by Clare Atkins
She drags Anya and me away from the boys, out onto the dance floor. Well, she drags me. Anya goes willingly. She and Selena are incredible dancers. They both do classes at the Arafura Dance Association after school. Another thing I can’t do because I don’t live in town. The training shows in the way their bodies move. They absorb the rhythms and translate them into sexy movement. Sometimes they even do short semi-choreographed routines. I silently curse Mum for making us live in Yirrkala, as I tap my feet from side to side. I am careful to keep a smile plastered on my face, as if I’m having fun.
I sneak a glance back at Nick and Benny. The Year 11s have drifted away, and the boys are now having a heated discussion about something – probably Selena. After a minute, Nick turns and storms off. Benny joins us on the dance floor. He looks willing to put a ring on it. He looks like, right now, he’d do anything for Selena.
*
Selena and Benny are pashing on a couch inside. His hands keep rubbing her ass like he’s expecting a genie to emerge and grant him three wishes. I’m in the kitchen with Anya. She’s found some orange juice in Libby’s fridge and is sloshing it into a cup along with some of our stolen cask wine.
She slurs a little as she says, “This’ll make it taste better.”
She slams the bottle down, spilling juice onto the bench. She picks up the plastic cup and takes a sip. “Yeah, better. Way better. Try it.”
It looks like piss. I reluctantly take a sip. It’s sickly sweet.
She’s looking at me expectantly. “Better, yeah?”
“A little bit.”
We lean against the bench together. Anya takes another swig and nods out towards the party. “This is cool, huh?”
“I feel a bit sick.”
She ignores me, off on her own drunk tangent. “Two years ago, did you ever think that we’d be here?”
I know she’s talking about BS. I try to joke it off. “You mean, like, right here? Drinking piss in Libby Davidson’s kitchen?”
Anya hardly hears me. “This is a cool party.”
Her voice has a tone of wonder. It makes me suddenly sad.
I lean over the kitchen bench to check if Selena and Benny have come up for air. They haven’t. I see tongues.
I nod towards them, a bit embarrassed. “What are we going to do with them?”
Anya giggles. “Find them a room.”
She’s swaying slightly … or is that me?
Nick enters the kitchen, discards an empty bottle and grabs another beer from the fridge. I attempt conversation. “You having a good night?”
“Not really. Thinking of heading off soon.”
I’m about to ask him why, when Selena drags Benny over by the hand. “So Benny and I were talking –”
This strikes Anya as hilarious. “Really? When?”
She cacks herself. Selena continues, unperturbed. “Should we all go back to our house?”
Selena’s parents are away for the weekend, fishing on their boat. We all got ready at her house earlier. The plan was always for us girls to stay there overnight. But now it looks like Benny’s coming. And Nick will be home too. My heart starts beating faster, harder, louder. I try to sound relaxed. “You want to go now?”
Nick sculls most of his beer, then says, “May as well.”
Selena and Benny start to stagger towards the front door. Anya follows them out. I’m frozen to the spot. Nick looks at me. “You coming?”
I manage to nod.
And then it happens. Nick Bell takes my hand. He holds it firmly, warm in his, and starts to lead me out of the party. I see the two Year 11 girls watching us go. I know there’ll be gossip, but I don’t care. I’m holding hands with Nick Bell. The guy every girl at school wants. I’m invincible. Superhuman.
*
The air outside the house is warm and still. The night sky glows deep blue-black. Nick drops my hand and fishes keys out of his back pocket. His ute is parked straight in front of the house.
Benny sees this and yells, “Rockstar park!”
Nick’s expression remains stony. I haven’t seen him like this before and it makes me uneasy. I try to joke him out of it. “Since when do rockstars have green P’s?”
If Nick hears me he doesn’t respond. He presses the button on his key and the Hilux doors click open. I’m suddenly nervous. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“It’s not far.”
I can hear Mum’s voice saying, Do not get in that car!
I ignore it.
Selena and Benny are arm in arm, propping each other up as they walk. I check in with Selena.
“You okay?”
