A Beautiful Taste

by Lilliana Anderson

  Even though neither of us paddles anymore, we still train together occasionally for fun. And most Sundays, an early morning surf is exactly what’s needed after a hectic week of work, so we catch up here more often than not.

  I dip the nose of my board and dive below a wave, answering when we have both emerged from the other side. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know for sure. My gut says yes though. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I consider her a friend, but I definitely made it clear to her that we were only friends at work in the past. So I’m not sure she’s going to admit anything to me, even if there is something going on.”

  “This one’s yours,” Elliot says, as a wave begins to peak. I nod and turn my board to catch it, pulling my arms through the water to pick up speed. When I feel myself rise, I jump to my feet and hold out my hands, loving the rush that riding a wave gives me. As the wave peters out, I drop off the back of it and wait until Elliot arrives off the back of the one he caught coming in behind me.

  “I don’t know what advice to give here, man. I mean, you can’t force her to confide in you. Especially after you already friend zoned the girl. Maybe just let her know you’re there for her if she needs you. Just be her friend–not her protector. You know what happened when you went all protector over a girl before.”

  I nod, lifting my hand to rub over the scar in my eyebrow. The last time I tried to protect a girl, I ended up losing my mind, and my eyebrow piercing in the process.

  “How could I ever forget,” I mumble, looking out to the horizon, as we sit beyond the breakers and bounce over the waves.

  “Although, speaking of girls that bring out your inner caveman, did you get the invite to the fundraising reunion at our old kayaking club?”

  “Yep,” I say, wiping my hand over my board as I’m reminded of Dakota. We waited so long for our chance, and it ended so abruptly that I’ve never fully recovered. I never found out what happened, even though I called her house and harassed her father a million times.

  “Are you going?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not.”

  “Come on, Brad. We have to go. If it wasn’t for Morgan and that club, you and I would have hated high school.”

  “I’d left high school by then, remember?”

  “Oh yeah–well the club still gave you something–”

  I cut him off. “Heartache.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I was going to say ‘purpose’. But, if you want to mope over a girl you knew nearly a decade ago, that’s your business. Who’s to say she’s even going to be there?”

  “Her family owns the club.”

  “So? She could be living in another state or another country. She could be married with kids, and so far away from your fantasy that you’d never recognise her. You’ve got to let it go, man. This isn’t healthy.”

  “That isn’t helping.”

  “It’s not supposed to help–it’s logic. You need to get over her. It’s been years and things change–people change. You should go just to see everyone regardless of whether she’s going to be there or not.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say.

  “It’s next weekend. You have to RSVP.”

  Spotting a decent break, I call it and paddle to catch the wave. “I’ll think about it,” I call out again. Elliot laughs. He knows me. I always do the right thing.

  ***

  Dakota

  While updating the club’s website, an email alert slides in from the top right corner of my screen. Just seeing the sender’s name makes my heart stop for a moment, before it starts beating wildly against my chest. The date for the fundraiser is only a week away, and since he hadn’t RSVP’d yet, I’d thought he wasn’t coming. I’d thought he didn’t want to see me.

  I click over to my email client and stare at the name–Bradley Rae, his status, confirmed. I let out my breath and wonder if there’s any way my dad will be OK if I don’t go that night. After all these years, I still don’t think I can tell him what really happened that day when I should have waited, that day I should have listened. But, as per usual, I did whatever I felt like doing, and as a result, I never saw him again. I couldn’t...

  “The movie is at ten-thirty,” Riley says from the doorway, breaking into my thoughts.

  I blink and run my hand over my face, closing down my email and turning around with a smile.

  “Great. Is mum coming with us?”

  He shakes his head. “She said she has to go to the club.”

  Nodding, I spin back around to face the computer as I update the handwritten list of attendees for next weekend’s fundraiser. I swear my hand shakes as I print the letters of Brad’s name. “I’ll be out soon. OK?”

  “OK.”

