The Same Deep Water

by Swallow, Lisa

  “You don’t need to until you’re ready.”

  Guy wraps an arm around my shoulders and I rest my head against his hard chest. “Why do you trust me?” he asks.

  “Shouldn’t I trust you?”

  “I just told you I hurt everybody who’s close to me.”

  “How can you say that after what you did for me?”

  His lack of response worries me and I move to look at him. Guy takes my hand and traces the lines on my palm. “When I saw you in the dark, I had to fight against running over and dragging you away from the edge. I wanted to hold you, to absorb your suffering. I’m sick of hurting people. I thought taking away your pain might absolve me somehow.”

  “I don’t believe you hurt people, Guy.”

  “I don’t hurt people deliberately. It just happens.” He takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Since the moment I saw you on the edge, I’ve wanted us, but I’m scared. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  I touch his face. “You’ve already helped me so much. That first night and in the days after.”

  Guy looks at my hands. “I messaged you every evening so that every night when you closed your eyes to sleep you would know somebody out there cared.”

  Guy’s words choke me; the carefully hidden man revealing the fractured edges of his soul and the depth of his heart. “Being with you is transforming my world, and I don’t think the list is the only reason, is it?”

  “What if I do hurt you?”

  “Then I’ll cope.”

  “Will you?”

  I understand his need to pull me from the edge. I share the hatred that another person could hurt in the same way. All this time and I failed to notice, too busy struggling against the dark tide threatening to pull me under. Guy is swimming the same deep water as me.

  “Yes. I can’t hide from the world and deny the good for fear of the bad. You live in the moment and I should too,” I tell him.

  Guy laughs softly and touches my cheek. “Living dangerously, Phe. You’ll be jumping out of planes next.”

  “Maybe I’ll pass on living in that particular moment.”

  “So what happens?”

  “I don’t want to wait until it rains.” I shift closer to him, willing him to embrace me.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “We already know that.”

  Exhaling, Guy curls his hand into my hair, and then rests his forehead against mine, warm breath heating my face. “This pulls us into something different. I’m not sure.”

  “Kiss me, even if only once.” I move my head so our lips touch, the buzz of connection immediate.

  “If I kiss you it will be more than once.”

  “Good.” I turn my face and meet his mouth curling a hand around his neck to pull him closer. Guy places one hand in the sand, circles his other arm around my waist, and he kisses me. The warm pressure of his mouth moves from tentative to firmer as I push my lips against his, eagerly responding and pressing myself into him. Mouth harder against mine, Guy parts my lips, exploring as I push my tongue against his.

  We kiss for what feels like forever, a single moment frozen in time, not moving or closing the rest of the space between us. I crave Guy’s hands on my skin, to slide my hands against his too, but this should stay as a kiss.

  Guy pulls away slowly, as if he doesn’t want to take his lips from mine, and releases my waist. We could kiss again, our lips close enough that they still feel connected, and I’m tempted. I move my head back; but in the dim, I can barely make out Guy’s expression.

  “There’s something strange about us,” he says.

  I laugh. “You reckon?”

  “No, about us. Together. Do you think we cancel each other out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Life and death.”

  “Don’t talk about death when I just kissed you, Guy. That was to distract you.”

  “Not because you wanted to kiss me?”

  “That too.”

  Guy holds my face with both hands and kisses me softly again. “Being with you changed my world, Phe. I’m not sure I can ever go back to my old one.”

  “The world’s a brighter place with you in, that’s for sure.” I take his hand and squeeze. “I don’t want to talk about the bad or the past.”

  Guy tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t want to stay here. Let’s go back to the house and hope your stupid friend has passed out drunk.”

  I walk with Guy back to the house, a line crossed. We could be any couple giving in to our attraction, taking a tentative step in the direction we both want to go. But we’re not.

