Coasting

by Ben Karwan

  ‘No matter,’ she says with another slight grin. ‘I had only one song remaining.’

  A few of the other customers stop on their way past our table to make sure I’m okay. One couple says that those guys are well-known troublemakers in the area and that it was good to see somebody stand up to them.

  I’m very relieved when Marjolijn changes the conversation topic to our trip. I let Elliot do most of the talking. He tells her how we came to be in Byron Bay, from leaving Melbourne, to Nessie, to here. Marjolijn is extremely interested in how Nessie got her nickname.

  ‘That is adorable,’ she says after Elliot tells the story. ‘If you do not mind me asking, how did you come to be dating her?’

  ‘We met when we were little. Maybe four? We went to the same day-care centre. Obviously we didn’t stay in contact, because day-care friendships rarely last, but early last year we were both at the same party. She thought she recognised me, so she Facebook-stalked the entire invitation list on her phone until she found my profile.’

  ‘Kind of creepy,’ I add.

  ‘Kind of creepy,’ he agrees, ‘but also kind of sweet. She came over and introduced herself and I thought she was really cool, so we hung out for pretty much the whole night. Admittedly alcohol can be a remarkable catalyst, but I had this wave of confidence and when she returned from getting another drink, I just walked up and kissed her. And then we dated until, well, three days ago.’

  I knew they had met at a party but I didn’t know the whole day-care aspect, or the ‘I’m going to go and kiss this girl I just met’ part.

  ‘That is so cute,’ says Marjolijn. ‘What about you, Jennifer? Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t.’

  ‘You will find someone.’

  I just smile and drink some more. I’m not too fussed about it right now. ‘What about you?’

  She angles her head down a little. ‘I am recently divorced.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, not sure how to respond. I glance at Elliot. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No matter. He was a pig,’ she says dismissively, waving her hand around.

  I laugh. I like Marjolijn.

  Elliot stifles a yawn.

  ‘Oh my, I do apologise if you are remaining here for my benefit,’ says Marjolijn. ‘It is getting late so please, head on home. I will, however, insist you take these.’ She hands me a card with her phone number on it and two tickets to see a performance of Next to Normal in Sydney.

  ‘We can’t accept these,’ I say.

  ‘Nonsense. But if it helps you to accept them, know that I did not pay for them,’ she says, smiling. ‘I am only an understudy –’ she says as though it isn’t a huge achievement – ‘but I will be performing on Monday, as the lead has prior commitments. I would love for you both to come as my guests.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  I don’t realise how drunk I am until I stumble back into our room. I drank less than Elliot but I’m the only one steadying myself as we walk. I can’t be bothered finding pyjamas, so I climb under the sheets in my clothes.

  The bed is ridiculously uncomfortable. Springs poke into all areas of my torso through the thin mattress.

  I think Elliot tries to talk to me when he gets into bed but my eyelids are too heavy to hold up so I let them close and I fall asleep.

  The next morning I remember exactly why I swore off alcohol. I have a killer headache, probably from the drinking, and an aching back, probably from the mattress. Elliot is still sleeping and he has this little half-smile on his face. I wonder what he’s dreaming about.

  I swallow a couple of paracetamol tablets for my headache, take a shower and pull on a clean lot of clothes. Deciding to be nice for a change, I check that all of our stuff is in our bags and set them both at the door.

  I’m getting sick of waiting for Elliot to wake up, so I lob one of the couch cushions at his head. He stirs a little but still sleeps.

  Taking a new tactic, I sit next to him on the bed and trace his collarbone lightly with my finger.

  That gets him. He groans a little and says, ‘Good morning, gorgeous.’

  ‘Are you flirting with me?’

  ‘With you?’ he says, sitting up. ‘I don’t have a death wish.’

  ‘Whatever, smart-arse. Get up. I’m ready to go.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he says with a salute. He pulls on a tank top and a pair of shorts and ten minutes later we’ve checked out and hit the road again.

