All At Sea

by Pepper Ellison

  I’m doing it now.

  Now.

  To: AJBeauchamp@gmail.com

  From: KodyMurdock@yahoo.com.au

  12th March 10.12am

  —Private Residence near Belmont, NSW, AUS—

  I went to the pub. There were a few mates from school there I haven’t seen in a long time, and it was good to have a yarn and catch up. If anyone knew about the surprise wedding they didn’t say, because I guess I’m not supposed to know. But it was great not to talk about it for a little while, and be normal and be in a pub.

  I love beer. I do. I know that seems to offend you. I would hate to perpetuate a stereotype, but come between and Australian and a beer at your peril.

  Now I am back at home full of the aforementioned beloved brew torturing myself with images of the stupendous sex you might be having with Lachie.

  I really did want to be the one to do that for you. As a gift, I mean.

  Remember when you fell off that time and you went under and you scratched me, and punched me in the face. You wrapped your body around me. Your legs entangled with mine. I was gripping your wrists. It was all I could do to stay upright as the water pulled against me.

  You were panicked. But imagine if I could give you that same intensity in pleasure?

  I think about that. (When I am not feeling guilt and remorse.) How I might begin something like that with you.

  Hmmm.

  Fcken Lachie.

  To: AJBeauchamp@gmail.com

  From: KodyMurdock@yahoo.com.au

  13th March 9.05am

  —Private Residence near Belmont, NSW, AUS—

  I’ve pinched my dad’s work laptop. I’m lying in the single bed I had since I was about three. I’m too long for it now. My feet hang over the end. It sags in the middle. It has a Transformers quilt cover that is see-through with wear. Mum would have put that on for me specially. They wouldn’t let me have a double bed. Mum thought I would never leave.

  There is a yacht mobile hanging from the ceiling Dad and I made when I was about eight. All my soccer trophies are lined up on the shelf. There are about fifteen king parrots on the veranda rail, outside my window, eating sunflower seeds.

  Google them! They are trippy.

  I’d love to bring you here one time. You would like it. I want to introduce you to my folks.

  I nearly told my dad about you. ‘Hey there is this remarkable girl I have met. She’s fun and quirky and I miss her before her shuttle car is even out of view.’

  But there’s not a right time to say that.

  It’s so weird not having my phone. I had it on me all the time. Slipped in my back pocket. Slept with it. Put it on the edge of the sink when I had a shower. Never know when there might be a message from my Millsy. My phone shivering in its little case with excitement.

  I could look now. I could login. They are all listed there in my account, unopened.

  You will be so angry with me. You will say terrible things. You will make me feel like shit, and I already have enough people doing that at the moment. If I read what you said it would be the truth, and I would have to lie here and wear it. I just can’t. When you’re mad you can make me feel so worthless, like something you’re trying to scrape off your shoe. If I read them, and you made me feel like that, I wouldn’t be able to stand up again.

  To: AJBeauchamp@gmail.com

  From: KodyMurdock@yahoo.com.au

  13th March 10.14pm

  —Private Residence near Belmont, NSW, AUS—

  I’m getting on a plane again. I’m going to see Fi and find a way to let her down easy.

  It’s terrible that I want to get that part over so that I can find you and see if you won’t let me kiss you for the longest time.

  Look at the things I say – even sober – when you’re not reading them?

  To: AJBeauchamp@gmail.com

  From: KodyMurdock@yahoo.com.au

  13th March 10.33pm

  —Private Residence near Belmont, NSW, AUS—

  I have a picture of you on my phone. You’re tucking your hair behind your ear, and looking down and your mouth is open, in a kind of half smile. It’s this one moment in time. I don’t think you even knew I took it. I used to look at it and then scroll through your messages for a bit. It was the picture I was wanting to get rid of when I pegged my phone at you.

  You’re actually much quieter in real life. And elegant. Maybe that’s why I want to see you get freaky so bad. You’d be less self-conscious, I think. More self-aware.

  But I need to stop thinking about that and start thinking about the horrible, horrible thing I have to do in about… sixteen hours.

  I’m going to do that first because it has to be done irrespective of what happens after.

  We’re boarding.

  Friday 14th March 3.39am

  —North Shore Hostel—

  It’s been an hour. Did you get them? Did you read them?

  Friday 14th March 9.12am

  —Totally Brewed Café—

  I’m not asking you to do anything, I just want to know if you read what I said. Because this might just be your vacation entertainment, but it’s my life.

  Saturday 15th March 5.32am

  —North Shore Hostel—

  A whole day and nothing. Nice. You could just send the letter Y and then I will know that you read them, but you just don’t give a shit.

  Saturday 15th March 9.16am

  —Totally Brewed Café—

  Lachie and I are eating bacon and egg rolls on the sand. We’re about to go in.

  Surf’s pumping this morning. I’m wondering if, instead of warning you about him,

  I should have been warning him about you.

  Saturday 15th March 11.00am

  —Rub-a-dub Pub Coin Laundry and Liquor—

  Hi. I read what you wrote and I appreciate your honesty, you sharing your thoughts while you were away. Your dad sounds like a wonderful person. My mom is like that. My step-dad, too. They are extremely supportive of me. I make my mistakes and they love me through it.

