it’s a little hard to maintain.

  I roll my eyes, wondering what Jack and I have to do with testing wet paint and believing there are billions of stars in the sky. “Yes, Emily?”

  “Well, here you are, alone at this rocking beach-party. Well, not actually alone, because you have us. But really, we’re not the ones you want. Are we, Sam? And Jack’s sitting just over there, well, actually he’s standing now, trying to get a better view of what you’re doing down here by the water.”

  I glance back up the beach and she’s right. Jack’s standing by his lolling mates, keeping a watchful eye on us girls down here. Well, maybe me in particular. And I like that he’s doing that. Watching.

  “So? Me and Jack. Wet paint and stars. Where are you going with this?” The conversation is starting to remind me of Steve, the dancing pumpkin lawyer-guy in Shoal Bay that night all those months ago. Weird. Just. Weird.

  “Well, in my humble opinion, you guys are meant to be together. You pushed him away because he lost his brother, then he finds Riley comforting you in Sydney after your Dad died, and although you tell him it’s not how it looks, he takes it at face value. See where I’m going with this?”

  I try to take in her words. But my head’s spinning sloppily and it’s seriously funny. Seeing the world like this. Revolving around with me in the centre. Kind of like how the earth spins around the sun. And the sun is our light. And there’s no light on this beach, because it’s pretty dark tonight. Because there’s no moon here.

  “Sam! Focus! Do you see where this is heading? You guys are absolutely, one hundred percent perfect for each other. Jack takes at face value what he thinks he saw. You take at face value that he doesn’t seem to want you anymore. Because that’s how it looks, right? From my point of view, anyhow. What do you reckon, Lil?”

  “Whatever you said, Em? I agree.” Lily titters, almost passing out in the intertidal zone. “And you’re miserable without him, Sam. Just go talk to him.” Lily moves higher up the beach to where the sand becomes dry, and lays her head on its soft pillow. It doesn’t take long for Ben to find her, and we watch as we lose a giggling member of our tequila party. He drags her to her feet and half carries her to the protection of the dune, where he lays down a blanket for them to lie on and wraps her in his arms.

  “So, as I was saying,” professes Em, going all serious on me. “The two of you are both stubborn, bloody goody-two-shoes who take everything at face value. Test the bloody truth as you see it, Sam. Go on. You might be pleasantly surprised.”

  “Em, I think alcohol suits you,” I reply sincerely. “But where Jack and I are concerned, you don’t have a bloody clue.”

  She whacks me lightly on the arm. “You reckon? I’d like to be proven wrong.”

  I raise my blurry eyes at her. “Is that a dare? Because it sounds like one, Em. Drunk dares are never a good thing.”

  “I’m not drunk-daring you. I’m daring you to prove me wrong. Show me just how much Jack doesn’t care.”

  I look across and his eyes lock on mine. I want him so badly, I just don’t know how to get him back. I don’t think I can. The damage is done. So really? There’s no point in trying. Even if he does care, I’ve hurt him. The one thing I was trying to protect him from was pain. And I added to it. He will never take me back.

  I turn from him, because the green in his eyes burns my heart at its core. I focus on the ocean. It’s what I know. And it knows me. How I feel. What I need. And it lessens the pain.

  With spring warmth in the air and the crackling fire on the dune, I suddenly want to swim. This sparkling onyx sea is exactly what
I need. Since Dad died, and Jack left, I haven’t felt the arms of the ocean cradling my soul. And I need it so bad. If I can’t have Jack, I need to feel the sea.

  “Come on, Em. Let’s swim,” I say, lurching into the bucking waves in my tight red dress. I don’t give a single thought to the fact that it’s night time, there’s a strong ripping undercurrent running south along the beach, or the fact that there could well be sharks.

  “Are you crazy?” Em calls as I wobble further out. “You’re drunk, Sam. This is not a good idea.”

  I turn to face her, and notice Jack step forward, closer to the sea. The disturbed expression on his face I don’t think I’ve seen before. But I don’t care. He doesn’t want me. “Come on, Em! It’s warm in!” I call, gently toppling over at the slosh of a wave.

