Just maybe.
We’ve been out for a few meals and to the movies a couple of times, but this will be the first time we’ve spent an entire day together. I’m surprised by how relaxed I feel.
“In the back,” Albert says.
“Sorry?”
“There’s a green bag behind my chair. Can you reach it?”
I pull my seat belt to the side and crane my arm, my hand connecting with a canvas backpack. It’s stuck on something but I give it a few tugs and it finally comes free. I notice another bag behind it that looks familiar.
“What’s in the other bag?”
“Other bag?” His voice is all mock innocence.
“Yes, other bag. The blue and white one. It looks familiar.”
“You’ll see.”
“Another surprise.”
“More like a component of the first surprise.” He risks a look at me. “Don’t worry, you don’t have long to wait. Open it.” He gestures with his eyes towards the green bag that I now have in my lap.
I unzip it and immediately an amazing smell is released. “Ohh,” I moan. “I know that smell.”
He beams, proud of himself. “You might have mentioned once or twice how much you need coffee in the morning in order to function, so I took the liberty of preparing a thermos. Least I could do to say sorry for dragging you out of bed so early.”
I say nothing, because I’m feeling all sorts of weird and soppy emotions that he’s done this for me, and reach into the bag to pull out a silver thermos.
“I hope it’s ok,” he says, sounding worried. “I don’t drink a lot of coffee myself so I just went for the brand that cost the most.”
I unscrew the lid and inhale the released steam deeply to buy myself some time. It is rich and dark and exotic, and I swear my mouth starts watering. “Cups?”
“In the bag.”
I find two plastic travel mugs. Underneath them is a brown paper bag. It rustles when I touch it.
“Oh yes.” Albert flicks his eyes sideways for a second. “There’s a couple of pastries as well. The French are a big fan of pastries in the morning.”
“You’re not French.”
“Maybe not by birth, no. But I have that certain va va voom allure that only the French have mastered. Don’t say you haven’t noticed.”
I snort. “I’m sorry, but you’re about as alluring as my jandal.”
“Ouch,” he winces.
“I mean that nicely.”
“I fail to see how, but ok.”
I pour coffee into one of the mugs and pass it to him, then fill the other one and hold it awkwardly between my knees while I screw the lid of the thermos back on. The car swerves to the left sharply and I nearly drop it.
“Hey,” I protest.
“Sorry. Pothole.”
I watch as he takes a tentative sip from his cup and screws up his face.
“You don’t like it?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t say it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, no.”
“I’m not sure we can be friends.”
“How about if I let you have all the coffee and I have most of the pastries?”
“I’d say you have a deal.”
Kicking off my jandals, I lift my legs up to rest my feet on the open car window frame. The wind tickles my toes as Albert cruises down a winding road. Its years since I’ve been anywhere beyond town limits, and it’s not until we pass a big green sign that I realise where we are headed.
“We’re going to the beach?”
He smiles playfully. “Yes, Miss Impatient. We’re going to the beach.”
“Oh.” I digest the news. Then a thought occurs to me. “But I don’t have anything, togs or sunscreen etc.”
“Ah see, that’s where the mystery of the other bag gets solved.”
I twist to look at it again. No wonder it looked so familiar, it is my mother’s bag. I give him a questioning look.
“I got your mum’s number off Kyle. Called and asked her to pack a few things. She was more than happy to oblige. Said, and I quote, “I’m glad Maddy is finally having a social life.”
I cringe. We carry on in silence for a few minutes.
“You’re not upset are you?”
He sounds worried.
“No, not at all.” I can’t explain to him what I’m feeling, because I’m not sure myself. “I haven’t been to the beach since I was a kid.”
He does a double take and reaches to turn the stereo down a fraction. “You’re kidding right. It’s only a forty minute drive; it’s practically on our doorstep. I’m there every chance I get in summer.”
“Bee doesn’t like the beach.” I shrug. “After she was born we stopped coming.”
“She doesn’t like to swim?”
“No she loves swimming. Proper little dolphin in the water, although a polar bear is probably more of a fitting description. It’s the sand she can’t stand, along with grass and dirt. It’s a sensory thing.”
“I think it’s great that you help your mum look after her. A lot of people our age wouldn’t be so selfless.”
“It’s not selfless, she’s my sister. We’re family.” I say it as if it explains everything, and to me it does.
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Living with someone like her.”
“Someone with autism?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a big question.” I try and think about how I can answer him. “It’s hard, sometimes. And then other times it’s not. We have good days, and bad days, just like anybody. It’s just a different kind of bad. We’re limited in what we can do and where we can go. So many places she doesn’t like because of crowds, or flashing lights, or noise. Anything can upset her and she can’t tell us why. I think that’s the hardest part. Not being able to understand what’s going on in her head. I’d love to know what she’s thinking. It does make me sad when I think about how I’ll never be able to have a conversation with my own sister. Little things that others take for granted.”