  ‘I can’t believe we scored free tickets to see Next to Normal,’ says Elliot. ‘Theo is going to be so jealous.’

  ‘Theo?’ I say. Teddy has a great number of nicknames but I’ve never heard him called Theo.

  ‘I was going to say Theodore C. Block, but I decided halfway through that I couldn’t be bothered.’

  ‘That worked out well for you. Anyway, it could be fun staying in Sydney for a while.’

  ‘Damn straight.’

  There’s a moment of silence and I know exactly what he’s about to bring up. ‘I can’t believe you attacked those guys last night!’

  ‘I didn’t attack anybody,’ I say. ‘I was defending myself, Marjolijn and every other person they had a problem with.’

  ‘Out of curiosity, why did you say anything? I mean, those bogans were feral. God only knows what they could’ve done. The guy who stood over you looked ready to hit you.’

  I don’t answer him for a while. Why did I intervene? ‘I don’t know. I guess … Well, she didn’t deserve it. All Marjolijn did wrong was be female and foreign – meaning that she did nothing wrong at all. It seemed better that they attack me for trying to stop their bigotry than they attack her for her existence. At least I was doing something. I just … I don’t know … I couldn’t justify letting it happen. People shouldn’t force their own beliefs and values on others.’ I fiddle with the crucifix necklace around my neck and think of home. Of the different values Mum and I have.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt this soliloquy –’

  ‘Monologue.’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt this monologue, but aren’t you forcing your own views of equality on others? I’m not saying your views are wrong but isn’t it a contradiction?’

  ‘Maybe. But I think people are entitled to their own views only if their views don’t restrict anybody else’s freedom. It’s the discrimination I have a problem with. If one person has the right to something, why doesn’t everyone else?’

  ‘Why don’t you give yourself those same rights?’ Elliot’s voice is sharp and direct. He’s serious.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You just said everyone deserves the same rights, correct?’

  ‘Correct.’ I look over at him. He’s looking ahead, his eyes on the road. ‘What’s your point?’ I add.

  ‘Most people get to choose their own careers. Their own religion. Their own personality. They get to live their own lives. But you sacrifice what you want so that you can make everyone else happy. You let everybody else dictate how you behave. Why is that? You’ve got to live for yourself.’

  ‘What about this trip? Or being friends with you? And Sophie? My mum doesn’t like her but I’m friends with her anyway.’

  ‘Okay,’ Elliot says, ‘but we came on this trip because you wanted to make me happy. If Nessie hadn’t been in Queensland, it wouldn’t have happened. I like you, Jen. You’re amazing. But I only get staccato glimpses of who you are.’

  I don’t say anything for a while. I thought Elliot knew me well. He definitely knows me better than anyone else does. But is he only seeing glimpses of me through smokescreens? Blocking him out was never my intention.

  ‘I guess …’ I begin with no idea where the sentence is going. Pause. Take two. ‘I guess I just thought if I could keep everyone happy then … well, not that the world would be a better place or anything dramatic like that, but maybe that life would be easier for everybody. For everybody around me, anyway.’

  Elliot remains silent, considering my words. We’re back on the rural h
ighways, headed south. Sydney is about a nine-hour drive, so we plan to do it in two legs, stopping over in Forster. We want to get the majority of the trip done in one day.

  Perhaps five minutes pass before he speaks again. ‘What about your happiness, though?’

  ‘I don’t know, Elliot,’ I say, sighing. ‘I didn’t realise I was sacrificing myself. I’m just trying to do the right thing.’

  ‘You can’t go through your life like this, letting everybody else decide who you are. You have been given one face – your lips, your eyes, your cheeks. That face is given to you. But the exciting thing about life is that you get to make another one – the Face of Jen. The face of the true you. I’m pretty sure most people couldn’t give a toss if your eyes are proportionately spaced or your cheekbones are well-defined. People want to know you, Jen. Not who your mum or anyone else wants you to be. “To thine own self be true / And it must follow, as the night the day / Thou canst not then be false to any man.” ’

  ‘You read Hamlet?’ I ask, completely thrown by the reference.

