Indigo Girls

by Penni Russon

  ‘I just . . .’ Mum wiped her snot away with her hand. Classy woman, my mother. ‘I was just so . . . I’m still so worried about you. What were you doing out there? Why would you take such an enormous risk? You could have been . . . you were nearly killed, Tilly. It’s just not like you.’

  ‘Well, sorry to be obvious, but, that’s kind of the point. The not being like me bit.’

  ‘But . . .’ Mum shook her head. ‘But you’re such a fantastic kid. Why would you want to change?’

  ‘I’m not a kid,’ I moaned. ‘Mum, it’s great that you think I’m so swell. But you are my mother. You have to like me.’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything. I see plenty of people come into my practice who don’t like their own children.’

  ‘Am I in trouble?’

  ‘Tilly, like you said, you’re not a kid. You’re nearly an adult. It doesn’t work like that anymore. I mean, I don’t even know how to punish you for something like that.’

  ‘Are you angry?’

  ‘I’m bloody furious! So’s your dad. You can’t imagine what it was like for us last night, what it was like for Teddy. I never want to go through anything like that again.’

  ‘I’m never going to do anything like that again,’ I promised.

  ‘Trust is fragile, Tilly. Very fragile. It will take more than just promises. I think you’ll find we’re all a bit wary for a while.’

  I looked up. Ivan was standing in the doorway. Had he heard the whole conversation? Mum was wrong, there were a million ways to punish me, and I was going to have to live them all.

  He coughed. ‘Ah, excuse me. I came to see if Tilly was feeling better.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. I looked at Mum, pleadingly. ‘I just want to get out of here.’

  Mum stroked my cheek gently with her hand. It was reassuring; even if she was mad with me, I felt like her sick child again. ‘They just want to keep you in for observation,’ Mum said. ‘You’ll be more comfortable here than in a tent. You’ll get more rest.’

  ‘Except that they keep waking me up every hour!’ I protested.

  ‘To make sure you don’t have permanent brain damage,’ Mum pointed out. ‘That’s why they call it observation.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  ‘She’s all yours,’ Mum said to Ivan. ‘She’s a bit cranky.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘We’re still going to talk about this,’ Mum said to me. So that was my real punishment. Mum the psychotherapist.

  When Mum had gone, Ivan sat down. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I already said I’m fine.’ I know, I know. Being grouchy meant I didn’t have to thank him for saving my life.

  ‘I can go if you . . .’

  ‘No, no, don’t go,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry.’ I said it again to the world, ‘I’m so freaking sorry, all right?’

  Ivan perched awkwardly. He was regretting coming, I could tell.

  ‘Is Zara okay?’ I asked.

  Ivan shrugged. ‘She was still asleep when I left. I think Mum gave her something.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Look,’ Ivan said. ‘I just came to apologise.’

  ‘What for? Rescuing me?’

  Ivan looked confused. ‘I didn’t rescue you,’ he said. ‘There was a group of us looking on the beach. Your dad carried you to the golf club.’

  ‘Oh.’ So Ivan hadn’t carried me up to the golf club. That was kind of a let down. Though it was comforting, picturing Dad carrying me up the beach. Poor Dad.

  Ivan pressed on. ‘I wanted to apologise because you wouldn’t have done this if it hadn’t been for me. I was the one who told you to keep an eye on her. On Zara.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ I shook my head, dismissively. ‘Seriously, don’t worry about it. I wanted to do it. I wasn’t just following Zara. Hard as I’m sure it is to believe, that was me out there. That was Tilly.’

  Ivan shook his head. Obviously he didn’t believe me. ‘I feel responsible.’

  ‘Ugh,’ I said. I couldn’t cope with this anymore. My throbbing head injury was making me impatient. ‘Ivan, you had nothing to do with it. Give me a bit more credit than that. You need to get over yourself.’

  Ivan blinked. ‘I didn’t mean to imply . . .’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ I snapped. ‘Your whole family doesn’t want to imply, suggest, state, infer . . . none of you says anything. If you’re so worried about Zara, go find her and have an actual conversation. Talk to Zara yourself, instead of getting me to spy on her.’