  Light from the half-open front door shines onto the pathway and we step inside to an empty lounge room. Empty bottles and glasses remain strewn around the room, but Jen and Cam are gone. A subdued Guy sits on the sofa and rubs sand from his feet.

  I look up as I hear a noise from the kitchen. Cam hesitates in the doorway with two large glasses of water, and a rueful smile.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey,” I reply.

  Guy says nothing.

  I’m relieved when Cam ends the conversation at an exchanged greeting and heads to the back of the house with his drinks. Guy watches, and back in the light I can see more clearly how drunk he is. The fresh air didn’t do much for my sobriety either, nor does the light-headed feeling from Guy’s kiss.

  His mouth curves into a smile and he flops against the back of the sofa. “Do you think they believed me, about my mother?”

  I sit next to him. “Probably not.”

  “She’s a bit obnoxious, your mate.” He drags a hand down his face. “Sorry, she’s your friend, but she’s rude.”

  “Jen’s always like that when she’s drunk.”

  He smooths hair from my face and cups my cheek. “Like I said, should’ve just kissed you if I knew you were going to anyway.”

  Before I can respond, Guy’s lips find mine again and he draws me back from the craziness of the evening into the calm of his embrace. His kiss is slow, holding my head instead of moving to touch my skin. Pausing, he buries his face in my neck, exhales heavily, and squeezes me.

  I stroke his hair. “Are you alright?”

  “Drunk. Wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.”

  I hold him and fight the arousal triggered by his kiss. Guy’s rough cheek scrapes against my skin as he places his lips on my collarbone. We remain in silence and the drunken warmth of our embrace coupled with Guy’s rhythmic breathing conspires against me. I begin to nod off as Guy’s body becomes heavier against mine.

  “I can’t fall asleep here,” I murmur.

  Stretching and shaking his head to wake himself, Guy studies me as we reach the moment things could shift further. “You going to bed?”

  “I was going to go, yes. Will you be okay?”

  “Me? Yeah.” He places his lips on my forehead. “I’d like to join you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  My breath catches, the alcohol-numbed morals suggesting I could ask him to. “Right.”

  Guy stands and tugs me to my feet. “If you weren’t as drunk as me, I’d be suggesting all kinds of things to you.”

  “So when we’re sober, what then?”

  “Then, I will have lots of suggestions,” he says in a low voice.

  When we part, I lie in bed and mull the last few hours over in my head. Fate is a strange creature, drawing together lost souls then stepping back to watch what happens. What worries me is how kissing Guy felt right and how natural being in his company feels. How can this end well?

  Chapter Thirteen

  5 Go Skydiving

  Breakfast holds tension. A hungover Jen nurses a steaming cup of coffee when I arrive downstairs, and Guy is in the kitchen buttering toast. Without speaking to Jen, I head into the kitchen to Guy.

  “How are you?” I ask. “Ready for today?”

  He licks butter from his fingers. “Yep. It’s not too late to join me, you know.”

 
; “I don’t think so! Your bucket list, not mine.”

  “You’re staying to watch then?”

  “That’s why I came here this weekend.”

  “Right.” He takes a bite of toast. “Your friends are leaving. I thought you might want to go with them too.”

  My stomach lurches. He hasn’t tried to touch or kiss me since I walked into the room; this was a mistake to him. “Oh. Do you want me to?”

  “No, Phe. I don’t want you to.”

  As I busy myself making a cup of tea, Guy remains behind me, and I feel his proximity as if we were touching. “Were you very drunk last night?” he asks.

  “Fairly. I think we all were.”

  “Did you mean to kiss me?”

  I turn in surprise. “No, Guy, I tripped and my lips met yours. Why? Didn’t you want to?”

  “Last night was a mess,” he says. “I didn’t want you to know those things about me.”

  “Well, I do now. And so do they.” I indicate Jen who now has her head on the table, hair splayed around her. “Are you going to explain?”

  “Nah. I’ll let her think I’m a fugitive on the run for the murder of his mother.”

