by Paula Weston
‘Because Gabe should have been able to handle them both in her sleep.’ Rafa brushes dirt from my cheek.
‘Are you insane? She was terrified and you just stood there.’ Maggie tries to move around him. ‘Let me see to her.’
Rafa blocks her.
Sounds of her fumbling in her handbag.
‘Then I’m calling an ambulance—’
‘You’re not.’
The anger in his voice cuts through my pain. I try to move, but all I do is whimper some more.
Rafa is next to me again.
‘Look,’ he says. ‘I can help her, but you two need to get away from here.’
‘No chance.’ It’s Jason again. ‘We’re not leaving her with you.’
‘Don’t think I won’t hurt you if you get in the way.’
Nobody moves.
Rafa lets out an impatient sigh. ‘Fine. But you’re not calling an ambulance. I’ll get her inside.’
‘You can’t pick her up. What if her neck’s broken?’
His fingers gently probe under my hair. ‘It’s not.’
Before Maggie or Jason can stop him, he scoops me up in his arms. Pain rips up my spine and forks through me like lightning. I cry out. Then Maggie is there, pushing hair out of my bloodied face.
‘Oh, Gaby.’ She’s crying.
Jason is close by, his mouth set in a grim line.
‘Sorry, Mags,’ I whisper and swallow another mouthful of blood. I hang limply in Rafa’s arms, my head resting against his chest as he walks.
‘At what point are you going to explain what just happened?’ Jason asks.
Rafa doesn’t answer.
‘I mean it.’
Rafa keeps walking.
‘Maggie’s place isn’t this way.’
‘Mine’s closer.’
I fade in and out. And then a door opens and a light flicks on. I see Rafa’s face above me and, beyond that, a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, spindly shadows on the wall.
‘You two stay out here.’ We move further into the house.
‘What are you going to do?’ Maggie is panicked. Her sandals slap on the floor behind us.
‘Just give me a minute. One fucking minute.’ Rafa slams a door behind us, not bothering to turn a light on. He kicks something in front of the door, maybe a chair.
A fist thumps against the door. ‘That’s it, I’m calling the police and—’
But I don’t hear the rest of Jason’s threat because my ears are filled with the sound of a howling gale. And I’m so cold, I can’t draw breath. My body feels like it’s being stretched and compressed at once, and my head swims. At last, I pass out.
I wake in a bed that’s not mine. The blankets are rough and the pillow smells like sandalwood. I open my eyes to find Rafa sitting in a chair not far from me, elbows on his knees. It’s still night.
‘Don’t freak out,’ he says.
The reading lamp on the bedside table is the only light. In its soft glow the room is almost bare, but for a pile of clothes on the floor.
‘I don’t understand.’
He sighs. ‘Yeah, I get that.’
‘Where are we?’
‘Safe. For now.’
‘Mags?’
‘She and Goldilocks are in the other room. They’re fine.’
I’ve never felt so exhausted in my life. I close my eyes, feel the rough wool of the blanket against my skin. And then the realisation hits: I’m exhausted and I ache all over, but I’m not in pain anymore. ‘Did you drug me?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
Under the blankets I probe my ribs. They’re sore, but there’s no way I could touch them if they were broken— and they felt broken after I hit that tree.
‘Have I been out for a while?’
‘Not long. An hour or so.’
‘Then how…?’ I throw off the blankets and sit up. I’m in a t-shirt two sizes too big, but aside from that all I’m wearing is my undies. My legs are pale from lack of sun, and the deep scars from the crash stand out in stark contrast to my skin. I pull the bedding back over myself.
Rafa straightens. ‘Just let me figure a few things out.’
‘Like why you didn’t help me?’
He shrugs, unrepentant. ‘I thought it was an act. It didn’t cross my mind you wouldn’t fight.’
‘If I knew how to fight, Rafa, you wouldn’t still be conscious.’
That brings a quick grin to his face. ‘See, now that gives me hope all’s not lost. You’re still in there somewhere.’
