“Late afternoon. Jen’s working.”
“Time for a surf lesson then,” he says.
I clench my jaw and fix my eyes on the water. “Not yet. I’m tired.”
“A walk on the beach then?”
My bag rests next to Guy’s feet where he’s dropped it, and I pick up the full rucksack. “I’ll unpack first.”
“Master suite upstairs and three back there.” He points to a door at the opposite end of the open plan room and takes my bag. “You can have upstairs.”
I follow him up the narrow stairs. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t we let Jen and Cam have the room? They’re the couple.”
“Nope. You’re the important guest and this one has the en suite and views.”
The upstairs bedroom floods with light through double-glass doors leading to the balcony. I sit on the edge of the huge bed. The luxury of the bedding and the modern, sleek bathroom I can see through a half-open door put me in mind of a hotel.
“Wow.”
Guy crosses the room and slides open the balcony’s doors. At home, this would let in traffic sounds, but here there’s nothing but the call of the magpies in the trees below. “Pretty special, hey?”
“Absolutely.” Eager for a clear view, I stand with him. The gum trees border the opposite road and directly behind them a pathway leads through brown scrub toward the white sandy beach. The balcony’s position offers panoramic views of Geographe Bay, the pristine blue waters calm. A dream location for any beach lover.
“You like?”
I nod, soaking in the peace of the environment. The sky is cloudless, the view perfect.
“Are you sure?” He taps his teeth. “You don’t look sure and you’ve been quiet on the journey. Would you rather be here with Prince Charming?”
I look at him in surprise. “No, and don’t call him that. I hardly know Ross, so no.”
I cancelled our re-arranged date and I know why.
I’m fighting my attraction to Guy hard, and failing.
The undercurrents are there, a tide pulling us back and forth. Close together in an empty house, next to a large bed and the unsaid between us grows louder. The hair on my arms prickles at his proximity, close enough to catch his subtle scent reminding me of our dance. At the masquerade ball, I screwed things up by denying I wanted him to kiss me, because logic stepped in and put a hand out to stop me.
I look past him. “Great view from here too.”
“Amazing views at sunset,” he replies in a low voice. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Wish you were here with somebody else?”
“I couldn’t possibly be. Nobody else I know would be stupid enough to jump out of a functional aeroplane.”
He breaks his serious face with one of his dimpled smiles. “I can’t wait! Here, unpack. We can have a beach walk.”
Guy thrusts my bag at me, edges past, and disappears downstairs. Dazed, I stare out at the ocean again. Why do I feel as if he’s testing me?
* * *
Jen stacks the plates from the large jarrah dining table, and I gather the serving bowls and cutlery. As we head into the kitchen, she nudges me hard in the ribs and I stumble.
“Phe! You kept quiet about him!” she hisses. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
Arching a brow, Jen sets the plates on the marble counter next to the sink. “When you said we were spending the weekend at a friend’s house, I thought you meant a girl from work! How long have you been with him? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He is a friend.” I pull open the dishwasher drawer and drop cutlery into the basket. For now. By the end of the weekend, I’m not so sure.
“You think?” She cranes her neck to look through the kitchen door behind. “How do you keep your hands off him?”
Good question and one with a complicated answer. “This is one of those situations where I don’t want to lose his friendship.”
“How do you know you will? You seem very in tune together. Besides, more than a friendship could lead to some exciting times.” Jen nudges me again and I elbow her back.
“Behave, Jen!”
“Just saying. He’s the whole package – good-looking guy, smoking hot body, and sense of humour. He seems smart too.”
“He is.”
“So what’s the problem? He’s into you; that’s obvious.”
I turn away and focus on the dishwasher again. Is it? “Things might not work out. He’s... leaving soon.”
“So? Have some fun before he goes! Surely, you’re not looking for somebody to settle down with?”
“Not at all.” But a broken-heart could send me spiralling in a direction I don’t want.