  I look away. We can’t go back to this. Not murder. I carry the guilt of the day I survived the murder of my mum and brother. I understand his need to tie the past inside, but I also know how this knots around your soul and devours.

  “Good morning, Jen.” Guy sits opposite her at the table. He wasn’t joking about pretending nothing happened. She shifts and says something I don’t hear.

  “No worries. We all said some things we didn’t want to.” He munches on his toast.

  An awkward looking, pale Jen joins me in the kitchen. I don’t often see her without make-up, her naked lips and unpainted eyes soften her features, and she looks years younger than her twenty-four. “We’re leaving this morning.”

  “Guy told me you were.”

  “Be careful, Phe,” she says in a low voice. “I don’t know if I trust him.”

  “I do.” I dump the teabag in the bin and pour milk into my cup. “I trust him more than anybody.”

  Jen’s brows shoot up. “Then I think you’re asking for trouble.”

  “Yesterday you were all for matchmaking us.”

  “Oh, God, don’t start a relationship with him.” She groans at my small smile. “Phe, no. Did you...?”

  “No, but you did. Noisily.” Jen wrinkles her nose in response and I sidestep her. “Last night opened my eyes to a few things.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  I look behind her to Guy, who turns his head as if aware of my scrutiny and meets my eyes. I always felt as if Guy saw more of me than anybody else, and now the remaining veil between us is slipping. For the first time in a long time, I know what I want and I’m doing it.

  * * *

  The plane drones overhead and I sit on the white sand, shielding my eyes against the sun as I watch. The lucky skydivers experience amazing views of the Bay, though to me the flight would feel like that of a condemned woman. I wouldn’t make it out of the plane unless someone physically pushed me or dragged me screaming through the air.

  Guy’s preparations for the jump took some time and when he handed over his medical and waiver form, it occurred to me he may have lied. Again, I sweep a look at his fit and healthy figure, trying to figure out what’s wrong with him. All day I’ve been hyperaware of his proximity, aching for him. Now I’ve let somebody through, my body craves more.

  I’m also aware I need to hear more secrets from him before I allow myself to fall any further, but that involves giving up more of mine.

  A man with two small children joins me on the beach where we wait for the plane to circle back. The little blond-haired boy and girl chase each other between the water and the beach, while the man stands next to me, arms crossed.

  “They don’t understand why their mum wants to jump out of a plane,” he says.

  I nod. “I don’t understand why anybody would.”

  “She’s doing this for charity, but what if she hurts herself?” He indicates his children. “Or worse.”

  “I’m sure she’s very safe,” I say. The concern on the middle-aged man’s face is clear. I never thought to worry about Guy injuring himself.

  “I saw you with your boyfriend. Why aren’t you jumping too?” he asks.

  “I’m not into extreme sports.” I laugh. “I’m not into extreme anything.”

  “Sensible.” The little boy tugs at his sleeve, asking for a drink and the man delves into his black rucksack.

  Sensible.

  That’s the problem. I thought sensible would control my world and stop tragedy touching my life again but that already failed once. Sensible numbs. Sensible leaves nothing to drive me on, to live a life I can. But can I go to extremes?

  “There she is!” cries the little girl.

  Two joined figures, as small as a bird in the sky, fall through the air and my heart lurches into my mouth as I watch. Who jumps first? Is this Guy?

  The parachute catches the free-falling pair, yanking them upwards until their descent resumes, slower. This is me and Guy, free falling together until something saves us and slows down the plummet to death.

  For one of us at least.

  Tears prick my eyes, not because I know I’ll lose Guy, but because a man so full of life can have his snatched away when people who barely live are wasting theirs.

  Further, along the beach, the skydiver and instructor hit the ground, and then run along the beach. The suited figure is too tall to be the small woman who hugged her children goodbye and whose husband refused to kiss her. The person could be one of the two Dutch backpackers, a couple locked in their excitement before they headed to the waiting plane; but as he approaches, I know this is Guy. A man on the beach helps him out of the parachute and Guy’s excitement is reflected in his body language, arms gesturing wildly as he paces from foot to foot.