“I’m good. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.” She dissolves into giggles. We ease her and Benny into the back seat and they start pashing again. Anya reluctantly climbs in after them, giving me a look that says, You owe me.
I get into the front seat. Nick slams the driver’s door shut behind him and crunches the gears into first. He sees me watching, and mutters an irritated “I’m fine!”
The Hilux lurches forward. Nick and Selena’s house is only a few blocks away. I watch the neighbourhood slide by my window. The identical low concrete houses and carefully watered lawns. Boats parked in driveways. Trampolines, their netting faded, destroyed by the intense sun.
My head is throbbing now. I’m relieved when we pull up outside Nick’s house. The front wheel grates on the curb as he comes to a stop.
Selena slurs, “Home sweet home.”
I let Anya deal with her and Benny, and follow Nick to the front door. He’s fumbling with the keys in the lock. I’m starting to think he’s drunker than he’s letting on.
I say, “Want me to try?”
He hands me the keys and I aim them for the lock. But the slot keeps moving, swaying from side to side. It ripples, as if underwater. The key hits metal again and I realise Nick is watching me, amused. “Lucky you’re here to help.”
“Shut up.” But I’m smiling.
And so is Nick. He takes the key from me and after two more tries he gets it. The key slots into the hole and he turns it, pushing the door open. I enter behind him, leaving the door open for the others.
I have been here heaps of times with Selena, but every time I enter I feel a strange kind of awe. It is like visiting a city department store; the house is filled with expensive, oversized items. A massive leather sofa fills most of the lounge room. A flatscreen TV takes up a whole wall. There’s a fridge with three doors and a built-in icemaker.
It makes our place look like a half-empty shack.
Nick starts to walk down the corridor. I ask, “Where are you going?”
“My room.”
I hesitate, unsure what that means. Does he want to be alone? It doesn’t sound like an invitation.
Benny and Selena stagger into the lounge room and collapse onto the massive couch, their bodies coiled together like a twist of rope. Anya closes the front door behind her.
Nick is about to disappear into his room, when he looks back at me. “You coming?”
I know Anya will kill me for leaving her with the lovebirds but I can’t say no. I’ve waited years for this. Nick Bell. Inviting me into his bedroom. I have to see what’s going to happen.
I start down the hallway. Out of habit, I almost veer into Selena’s room, but I stop myself and keep walking, telling myself this is real. It’s really happening. It is.
Nick’s is the next room along. I find him sitting on the bed, his back against the wall, knees angled up in front of him. I’ve only been in here once before. About a year ago, I snuck in one night when I was staying at Selena’s. I wasn’t taking any risks – I knew Nick was out – but it felt daring, like I was breaking in. I remember just standing there, looking around me. The room was illuminated by a street light outside. I felt like I was getting a glimpse into Nick’s soul. The music he liked: The White Stripes, The Killers, Red Hot Chili Peppers. His interests: street art, skating, snowboarding, surfing. I already knew he liked some of these things, but seeing them plas
tered on a wall in front of you is different. It’s like a declaration. A manifesto: These are the things I care about.
Looking around me now, I notice he’s added a few more posters. The crashing waves are still there, but next to them is a corner dedicated to busty blonde girls in bikinis. I hope they’re not his type because I don’t look like any of them. I have dark hair, pale freckly skin and green eyes. Dad’s parents were Dutch missionaries and Mum’s family came from Ireland. I think they came to Australia during the potato famine. I’m lean, but my boobs would barely be a quarter of the size of those of any of the girls on the posters. And I don’t wear bikinis: they’re not good for swimming laps and I’m always paranoid the top will fall off.
Nick is looking at me. I realise I’m hovering in the doorway. I take a step into the room. Should I sit on his bed? Would that make me seem more relaxed? Or would he just think I’m being easy? I stay standing and make awkward conversation. “You didn’t mind leaving the party early?”
“Had a crap day anyway.”
“Something happen?”
He shrugs, not wanting to talk about it. “You coming in or what?” He pats the bed next to him.
