Coasting

by Ben Karwan

  ‘But everyone has a type,’ insists Christina.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Looks have never been overly important to me. The more I get to know somebody, the cuter I find them. Assuming I don’t begin to hate them, of course.’

  ‘So you don’t admire certain body types from afar? If you could build your dream guy with the perfect personality, what would he look like?’

  She’s persistent, that girl.

  ‘I guess,’ I say, ‘if I had to describe him …’ I pause, before speaking as quickly as I can. ‘Six feet tall, strong jawline, capable of pulling off an even stubble, born in nineteen-eighty, charismatic, Canadian-born, acting type. Believable in anything from romantic roles performing iconic rain-kissing scenes, to smooth-talking-womaniser roles picking people up with the Dirty Dancing move, to nineteen-forties-police-officer roles working to bring down a gangster.’

  There’s a pause. Teddy is clearly trying to figure out if I’m being serious or not.

  ‘Are you talking about Ryan Gosling?’ asks Christina.

  ‘No,’ I say, with an expression of mock surprise on my face. ‘Of course not.’ I make no effort to conceal the lie. I genuinely don’t have a serious answer to her question.

  ‘Have you heard from Nessie since you broke up?’ asks Sophie, mercifully shifting the focus away from my ‘dream guy’.

  ‘No,’ says Elliot.

  Maybe it’s selfish but I always like when people lie to others after telling me the truth. It makes me feel … trusted. Elliot probably just doesn’t want to talk about it but I like the feeling all the same.

  Once we finish our coffees, we browse the shops for a bit. Teddy buys a couple of movies and Elliot some new socks.

  ‘You guys up for bowling?’ asks Sophie as we leave the fifth consecutive store where we buy nothing.

  ‘I’m in,’ I say.

  ‘Me too,’ says Christina.

  The boys don’t get an opinion.

  The bowling alley is across the street from the shopping centre. As Teddy is the only one not wearing thongs, the rest of us borrow a pair of Elliot’s new socks so that the bowling shoes won’t be super-uncomfortable.

  The attendant places us in lane sixteen. Each of us grabs a ball from the rack and prepares for our game. I get us bottles of Fanta while Elliot keys in our names to the system – putting himself first – and the game is underway.

  On the fourth frame Sophie bowls a strike, and she’s more surprised than anybody.

  On the fifth frame, Teddy changes balls. He initially picked the heaviest one he could find, presumably to show off his strength, but it backfired badly when he almost toppled over every time he released the ball.

  ‘So tell me more about your trip,’ says Christina. ‘Any hot summer romances, flings, or one-night stands?’

  ‘Sadly, no,’ says Elliot.

  I stand up to bowl and score a lucky spare.

  ‘Probably the biggest let-down of the trip – no loving,’ I say sarcastically. ‘Opposites attract, or so the scientists tell me, so where were all the hot people swooning all over me?’

  ‘The clear logic here is that you’re the hot one,’ says Teddy.

  The girls and Elliot laugh – I hope at Teddy’s flirtation, because laughing at the implication is borderline offensive.

  ‘Dude,’ I say, shaking my head.

  ‘That was smooth,’ says Christina, and she climbs off his lap for her turn to bowl.

  I’m well aware the compliment only came because Teddy likes to prove himself to be a connoisseur of pick-up lines, but I smile a little. It somehow seems less forced than what he usually comes up with.

  We paid for two games, so after Teddy wins the first, Elliot, Sophie and I all immediately prepare for the second but Christina jumps at her boyfriend and blurs the line between making out and intercourse.

  Elliot throws his empty Fanta bottle at them and says, ‘Enough with the PDA.’

  They break apart and flip Elliot off in perfect sync. After one last peck, they return to their relatively tame position of lap-sitting. I thank the heavens for the (presumably) four layers of clothing between them – underwear, shorts, skirt, underwear – because anything could happen without the material barrier.

  Somehow, I score one hundred and sixty-three in the second game, courtesy of a few lucky strikes, and I win comfortably. Teddy comes last, earning himself a sympathy saliva-coating. Two Mountain Dew bottles strike him and Christina simultaneously.