  You’ve suffered with this mistake, I can tell. But can you appreciate how hard it was on me when you left? I don’t think you understand the depth of it. I’ve never felt despair like that. It was awful. I didn’t know what was happening. I thought I’d never see you again. I cried in my room until my eyes and throat were raw with it. I couldn’t eat. I lost six pounds in four days and I don’t have that to spare in case you hadn’t noticed. I walked around like a zombie with your phone in my pocket. I held it in my hand when I slept. I started looking at your incoming texts from Sasha. “I need you, K” “Where are you babe?” Thank God it died before I lost control and called her back. Called her and Fiona and whatever else girls in your contacts to say: “Hands off! He’s mine now!” Then, when I didn’t have the phone anymore, I slept on the surfboard. I took a blanket and pillow out onto the deck that night and slept on it and cried. We’ve never even kissed and you did that to me.

  I would have liked to have begun something with you, too. I’ve lost my breath thinking of you and me like that. A hundred different ways I have imagined your hands on me, your lips moving over my skin. I’ve imagined you being patient or sweet or fun with me. Like if I didn’t get it quite right at first.

  But if we shared a journey like that and then you snatched it away, I’m not sure I would ever get over it. You’re impulsive and unsure of yourself and I can’t trust you with my emotional well-being like that. No way, no way, no way.

  Being around Lachie pulled me out of it. He makes me laugh. It doesn’t hurt to be around him. And the bottom line here is that the last words I asked you to write to me were: “I told her. It's over.” That's not what you said next. Now I'm sitting here at the Laundromat pub with your fiancée who is washing clothes that smell like jet fuel. Cristina’s washing a million of her little sister’s diapers and we’re all three lined up in a row at the bar, phones out, earbuds in. She is probably texting you at the same time as me and even though
I’ve only known her a hot minute I feel like a terrible friend and person. Her shoulder is literally touching mine and I know about her future and she doesn’t. She doesn’t deserve this. But you’re right. She suspects something. I don’t know who she’s texting but there are sparks coming out of her thumbs she’s typing so fast. She’s worried big time. So it won’t come as a total shock to her when you cut it off. (If you cut it off, I mean…)

  Man up, Kody. Not for me, but for Fiona and yourself.

  Saturday 15th March 11.17am

  —near North Shore, Oahu—

  I said I’m doing it.

  You think I should walk into the Laundromat in my boardies, dripping seawater on the floor, pull the headphones off her ears and say, ‘wedding’s off?’

  Is that how it’s done?

  We have dinner up at Sasha’s tonight. I can’t not go to that. I can’t cancel Sasha, because if she is pissed with me, there goes my income. You think I live the way I do from the money I make giving lessons? No. That’s pocket money. It’s the movie consult stuff that pays my way, and I subsidise Lachie too.

  I can’t leave Fifi behind and just take you and Lachie.

  I can’t leave you girls behind and just take Lachie. He has no social graces. He’ll piss in her pot plants or something, and that will be just as bad.

  We have to go – all four of us, smiling and being charming.

  We’ll go to that and then I will tell her in the morning. I am texting her right now and booking breakfast.

  I’m doing it now.

  Saturday 15th March 11.25am

  —Rub-a-dub Pub Coin Laundry & Liquor—

  You left out the option of the three of you going and me staying back. Anyhowww…

  Lachie really wants me to go so I’ll be there. Smiling and being charming. If you don’t mind me asking, what sort of occasion is it? Should I wear a formal?

  Saturday 15th March 1.29pm

  —Hang Eleven Surf Shop—

  Sasha will probably be in army fatigues and a singlet top. We’ll most likely sit on cushions around a coffee table and eat with our hands. She does kind of tapas stuff usually. Maybe Mexican. And wine. In tumblers. And that electronic, endless club music. There will be shirtless guys with dreads padding around or playing percussion instruments.

  But remember that she spends all of her time with high-functioning creative types. She won’t be looking at what you’re wearing, she’ll probably want to know what you’ve been reading. She digs all that shit.

  Saturday 15th March 2.56pm

  —Waikiki Yacht Club—

  It will be nice to talk with creative types. I can talk books and art for days. I’m actually looking forward to this thing now. See you after while.

  Saturday 15th March 8.02pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  I hope I’m not being rude stepping away to look at Sasha’s house. You were busy consoling Fi and telling Lachie to remove his shoes when I commented on the Keltie Ferris in the foyer. (The bold, electric painting that looks like pixels? You’ve probably passed it a hundred times.) Sasha told me to look around, that she had some subtler stuff up in the hallway off the guest bedrooms. There’s an Aburano watercolor up here! I’ve seen some of his other paintings around the galleries in Honolulu. Sasha’s taste is exquisite.

  Saturday 15th March 8.05pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  I’m out on the back deck. You can see down at the lights in the town, and there’s crickets and frogs. And Fi drumming with those bongo dudes. Wish I was drinking tonight! A mojito would go down a treat right now.

