Coasting

by Ben Karwan

  I sit in silence while the boys get excited over Australia’s bowling attack for another six overs, until the umpires decide it’s time for the tea break. I don’t have the patience for a five-day-long game; I don’t get the appeal, or why the boys dress up just to stay at home and watch it. I’d understand if they were in the stands of the MCG, cheering the Aussies on, but that’d be quite a different atmosphere to Elliot’s lounge room.

  ‘Babe,’ says Teddy. He calls everyone ‘babe’. ‘You’re coming to mine for New Year, right?’

  ‘Huh? I didn’t know you were having a thing.’

  ‘I sent you a Facey invite.’

  ‘I haven’t checked Facebook lately.’ Sometimes I like scrolling through my news feed, just to see what everyone I know is up to, but lately I haven’t been in the mood for selfies and grammatically incorrect, deeply philosophical revelations that actually work in circles without making a point of any sort. It gets old quickly.

  ‘Well, we’re getting drunk at mine. Everyone’s coming, so no excuses.’

  ‘Define “everyone”,’ I say.

  ‘Well, me, Elliot, Josh, Andy …’ He continues to rattle off several more names of people I don’t know.

  ‘… Jasmine, Sarah, Ryan –’

  ‘Okay, I get it,’ I say. ‘Lots of people.’

  Teddy’s face tightens. ‘You’re the one who asked the question.’

  He has a point but I don’t want to admit it. ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Good answer,’ says Elliot.

  ‘You can bring Dylan, too,’ says Teddy. ‘Everyone else has asked for a plus-one. James asked for a plus-eight. Hopefully some of them are babes … You don’t know of anyone I could get in with, do you?’

  ‘You’re disgusting,’ I say, ‘but I’ll find out about Dylan and let you know.’

  The ‘I’ll let you know’ turns out to be a lie. I didn’t intend it that way, honestly, but I never get around to telling Theodore C. Block that Dylan won’t be coming. He has other plans and can’t be Slumdog Millionaire-ed cancelling them. I’m not sure whether to be annoyed or relieved.

  I get to Teddy’s mum’s house just before eight and the party is already in full swing. The music is loud and there are people everywhere. I don’t recognise most of them and the vast majority seems to be drunk.

  ‘Jennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!’ shouts Teddy when he sees me. ‘You made it!’ He almost knocks me over with his hug. Then he disappears as quickly as he arrived.

  I put my drinks in the fridge and search the house for Elliot, but I get distracted by Sophie. She’s sitting on a bench outside with Luke on her lap. She waves at me from across the yard.

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ I say. I tickle Luke and make baby noises into his face. He giggles.

  ‘Theodore C. Block practically begged me to come,’ she says. I like that even though she hasn’t been at school with us since she became pregnant, she still uses the Theodore in-joke. ‘I won’t be staying long, though, because Luke’ll have to sleep soon. I love your dress.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. I’m wearing a navy blue dress with large white spots and a yellow cardigan. Mum told me it looked too casual for a party but I think it looks good.

  I sit next to Sophie on the bench and Luke climbs over onto my lap, smacking his palms into my thighs.

  ‘Hah-yee,’ he says. It’s cute every time.

  ‘Hello, Luke,’ I say.

  ‘Hah-yee. Bouncy!’

  I bounce Luke on my knee, which makes him giggle.

  ‘Guess what Aaron told me the other day,’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s got Ms Thornton for maths next year. She emailed out holiday homework and included a list of class rules. Number one was “no singing”.’

  Sophie laughs. ‘Oh God. You think that’s because of us?’

  ‘I hope so,’ I say. Ms Thornton was our year-eight maths teacher. Our whole class went through a phase of singing everything. Sometimes we’d all sing chorus numbers as a class, other times we’d sing quietly to ourselves. Whenever people had questions, they’d sing them. Ms Thornton yelled at us for it every day for about a week until she started sending people to the principal’s office. We shut up pretty quickly after that.

  ‘We were the worst, weren’t we?’ says Sophie. ‘Do you remember in year nine when we burst those thermometers in science?’