  The foyer of the bowling alley has a bunch of arcade games. We all battle it out in a virtual racing game and I become exceptionally glad that Teddy hadn’t driven to Queensland. He can’t even work out gear changes on a simulated car that’s programmed not to stall.

  Christina isn’t much better, so the pair of them race against each other while Sophie, Elliot and I explore the other games. I beat Elliot at air hockey, Sophie beats me at a shoot-’em-up game and Elliot crucifies me at Dance Dance Revolution.

  ‘Suck on that, Janson. Remind me: of the two of us, who is the trained dancer?’

  I punch him in the arm and announce that I’m ready to leave. Sophie and Elliot agree, but the lovesick puppies are hooking up on one of the racing consoles.

  ‘Ditch ’em?’ Elliot suggests.

  So we leave the arcade to wait outside for them to realise we’ve left. No word of a lie, it takes a full twenty minutes before Elliot’s phone rings, with Teddy asking where we are.

  They only realised we ditched them when an employee asked them to move so others could use the game.

  ‘You guys are pathetic,’ I say when they walk through the door. ‘Twenty minutes. Really?’

  ‘We’re expressing our affection in a perfectly natural way,’ says Teddy. ‘No need to be jealous.’

  After arriving home, I pull out my phone and tap on Marjolijn’s name. I shut my bedroom door and lie on my bed while it rings.

  ‘Jennifer!’ she answers in a cheerful tone. ‘So wonderful to hear from you, mijn engeltje. Did you return home safely?’

  ‘Yeah, we got back yesterday. It was a tiring drive. How’s the show going?’

  ‘Very well, thank you. All is going to plan and there have been no dramas.’

  ‘When are you coming down to Melbourne?’

  ‘Tomorrow. We have our last show here tonight, then a break for a week, and then we begin performing in Melbourne.’

  ‘Would you like to come around and have dinner one night before the show starts? My friend – the one you spoke to on the phone – would love to meet you and I think my family would, too.’

  ‘Jennifer, that would be spectacular.’

  I give her my address and we make plans for Friday night.

  After I hang up I realise I probably should’ve run that by my parents first.

  Mum’s reading a medical journal on the lounge when I ask her. She peers at me with a raised eyebrow. ‘You want me to allow an immigrant into this house?’

  I certainly hadn’t expected that response.

  Before I can say anything, she begins to laugh. ‘I’m kidding. Of course she can join us for dinner. Your father and I would love to meet her.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The next two days go by excruciatingly slowly. I have work, though we aren’t very busy, I finish three books and I let Elliot through the flyscreen twice. He seems a lot happier and freer compared to before we left, though I hadn’t really considered him to be sad before.

  Ever since I got home, Aaron has seemed very reserved. Most of his sentences have fewer than six words and he doesn’t speak unless absolutely necessary.

  After dinner, he goes up to his bedroom almost immediately.

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him,’ Mum mumbles to Dad. ‘It’s like when Jen went through her moody phase.’

  ‘Hello,’ I say loudly. ‘I’m right here.’

  Her face tells me she hadn’t expected me to be able to hear her.

  And for the record, I didn’t have a �
�moody phase’. I did, however, go through a period where I had nothing worth saying so I stayed quiet. But regardless of my emotional state as a fifteen-year-old, I’m kind of worried about Aaron.

  I wash the dishes, Dad dries them and Mum puts them away. We have a dishwasher but Mum thinks it wastes too much water, so we usually have to do it by hand.

  The soapy water drains down the sink and I head upstairs and knock on Aaron’s bedroom door.

  ‘What?’ comes the irritable response.

  I open the door slightly. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Free country.’

  I step through the door and gently close it behind me. Aaron is sitting on his bed with his iPod but only the left earphone is in his ear. I sit myself at his desk and swivel the chair to face him. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Fine,’ he says without looking at me.

  I stare at him for a bit. ‘You know you have the same genes as me, right? The ones that determine whether or not you’re a good liar? Spoiler alert, but just like me, you’re not a good one.’

  He tugs the earphone from his ear and it falls onto the bed. ‘It’s nothing, okay? I’m just being stupid.’

  I don’t say anything for a while. ‘You know I used to be your age, right? You can talk to me.’