  Chapter 9

  Brad

  “Shit!” The crashing of glass precedes the cry of a female voice, as I finish up in the kitchen on Sunday night; I’m experimenting with a dish, which is something I like to do after hours.

  I stop what I’m doing, and rush toward the sound. I’d thought I was the only one remaining; most of the staff have finished their shift and left already.

  “Ruby?”

  I find her crouched on the ground, trying to collect the largest pieces in a pile of smashed glassware.

  She sniffles and shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she asserts. “I’ll clean it up.”

  Crouching down beside her, I can tell she’s crying, but she keeps her face away from view.

  “I said I can do it. I don’t need your help.”

  I reach out and begin to help anyway.

  “Brad! I said I can do it!” she yells, finally looking at me, her eyes streaming tears. She throws the glass in her hands at the ground, smashing it further. I put my hand out instinctively to shield myself from any debris and feel small pieces of glass imbed themselves into my palm.

  Tensing my jaw, I stand and look at the damage, removing the largest pieces and dropping them on top of the mess that’s already on the floor.

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry. You’re hurt. I shouldn’t have done that.” She looks stricken.

  “It’s fine.”

  I turn, holding my hand so I don’t drip blood on the floor, and head to the washbasin. The cool water hits my hand and soothes some of the stinging, and my blood washes away in streaks of light red on white porcelain.

  “Here, I have the first aid kit,” Ruby says from behind me. I turn to face her, taking the towel she’s offering to dry my hands, before I move over to the warming bay and flick on the light to inspect my hands. With every movement, I can still feel tiny shards lodged in there.

  “Can I have it?” I ask, holding out my other hand to take the kit.

  “Let me help you. It’s the least I can do. I… I shouldn’t have behaved that way.”

  Glancing up at her, I hold out my cut hand, indicating that she can help. She opens the kit and pulls out a set of tweezers, and a small wound cleaning kit. Then she takes a hold of my hand and begins to pull the debris from my palm.

  For a moment, I just watch her, wondering if things would have worked out if I’d taken a chance and dated her after we’d kissed. I mean, I’m attracted to her–she's of a small stature, with green eyes, porcelain skin, and elfin features. She colours her hair a bright shiny red that gives her this ethereal quality, and on top of that, we simply get along–it's easy to be in her company. We probably would have had a good time; maybe we would have made something of it. I don’t know. I just know that where women are concerned, I tend to play things safe. I’ve fallen for the crazy passionate relationship before, and while I was very young when it happened, I still got my heart broken when it didn’t work out. I don’t want to do it again. I don’t want to take risks. I try to date with my head instead of my heart. Not that it’s working out for me…

  “Am I hurting you?” she asks quietly, her hand poised above mine as she pauses and looks up at me.

  I shake my head. “I’m fine. Why were you crying?”

 
; She drops her gaze back to my hand and shrugs a shoulder. “It’s not important.”

  “In the three years I’ve known you, Ruby, I’ve only seen you cry twice.”

  “The first time was because you were being a jerk to me,” she says, placing the tweezers in the plastic tray before running her fingers gently over my palm, testing to see if the glass is clear.

  “And this time?”

  She places the dish beneath my hand and squeezes saline over the small cuts. “It’s a different jerk this time.”

  “The guy I saw you with outside?”

  She nods, drying off my hand before dabbing the cuts with antiseptic cream. “He’s just… he’s troubled–I suppose is the best way to put it.”

  “Is he hurting you?”

  She pulls at her lip with her teeth and wraps a gauze bandage around my hand.

  “He’s your boyfriend, right? He should be treating you like a queen.”

  Breaking off a piece of white tape, she secures the bandage on my hand. “I don’t really know what we are anymore,” she explains, as she begins to pack everything back into the red first aid kit, before she drops the small dish into the bin.

  “Thanks,” I say, turning my hand from side to side and moving it, testing to see that there’s nothing remaining inside my cuts. They aren't deep and they'll heal quickly.