  ‘Yeah, because we wanted to see how hot the fire was?’ I say. ‘Then we threw the shards out the window so we didn’t get in trouble.’

  ‘What about when we switched names in alternating classes and Mr Long got really confused and yelled at us?’

  ‘Or when we played hide-and-seek during maths and hid in the computer storeroom?’

  ‘Or when our art teacher ended up doing our entire pieces for us because we kept asking for help?’ says Sophie.

  For nearly an hour we share stories of our high-school rebellions and the teachers who hated us, and laugh until our faces hurt. In hindsight, I feel kind of bad for being such a terrible student – we didn’t exactly bring a lot of joy to our teachers’ lives. But it’s pretty easy to smile and laugh about it now. It was fun.

  ‘You’re never going to be as awful as we were, are you, Luke?’ I say while Sophie checks her phone. ‘You’ll be an angel.’

  His eyelids droop and he starts to cry.

  ‘Aw, baby, what’s wrong?’ I say and cuddle his head to my chest. His cheek feels warm against me.

  He screams louder in response, so I rock him back and forth, shushing him. His floppy curls bounce around on his head.

  ‘He’s probably tired,’ Sophie says as she stands. ‘Good timing, too – Mum’s out the front.’ She leans over me and takes Luke from my arms.

  He wraps his arms around Sophie’s neck and clings to her. If she let him go, I doubt he’d fall.

  ‘We’ll hang out soon,’ says Sophie. ‘Get coffee or something?’

  ‘Of course,’ I say. ‘I think I’m busy until next year, though.’

  ‘That’s the worst joke you’ve ever made.’

  I shrug. ‘Just being honest.’

  A few smiles and hugs later, Sophie has said goodbye to everyone and disappeared.

  As soon as Luke’s gone, I miss him. It’s almost nostalgic. But with him gone, it feels more acceptable to begin drinking. Everybody else is significantly ahead of me but I’m not bothered. I grab a drink and wander into the lounge.

  ‘Hey babe,’ says a voice in my ear. Theodore C. Block’s arm snakes its way around my shoulder. ‘Do you have something in your eye? Oh never mind, it’s just a sparkle.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ I say, lifting his arm over my head. He exhales heavily.

  ‘I need a New Year’s kiss, though.’

  ‘You’ve still got the best part of three hours. I’m sure you can find someone as desperate as you. But it’s not the end of the world if you don’t, you know.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Theodore,’ I say, ‘how about you try to get to know these people? They’re friends with your friends, right? So you’ll probably have something in common with them. And they’re in your house, after all. Wouldn’t the night be much more memorable if you made a few new friends, rather than if you kiss a random you’ll probably never talk to again? Besides, you might even get your kiss if you show an actual interest in people.’

  ‘How do I do that?’

  ‘First, lose the cheesy pick-up lines. In the history of humanity, they’ve worked an average of never. Just go and introduce yourself to someone, ask who they came with and ask them about themselves. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘Okay.’ He heads off to talk to a tall brunette girl who looks a little lost. She has her phone out but her eyes keep wandering the room.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Elliot appears by my side. ‘And if your answer isn’t “this shot”, you’re doing it wrong.’ He hands me a shot glass filled with an amber liquid.

  ‘I’m watching Theodore
try to pick up,’ I answer.

  Elliot counts to three. We toss the shots back, my throat burns and I heave a little. Tequila is not my friend. My shot-taking experience is relatively limited and I struggle with tequila at the best of times, let alone without any salt and lemon or lime to wash it down.

  ‘Hah, with Sarah?’ says Elliot, unfazed by the shot. ‘No chan– wait, what?’

  He does a double-take as Teddy holds out his hand, the girl, Sarah, accepts it, and Theodore leads her to the dance floor. Admittedly the dance isn’t overly passionate, given the up-tempo music, but still – she’s giving Theodore the time of day.

  They dance around for a minute or two until Sarah sees her friends, squeals and races over to them, leaving Teddy alone. He wanders back towards us.

  ‘Bad luck, buddy,’ says Elliot, clapping Teddy on the back.

  ‘Your advice stinks, Janson,’ says Teddy, flicking his eyes at me. ‘That wasn’t fun at all.’