  ‘Please don’t try to parent me.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, holding my hands up in surrender. ‘I’m just worried about you.’

  He smiles a little but then corrects himself straightaway. I remember doing that – thinking that when you’re in a bad mood you have no right to smile or show any sign of happiness.

  If he truly didn’t want to talk to me he’d tell me to leave, so I stay at his desk. I pick up the copy of Romeo and Juliet he used for his homework and flick through it for a bit.

  ‘It’s just …’ he begins, my patience paying off, ‘I feel stupid even admitting it …’

  ‘Everything said stays in here, all right?’

  ‘Thanks.’ He pauses for a while longer but I still don’t prompt him. ‘It’s … I’m supposed to be hanging out with some guys from school tomorrow. I don’t really want to go. I feel like everyone’s watching me or something.’

  I remember the feeling. ‘Like everything you do is up for scrutiny? You have to please everyone and any mistakes you make will be judged?’

  ‘I … exactly,’ he said. ‘The guys all want to talk about sports and cars and girls they hooked up with. I don’t really care about that stuff.’

  ‘So you feel like an outsider?’

  He swings his legs over the side of the bed and rests his feet on the floor. ‘Yeah. I get asked if I’m gay a lot.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, what does it matter? a) You aren’t lying and b) “gay” isn’t an insult.’

  ‘I know, but … How did you get through it?’

  I pause and try to think how to phrase it. ‘It wasn’t an overnight change,’ I say, ‘but I spent a lot of time thinking about myself. What I was doing, how I appeared, how I behaved, the impression I gave off. Does that sound like you?’

  He nods.

  ‘Eventually I figured that everybody else was thinking about themselves just as much as I was thinking about myself. If they were devoting that much attention to themselves they simply wouldn’t have had time to think about me.’

  ‘I … that makes a disturbing amount of sense.’

  ‘Got to be good for something, don’t I?’ I say with a smirk, and he tries to restrain another smile. ‘Oh and another thing,’ I add. ‘Just because you’re in a bad mood doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to smile.’

  I’m not sure if he stops inhibiting himself or can’t help it, but he lets out a full smile. ‘I’m glad you’re my sister,’ he says quietly. ‘And I’m glad you’re home.’

  ‘I’m glad, too.’

  I leave him in his room. I feel all fuzzy from making him smile. I kind of wish I’d had a big brother or sister who I could’ve talked to about this stuff. I hope I can be that person for Aaron.

  As it turns out, Mum has to cover for another doctor on Friday night so she isn’t going to be home when Marjolijn comes for dinner. I invite Sophie, Elliot and Teddy to join us, and tell them to come any time between six and seven. Inviting Sophie is a bold move but I want her to come, regardless of how Mum might react.

  In the end it doesn’t matter what Mum would think, because Sophie rings me in the morning to say she can’t make it – Luke has a fever so she needs to look after him. The boys both rock up around three, citing boredom as an excuse. Dad knocks off work early and arrives home at about four. He takes a quick shower and then starts cooking a roast. I offer to help, but Dad says he’s happy to do it. Besides, I figure it’s probably a better idea to serve food that’s edible, which automatically eliminates anything I cook.

  To kill some time I challenge Elliot, Teddy and Aaron to a game of Monopoly.

  ‘What time is she getting here?’ asks Teddy for about the four hundredth time, moving his counter a few squares forward.

  ‘Six- or seven-ish. Stop asking,’ says Elliot.

  ‘Also, I’d appreciate it if you kept the fanboying to a minimum,’ I add, rolling the dice. ‘She’s a human, so please treat her like one.’

  I collect two hundred dollars for passing Go.

  ‘Roll again, you got doubles,’ says Aaron, sliding the dice back towards me.

  ‘Marjolijn,’ says Teddy slowly. ‘Marjolijn. Am I saying it right?’

  I’m beginning to regret inviting him.

  ‘Just promise you won’t try to speak Dutch, because you barely speak English,’ says Elliot. Teddy looks slightly resentful, so Elliot adds, ‘You mispronounce more words than you get right.’

  ‘Give me one example,’ he demands.

  ‘ “Aks” instead of “ask”, ’ says Elliot.

  ‘ “Dialate” instead of “dilate”, ’ I say.