  “Sam, don’t be stupid!” Em yells. “You’re drunk and you need to come out. Right now!”

  “But it feels so good!” I reply, calling to her over the rolling waves. “Come in!”

  I dive under a wave and feel the pull of the rip. The one I hadn’t noticed before. In the daylight I would’ve seen this. Without alcohol I might’ve too, even at night. But the pull is so freeing. So liberating. It’s just what I need. To float away under a shadowy sky.

  Just a little swim, and then I’ll come back …

  I look back at the beach which is drifting further away. Emily’s screaming now and there’s a crowd gathering around her on the wet sand. Riley hollers something I can’t hear, and Jack’s there, stripping off his shirt. I wonder what he’s doing, because Jack never, ever swims. Hasn’t for the longest time. For three years now. Hasn’t surfed, swum. Nothing. Not since Charlie died. So what is he doing?

  I watch him hesitate at the water’s edge. And Ben’s beside him now, yelling for me to swim. Not to fight the rip, just go with it. Which is what I wanted in the first place, anyhow.

  “Sam!” calls Jack. The first word he’s spoken to me in over three weeks. “Sam!”

  My foggy head is trying to process this, but when Jack runs headlong into the ocean and dives under a thickly curling wave I feel it. His need. I’m snapped back to reality. Because even with the tequila that courses through my veins I know what this means. Because Jack is in the sea. The sea that stole his brother’s life. And now that I look at my own predicament, it could possibly steal mine.

  I watch the muscles in his arms as he powers through the waves. I can see them from here. And he’s a good swimmer. A really good swimmer. But what is he doing? This doesn’t make sense. He struggles through the force of the sharply ripping water, ducking beneath the twisting currents. Flowing with them. Determined to reach me. It’s written across his resolute face. And each time I wait for him to surface is a painful living hell, not knowing where he is, and if he’ll get here. If he’ll ever get here.

  Wave after wave begin to crash over my head, and each time I rise for air I search for him. Desperate to find him, here with me in the sea. Because he shouldn’t be here. This is not what he does. And I’m tired. So very tired. And I start to cry, because this treading water caper is not that easy. If I just had my surfboard I’d be fine. I feel myself falling. Falling away. Falling below the inky surface of the sea. Because I can’t do this anymore. My legs won’t kick. And I can’t get enough air in the breaks between each suffocating wave.

  He edges closer, falling in with the rip that’s taken me from the beach. And he swims it. Swims with the rip to reach me. And the look on his face screams anger, hurt, distress, worry and maybe even love.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he calls breathlessly when he’s in earshot, almost at my side. “You’re a bloody idiot! Are you trying to drown yourself?”

  I shake my head in drunken wonder. “No. That wasn’t the intention,” I call to him over the coiling waves.

  “Jesus, Sam,” he says when he makes it, wrapping an arm around me under the water to hold me up. “I’m not sure I can get us both in.”

  The relief of his arm around me is intense. I want to cling to him, never let him go. Because here in the sea, Jack is with me. And Emily’s taunt flashes briefly into my mind. Prove to me just how much Jack doesn’t care. Perhaps she wins the drunk dare after all.

  The crowd on the beach watches, signalling for us to go with the rip. With Jack holding me up, and my breathing now in short jagged bursts, we do that. We drift out further, nearer to that elusive murky horizon, and then south along the beach, until eventually it dumps us further down on the sand, a fair distance from the point. Jack drags me from the water, his arm around my waist, and collapses us onto the sand.

  “Fuck,” he says breathlessly. “Just look what you made me do.” He holds me so close I don’t think he will ever let me go. And this is where I’ve wanted to be. So much. And here on the sand I feel him and what this means, while our breathing hitches in short, shallow gulps.

  I close my eyes and lay my head on his heaving chest. “You swam.”

  “Under duress,” he says grumpily, except a smile breaks out on his face and he runs his hand over my hair, dragging me in closer. “You fuckin’ scared me, Sam. I stood there, and there was no choice for me. None at all. I had to go in. I couldn’t lose you too. Not the same way I lost Charlie.” He brushes his lips across mine and he’s filled with emotion, and for one brief second I think I see a teardrop fall vertically onto the sand. Falling for Charlie. For the one he couldn’t save.