  She shrugs. “It’s the least I could do.”

  I stand and grab a broom, as she carries the bin over to where the glass is all over the floor and help her clean up.

  For a while we work in silence then she stops after she dumps a pile into the rubbish and looks up at me. “Why do you care anyway? I mean, why now?”

  I frown and continue to sweep. “Because I do,” I say simply.

  “It’s not because you think I’m unavailable and suddenly that interests you? Are you having regrets all of a sudden?”

  Leaning on the broom, I let out a sigh. “I thought we’d moved past all that and stayed friends.”

  She stands and empties the dustpan into the bin and glares at me. “I don’t know, Brad. Have we?”

  I place the broom to the side and step toward her. She steps back, and when she lands against the wall, I stop and place my hand on the wall beside her head as I look into her eyes.

  “Don’t turn this around on me.”

  There’s this defiance in her eyes, and I wonder if she’s going to slap me or try to kiss me. Either one isn’t going to happen, because right now, this isn’t about me, it’s about her being angry with some other guy, and I’m the one who’s here that she can lash out at. I’m the one she feels safe with.

  She grips the front of my uniform and moves toward me as if she’s going to kiss me. I stay still, looking her in the eyes questioningly.

  What game is she playing here?

  Just before she makes it to my mouth, I speak. “Whatever it is he’s done, this will only make it worse.”

  She stops and looks up at me. “You’re an arsehole.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head.

  “No Ruby, I’m your friend.”

  “Just leave me alone.”

  I stand there and watch her walk away. “Call me if you need to talk.”

  “Fuck you,” she says, and I close my eyes as I hear the outside door open and slam closed.

  Chapter 10

  Dakota

  "Bradley Rae." The sound of his name leaving my mother's lips causes me to freeze in my tracks. I close my eyes, hearing the sound of the paper in her hands as I take a deep breath.

  "Yes?" I ask, as I turn to face her, keeping my features straight. My mother has no idea I was involved with Brad when I was younger. I mean, she knew I had a crush on him. But, my father had made it very clear that the kayaking boys were off limits and went to great lengths to enforce that rule. To a teenage girl, that rule was like waving a red flag at a bull. And Brad was my target.

  "Is he the young chef whose recipes are in that Voyeur Magazine?"

  Yes. He is. I've been collecting them.

  I drop my gaze. "I don't know. Maybe," I lie.

  She looks at his name on the list of attendees at the fundraiser. "I'm sure I remember your dad saying that guy used to paddle here. You were friends with him, weren't you? I wonder if he'd be willing to donate his services for a night. We could sell tickets to it in the silent auction."

  "I'm sure he's too busy for that, mum."

  "Can’t hurt to ask. Do you think you can do that for me? I’ve got a million things to do tomorrow, and the reunion is only a week away."

  I open my mouth to protest, but she walks away before I get the words out.

  ***

  Stacey’s mouth drops open. “She wants you to call him! Holy wow, I mean, does she have no idea what happened between you two?” she asks, as I walk her down to the water’s edge holding her paddle. Stacey has been my best friend since I was thirteen. She's been one of our top female competitors in all that time, and she was here when Brad was, and knows all about our history and everything in between.

  “No, and I want to keep it that way.”

  “Why not tell her? It's been years, and they probably don't even care anymore.”

  She slides into the cockpit of her kayak and holds onto the pontoon for balance, as she tightens the waterproof skirt about her waist. Then I hand her the paddle.

  “They don't have a hell of a lot of respect for me as it is. Best not to make it worse.” I look out over the water as a seagull paddles past, and I scrunch up my nose.

  “That's ridiculous. Why do you think they don't respect you? Because you and Riley are still living with them?”

  I shrug. “Partially. I don't know. I guess I just feel like a disappointment. I'm twenty-three, still living at home and working the same job I had when I turned fourteen and nine months.”

