9
You’re here cos you’re with me, wherever I go. It’s enough that I know you’re at the end of the road.
‘The Road’—GRAY
I wake with the first rays of the rising sun. There’s a smile on my face as I stretch out my aching muscles. I’m alone. Jolie kept me company until I fell asleep, but she must have headed back inside after that.
And I didn’t dream.
First in the van with Luc, and now with Jolie. That family is like a freaking sleeping tonic.
Pink streaks the blue of the sky above, and the pool calls me. I take a moment to breathe in the fresh, salt-tinged air and then dive in.
Underwater, with my eyes open, I swim as far as I can. Deeper and deeper I go until my lungs are burning for oxygen. I am Ariel, and this is my home.
The need for air shatters my silly fantasy and I come up briefly. Breathe, and then go under again.
It’s not until I surface at the other end of the pool that I realise I’m not alone.
Luc stands in the shallow end, his eyes sleepy and his chest bare. The morning light on his body is hard to ignore. My cheeks flush and I dip my face in the cool water.
But when I lift my head he’s still there, and there’s something in his face. Something a lot like the curiosity I’m unable to shake. I want to know more of him. What he thinks, how he tastes.
I swallow and pull myself from the water, torn between checking to see if he’s still watching me and wanting to run away before I do something that’s not in my plan. Guys like Luc aren’t sensible Zoey’s type. I can’t lose my head again.
‘I didn’t mean to frighten you off,’ he says.
I turn to him without meeting his gaze and wrap the towel around my body. ‘You didn’t. I thought I’d have a shower before breakfast. We have a long day of rock admiring ahead.’ Luc’s mouth curves. ‘You’d better hurry up. Jolie bought croissants. The five-minute oven kind.’
‘You’re not making them from scratch?’ The awkwardness of last night and our talk by the court, followed by Finn throwing me in the pool, has been mostly washed away in the sunrise.
Water drips from his hair as he shakes his head. ‘No. Thankfully she didn’t ask.’
Mostly dry, and with my sundress in my hands, I have no excuse to linger. ‘I’ll see you at breakfast then.’
He nods, and I have to force myself to turn away and head inside. It’s not so easy to stop thinking about him, however, and I’m distracted as I enter the room I was supposed to share with Cass. It’s still early and Cass is still asleep, so I tread as lightly as possible on the polished timber floors. My stuff is piled on the end of the bed so I carefully extricate what I need, all the while watching for movement in the other bed.
‘I heard you.’
I freeze, my hand on my bag of toiletries, as Cass rolls over. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’
She sits up, her hair all tangled and her eyes puffy from sleep. ‘You were out there with Luc.’
Is that accusation in her tone? I frown. ‘I think he wanted an early morning swim.’
Her eyebrows meet in the centre of her sleep-creased forehead. ‘Really? That’s your story? I thought we were best friends.’
My belly tightens. ‘Huh?’
‘It’s not that I care what you do, I just hate the lies. You didn’t come in at all last night.’
It takes a second for me to form words. ‘You think . . . Luc?’
Stupid tears prickle my eyes as I suck in a steadying breath. I have known Cass most of my life, and she thinks I spent the night out there with Luc, a guy I met two days ago?
Part of me shrinks, and I think I actually take a step back. I’d give anything to run out of here and never face Cass again. But I stand in the doorway of the bedroom and wait for her verdict, desperately wanting her to say she’s confused, and that she knows I wouldn’t sleep with him so soon. Okay, so I went off the rails for a while there, but does that mean I deserve her judgement? I’ve been trying so hard to get back to my old self.
Can’t we just forget the other Zoey ever existed?
Her eyelids flutter closed, like she can’t quite meet my eyes. ‘What were you doing out there then, if you weren’t with him?’
‘Seriously?’ I don’t wait for her to respond. ‘I was swimming and then sleeping and then swimming. Most of it alone. Not that it’s any of your business.’ I’m shaking with anger. How dare she judge me? ‘And what if I was with him; would that make me a slut?’