She glances at the door. “If I wasn’t with Cam, I’d push you out of the way! Far out, Phe, grab some while you can! Don’t you just want to lick him inch by inch? Those abs...”
I chew the inside of my lip rather than follow this line of conversation. Yes, I do. And more. She and Cam arrived a little after seven and she’d poured her first generous glass of red wine within minutes. I’ve lost count of the number she’s had.
Earlier, Guy took me to a local produce market where we selected fresh fish and farm-fresh vegetables, before heading to a bottle shop where Guy selected his favourite local wine. The Margaret River region is filled with wineries so the selection took some time. The date-like air doesn’t escape me; but instead of causing tension, I relax into the holiday atmosphere.
Later we cooked the meal together while we waited for Cam and Jen’s arrival, Guy expertly preparing the fish while I took the backseat and prepared the vegetables. Admittedly, I was already a couple of glasses of a nice, local sav blanc ahead of Jen when they arrived. Vegetables don’t take long to prepare and I spent time resting against the kitchen bench watching Guy, blindingly aware how happy and relaxed I am around him. What happens next?
Jen points behind me. “Grab the vodka. I’ve had enough of wine.”
“Jen...”
She sticks her bottom lip out. “Hey, I’m on holiday!” She reaches past and grabs the bottle.
I follow Jen back out of the kitchen. Guy sits at the table, leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, happy, and laughing at something with Cam as they drink their bottled beers. Ordinary, everyday blokes in ordinary, everyday lives. Why did Guy suggest this? To pull us from our world of bucket lists and into a reality that we’re on the edge of? Another couple, living in the moment, but planning a future.
What have I done? Inviting Jen and Cam here too was supposed to be a sign to Guy this wasn’t a trip about ‘us’, but ‘Guy and Phe’. Now I’ve created the illusion of two couples holidaying together.
“Sofas! Now! Drinking games,” says Jen, waving the vodka and shot glasses in their direction.
I expect Guy to laugh and join in, but his smile freezes.
“I’m not sure...” I start.
“Live life while you’re still young!” she interrupts, scowling at me.
“Guy’s jumping out of a plane tomorrow, he might not want to be hungover,” I reply, glancing at Guy.
Cam laughs. “All the more reason to. If everything goes wrong, he could have a live fast, die young moment!” He throws a cork from the table at Guy to attract his attention. “How fast do you fall?”
Guy picks at the label on his bottle. “Fast. I fall really fast.”
As he says the words, Guy looks at me. His deep blue eyes are unfathomable; but his words concern me. I fight against reaching out to touch his hand. As each minute passes, I question the wisdom of allowing my two worlds to collide.
Giving in to Jen’s badgering, I settle on the large yellow sofa and Guy sits on the floor near my feet. Jen and Cam cuddle up on the opposite blue sofa, Jen’s legs tucked under her. We chat between shots, or Jen burbles. Guy says little. Half an hour and a bottle of vodka later, the world swims. Jen’s enthusiasm for drinking games borders on peer pressure.
“I d
on’t drink much usually,” says Guy, resting his head on the sofa. “I should stop.” His cheek touches my legs as he leans back and looks up at me. “So, excuse me if I say weird shit.”
“Ooh! That gives me a good idea!” enthuses Jen. “Truth or dare!”
Cam groans. “Jen, we’re not thirteen!”
“It’ll be fun! I want to find out more about the mysterious Guy.” She giggles and places the empty vodka bottle on the rug between the two sofas. “He doesn’t talk about himself, have you noticed?”
“I’m not that interesting,” he replies stiffly.
“What do you do?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“For a job, I mean.”
“Nothing. I’m taking time out. Living fast, dying young.”
In her drunken state, Jen misses the sarcasm. “Nice if you can afford to.”
Guy shuffles forward. “Spin the bottle?”
“Oh! Yeah! Game!”
Nicely fielded, Guy.
Fortunately, the bottle stops at Jen, which I swear is what she wanted. “Truth!” She looks to Cam. “You ask!”
Cam smiles slyly at Jen and leans so his face is near hers. “Have you ever kissed a girl?”