‘Who’s still in here? Who is it you and those psychopaths think I am?’
His smile fades. ‘You really don’t know.’
‘I know exactly who I am. It’s everyone else who seems to be having a problem.’
‘All right then, Gaby. Tell me who you are.’
I eyeball him. ‘I’m Gaby Winters. I don’t know how to fight. I like to run. I read a lot. I love Thai food and Turkish delight. Not the chocolate kind, the real stuff, from Turkey. Jude and I went there when we were backpacking.’
‘How long were you two travelling?’
‘About fifteen months.’
‘And that was up until a year ago?’
I nod.
‘And how old are you?’
‘Nearly nineteen.’
He gives me a pointed look. ‘You were both only sixteen when you hit the road?’ He doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘Tell me again how he died.’
My chest constricts. ‘In the accident.’
‘Where?’
‘Outside Melbourne. We’d just arrived in Aust—’
‘He was driving?’
I nod, swallowing.
‘But you were backpacking, weren’t you? Where did the car come from? How did he get a licence?’
I blink. I know the answer to this, but it’s somewhere in the fog. ‘I…I can’t remember.’
‘You told Goldilocks your parents came and had Jude cremated.’
‘How did you hear—’
‘How do you know Jude was cremated?’
‘A nurse told me.’
Rafa lifts the blankets to look at my legs. I draw my knees up, away from him.
‘I’ve seen what’s under your hair.’
My fingers instinctively touch the thick scar on my neck.
‘You think a car accident did all that?’
I snatch the blankets from him and cover myself again. As usual, I don’t know what he’s talking about. But I do notice he looks pretty wrecked himself. His hair is sticking up at strange angles and there are dark circles under those green eyes.
‘Fine. Give me your version of my life.’
He blows his breath out. ‘Okay, how do I explain this?’ He drums two fingers against his temple. ‘You and Jude had a difference of opinion and fell out for…a while. Last year, you patched things up and started hanging out again. Then you both just took off. Jude rang me to say you were sorting some stuff out, but then, nothing. I didn’t hear from him again. Rumours went around that you’d done something really stupid. And that you’d both been killed.’
I blink. He may as well be talking about people I’ve never met.
‘The life you remember is a lie. I’ve never heard of anyone powerful enough to wipe memories and create new ones, but someone’s done it to you, and they’ve done a hell of a job. They’ve taken your memories and, I don’t know, twisted them somehow.’ He gets up and walks over to the window. The night sky outside is cloudy, starless. ‘You’re estranged from your parents and you feel guilty about Jude’s death, right?’
I don’t even bother to answer.
‘But you’re not estranged from your parents. Your mother’s long dead and your father…well, he’s not dead, but you’ve never met him.’
I open my mouth to argue but he goes on before I can speak. ‘So, if your memory of them is so distorted, then your memory of what happened to Jude might be just as inside out.’ He bites his lip. ‘Do you really remember seeing him los
e his head?’
I look at the worn floorboards, but I’m not really seeing them. I remember what it felt like. Is there a difference? My head is pounding again.
‘What did Jude and I argue over?’
Rafa uses his thumb and forefinger to rub his eyes. ‘Does it matter?’
I wait.
Another sigh. ‘For the moment, let’s just say you, me and Jude, we’re part of a very large and dysfunctional… association. Within our ranks, there’s a difference of opinion about how to tackle a particular problem, and you and Jude chose different sides.’
That makes no sense. ‘And you and me?’
‘Not on the same side. The last time you saw me, you broke my nose.’
I study his face. His nose looks pretty straight to me, but there’s a flush creeping over his cheeks; he’s embarrassed. ‘Then why did you kiss me last night?’
A half-smile. ‘I thought you were messing with my head with all that “do I know you?” crap. I assumed you didn’t want to start trouble in front of your new little friend. I was seeing how far I could push you before you snapped.’
His behaviour finally makes sense. Humiliation sweeps over me. I feel my skin reddening. Rafa didn’t want me. He just wanted to bait me. What the hell would have happened if I’d taken him home?