  ‘Hey, I got her to dance with you, didn’t I?’

  ‘True. Ah well, got to keep trying, I guess.’ He slides through the crowd in search of another eligible bachelorette.

  ‘He’s persistent, you have to give him that,’ says Elliot. ‘You know anyone who’s his type who we can set him up with?’ He sits on the couch, staring at Teddy.

  ‘I know plenty of people who are his type,’ I say, curling up on the couch next to Elliot, ‘on account of how his type is a) a female who b) has a pulse. And even then I think there’s some leeway.’ I rest my legs across Elliot’s lap and lean back on the arm of the couch. ‘The problem is I don’t know anybody whose type he fits. Besides, whatever happened to that one who gave him her number?’

  ‘Oh that was a fake number. It was pretty funny, actually. He tried to call her but got on to this middle-aged man who tried to hit on him.’

  ‘Charming.’

  ‘Yeah, Teddy said the guy offered him money to meet up. Sounds like a bit of a creep.’

  ‘That’s … um … interesting.’

  ‘I wonder how much money it would’ve taken for him to say yes.’

  While we think about whether he could be bought, Teddy tries to coax more girls to dance with him. It takes another four attempts before a girl agrees to join him on the dance floor. This one is shorter, maybe a few centimetres taller than me, and has blonde hair down to her collarbones. She wears a smile, too, which is unusual for a girl within an arm’s length of Teddy.

  Elliot grabs my ankles and moves my legs so he can stand up. He holds out his hand, which I take, and drags me over to the iPod dock, where he changes the music to a slow ballad. He spins me in by the hand, places his other hand on my waist and we move slowly between embracing couples over to where Teddy has pulled his partner in close for a ‘hug and sway’ style dance. Dancing in heels doesn’t faze me; I had to do it all the time for our performances.

  Even though this isn’t a particularly difficult or well-choreographed dance, I still get that little heart-flutter of excitement. My feet glide across the floorboards and I feel my worries about Mum and Dylan and uni all fade as the rhythm spreads through my body. Elliot is trying to move in time but each of his steps hits the floor a little after the beat. I try not to focus on it.

  We get as close as we can to Teddy and his partner without making it obvious that we’re eavesdropping, and copy Teddy’s dance style.

  ‘What did you say your name was, again?’ asks the girl, the inexplicable smile still plastered across her face.

  ‘Theodore C. Block,’ he says. ‘Or Teddy, if you’re comfortable having your world rocked.’

  ‘Oh Christ, is he serious?’ Elliot breathes into my ear.

  ‘What’s the “C.” for?’ asked the girl.

  ‘The sea? It’s for sailing boats and swimming,’ says Teddy.

  I try not to openly laugh at him. The girl giggles.

  ‘That’s adorable,’ she says with no trace of irony, ‘but seriously, what does it stand for?’

  ‘It stands for whatever you want it to. What’s your name, again?’

  ‘Christina.’

  ‘No, no, your last name.’ This is one of his tricks – by asking the question the way he does, he gets her full name without her thinking he just forgot. It’s remarkably clever in its own stupid way.

  ‘Oh. Rosenthal.’

  ‘Well, Christina Rosenthal … Is your phone number as pretty as your name?’

  She laughs and I gag. Then the song ends and Elliot and I break apart, laughing, while Christina and Teddy disappear.

  ‘I think I might actually be sick,’ I say. ‘Diagnosis: terminal grossedoutness.’

  ‘Is it contagious?’ asks Elliot, wiping his brow. ‘I think I’m also coming down with it.’

  With ten minutes to midnight, I go to pee and join the queue of five people waiting outside the bathroom door. I get out of the bathroom just in time for the ten-second countdown.

  Ten. Nine. Eight. I look around the room for Elliot but I can’t see him. Three. Two. One. The room explodes.

  ‘Happy New Year!’ choruses the group. Couples kiss passionately, friends happily peck each other and two guys who have been friends forever wrestle each other onto the ground and lick each other’s faces. Teddy and Christina kiss tenderly on the couch.

  I push open the sliding door and go outside. A few people are lying on the grass, others are sitting on the benches and some guys are running around shirtless. But still no Elliot.