“Of course! Hasn’t everybody?” She places a quick kiss on his lips then throws her hands up. “That wasn’t very interesting.”
The bottle spins again and points at me. “My turn!” calls Jen.
I cringe. I hope this isn’t going where I think. Dare could mean kissing her. “Truth.”
“What’s one thing nobody in this room knows about you?” she asks.
The obvious springs to mind, the accident, the deaths. The night with Guy on the rocks at least doesn’t factor in because he knows. I can’t give a voice to the memories of my family and choose a safer option. “I grew up living with my grandparents.”
“Really? I wondered why you never spoke about your parents. Is the story bad about them? What happened? Did they die?” slurs Jen.
Cam puts his hand over her mouth. “She’s a heartless drunk. Jen, be quiet.”
“Phe mentioned them!”
“They’re dead, yes,” I say and push the bottle which stops, pointing at me again.
“Hey! No fair! Two goes! Or are you gonna ask yourself a question?” replies Jen.
Cam looks at me in embarrassed shock at his girlfriend’s dismissive behaviour; and to my surprise, Guy curls his hand around mine.
“Did you hear what she said?” Guy asks Jen.
“When?”
Cam takes the glass from her hands. “Memory blanks are supposed to come later not within minutes!”
“Oh. Right. I’m sorry about your parents.”
“It’s fine.” I rub my face. “Why am I doing this?”
“Was that your question?”
“Yeah.”
Jen continues her obliviousness to the growing atmosphere in the room. “I’ll go again.” The vodka bottle whirls into a blur on the shaggy teal rug, and rests somewhere between Guy and Cam. “Closer to Guy!”
Guy’s silence in the last few minutes worries me, tension rolling from him. From my position, I can’t see his expression and wish I could. “Dare,” he says in a low voice.
A slow smile crosses Jen’s face. “I was hoping you’d say that. Kiss Phe.”
“Truth,” he throws back.
Heat crosses my face, at the embarrassment from Jen’s words and his refusal. This is bad. Really bad. And becoming worse by the minute.
“Hmm. Let me think,” she says.
Cam leans over and whispers in Jen’s ear. Her expression of concentration switches to eagerness. “Tell me, mysterious Guy, what’s the worst thing you’ve done in your life?”
My heart thumps with every second he doesn’t reply, Jen poking the wasps nest of the secrets he keeps.
“There’s quite a choice,” he replies. “How bad?”
“How bad? Ohmigod. Have you killed somebody?” She collapses in another fit of giggles, her white blonde hair falling across her face.
I swallow and stand. “I don’t think this game is working, Jen. I should go to bed.”
Guy looks up at me from the floor, eyes glittering. “She asked. I’ll tell her.”
“I don’t want to know,” I whisper.
I glare at Jen who’s now sitting forward, elbows on her knees and hands beneath her chin, expectantly.
Guy stands and looks straight at Jen. “I killed my mother.”
Guy’s words echo inside my drunk brain and I shake my head in case I misheard. Guy shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and continues to regard Jen. Her giggling stops and she straightens. “What?”
“He’s taking the piss,” remarks Cam. “You’re pushing people into doing and saying things they don’t want.”
Guy did say the words. The world lurches. No, Cam’s right, he’s lying to shut Jen up.
“We’re playing truth or dare!” mutters Jen. “That’s the whole point of the game!”
Is he? Did he? “Guy?”
“It’s true,” he says, not looking at me.
“Sure it is! That’s why you’re walking the streets and not locked up!” says Jen sarcastically.
“You only wanted an answer, not an explanation. And I’m not playing your stupid, fucking game anymore!” Guy grabs his half-empty beer from the table and storms barefoot out of the house, the front door slamming behind him.
We stare after him, and nobody speaks for a while.
“Whoa. Reckon he did?” Jen rests her head on the sofa. “Psycho.”
I hesitate, looking in the direction of the door. Do I follow him? As I step towards the front door, Cam sits up. “You’re not going after him are you?”