‘What?’ he asks, searching my face, and then he understands. ‘Oh…’
I slide under the blankets and draw my knees to my chest. ‘I need to sleep.’
‘There’s more,’ he says, but doesn’t meet my eyes.
‘It can wait.’ I turn my back so I face the wall, stare at the flaking paint that looks like cracked eggshells. I can feel him behind me. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘I can’t. Not now.’
‘At least tell Maggie I’m okay.’
The chair creaks as he stands up. Otherwise the room is silent.
‘Just so you know,’ Rafa says quietly, ‘Jude really was my best friend. And I really do miss him.’
‘Me too,’ I say, and then quietly cry myself to sleep.
MORE THAN A LITTLE ALARMING
The smell of toast and bacon rouses me. I sit up. The chair beside the bed is empty. Early morning sunlight filters through the window, showing up the cracks in the walls and clumps of dust on the floor. I probe my side again. I’m not in pain, but I feel strangely hollow, and fragile, like my ribs are bird-bone thin.
There’s a gentle knock on the door and it opens a fraction. ‘Gaby, are you awake?’ Maggie peers in. ‘Should you be sitting up?’ She’s at the bed in three steps.
‘I’m fine, really.’
‘How are you fine? I mean, I’m so glad you’re okay, but you were in really bad shape last night.’ She sits on the bed. ‘Your face, it’s almost healed.’
I check my lips and then my cheek. I’m sure I felt my skin split last night.
Maggie studies me. ‘What did Rafa do in here?’
‘I let her rest, which is what you should be doing.’ Rafa is standing in the doorway, still dressed in last night’s clothes. A tea towel is slung over his shoulder and he’s holding an egg flip. He looks at me. ‘Unless you’re hungry.’
‘Yeah, I am.’ I swing my legs over the side of the bed and carefully stand up. ‘I’m also curious as to how I can walk today.’
His eyes stray to my bare legs. ‘I guess it wasn’t as bad as it looked.’
‘She threw me against a tree.’
‘You’re tougher than you think.’
I felt my ribs break, but I’m not going to push the point. For now. ‘Where are my clothes?’
Rafa grabs my cargoes off the floor and hands them to Maggie. ‘Your shirt was covered in blood. Keep that one.’
I look down. I hadn’t noticed before, but it’s familiar— the Led Zeppelin t-shirt Jude was wearing in one of Rafa’s photos. I pull it up to my face. Somehow there’s still a hint of Jude there. He always smelled like he’d just come from the beach. My breath comes out in a sigh.
‘What?’ he says.
‘You like keeping me off balance.’
‘You can talk.’
I almost forget how pissed off I am with him. ‘Yeah, well, I’m not doing it intentionally.’
Rafa takes another look at my bare legs. ‘Breakfast is nearly ready,’ he says and leaves the room.
‘Here,’ Maggie says. ‘I’ll help you get dressed.’ She’s looking at me. Differently.
I take the pants from her. ‘I have no idea what that was about, last night.’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘You didn’t have to.’
In the kitchen, Jason is cooking bacon and Rafa is doing the eggs. They don’t speak or acknowledge each other as they stand side by side at the grimy gas stove. They’re almost the same height, but Rafa’s shoulders are broader.
I drag out a chair from the table and they both turn.
‘Good morning,’ Jason says.
‘That smells good.’ I sit down. Maggie sits opposite me. Her fingers are drawn to a scratch in the table. She traces it, a long curved line.
We’re in a house not much bigger than our bungalow, but a lot older. The paint’s peeling out here too, and the laminate on the bench is gouged and discoloured. Aside from the table, there’s a fridge chipped with rust and a frayed couch. That’s it. On the couch is a scrunched-up blanket and a single pillow—obviously not the end to the evening Maggie and Jason had hoped for. I can see Maggie redecorating the house in her mind—she’s always trying to make things more beautiful. But this place is beyond even her talents. Through the filth of the kitchen window is the carpark at the back of the supermarket. No beach views from here.