  On a hunch I walk around to the side of the house and see his feet poking out from behind the recycling bin. He’s sitting against the wall, smoking a cigarette, which he only ever does when he’s upset.

  ‘Hey, you okay?’ I sit down next to him and flick off my shoes. It’s not easy to sit on the ground in heels. He wipes away a tear with his thumbnail, takes a deep drag and exhales.

  ‘Yeah. I just … I miss Nessie. I wanted to start the New Year with her but she’s in Scotland and will be for another month. It really sucks that she’s not here, you know?’

  I nod, but I don’t really know. I feel guilty because I’ve barely thought about Dylan all night.

  ‘I messaged her,’ he continues, ‘but it’s not the same as her being here. I just … I really miss her. This is the first year since I was twelve that I haven’t had a New Year’s kiss and it’s the first one I’ve had an actual girlfriend for.’

  I put my arm over his shoulders and pluck the cigarette from his fingers with my other hand. I stare at it for a moment and then, even though it’s only half-finished, I stub it out on the ground. ‘Okay, it’s a new year,’ I say. ‘No more smoking.’

  ‘I hardly ever smoke,’ says Elliot indignantly.

  ‘I know – but “hardly ever” is still too often. I’m sure Nessie would not approve.’

  ‘That is a good point,’ he says. He stares up at the sky. ‘I’m really lucky to have her. She’s just so … good to me. I mean, you are too, of course,’ he adds hurriedly, ‘but with her it’s different. You’re my best friend. Well, you and Theodore C. Block … so yeah, you’re my best friend.’

  I laugh.

  ‘And,’ he continues, ‘I’m really grateful that you are. But it’s different with Nessie.’

  ‘I know,’ I say softly. ‘She’s a lucky girl. Or sea creature. Or whatever she is. But I want you to talk to me when you’re upset. No more smoking. Promise?’

  He nods. ‘Promise.’

  We sit in silence for a while. The fence a few metres in front of us separates Teddy’s yard from the highway. As cars drive along the road, slivers of light from their headlights sneak through the gaps in the fencing where the planks have shifted across and begun to rot. I lean my head back against the wall and stare upward. The stars sparkle like glitter in the sky.

  ‘Have you spoken to Dylan tonight?’ Elliot says. ‘Why didn’t he come?’

  I breathe deeply. ‘Because he didn’t want to. He’s with his friends and he obviously didn’t want to be with me, ’cause he didn’t
even invite me to go with him.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’m not that bothered.’ At least, that’s what I tell Elliot. The truth is that I really am bothered. I always decide to give Dylan another chance, to make sure that these months we’ve been dating haven’t been for nothing. I make an effort – and then he throws it all straight back in my face. I bet he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. Maybe that warm, fuzzy feeling really isn’t coming back …

  ‘When’s the concert you got him tickets for?’ Elliot asks.

  ‘Australia Day weekend.’

  ‘Are you excited?’

  ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘What? Why not?’

  ‘He didn’t invite me. He asked Ava to go with him. I’m not jealous or anything. I mean, Ava’s been dying to see Hayden Calnin for ages. Plus they’ve known each other since they were three months old or something, so I doubt they intend to hook up. But it just stings, you know? Like nothing I do is good enough.’

  ‘You’re good enough for me,’ Elliot says. ‘You wouldn’t be my best friend if you weren’t. I love you, Jen. You know that, right?’

  ‘I know. I love you, too.’ I lean my head against his shoulder and put my arm around his waist. He slips his around my shoulder and hugs me in tight. It’s warm. Comforting.

  ‘Happy New Year, Elliot,’ I whisper.

  He smiles and hugs me even tighter.

  Chapter Six

  The thing about alcohol is that while it can be fun and relaxing, it’s a nightmare after sleeping it off. On New Year’s Day I wake up with one of those God-awful hangovers.

  My body tolerates alcohol about as well as dogs’ bodies tolerate chocolate because a) my mother doesn’t like me drinking so b) my body isn’t used to processing alcohol. My poor liver. And my poor head. It hurts.

  I crawl out of bed and find some clothes, which I drag behind me to the bathroom.