  Fi is so pissed about Sasha assuming you were my fiancée.

  “Oh this has to be her. Look at that bone structure! Her skin is divine!”

  And then the crack about ubiquitous blondes didn’t help.

  Saturday 15th March 8.21pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  Very awkward. I didn’t know what to say so I just smiled and shook her hand and started rambling about the painting. I’m almost done snooping. It’s art geek Nirvana up here. I’ll be down in a few and will make a point to join in. Looks like an interesting mix of people at this party. Eclectic. And whatever’s cooking down there smells amazing. Is Fiona’s face back to normal? I thought she was going to claw Sasha’s eyes out. (Or mine? Yikes!) Maybe get her some bubbles. :/

  Saturday 15th March 9.22pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  Can you say something to Lachie about wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt? Looks like a freaking caveman.

  Saturday 15th March 9.24pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  I’ve given Lachausaurus Rex a napkin. See, he’s using it and everything! *waves while texting under table* He was starving. He’s doing that carb-cutting thing and tonight is his cheat night. But seriously, the food’s amazing. I want ALL the empanadas. Nom nom nom!

  Saturday 15th March 9.24pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  P.S. I’m putting my phone away. We’re dicks. Dicks that are going to get caught.

  Saturday 15th March 9.25pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  I knew you’d like it here! :D

  OK we’ll stop txting for a bit.

  I bet you break.

  Saturday 15th March 10.03pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  Hi. I broke.

  I’m outside on the patio hiding from Fi. How’s Lachie liking Sasha’s home gym? I knew he’d go back for it. The ab machine was calling to him from across the house.

  Okay…seriously though. Your fiancée is spiraling. Fi just yanked my arm and dragged me out of Sasha’s production studio to obsess over you. Sasha was in the middle of showing me and a bunch of people a commercial she is editing and it was extremely rude. Fi asked if I thought you might be seeing someone on the sly. Asked if I knew who you might have dated over the past year. I told her I didn’t know and it was like she was searching my face for cracks in the story. And I have no game face! Blah! I had to shake her loose by cuddling up with this dready tattoo chick who is apparently living on Sasha’s patio. (I don’t think this woman has taken a shower since puberty. She’s giving me a Tibetan shoulder massage. She’s so high she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Lol.)

  Anyhow, Fiona definitely smells a rat. She’s somewhat distracted right now. Burying her misery in champagne and hummus. But be warned. Mt. Fi-Fi is about to blow.

  Saturday 15th March 10.15pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  When I left for Hawaii the first time, Fiona was freaking out because of Lachlan. He banged all the girls in our school and half the girls from the Catholic School down the road.

  Fiona wanted me to swear to be exclusive and I said no, because technically we weren’t together. She was the only one I had been with at that point, and that was one of the reasons that I left. I said I couldn’t promise, and then when I came back at Christmas she didn’t ask. She was stinging to know, but she knew better than to ask. It had been a long time, and I’m… Well, she knows what I am like.

  But after the engagement, I didn’t.

  Saturday 15th March 10.16pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  I haven’t cheated. Only in my head.

  Saturday 15th March 10.18pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  Also, she asked about Sasha in particular. I told the truth on that front. That I don’t know anything about Sasha. (But there’s a history there, I can tell. There’s an undeniable energy between the two of you.)

  Saturday 15th March 10.24pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  Energy? You mean how she gropes me all the time?? ;)

  Yes, but only briefly. Trying to keep messages short. I can’t keep running outside.

  Saturday 15th March 10.25pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  How brief?

  Saturday
15th March 10.37pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  Sorry. Scratch that. WIne’s made me tipsy. One glass and I’m drunk dialing you from across the hosue. Bye

  Saturday 15th March 11.02pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  The thing with me and Sasha was ages ago. Before we were working together. Before Christmas. It was just one night, and she discarded me. You can see that she likes boys. She’s kind of a cougar, you know? She’s foxy. And I’m cool with that. Ancient history. She just likes to tease me about it, because I hung around like a puppy for a bit. But you can see that it would never have worked, because she’s older, and I’m a lowly beach bum. We’re both over it.

  If Fi didn’t get pissed about it, neither should you. I don’t think she heard anyway. She was talking to Lachie.

  Saturday 15th March 11.06pm

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  I’m not pissed. I was just wondering. We have to stop texting. I feel like everyone can hear us.

  Sunday 16th March 12.01am

  —Black Blossum Productions—

  Hi, I’m back again. One hour of no texts and I’m in withdrawal. Where are you and Fi? I haven’t seen you in an hour at least. Are you telling her? Please say you’re not telling her. Not here. You were right. Sasha is bona fide for realz. You don’t want to burn that bridge for sure. Lachie’s in the pool house asleep. It took him a while but he finally sniffed out the TV. The look on Sasha’s face when he asked where it was! Agh!

  He tried explaining the rules of boxing to me, get me excited about it. Then he gave up and we made out for a little. Then I went to pee and check my phone (no new messages… wah…) and when I got back, he was snoring. Oh, Lachie.