  Miriam, the duty nurse who’d introduced herself to me at breakfast, came in. Ivan was still blinking.

  ‘I hope you’re not upsetting my patient,’ Miriam said, picking up my chart. She read through the notes. ‘Now, Tilly, I need to ask if you’ve had a bowel movement this morning.’

  Punish me for I have sinned. Ivan got up to leave.

  ‘Don’t leave on my account,’ said Miriam.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ I said weakly. ‘You know, I probably shouldn’t have . . .’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Ivan said stiffly. He didn’t look back as he walked out the door. Moments later, Sawyer walked in. They would have passed each other in the corridor.

  ‘How many boyfriends have you got, girl?’ Miriam said.

  ‘None,’ I said. ‘And my . . . movements are fine.’

  ‘Uh huh.’ She put a pill and a glass of water on my bedside table. ‘This one will knock you out, so you might want to wait a little while before you take it. Not too long, now,’ she said to Sawyer.

  ‘Cripes, Tilly,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You look awful.’

  ‘Thanks. My day’s just getting better and better.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Sawyer pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down on it. ‘I brought you chocolate.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I muttered. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘To see if you were alive,’ Sawyer said. ‘You know, Tilly, you’re a difficult woman to please.’

  I looked at him. His eyes were all twinkly. I think it was the head injury talking because I said, ‘Why do you like me?’

  ‘Because,’ he shrugged. ‘You’re different from other girls.’

  I grunted.

  ‘You’re kind of feisty and smart and timid and brave and stupid. You’re a big mess of contradictions. Plus you’ve got great –’ ‘Yeah, shut up,’ I warned.

  ‘Hair.’ He reached over and tugged tentatively at a bit of non-existent fringe that wasn’t covered by bandage, then his fingers ran gently down my cheekbone. ‘Why don’t you like me?’ Sawyer asked.

  ‘Who says I don’t like you?’ I said, temporarily weakened by the cheekbone manoeuvre.

  ‘Well, I know you do really.’

  I hit his arm.

  ‘But why did you run away last night? I thought we were having fun. I just wanted to get to know you.’

  ‘Because it was a costume. It wasn’t real. You only started liking me when I started dressing like . . . like Zara.’

  ‘Are you kidding? I started liking you way before that, when you were at the golf club, trying not to laugh at your mate Zara being snooty and then you laughed anyway and it was this big, fantastic . . . and you were funny and sweet and daft. Besides, you weren’t the only one in a costume last night. Do you think I wear a tux all the time? Do you think that’s who I am?’

  ‘I don’t know who you are. I hardly know anything about you. And you don’t know who I am.’

  ‘That’s the point,’ Sawyer said. ‘It’s the finding out that makes this fun.’

  ‘But what if we don’t like each other?’

  ‘Tilly, are you seriously going to miss out on this, on whatever might be happening between us, just because it might not work out?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ I turned to face the wall. I know. I’m such an idiot. Here was this great guy, sitting by my self-inflicted hospital bed while I looked like death warmed up, telling me he wanted to get to know me, telling me I looked bloody awful and that I was funny
and that I have great hair. But I couldn’t help it. I just didn’t think I could put myself out there. Look at what had happened last night. Maybe some people weren’t supposed to take risks. Maybe Mum was right, why was I trying to change myself? Wasn’t I fine the way I was? Before Sawyer came along?

  I looked at his mouth, and felt a shiver of the bliss I’d experienced the night before when he was kissing me.

  But just because it felt good, felt fantastic, felt perfect for a moment, didn’t mean it was worth the heartache, the beating, the near-death experience that would inevitably follow if I lost my footing, if I fell.

  Miriam poked her head in the door. ‘You’d better take that pill now, girl.’

  Sawyer pushed his chair back. ‘All right, then,’ he said, regretfully. ‘See you, Tilly. It’s been nice not getting to know you.’