‘Of course not.’ But she’s too quick, and it’s too late.
‘I like to get to know a guy before I sleep with him. And I don’t even like Luc.’
Most of the time.
Guilt sharpens her features. ‘You’ve been so different. I’ve hardly seen you or spoken to you in the last few months. How am I supposed to know what you would or wouldn’t do?’
‘You could ask. And then maybe believe my answer.’ I shake my head, pick up my things and head for the bathroom to hide my tears. ‘It’s not that hard.’
* * *
Cass and I don’t talk over croissants that might as well be made of sand. It’s easy enough to avoid her while we pack up our things. As I give the house one last look, I try not to think too hard about the basketball court or the pool and all that happened here.
When Luc slides into the seat next to me in the van I can’t help sighing my relief.
‘Tough night?’ he asks.
‘Tough morning.’
There’s a question in his face, but I put in my earbuds and escape into my music for the drive to the Bay of Islands, our first stop for the morning. As the music plays and the scenery flies past I try not to dwell on the sheer injustice of it all.
More than that, I try to ignore the sneaky voice that says maybe Cass is right.
If Luc had kissed me in the pool, would I have pushed him away?
When Finn parks the van we tumble out like we’ve all been underwater and we’re desperate for air. As we head to the lookout, Cass and Finn linger by the van, their heads close together.
Jealousy tugs in my belly and I catch Luc’s eye before looking away fast. I hate that he noticed me noticing.
I’m so tired of the guilt. Feeling bad about Finn and Cass is crap enough, but now he’s making me feel bad too.
I stare out at the water without seeing, wondering what it is about me that makes dealing with other people so damn hard. Everyone else seems to just open their mouth and speak. Like it’s nothing. Like they don’t analyse and replay every moment. Like they don’t spend half their lives scrambling to find one thing—anything at all—to say.
No-one else seems to have so much trouble with silence.
Jolie stops beside me.
I glance sideways. Her whole face is lit up as she looks out at the rocks and the water. The morning sun is behind her but she’s shining with happiness. Something like envy sparks inside me.
She meets my gaze. ‘Incredible, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ I reply. It’s not my best effort, and I can feel her looking at me. I can sense the questions in her gaze. Just like her brother. Don’t they know I’m too screwed up to even begin to explain?
Please don’t ask.
Today, it’s all I can do to keep it together. If she prods and pokes and pushes, I’m afraid I’ll break. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to clean up the mess this time.
But she doesn’t ask.
And slowly I breathe again and begin to relax. I look, really look, out at the rock formations. They’re so much more amazing in real life than in the pictures I’ve seen.
When I turn to talk to her, to apologise or come up with something better to say about the view, she’s slipped away. Too late.
I close my eyes and let the salty spray tickle my skin, hoping my bad mood hasn’t spoiled her day. Mainly because it’s Jolie, and she’s been nothing but fun and sweet. I might be a bitch lately, but even I have my limits.
When I op
en my eyes again it’s Finn who’s beside me. Finn, who can apparently now stand so close I can hear him breathe without my body responding or my heart beating faster. I guess that’s familiarity.
No-one else is nearby.
He’s looking at me like he has a whole lot to say, and part of me wants to run. I’ve been waiting for this and dreading it all at once.
It’s the first time I’ve had a chance to really talk with Finn since we broke up, with me clutching my shirt together and screaming that he didn’t understand. Back then I couldn’t bring myself to care about the pain I’d caused him. Grief had filled every part of me, spilling over in ugly ways.
‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt. It’s all I can think of to say.
His head comes up and his smile is satisfied—he knows what I’m talking about. ‘You were having a rough time.’
I nod, turning a little so the sea breeze blows my hair back off my face. ‘Understatement of the year.’
He brushes lightly across the back of my hand. ‘I wish you could have come to me, instead of pushing me away.’
I swallow. ‘I wish you could have found someone other than Cass to share your sorrows with.’