“Yes.”
“What? He told us he killed somebody and you’re going to follow him into the dark?”
“I’m not scared of him and I don’t believe him.”
“Ohmigod! What if now he’s told us, Guy’s gonna kill us too!” shrieks Jen.
“Jen, you’re wasted. Don’t be fucking stupid,” Cam says, and then looks to me. “Are you sure? Normal people don’t say shit like that.”
“Guy’s not normal people and neither am I.” I slip my feet into my strappy sandals and walk into the night.
Chapter Twelve
A streetlight a few hundred metres away doesn’t offer much illumination, but the large moon picks out a figure striding through the scrub toward the beach. I hurry across the empty road to catch up.
“Guy!” He either doesn’t hear or ignores me. I blink as I step from the lit road to the beach, adjusting my eyes until I see his figure again. “Guy!”
The sand fills my sandals and slows me down as I jog closer to him. I call his name once more, louder and he halts. He can’t pretend he doesn’t hear me in the silence of the early hours.
Guy turns, the moonlight picking out his drawn features. “Why have you followed me?”
“Because I’m worried about you.”
“Huh.”
The gap between us is small, but feels like a chasm I’m unsure I can cross. Why did he say what he did? This man in the moonlit shadows isn’t the Guy I know. He swears under his breath and sits.
When Guy doesn’t speak, I join him on the sand; and for a few moments, we stare at the ocean.
“I should’ve taken the dare and kissed you,” he says, “But she pissed me off.”
“You certainly shut her up.”
Guy digs his fingers into the sand next to him. “It was the truth,” he says. “I did kill my mother.”
I control the gasp of breath threatening to escape. “Then why aren’t you...”
“In prison? She died a long time ago. I was a kid.”
The waves lap the shore, the darkened water close to my feet and I wriggle back, not wanting water to touch me. Guy spoke about this tonight for a reason, he didn’t need to; he had a choice. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“She died giving birth to me. I killed
her,” he says, voice void of emotion.
“Guy...” I place a hand on his arm. “No, you didn’t. That’s tragic but you can’t think like that.” He doesn’t move or respond. “I’m sure you’ve been told this a thousand times.”
Guy takes my hand and pushes it away. “I hurt people, Phe. I kill people. I came into this world by taking a life. All my life, people I become close to suffer. I’m a curse. I deserve to die.”
The evening breeze lifts the hairs on the back of my neck. Guy won’t look at me and his words are slurred around the edges; dredged from his depths I had no idea about.
“Don’t say things like that! I don’t believe you’re a bad person.”
“You don’t know me, Phe.”
“Because you hide yourself.”
“I guess I’m not hidden anymore then, am I?”
I take his hand again. “I want to know what kind of man you are beneath the surface, because I think he’s a good man.”
“Things are complicated.” He curls his cool fingers around mine, and squeezes. “I feel cursed.”
Guy shifts closer, our legs touching. Would a normal person shy away from him? At this moment, I want his closeness more than ever, to show him I don’t agree. That I care. The dark water nearby quietly laps the shore, hardly audible beneath Guy’s stressed breathing
“Since you know something about me, can I ask you something?” he asks.
“What?”
“You said your parents were dead. What happened?”
An exchange of secrets, slipping through a crack in the barrier between the part of Guy that recognises part of Phe, and wants to take hold. I take my hand away and wrap my arms around my knees.
“Remember I told you their death was an accident? It wasn’t.”
“Oh.”
I heave a breath. “I got out.”
“Out of where?”
“I can’t talk about this, Guy, the nightmares will start again.”
“I understand all about nightmares.”
“I understand about feeling cursed,” I whisper back.
Guy touches my cheek and I tremble, against the cool breeze on the beach, the fear dug up, and the need for Guy to take hold of me. Guy looks the same as at the cafe last Monday – tired and defeated – and my heart hurts for him. “I want to explain so much, but I can’t. I don’t know how to.”
The Same Deep Water Page 8