  And then Sawyer was gone. I took the pill. Miriam was right: I slept.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zara

  By lunchtime I could barely keep my eyes open. My neck ached, my body felt heavy and leaden, I couldn’t hold myself up. I couldn’t tell if it was tiredness or the after effects from the sedatives Mum had given me. But I lay down on Mum and Dad’s bed and went to sleep. It was like crawling into a bag of cotton wool, the caravan was so hot and stuffy. I woke a couple of hours later to the sound of my mobile ringing, my throat dry, my head throbbing. I rolled over and squinted. The call screen was green – friends. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even my friends. Behind my eyes I felt bruised, in fact I felt battered all over.

  I sat up. No one was around outside. I went to the toilets and washed my face, drank water from the tap. I felt numb. Maybe it was still Mum’s drugs. Maybe it was just me. This numbness. This blankness. This failure to connect. With Tilly. With my mum, my dad. With Marcus.

  ‘It’s not just about sex,’ Marcus had told me that night.

  ‘I want to connect. I want to find a way in.’ He tapped my chest. ‘I want you to let me in here.’

  He wanted to connect. Shouldn’t I want that too?

  And earlier that night Kayla had said to me as we downed our first vodka shots, ‘He really loves you, Zara. Aren’t you worried that you’ll lose him?’

  What was I waiting for? Wasn’t everyone already doing it? Tang Yi was on the pill. Her sister had found the packet and all hell had broken loose. Her parents threatened to send her to live with some aunt in Shanghai. Tang Yi was scathing, ‘They always say they want me to be a real Australian girl. They won’t send me back to China.’ She set her jaw. ‘Anyway, I’d just run away. Go and live with Michael.’ She was right, they didn’t send her anywhere. But a few weeks later, Tang Yi said to me softly, as we waited in line at the cafeteria, ‘My parents don’t look me in the eyes anymore.’ Was it worth it? Michael went to uni and studied engineering. He drove a car. She didn’t talk about him much, but we all knew it was serious.

  Rio talked about her sex life all the time, in way more detail than any of us wanted to hear. She talked about places she and Dante had done it, places they wanted to do it, what she did to him, what he did to her. ‘If she’s not careful,’ Kayla said, ‘she’s going to get a reputation.’

  Sooz wasn’t doing it. She told me she wasn’t ready. Was Kayla? I had never asked. (Don’t ask, don’t tell, remember?) I’m pretty sure she’d assumed Marcus and I were. But then Marcus had confided in Kayla. I don’t know when or where, I never could figure that out. After that Kayla had seemed to take up Marcus’s cause.

  Why had Kayla been so desperate for me to have sex with Marcus when she was so willing to take my place? That night at the party, within half an hour of me breaking up with him, she was down on her knees, ready to . . . ‘connect’. Were they already doing it, before that night? I knew the answer – of course they were. But how long for? Did he love her? Somehow, given the text message I’d received from him a few days ago, I doubted it.

  I held my hair back in a ponytail and looked at my face in the mirror. There I was, this face, the smooth planes of my cheeks, blue eyes, eyebrows, lips. But what was under all that? What about me mattered? Dad was right. I wasn’t special. I dropped my hair again.

  As I walked back towards the caravan I could hear the phone ringing again. I spun on my heel and went down to the beach. The sky was overcast, the air was stiflingly humid.

  There were people dotted all over the beach, couples and family groups, paddling in the shallows of the water, swimming, surfing, just hanging out together. I picked up my feet and started to jog towards the jagged rocks at the other end of the beach from where Dad went fishing. No one much ever went there. I didn’t want to see anyone. I was especially dreading facing Tilly’s parents and Teddy.

  My head ached but I kept jogging, my feet landing with dull thuds on the sand. I saw the path to the Point Block headland and ran towards it, entering the bush where the steep zigzag path began. I wanted to push my body’s boundaries, to feel my calves burning, to stretch my hamstrings. I wanted to be nothing but muscles and tendons and guts. I ran harder, stumbling on the uneven path. I fell forwards and caught myself, and my hands tore open on the gravelly path. I brushed off the dirt without stopping to inspect them, though I could feel a hot sting, and kept running.

  We hadn’t driven far from Kayla’s house that night when I realised Lochie was drunk. But he wasn’t just drunk – he was freaking insane. He got to the roundabout at the end of Kayla’s street and drove round it three or four times, spinning his wheels. Rio squealed.