The words are caught in the breeze and gone in a heartbeat, but their echo lingers. I swallow hard. The bitterness hangs between us like a cloud. This was about me saying sorry and here I am making bitchy comments. I didn’t mean to bring up Cass, but him getting together with my best friend was pretty shitty, even though I know on some level I probably deserved it.
He blinks, some of the warmth leaving his face. ‘I never cheated on you.’
Does he want a freaking medal? I force back the snarky reply that springs to my lips, and gentle my voice. ‘I know.’
And I do. Cass told me how they sought each other out in their worry for me, and how things changed between them after Finn and I split up. At the time, I said I understood. I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.
Or maybe I’m just pissed at Cass for this morning and feeling sorry for myself.
It’s Luc’s fault. His question from yesterday nags in the back of my head. Do I deserve the snide remarks and assumptions? Sure, I made a mistake. A big one, but they’re supposed to be my friends. My very closest friends, who knew how much I was struggling to get through each day, let alone maintain any kind of relationship.
Maybe they could have been there for me instead of each other.
I push the thoughts away. Luc and his questions are not going to ruin this for me. Finn is everything I’ve ever wanted. When I dreamed about this moment, me and Finn alone and reconnecting, the conversation didn’t include me hassling him about hooking up with Cass.
‘This trip has been great,’ he says.
‘Yeah.’ Could I sound any lamer? Talking to Finn didn’t used to be this hard. It’s probably just the awkwardness of Cass.
My teeth clench at the thought of her and what happened this morning. We’ve been friends for so long, but she’s still so quick to judge.
‘It’s good to see you smiling again,’ he says.
Smiling? This guy can’t seem to read me at all anymore. Maybe he never could, I just wasn’t all that complicated back then.
He’s talking and I’ve zoned out. I force myself to follow his words—something about the beach?
‘And I can’t wait until we get somewhere with decent waves,’ he finishes.
‘I haven’t really noticed,’ I admit. ‘Are there some ahead?’
His eyes light up as he recites a whole bunch of possible stops we could make once we get to the other end of the Great Ocean Road, before we head to Melbourne.
I try to nod in the right places, but find my mind wandering.
I keep expecting him to stop the detailed surf conditions report and talk to me. Really talk to me. To ask how I’m going, or at least mention Dan’s name. Something deeper than this.
For a while Finn spent more of his waking hours at our place than he did at home. He played ball with us in the backyard. Dan even roped him into a Star Wars marathon. Mum and Dad told him he was welcome any time, and he really fit in with my family.
Messing everything up with Finn after Dan died just made me go out more and stay out later. It wasn’t hard to find people who were happy to provide the oblivion I needed. Early one morning I came home, swaying and stumbling, reeking of vomit and alcohol, and found Mum at the table. Waiting.
That was the first time she didn’t yell at me for ignoring her calls and my curfew. Instead, she simply wiped tears from tired eyes and shook her head. ‘How could you have lost Finn, too?’
I don’t know how she knew we split up. Maybe it was the fact that he’d stopped coming around. But the words cut. It was like he mattered more than I did.
Not only had he broken up with me, he’d walked away from the shattered remains of my family, too.
Mum never waited up for me again.
I thought it all meant something to Finn, but now he’s talking about school next week and he still hasn’t asked about me, or my family.
I manage to keep up with the conversation. I make a weak joke about extra homework and he seems pleased. I guess this is easier to deal with than the sobbing mess I used to be. That Zoey wasn’t fun to be around.
I guess that’s why he stopped hanging around.
That, or the small fact of me breaking his heart.
* * *
We stop for sustenance at Port Campbell then continue on towards the Twelve Apostles. After a quick look around Loch Ard Gorge we head for the apostles, and there’s a hint of excitement in the van as we set off. Mostly from Jolie, who’s pretty much vibrating with it. Her nose is pressed so close to the window she’s making little fog clouds. I’m surprised she hasn’t started chanting ‘Are we there yet?’