  “I think you're being too hard on yourself. Your parents would be lost without you and Riley around. Think about all the work you do with the club–they can't do that on their own. No, I think you're exactly where you're supposed to be, and I'll bet if you tell your mum that you and Brad had something before Riley came on the scene, she's likely to make that phone call in your place.” She pushes away from the pontoon to start her training session.

  “Or, you could do it for me?” I call after her, a hopeful smile on my face.

  ***

  Brad

  “Stacey? As in Stacey Wright?” I ask, after my female caller has identified herself as being from the Sydney Kayaking Club, where I’m to attend this reunion on the weekend.

  “You remember me?”

  “How could I forget? I only saw you every day until I was nineteen and gave up the sport. How are you?”

  “I'm good–still training, still competing. So not much has changed. Listen, I'm actually calling about this reunion the club is putting on. You’re coming, right?”

  “Ah, yeah, I am.”

  “Great, listen, you know it’s a fundraiser too, so we’re going to be asking you to throw some cash at the club, right?”

  I smile to myself, liking that she’s still as blunt as she always was. “Yes. I figured as much.”

  “Well, Coach and Mary were kind of hoping that instead of giving money to the club, you'd be willing to donate your services to the club for a night. They've just upgraded the restaurant, and they could raise a lot of money in the silent auction for a culinary evening with the one and only Bradley Rae.”

  I chuckle into the phone, kneeling down to pick up my runners, sliding them onto my feet as I continue the conversation. “Wow, they don't waste any time in asking.”

  “Yeah well, that’s Coach and Mary for you. But, listen, I know it's a lot to ask, and if you can't do it, it's fine. They're just trying to keep their heads above the water, so to speak.”

  “Heads above water? Why? Are they struggling to keep the club open?”

  She hesitates before responding, and I know she’s said a bit more than she should have. “Ah, well, it’s um… i
t’s not common knowledge but…shit, you can’t repeat this OK?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, Coach put everything they own up for collateral to get a loan to refurbish. The reopening has been good, but not as great as they’d hoped. Mary’s in a bit of a panic because she worries that once the novelty wears off, the crowds will disappear and they won’t be able to make their repayments.”

  “Christ, that doesn’t sound good. I don’t know that cooking there for a night can stop that from happening, but I’ll do it. At the very least, we can raise some extra money and get them a little press.”

  I can hear the smile in her voice. “Thanks, Brad. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “No problem.” Then I ask the thing I’ve really wanted to ask since I heard her voice. “Listen, will, um… will Dakota be there?”

  I hold my breath, waiting for the answer, and once again she hesitates. “I’m not sure,” she responds.

  “I’d like to see her again. Even if it’s just to say hi and see that she’s OK.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “Thanks.”

  When we hang up, I don’t really feel like I have the energy to go for a run anymore. But, I put my ear buds in and head off anyway, turning the music up loud enough so that even I can’t hear my thoughts about what seeing Dakota again is going to be like. We were only young, but there was a time when she meant everything to me then she was gone, and I never knew why...

  Chapter 11

  Dakota

  “I need the banners set up, and there's a delivery that needs to be brought upstairs. Also, someone needs to finish putting the stage together and moving all these chairs.”

  I run through the list I've printed off on my clipboard and allocate different jobs to the squad members who are acting as waiters and ushers for the evening. This fundraising event is a huge undertaking that we do every year. Its purpose is to raise enough money to fund the sporting side of the club by purchasing new equipment, paying for security on the boat sheds, keeping the coaching boats maintained and helping toward the cost of competing for our athletes, as well the education of our coaches. We invite sponsors, and those who have been kind enough to donate to the club before each time, and each year we invite the past members from a decade before. There is always a point in the night where we put up a slide show with photos from ten years before, which allows past members to have a look back at their past glory and be reminded of how much they loved coming here. It's a good way to get them to dig deep into their pockets to keep the club going for future athletes to have the same opportunities they did.