  ‘Of course I did. Understood it and everything. Well, mostly. Did you think I was just going to throw away my birthday present?’

  I’m really touched. I got him that book mostly as a joke – I didn’t think he’d actually read it.

  ‘I thought thinking like that made me selfish,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t be stupid. It’s more selfish to manipulate your personality to please others, because then you’re lying.’

  I realise my hand is, again, on my necklace. I look at the roof of the car. Is there a God looking over me? It’s comforting to think there is. But now I’m not sure if I want to believe because I like the idea of God or because I like the idea of Mum being happy with me.

  ‘Do you believe in God?’ I ask Elliot.

  ‘I don’t think so. The whole premise just seems a little too … convenient for me. But I don’t have a problem with people who do.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘There’s a lot you don’t know today.’

  Elliot drives all the way to Forster. I offer to take the wheel at least three times, including when we stop for food, but he insists it’s fine. To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed he won’t let me drive because I’d like the distraction. But I don’t say anything.

  Instead, I spend most of the trip thinking about what Elliot said. About not really knowing who I am. If anybody on this planet knows me, it would be Elliot. And with absolutely no hesitation I’d have said he knew me completely.

  Have I totally misread our relationship? For years I’ve considered him to be my best friend, but if he feels like he doesn’t even know me, how can that be true?

  The remainder of the drive is filled with laughter, reminiscing and incredibly loud off-key singing. On the outside, things are normal. But I still feel the haze of smoke that surrounds me. I’m a mere metre away from Elliot, but I may as well be on Saturn.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Our room in Forster is significantly nicer than the one in Byron Bay. For one, it has an actual bed. On the downside, it smells vaguely of grandparents and op-shops. Again, we decide not to bother unpacking for a one-night stay, so we dump our bags on the floor.

  With a book in my hand, we head down to the beach. It’s nearly forty degrees and it takes almost five minutes to find a spot on the sand to fit two towels side by side. We put on our sunscreen and I begin to read.

  After a while, Elliot grabs my hand and leads me into the water. I don’t particularly want to swim but I let him guide me in anyway.

  The water gets deep surprisingly quickly and, given my short stature, I struggle to keep my chin above the water when it only reaches Elliot’s nipples.

  ‘Piggyback?’ he suggests.

  So I jump on and let him pull me around.

  It dawns on me that although I didn’t want to swim, I’m doing it anyway.

  ‘Is this the kind of thing you were talking about?’ I ask.

  ‘Huh? Wait, hang on.’ A wave comes crashing towards us. Elliot jumps with the water’s movement to keep our heads above the surface.

  ‘In the car, before … This is the kind of thing you mean, isn’t it?’ I tell him about how I hadn’t really wanted to go for a swim.

  ‘Jen, don’t overthink it. I didn’t mean anything by it. There’s nothing wrong with who you are. I just thought that maybe you could try being honest with people about what you want. Put yourself first for a change.’

  But I have tried to put myself first – I changed my uni preferences. True, I’m far too scared to tell Mum, and I’m not entirely sure I’ll have the guts to accept an offer if I get one because that would mean definitely telling Mum … But at least I did it, right?

  My mouth opens to tell Elliot this but I cop a mouthful of water instead. Elliot crumples beneath me and I fall off his back.

  ‘Ah, crap,’ he says. His face is curled into a wince.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I say, immediately concerned.

  ‘I rolled my frickin ankle.’

  Despite his objections, I make him accompany me back to our towels where I look at his ankle.

  ‘Jen, seriously, it’s fine. We were in deep water, so it didn’t take any weight. I’m not even limping. It just hurt when it happened, that’s all.’

  ‘Swear you’re okay?’

  ‘On my life. But I can’t be bothered moving anymore.’