  Guy charges across the sand toward me, invigorated, red cheeks and shining eyes. He sweeps me off my feet. I catch his shoulders in surprise and look down at him. He kisses me hard on the mouth and laughs breathlessly.

  “You need to do that! It’s fucking awesome!” Guy spins me around, the world out of control, as I lock my arms around his neck. “That is the second most amazing thing I’ve done in my life!”

  “Second? You’ve led a crazy life if that’s not the first! What tops that?”

  He sets me down and cups my face in his cold hands. “Kissing you last night.”

  The intensity is back; his words would sound trite, but are spoken with sincerity. I touch his cheek with a small smile. “Correction, a boring life, if that’s number one.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself and the effect you have on people. You sure as hell have an effect on me.” He grabs my ass in both hands and squeezes.

  Embarrassed, I glance around at the man and his children; but fortunately, they’re looking the other way. “I still can’t believe you jumped out of a plane! That’s mad!”

  “I think everybody should try skydiving!”

  Pulled into Guy’s enthusiasm, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. His face is damp, heart thundering against my chest as we embrace. He breaks away and lifts me from the sand again, spinning us around until the world blurs into streaks of colour. Dizzy and breathless, I rest my head on Guy’s and hold on. We’re anchored in our blurred world, out of time and place, and for the first time in my life holding onto somebody else feels right.

  * * *

  I wait by the Jeep for Guy to return from changing. The dark grip of last night’s weirdness was blown away by his jump and his brand of happiness is infectious, wrapping around and squeezing life into me. If doing something as challenging as Guy did can bring someone to life in this way, I should conquer my fear and take the step into my challenges.

  Guy greets me with a kiss when he arrives at the car and my head spins again at the easy shift from friends to cou
ple. “Right. Back to the house for a shower then surfing lesson number one for you!”

  “I was waiting to see if you felt up to teaching me, thought you might be tired after your morning.”

  He draws his brows together in mock sternness. “Ophelia. You’re trying to avoid this, aren’t you? I thought we agreed.”

  “I didn’t exactly agree.” I offer him a sweet smile. “I’d rather not. Besides, look no waves.”

  “Not here but I know where there are plenty of awesome surfing spots.” Guy drops his scrutiny from my eyes to my lips. “I might think of better things to do with our time if you refuse to surf.”

  “Is that right?” I moisten mine and straighten. “Such as?”

  He bends so his lips almost touch mine. “Wineries to visit.”

  His eyes glint in amusement before he hops into the Jeep. I’m laying bets that’s not what he means.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Guy’s loud exuberance continues for the rest of the day with repeated blow-by-blow accounts of his jump. I tease him and he laughs; but thankfully, Guy drops his insistence I start my surfing lessons. We head to a nearby winery for lunch, sit beneath the metal canopy outside the cafe on wooden benches, and share an afternoon amongst the tall grapevines. Guy relaxes into chatting about the times he’s spent here in the past, and I steer the conversation away from his enthusiasm for the local surf scene in case he jumps back to that topic and attempts to drag me for the lesson I agreed to.

  I can’t remember the last time I was this relaxed and happy, and I push away the darker niggling thought about Guy’s future, and follow his mantras instead. Live for now. Be in the moment. Sharing these moments with a man who today looks at me as if I’m the most important person in his world both thrills and disquiets me. If only we could stay in this time and place longer – a week, a month. Forever.

  The house is cool when we return, the quiet emptiness welcome after the busy afternoon amongst tourists. Guy throws his car keys on the low table near the front door and I head upstairs to change. My pulse rate picks up as I hear his footsteps on the wooden staircase behind. As the afternoon progressed, we moved closer physically and the subtle touches became snatched kisses until only the heat of the day prevented us cuddling together completely.