  ‘ “Expresso” instead of “espresso”. ’

  ‘ “Irregardless” instead of “regardless”. ’

  ‘ “Lieberry” instead of “library”, ’ says Elliot.

  ‘ “Basketti” instead of “spaghetti.” ’

  ‘Okay, I get it,’ says Teddy. ‘And I asked for one example. I’ve also never said “basketti” in my life.’

  I shrug.

  ‘Also, since when is “irregardless” not a word?’

  ‘The prefix “ir-” means “not”. The suffix “-less” means “without”. It’s a double negative and therefore a) entirely redundant and b) means the opposite of how people use it.’

  ‘Oh just roll the dice, Jen,’ says Aaron. ‘Nobody cares.’

  The game gets down to just me and Elliot, because the other two go bankrupt. The competitive sides of us both emerge and we take our turns as quickly as we can, money exchanging hands regularly.

  I’m on the space before Go to Jail and roll double fives, moving me to Mayfair. Where there is an Elliot-owned hotel.

  ‘Two thousand dollars for one night in the luxury suite of Carter Enterprise. We appreciate your business and sincerely hope you enjoy your stay.’

  Mayfair, the bane of my existence. It always ruins the game for me when someone goes bankrupt on Mayfair.

  A mere five minutes after we pack up the game, the doorbell rings.

  ‘Oh God, oh God, she’s here. Do I look okay?’ says Teddy, trying to pat down his hair and straighten his shirt.

  ‘Jesus, dude, relax,’ I say and answer the door.

  Marjolijn hugs me and I lead her into the living room.

  ‘This is my brother, Aaron.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she says and shakes his hand. ‘Family resemblance is definitely present.’

  ‘I trust you remember Elliot –’ he waves ‘– and this guy who is apparently a statue is Teddy, the fanboy you spoke to on the phone.’

  Teddy stands staring, awestruck, until Elliot jabs him in the ribs.

  ‘I … Teddy … Marjolijn …
pleased … Wow.’

  ‘He’s a linguistic mastermind,’ I say.

  Marjolijn glides over and hugs him. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,’ she says.

  Teddy’s face turns scarlet.

  ‘Dad, this is Marjolijn,’ I say, entering the kitchen. Dad has a tea towel draped over his shoulder and wears an apron. ‘Marjolijn, this is my dad.’

  ‘Please, call me Mark,’ says my dad, offering his hand. Marjolijn clasps it and bumps her cheek into his. ‘Oh friendly,’ he adds.

  ‘Dad, just stop,’ I sigh.

  ‘So, Marjolijn,’ says my dad through a mouthful of lamb. He swallows. ‘Jennifer tells me you’re from the Netherlands.’

  ‘Yes, I am. I have been in Australia only for a few weeks.’

  ‘How long are you here for? Are you enjoying yourself?’

  ‘I met these two –’ she gestures towards Elliot and me ‘– in Byron Bay, where I caught up with some old friends. I have just come from Sydney and after Melbourne I am heading to Adelaide, then Perth, then Brisbane, so I am in Australia for about two more months. I love the Netherlands but Australia is something special. People are, in general, very friendly.’ She glances at me and I know she’s remembering Byron Bay.

  Stupidly I sat Teddy opposite Marjolijn, and he hardly touches his meal. He’s too busy staring at her. I throw a roast potato at him, which bounces off his cheek and onto his plate. He doesn’t even flinch.

  ‘Jen, table manners, please.’

  Aaron asks Marjolijn if she’s had any language difficulties and compliments her singing, based on the YouTube videos he watched.

  ‘Aaron,’ scolds Dad. ‘You shouldn’t be watching bootlegs. It breaches copyright law and nobody gets the money they’re entitled to.’

  ‘Oh please, it is not a concern for me,’ says Marjolijn. ‘I do not mind bootleg recordings. It allows us to reach a wider audience and bring in new fans. I doubt I would’ve reached an Australian audience without them.’

  ‘Dad’s a lawyer,’ I say, hoping that would explain his legal position.

  Dad doesn’t say anything more about copyright law. ‘Is your meal okay?’

  ‘Very well cooked, Mark. I am impressed. I cannot get gravy to be without lumps.’