I sit down. I can feel him watching me. I’m radiating nerves.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Ever drunk before?”
“First time.”
Saying it out loud makes me feel young, immature. He’s in Year 12. He’s probably done this hundreds of times. In fact, I know he has. I’ve seen him drunk at heaps of parties, hanging out with his mates and senior girls. He’s never paid me much attention at parties … until now.
Our eyes meet. He leans in slowly and kisses me lightly on the lips. It’s perfectly romantic. I can hardly believe I’m here. He reaches out and pulls me closer. This time he kisses harder. His tongue presses my lips apart. I try to hide my surprise. I’ve only ever kissed one boy before (Xavier Martin) and it wasn’t anything like this. I try to keep up. Our tongues play hide-and-seek and Twister. His body presses me back. I feel his hands at my shoulders, pulling my dress straps down, touching my bra. My head is spinning. What the hell is happening? It’s too much, too fast.
Then Nick’s on top of me, grinding into my pelvis. I can feel him hard against me. I am pinned to his mattress. I can hardly breathe. My thoughts are a blur. What did I expect? He’s in Year 12. He probably does this all the time. Does he really like me? Oh my God. He’s taking my bra off. He knows how to undo the back. He’s definitely done this before. “Stop.”
“Rosie, come on.”
“Nick.”
“You like me, don’t you?”
I edge my body back from his, trying to get my thoughts straight. “Of course I do but – stop.”
I push him back. He groans. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
I can’t bring myself to reply. I feel like crying. Our flirting at the pool. The banter when I’ve seen him at his house. Is that what he thought it was about? Just sex?
He rolls onto his back, frustrated. I pull the top of my dress up again and lie beside him, uneasy.
Nick rubs his eyes. “I’m wasted. We started drinking early at Skate Park.”
Is this his version of a disclaimer? An excuse to get rid of me?
“Do you want me to go?” My voice comes out as a half-whisper. I wonder what Selena, Benny and Anya are doing out in the lounge room right now.
Nick exhales loudly. “No, stay.”
“I can see what the others are doing –”
“It’s fine, Rosie.”
“Or if you want to go back to the party –”
“I don’t. Told you – I didn’t feel like being there anyway.”
He sits up, seeming to come to a decision. “Let’s watch something.”
Nick has some old Simpsons episodes downloaded on his laptop. We watch them, side by side on his bed. I can feel the alcohol swirling through my body. The cartoons seem hilarious. I relax. We laugh. We laugh at the same things. We pay each other out. I give as good as I get. I am gutsy, emboldened. This time I kiss him. This time it feels real. This time he doesn’t push me.
Somewhere, in between episodes, I say, “This is what I wanted.”
Nick looks surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He puts his arm around me and pulls me closer. We keep watching. We watch five episodes.
Eventually Nick passes out. He rolls over, curling his body away from me. His shorts ride down just a little and I can see the full tattoo in the middle of his back, just above his bum crack. It’s five small stars. The Southern Cross.
6.
1996
We are standing at the ocean’s edge, holding plastic bags. It is a dark, moonless night, but the stars are bright. We watch as the men wade into the shallows to fish. I can just make out their silhouettes, spears in hand, phosphorescence trails in their wake.
I try to pick out the shapes of the men I know best. Bolu is in front, solid and tall. Then Dad, lean and wiry, holding an unlit torch. Then Nona’s older brothers, Jimmy, cocky and upright, and behind him Lomu, gentle and quiet.
Dad clicks his torch on. A bright white beam splits the dark. He shines it on the water then quickly turns it off again. They are looking for wäkun, mullet.
The group veer away from us, moving further up the beach. I hear Nona “hmmph” beside me. She wanted to go with them. Jimmy had teased her. “Girls can’t come. Anyway, you too baby. Too small.”
Lomu was kinder. He gave us a shy smile as they departed. “I’ll catch us a big one, neh?”