  ‘Hey, careful,’ Dante complained, but he didn’t sound like he cared much. I could still hear the occasional moan from the back seat. I stared out the window.

  When we got to the main road Lochie went through the red light. The tyres squealed as he turned the corner. He coasted onto the wrong side of the road then back again. Maybe he was just showing off. He obviously thought it was hilarious because he kept doing it. I ignored him. I just set my jaw and stared out my window and didn’t say anything. I was bored. Even as the car swung back and forth between the lanes on the empty road, even as he ran red lights, even as the car spun out of control, as we finally veered off the road and hit a telegraph pole and the car folded in on itself with a sickening crunch of metal, I’d never been more bored in my life. I was rigid with it. I didn’t care. I didn’t care what happened to me, to Rio or Dante or Dante’s brother. I thought about Marcus’s face when I’d walked in on him and Kayla, and I didn’t care about them either. On the outside I was Zara. Inside I was this big swirling nothing.

  I was breathless as I neared the top of the path. My hands were bleeding, I could feel pieces of gravel embedded in them. My legs were burning from the run and my head pounded as my heart pumped blood. My mouth and throat were dust-dry but I hadn’t thought to bring water with me.

  From up here all the people playing at the water’s edge looked busy but insignificant compared to the overwhelming blankness of the sea. It was like they were part of the white foam, but what was really important, what really meant something, was the vacant spreading grey-blue behind them, stretching out forever.

  The funny thing was, Dad was right, but he was also totally wrong. I never actually believed that I was special. Underneath the face, the C cup, the golden-girl exterior, I’m pretty sure there’s always been nothing. Nothing much at all.

  I thought I’d found a safe hiding spot. But Ivan found me.

  ‘What do you want?’ I asked as he sat down. ‘Did you follow me?’

  ‘Zara, believe it or not my world doesn’t revolve around you. I’m just walking.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Ivan sighed. ‘I went to see Tilly this morning, in case you care. Apparently she’s going to be fine.’

  I didn’t say anything. I kept staring at the smooth sea, where Tilly and I had surfed the night before. It was calm and still, there was nothing out there.

  ‘Anyway, Tilly seems to think our whole family’s kind of . . .’ He faltered.

  ‘Screwed
?’ I asked. Did Tilly think I was screwed too?

  Did she hate me?

  ‘I was going to say emotionally dysfunctional.’

  ‘Screwed,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, well . . . screwed.’ Ivan stared down at the beach. ‘I love it up here,’ he said, ‘away from the crowds.’ Then he said, ‘Have you ever seen the Doves with each other? Have you watched how they talk to each other?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. I looked out at the sea. Blankness. But maybe there were some little white peaks way out there. Maybe something, far off, was building.

  ‘How do we do that?’ Ivan asked.

  I looked at myself and then over at him. I’d pulled my feet up on the seat, my arms wrapped around my legs. Ivan’s elbows rested on his knees and his hands were clasped in front of him. We were as far apart as we could be on a bench seat, each of us closed up so tightly. ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Zara, what’s going on with you this summer?’ Ivan asked.

  ‘Nothing’s going on.’

  ‘I know someone’s been sending you text messages. You hold your phone like it’s a loaded gun. Is someone giving you a hard time?’

  Waves broke on the shore but then the sea sucked them back out again. It was like the waves were trying to escape, trying to break free, but how could they? The undertow owned them. They were just more sea, those waves, there was nowhere for them to go but under.

  ‘No,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s no one.’

  ‘What about that guy you were seeing, Marcus? He doesn’t come around anymore. Did you break up? Is he hassling you?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Come on, Zara. At least I’m trying!’

  ‘I never asked you to. I came up here to be alone.’

  ‘Alone like Mum? Alone like Dad? Because I don’t want to be like that.’ His voice cracked. ‘And I don’t think you do either. Tilly’s right, Zars. Our family’s broken. It’s toxic. I don’t want to be like them.’ I was shocked to see a tear sliding down his cheek. He rubbed it angrily away with the ball of his palm.

  ‘Neither do I,’ I said, relenting. But my eyes were dry. My whole skin was dry, like someone had sucked all the moisture out of me.