“I’ve never had a conversation with my brother either, but that’s just because we have nothing in common. And he’s a bit of a dick.”
“You might not get on with him but at least he has a regular life. I’ll never see Bee walk down the aisle, or hold her own baby. She’ll always need full time care, like an eternal toddler.” A tear makes its way down my cheek and I wipe it away quickly before he can notice. I hate thinking about the future my sister should have had but never will.
“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to trivialise your situation.”
“I know.”
“Do you ever wish she was, you know, normal?”
I shrug. “What’s normal?”
“Not autistic, I suppose.”
“Who’s to say they’re not the normal ones and it’s the rest of us with variations of dysfunction.”
“I never thought about it like that.”
“I’m kidding.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “I’m well aware Bee is not what people consider ‘normal’. But to me she’s just the way she’s always been and the way she was obviously meant to be. If that’s not the definition of normal, what is?”
“We’re all different.”
“Exactly.”
“Differently normal.”
I smile at him. “That’s perfect.”
“I can’t take all the credit. I read it somewhere.”
“Sorry if I sounded defensive before. I know every family has differing degrees of dysfunction, I do. It’s just most people don’t understand that autism isn’t something you can just train out of someone. There are varying levels of functionality, but unless you live with someone with autism it’s hard to understand how each one works. They’re all different, just like you and I. Anyway.” I clear my throat. “There’s no point dwelling on it. It is what it is.”
“I’m sorry if I upset you,” he says quietly.
“You didn’t.” I reassure him.
We carry on in silence for a few minutes. I know his intentions were good, and he hasn’t upset me, not really. I like that he asks me questions about Bee instead of acting like she doesn’t exist like some people do, or worse, like she’s some inanimate object in the corner of the room that can be ignored.
I’m trying to think of something to say to break the awkwardness that’s now between us when we both hear it.
Woop woop
I look in my side mirror and see the blue and red flashing lights of a police car indicating for us to pull over.
“Were you speeding?” I ask Albert as he pulls onto the gravel shoulder and cuts the engine.
“No.”
His face and voice have tensed up.
“It’s probably just a random breath test,” I say to reassure him, but he doesn’t answer.
We listen to the crunch of gravel as the policeman does a slow circuit around the car, looking for what I’m not sure, before he stops beside Albert’s window and leans down, lifting his sunglasses off his face.
“You got any idea why I pulled you over?” he asks sternly.
“No dad,” says Albert. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Damn straight. Who said you could borrow my car?”
“Mum did.”
“Last time I checked it’s my name on the registration papers.”
Albert stares straight ahead, his jaw clenched. He hasn’t really talked about his family much, just the basics. Now I’m guessing why. I can see a vague similarity about them, in the shape of the eyes and nose.
“Fine. Is it ok if I borrow the car, dad?”
The last word is loaded with tension.
“It’s a bit late asking me now isn’t it?”
“Do you want me to beg?” Albert snaps, finally twisting his head to glare at his father. “If you’re trying to embarrass me then congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”
“Embarrass you?” His father pretends to notice me for the first time. “Well, well, so it’s true. You do have a new lady friend.”
“Dad, this is Maddy. Maddy, meet my father, Colin.”
“Morning Sir,” I say.
“Sir? Listen to those manners. You could learn something from that Albert.”
I notice his father doesn’t use the French pronunciation.
“No offence,” Colin carries on, “but you look far too nice to be hanging out with the likes of this joker.” He thumbs towards Albert. “Oh wait, I get it.” He puts his serious cop voice back on. “Is this man taking you somewhere under duress? Blink twice if you require assistance.” Then he stands up and chuckles loudly at his own perceived wit.
I have no idea what to say, so I just give a little half smile, even though he can no longer see me and apparently requires no participation in his joke anyway.
“Sorry about this,” Albert says, staring dead ahead. “My father can be a bit of an asshole.”
I flinch hearing him use the word towards a member of his family, but it’s been obvious from the moment his dad pulled us over that there is some serious tension between them. It’s not my place to judge.
His father leans back down and frowns at him. “Have it back at a decent hour. And not a mark on her, you hear? If your surfboard damages the paintwork you’ll be forking out for a new paint job. A proper one, not one from one of your idiot mates.”
“Yes, dad.”
“And lose the tone. You’re lucky I’m not making you walk home from here, or hauling your ass in to the station and charging it with car theft.”
Albert bites his lower lip, and I wonder if it’s to stop himself from saying something that might inflame the situation.
“Nice to meet you Maddy,” his dad says, tapping on the car door. “You two enjoy the beach. But next time you ask me if you want to use my car, not your mother. You only asked her because she’s a soft touch and you knew she wouldn’t say no.”