I feel warm lips of water kissing my toes, then a rough hand on my shoulder. Rripipi is behind us, one arm around Nona, one around me. She gently squeezes us together, looking up at the dark blue sky. Her voice is a deep, gravelly whisper. “See those stars there? They’re Yirritja, just like this land. Just like Bawaka. And you know that place over there? Yalangbara? That’s Dhuwa. Everything is either Yirritja or Dhuwa. Two sides of the one thing. Like yothu-yindi. Mother and child. It’s what holds everyone and everything together. The stars, the water, you, me …”
Nona says, “I’m Yirritja.”
I ask, “What am I?”
Rripipi says, “You’re Yirritja too. Same as Nona. Same as this land and those stars.”
I feel Nona’s warm arm pressed flat against mine.
I stare up at the stars. They glow a little bit brighter.
7.
2007
I wake up, groggy and hot. Nick isn’t there and for a moment I wonder if he’s done a runner. Then I remember this is his house. And his bed. You can’t run from your own place … can you?
I get up slowly, my head already throbbing. In the glare of morning I notice things I didn’t see last night. A pile of clothes shoved into the base of his built-in wardrobe. A surf board tucked away in the corner. A UAC guide, lying open on his desk. There’s something circled there. I look closer. Business. Sydney Uni. He doesn’t strike me as a business type at all.
I make my way up the corridor, past Selena’s closed bedroom door, and into the lounge room, where Anya is passed out on the sofa, snoring. She’s alone, which means the lovers must be in the bedroom. Process of deduction.
I tiptoe past Anya to the kitchen. I can hear someone banging around. Nick is at the stove burning something that smells like bacon. He has headphones on and is quietly chanting words under his breath. I recognise the lyrics to “Stronger” by Kanye West.
I approach slowly, unsure where I now stand. Are we going out or was it just a one-off fling? How drunk was he? Does he remember? Does he really like me?
He looks up and sees me watching. He removes his headphones. Sheepish. Caught out. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
My whole body seizes up. Panic.
“What time is it?”
“Ten.”
“Oh no. Mum’s picking me up at ten thirty.”
“It’s cool. Don’t freak out.”
I touch
my hair. It’s messy and tangled. I hate to think what I look like. Nick reads my mind and says, “Have a quick shower. I’ll make this bacon and egg roll to go.”
Even in my stressed state, I notice the surly Nick from last night is gone.
I say, “You’re in a better mood this morning.”
Nick grins. “Am I?”
My gut unclenches. Things seem to be okay between us. I’m smiling as I turn to go to the bathroom, then I notice the state of the lounge. Anya is surrounded by beer bottles. The whole place stinks. Nick follows my gaze. “I’ll hide the evidence too. Just go and shower.”
I’ve never been more grateful.
I grab a towel from the hallway cupboard as I head to the bathroom. I lock the door behind me and jump in the shower, letting the hot water run over me. Steam fills the room. I draw a heart on the glass shower screen and try it out, just to see what it looks like.
R.G. 4 N.B.
Then I rub it out.
*
I emerge from the bathroom, showered and changed. Nick has tidied up the lounge room and opened the windows. The smell is gone, and so is Anya. I grin. “Where’d you hide Anya?”
“Mum and Dad’s room.”
He hands me a chargrilled bacon and egg roll. I take an enormous bite and BBQ sauce dribbles down my arm. I lick it off and we both laugh. He holds out a glass of fizzy red stuff. “Berocca. Trust me. It’s the best. How’s your head?”
“Feels like … scrambled egg.”
“Let me guess – you’re in Ms Bamkin’s Science class?”
I nod, smiling. It’s easy between us. None of the awkwardness I was worried about. But I still don’t know – are we just friends now? Or more?
Through the front window, we see Mum’s battered old troopie pull up outside the house. We hear it too. The crunch of gears, screech of brakes. I’m suddenly aware of how shabby our car must look to Nick. The scratched paint, the red dirt sprayed up its dented sides. I give Nick a small, embarrassed smile. Nick looks almost amused. “Your mum’s here.”
I take another quick bite of bacon and grab my things together. My head starts pounding all over again. I stop and hold my forehead. Nick says, “Slow down! What’s the rush?”