  So we lie in the sun to dry ourselves off. I manage to squeeze in two more chapters of my book. But I’ll have to re-read those chapters because my mind is too preoccupied. I didn’t mean anything by it. Should I be offended that Elliot thinks I’m not honest? Does he really feel like he doesn’t know me?

  It has too strong a resonance for it to have meant nothing.

  ‘I’m going to head out for a bit. I need some fresh air,’ says Elliot. We’ve just finished dinner and I’m half-thinking about putting a movie on.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ I say, standing up from the couch.

  ‘Actually,’ he says, shuffling his feet, ‘I’d rather go alone.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ he says quickly, after he sees my face. ‘Please don’t be offended. It’s not that I don’t want to be around you. It’s nothing you’ve done, I just need to be with me for a while. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay. Come here, give me a hug,’ he says, holding open his arms. He holds me for a little longer than is necessary. ‘I’ll be back in an hour.’

  The door clicks as he closes it behind him.

  Of course, I can relate to needing alone time. Everyone needs alone time. There’s no logical reason for me to think he has any other motives for leaving me but, after our talk this morning, I wonder if Elliot really does see me as his best friend. Tears well in my eyes. I know, I know, he said he isn’t avoiding me. He said it isn’t because of me. But it still feels like it is.

  My emotions lead me to my phone. I plug it into Elliot’s charger and dial my dad’s number. He answers on the third ring.

  ‘Hey Princess, how’s the holiday?’

  ‘Hi Dad.’ I pause for a moment. My first instinct is to talk to him when I’m upset but now that I’ve called him I don’t really want to. It’ll only make him worry. Or maybe he’ll make me come home … So I pretend nothing happened. ‘It’s pretty good.’ I give him a brief rundown of where we’ve been, the Nessie situation and how Teddy and Sophie got home – though I let him believe they paid for it themselves. I tell him about Marjolijn, too – but I omit the part where my temper got the best of me.

  ‘Sounds like you’re having an eventful time. Your mother and I miss you a lot, Princess. Aaron does too, though he certainly won’t admit it.’

  ‘I miss you too, Dad. Has anything interesting happened at home?’

  ‘Nothing spectacular. Your mother’s at work and Aaron’s playing video games.’

  There’s a brief pause. ‘Da
d … I just wanted to say thank you.’

  ‘You’re most welcome,’ he says, ‘but why are you thanking me?’

  ‘Just … For everything. For being so understanding, for letting me be crazy, for talking Mum into letting me go on this trip …’

  ‘That’s called being a father, sweetie. You don’t need to thank me. I’ll always be around for that. I’ll always be around to embarrass you, too, so don’t worry about that, either. God, I can’t wait for your twenty-first … I’m super-proud of you, Princess.’

  The tears begin to well again. ‘I love you, Dad.’

  ‘I love you too. See you when you get home.’

  I hang up the phone and listen to the silence in the room. Usually I find silence soothing but right now I can’t stand being alone with my thoughts any longer, so I decide to distract myself with some fictional problems. The hotel gave us a hard drive with a bunch of movies loaded onto it, so I plug it into the TV, collapse onto the couch and click on a romantic comedy. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know is darkness. The sheets from the bed have been draped over me and Elliot sleeps on the bed, with no covers.

  I put the sheets back on the bed, hoping not to wake Elliot. The clock reads two thirty-four. I was asleep for hours.

  I still feel down and not even remotely tired, so I go outside for some air.

  The door closes a lot more loudly than I intend. I freeze, hoping I haven’t woken Elliot, but when I hear no signs of movement I head to the side of the road and sit in the gutter.

  It’s much cooler than it was during the day but it’s still not cold. I pick up a stick and snap it in half.

  Just as I’m starting to feel a bit chilly, I hear Elliot call out.

  ‘Jen? What are you doing?’ He doesn’t seem mad or anything but I don’t answer him. He sits on the curb next to me. ‘Why are you sitting out here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I answer truthfully. ‘It just seemed right.’

  ‘I almost had a heart attack when I woke and saw you weren’t in the room.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Are you okay?’