“You got me.”
“Keep to the speed limit.”
“I will.”
“And don’t take my car on the beach. I don’t want sand in the undercarriage.”
“I won’t.”
“And make sure you put it back in the garage with a full tank of gas.”
“Of course.”
Colin runs his eyes up and down his car as if he’s worried he’ll never see it again.
“Relax dad,” Albert says. “I won’t damage your precious car.”
“I hope not. She’s worth more than you.”
My jaw drops.
“I’m only kidding. Weird sense of humour in our family, isn’t there Albert.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s kidding though.
“You could say that.” Albert agrees quietly.
We watch as he walks back to his car and gets in. He flashes his lights twice then does a u-turn and goes back the way we came from. Albert clenches and unclenches his hands on the steering wheel a few times. His knuckles are white.
“Do you still want to go to the beach?” he finally asks, and his voice is sad like he thinks now I have had such an intimate glimpse into where he comes from I will run screaming for the nearest exit.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“The old man can come across a little,” he tilts his head while he searches for the word he’s looking for. “A bit of an asshole, I guess, is what I’m trying to say.”
I reach across and lightly lay my hand on top of his leg. I hear him suck in his breath and his thigh muscle contracts underneath my fingers. Apart from a few chaste kisses on the cheek and inadvertent elbow grazes we’ve not had much physical contact. I’ve actually surprised myself by reaching out, but it doesn’t feel too unnatural. There’s something about him that makes me feel relaxed. He’s genuine. What you see is what you get.
“It’s lucky I’m not dating him, then, isn’t it?” I say softly.
He looks at me, his eyes roaming across my face as a smile tugs at his lips. “Last chance,” he says. “If you want to escape tell me now, because I promise you, once you meet the rest of my family it’s only going to get crazier.”
I squeeze his leg in answer. “Ha. Crazy and I go way back,” I say. “Wait till you meet my mother.”
“I have met her; just now when I picked you up. She gave me the bag while you were in the toilet and seems perfectly lovely.”
“Anyone can seem perfectly lovely for a few minutes. Wait till you meet her properly.”
For a moment I think he might lean across and kiss me and I feel a rush of nerves that fizzle in my stomach like popping candy. But the moment passes and he smiles instead, reaching to turn the key in the ignition. The engine purrs back into life.
“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s do this.”
Albert
The road down to the beach is narrow and bumpy, mostly made up of sand with the odd gravel patch. I wince a couple of times when I hear the car connect with the ground, my father’s words echoing in my ears, but I’m not turning back.
There’s only a small Ute in the carpark when we turn the last corner. It’s not really a carpark, more a flat area of ground worn down by tyres over the years to resemble one. There are much more popular swimming beaches both up and down the coast, but this one is a little gem shared mainly by fishermen and surfers, though not always amicably.
“Place is deserted,” Maddy remarks.
“Aren’t you glad I made you get up early now?” I tease.
She pulls a face. “Jury’s still out on that.”
I get out of the car and stretch my legs, breathing in a deep lungful of salty air. The stress that settled on me after our encounter with my father dissolves away, replaced by a sense of wonderment and freedom, like I always feel on a beach.
From the moment I first paddled in the waves as a chubby legged baby I’ve felt an affinity towards the ocean. It’s hard to explain, so I’ve never tried, but if I were pushed I would say it’s where I feel at home. There’s a kind of serenity that washes o
ver me when I’m in the water, a sense of enlightenment. In the water, I know exactly who I am and where I’m supposed to be. It’s only back on land that I flounder.
I haven’t been out in a while. There was no time, not with the job I was doing and Kate demanding my attention on weekends. After we broke up I kind of lost all enthusiasm for everything. Now I realise I should have come here, it would have helped.
With the door open I stand on the side of the car to reach up and un-strap my ocean blue surfboard. It might not be the flashiest board in the world, but we’ve been through some pretty big waters and it’s never let me down yet. Laying it on the dry grass behind the car I run my fingers up and down its length lovingly, checking it survived the ride ok.
“Am I interrupting a moment?” Maddy asks dryly. I hadn’t noticed her get out of the car and come around to stand near the exhaust.
I laugh. “You sound jealous.”
“Of a surfboard? No I do have some dignity.”
“It’s not just a surfboard,” I say indignantly. “It’s a vessel to a special kind of nirvana.”
She stares at me. “Sorry, did you get stoned in the thirty seconds since we’ve been here?”
I shake my head and pat my board tenderly. “I don’t need drugs when I’ve got this baby right here.”
“Seriously, you’ve started speaking this weird kind of hippy language.”
“I can’t help it. Put me near the ocean and my inner beach dude comes out.”
She nods her head. “I see. Well that explains the blond messy hair.”
“My hair is messy?”
“A little.”
“In a bad way?”
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