  EPILOGUE

  One Year Later

  Jack holds me nestled in his arms in the biggest, comfiest bed I’ve ever been in. It’s all gauzy white in sunlight reflected from the bright glittery skin of the river. Our bed. In our house. The weatherboard fisherman’s hut on the river below the sweep of the Singing Bridge. The one he pointed out to me so many times. From the ferry, from his boat. The one he wanted to buy. And I’ve never been happier than I’ve been these past few weeks.

  At the mark of one year since my father’s death I bloomed. It took that long. Life with Jack has been my comfort. Nourishment for my no-longer-empty soul. With Jack, it’s like there will be no ending, and perhaps there never was a beginning, either. Because it feels like he’s always been here. For me. For us. And our hearts have mended from crumbled ruins to pillars of beating strength, the scraps and pieces left behind. Every second that I’m with him we heal. All of me is for him. He’s all I see now. All I want. All I need.

  And the best news is that Gemma healed too. Took a while, but she beat that thing, and she’s now in remission. She doesn’t work or party so hard, but she’s different now. Like a shiny new Gem. All of her frailties exposed, and no longer brash. But this new Gem? I think that’s what she was like underneath all along.

  I often think back to my first date with Jack. That night with the Baileys under the wide blanket of stars. I think of the life advice he gave. To find something I love, and something I’m good at, and then combine them. So next year I go to university to study. Part-time correspondence so I still have time for the things I love. Surfing. Running. Being with Jack. It’s only now that I feel ready for this. That this is my choice. My path in life.

  ***

  We’re disturbed by knocking at our newly painted red front door. Red for love. Red for hearts. Red for sunsets in the sky. Jack wakes, hugging me tighter against him and kissing me like he hasn’t seen me in days. I roll reluctantly from his perfect arms and pull on a robe.

  “Don’t be long, babe,” he says, rolling over and smiling that smile.

  I lean over to press my lips upon his before heading for the front door.

  “Hey, hey!” says Ben as it opens. “Coming for a surf?” He grins like that silly cat in Alice in Wonderland, and I wonder why he does this. Always so early.

  “Grrrr. Go away, Ben,” I say, attempting to shut the door on him.

  He jams his foot in and pushes his way inside. “Come on, grab Jack and your board. You’re missing some pretty decent surf. I’ve already checked.” He successfully bowls through
the door with Lily behind him. She hugs me, smiling as she passes.

  Jack has risen with the commotion, stumbling out bare-chested wearing only his boardies, reminding me of last night. How beautiful it is every time. With my Jack. The way he …

  Jack gives me a knowing smile and we lock eyes.

  “Morning, you two!” Lily says brightly, glancing from me to Jack and then back again.

  “Come on, mate. Where’s your board? We’ll see you down there,” says Ben tugging Lily toward the front door.

  Jack just rolls his eyes as he crosses the lime-washed floorboards and stands behind me. He circles my waist with his arms as Ben and Lil jump into the Subaru, and from the bull-nosed veranda we watch as they snake slowly around the meandering river toward Bennett’s.

  Jack pulls me in closer so he’s pressing up against me. “So do you want a surf?”

  “Do you?” I ask turning in his arms to check in with his gaze. Because it’s still hard for him. Getting in the surf. He does it because he wants to. Ever since that night. The one at Dark Point where he faced his deepest fear to night-swim amongst those sharply ripping waves. It helped. Because now we can lie on Jack’s beach, the one you can only access by boat, and he’ll swim in the crystalline water. And all the time now I catch glimpses of that boy in the photograph with his brother, the one now hanging on our wall. That smiling Jack? Happy and carefree? I’ve got him now.

  Jack beams with his irresistible smile all the way to the beach, reaching over to rest the warmth of his hand on my knee. Our boards lie in the back of his old, clattery ute. He parks in the carpark overlooking Bennett’s, a southerly whipping the waves into frenzied hunks. But Ben’s right, because further down in the sheltered southerly corner, with the rising swell moving in from beyond the point, a few chunky ones are rolling to shore.