Still annoyed with the world, I put in my headphones and don’t ask her why a few rocks out at sea matter so much. I haven’t been here before, but how thrilling can it really be? When I realised I’d be sitting next to Cass for this leg of the drive I grabbed my notebook and a pen out of my bag—anything to avoid conversation—but all I’ve done is chew on the pen.
There was a time when I took my notebook everywhere. In my school bag, shoved in my purse. I’d jot down lines of description, or any images that came to mind. I was too shy to share the results with anyone yet, but I’d begun to play with some songwriting of my own.
But that was before Dan died.
Since then all I’ve written are Gray’s lyrics on any scrap of paper I can find. Over and over again. Looking for meaning or some sense in this stupid world.
Today is the first time I’ve picked up the old notebook in months. I only packed it as part of my plan to get back to normal. I figure if I start doing the things I used to do, maybe I’ll remember how to be that Zoey. The one who danced and sang through life without a care in the world. Or at least that’s how she looks from here, surrounded by the nagging darkness of grief.
But I don’t write a word. Instead, I read the lyrics and fragments scrawled on the pages, each one more sugary sweet than the last. Eventually I shut the notebook and stare out the window with dry, aching eyes.
I’d give anything to be that girl again.
We pull up behind a mini-van and Jolie is first out the van, practically climbing over my lap in her haste.
Her enthusiasm chases away my dark thoughts. Even Luc is smiling at Jolie’s excitement.
‘Hurry up,’ she cries, doing an excited jig on the spot.
‘She must really want to see this,’ I say. I’m not talking to anyone in particular, but Luc nods.
‘It’s her dream,’ he says, and then abruptly turns away, a shadow across his face.
We follow the other tourists—a family of seven, all looking as tired as I feel—to the viewing platform and spread out to snap pictures. Jolie has her phone and a fancy camera, and she’s giving the shutter a workout and grinning like she’s scored an extra birthday.
Despite the heat from the b
lazing sun above, there’s a cool breeze coming off the water crashing into the stone pillars and sending sprays into the air. I imagine I can see the ocean working its power on them before my eyes, eating away at each base until it crumbles into the water.
I reach for my phone without thinking, then hesitate. Do I really want to capture new memories?
‘I can take one with you in it if you want,’ says Jolie with a smile.
This is my opportunity to make up for cutting her off before. I slide my phone back into my pocket. ‘Maybe after, but I can take one for you.’
Her smile widens. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
She gives me a rundown of the camera and I edge back, snapping a dozen shots of her with the apostles in the background.
‘Thanks,’ she says, studying the results. She lets the camera hang around her neck and reads from her phone screen. ‘They were once called the sow and piglets.’
I try to imagine the staggered towers of limestone majestically stretching along the coast with a different name. And fail. ‘Oh,’ I manage.
Her hand finds mine. It’s small and skinny but there’s strength in the squeeze she gives me. ‘I get that this isn’t really your thing.’
‘It’s not that,’ I say quickly. I mean, what kind of person doesn’t appreciate a nice view? But now that I’ve started, she’s waiting for me to finish, to explain. ‘It’s nice, but nothing’s the same anymore. Things I used to think mattered now seem . . .’
‘Trivial?’
‘Yeah.’
She gestures to the waves and their slow carving of the rock. ‘This started before we were born, and it will continue long after we’re gone. It’s not trivial.’
‘I don’t see what you see.’
‘No,’ she sounds sad, almost disappointed. ‘I know you don’t.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Her exhalation is something between a soft laugh and a sob. ‘Don’t be.’
Tears wet her lashes. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.
‘It’s just some rock.’ The response comes out more defensive than I intend, and she flinches.
‘Not to me.’
‘Why?’ The question has been bubbling since the first day. There’s not much Jolie isn’t enthusiastic about, but clearly the detour along the Great Ocean Road is her idea. And when Luc said it was her dream, that was more than just a throwaway line.
The Last Days of Us Page 9