We eat breakfast in a strained silence. Jason looking at Maggie. Maggie looking at me. Rafa not looking at any of us. Jason starts stacking the plates when we’re finished. He’s moving gingerly.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
He rubs a palm over his chest, where Goatee kicked him. ‘The bruise is starting to come out, but I’ll live.’ He puts a hand on the back of Maggie’s chair and looks at Rafa. ‘Are we going to talk about what happened in the park?’
Rafa pushes his chair back from the table and stretches his legs out on my side. ‘Go for it.’
‘Let’s start with who those two were and why they were so obsessed with Gaby.’
Rafa eyes him. ‘Lawyer, right?’
‘You can tell me what’s going on or I can go to the police. Your choice.’
‘Knock yourself out.’
I lean forward. ‘Well, I’d like to know, seeing as it was me they were trying to kill.’
Rafa’s laugh is shallow. ‘They weren’t trying to kill you. Taya just wanted to incapacitate you.’ He glances at Jason and Maggie and then back to me, as if to check that I want him to keep going.
‘Why were they here?’ I ask.
He taps a finger on the edge of the table. ‘You and Jude upset a few people when you disappeared.’
‘But Gaby doesn’t know them,’ Maggie says and then to me, ‘Do you?’
‘No.’
‘But Rafa does,’ Jason says. ‘And they were scared of him.’
I hadn’t given much thought to why Taya suddenly stopped kicking me. Jason meets my questioning look.
‘He threw that girl off you like she weighed nothing. Then he chased down the guy and dragged him into the trees. Neither of them came back.’ He faces Rafa. ‘Who’s Semyaza?’
Rafa’s eyes narrow. ‘What makes you think Semyaza’s a who?.’
‘Am I wrong?’
Rafa ignores him, and looks at me. ‘Those two, they won’t be the last to come looking for you. You need to get that crap offline.’
It takes me a few seconds to realise what he means.
‘Are you talking about that horrible thing Gaby wrote?’ Maggie says, and then quickly, ‘Sorry, babe, you know what I mean.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m talking about,’ Rafa says.
‘But it’s a story.’
Worse than the beating I took last night?
‘I’m going now,’ I say, not wanting to know what else I should be worrying about.
‘Just give me a second to have a shower—’
I stand up too quickly and my head swims. ‘I don’t need you to babysit me.’
Rafa doesn’t move. ‘Yeah, you did so well on your own last night.’
‘He’s right,’ Jason says, wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘He brought them here, so he should protect you. The question is,’ he says to Rafa, ‘is she safe with you?’
‘You seem to be taking all of this in your stride, Goldilocks.’
‘Is that a no?’
‘Of course she’s safe with me.’
I’ve had enough of this pissing contest. I’m in pain, I don’t know what’s going on, and potentially there are more psychopaths headed my way, for reasons no one’s explained.
‘Come on, Mags. Let’s go.’
I limp out the door, half-expecting Rafa to try to stop me. Instead, I find myself out on the street with Maggie and Jason. The air is fresh and clean, and the morning sun warm on my face. We climb the hill to the bungalow in silence. Jason’s car is still parked outside. It looks too new next to all the old houses on the street.
‘Thanks for everything,’ I say to him at the gate. I’m not sure if I mean for getting hurt, for sleeping on a couch, or for copping being called Goldilocks by Rafa.
He glances back down the hill, hesitates, then says, ‘Rafa knows more than he’s telling.’
‘I know.’
‘You need to find out what it is.’
Maggie touches his arm. ‘Do you want to come over later?’
‘Do you mind? I don’t like the idea of the two of you being alone after last night.’
She steps closer and puts a hand on his chest. ‘As long as that’s not the only reason you’re coming over.’
‘Hardly.’ He leans in and kisses her gently on the cheek. Her hand goes to his neck, and they stay like that for just a moment. It’s so tender, I have to look away.
The car starts up as we go inside. I head straight to the kitchen where my laptop is still on the bench.
‘Coffee?’ Maggie asks as I ease myself onto a stool.