‘Next time, take me with you,’ she said.
Relief flooded through me. My anger evaporated. My cheeks flushed crimson red. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes and a liquid ball of snot involuntarily shot out of my nose and dripped to the floor. I was a mess. Eliza regarded me without the slightest hint of disgust.
The Principal opened the door to call Eliza in. Ms Finch had one of those turned-up noses like a pig. You could always see directly up both nostrils, like someone was pointing the barrel of a gun directly in your face. Those nostrils were deep and cavernous. Hairy too. She had a serious amount of nasal hair. I guess we all do, it’s just that you don’t get a good look up most people’s noses.
The teaching profession somehow attracted people with an unusual body part or an incredibly idiotic name. Take Mr Jones who had a mole the size of cockroach on the end of his chin. It wobbled around as he tried to explain functions. Very distracting. Then there was Mrs Smelling, Mr Grossman and Mr Goldsack. Really? Why would people like this choose to become a teacher? Was it a requirement to have something about you that would attract the instant ridicule of every student?
In Ms Finch’s case, other than her unusual proboscis, there wasn’t really much else to say about her. I guess that’s the hunter instinct part of my own brain at work. That pig nose was the only point of difference she had to the rest of the world, but it was enough to remove her from it.
Eliza stood up from that bench with such grace that Ms Finch’s jaw fell open in wonder. The numbing pain of that bench was nothing to Eliza. It was as if her childhood was spent enduring an even harder punishment. In comparison, that old relic was like sitting on a fluffy sofa. Eliza was completely at ease. At least, that’s how she appeared. She floated inside the Principal’s office, ready to receive punishment. I was ashamed, I was so caught up in myself I hadn’t even asked what she’d done.
*
We looked out to the reef together. Strangely, it suddenly seemed smaller and less dangerous. I wondered if a passing fisherman decided to move the buoy in a few metres, or maybe the tide had gone out and we were standing closer to it. Whatever the reason, I suddenly felt foolish for nearly having drowned out there. Eliza stood there a long while contemplating what a complete idiot I was to almost drown myself over a lemonade bottle.
‘You swam out there?’
‘Yep.’
She didn’t ask why. This wasn’t some small mercy, saving me embarrassment. It wasn’t even pity. I didn’t realise it at the time but she already knew why, even though I didn’t.
‘With no bathers?’
‘There’s nobody around,’ I told her.
‘Turn around,’ she ordered.
I looked at the sandstone cliff, my back to the sea. I could hear the curling waves kiss the shore. Above me, flocks of gulls cried for their lost children. I listened to the light and secretive sounds as Eliza undressed behind me.
A sudden heat raced through my body. Every part of me ached. I listened as her footsteps padded away through the sand. I heard the faintest intake of her breath as she felt the sudden chill of the ocean carve her ankles. My senses were a riot, fighting each other for precious brain space. The need to turn around overcame all logic. If this were the last image of Eliza Robertson I’d ever see, I wanted it to be this one. I turned but she was already waist deep in the ocean. I had missed my chance.
I turned back to look at the cliffs as she found deeper water. Then I heard her call for me. She floated in the deeper water, her head bobbing up with the small swell that ambled through. She wanted me to follow. I waited for her to turn aside but she just floated there, watching me patiently.
I undressed before her and placed my clothes neatly next to hers. I stared at her clothes, left discarded on the sand. A glimpse of white lace poked out from beneath her shirt. I longed to touch those clothes, to feel what it would be like to be close to her, to touch her residual warmth. I resisted the temptation. She was still watching me.
I walked towards her, cupping myself to hide the important bits. The cold was glorious. It stabbed at my nerve endings, reminding them of life. I swam out to meet her and we floated together in the ocean, treading water over the graves of the dead.
‘How deep is it?’
‘Deeper than you think,’ I said.
She watched as I breathed in and out deeply, soaking my lungs with oxygen. I left her there on the surface and swam down. The wreck was a dark outline through the green haze. It grew larger and more ominous, yet more serene as I fell to meet it.
I gripped the rough barnacles and waited for her. My heart raced in anticipation. Eliza came down to meet me, backlit with sun.
She was more than me. I understood now that Eliza was fully a woman. Her every curve was rounded and bold, filled with the tension that only came with adulthood.
In comparison, I was yet to be formed. I had indications of where muscles might one day evolve or where hair might provide a thick layer of warmth against the cold. Yet these advances were still some time off for me. Compared to her, I was insipid and young. I swear if I was any thinner, I’d simply wash away with the tide.
I could see she was struggling. She paddled down but quickly found her limit and could go no further. I reached up to take her hand and drew her down to me.
Panic had set her eyes. The whites were vivid. Her pupils were deep black, wide and fearful. She reacted instinctually to my touch and embraced me with both arms and legs. She wrapped herself tightly around my body.
It came to me then. Down there, on the edge of all things, I was the stronger. She trembled against me. Her skin was velvet smooth, warm against the cold. She glided all over me, pressed against me. Her eyes were thick with terror.
Slowly her fear began to wane and she took in the sight of the shipwreck. I could feel her relax. The wonder of the place soothed her. It was peaceful, that underwater graveyard. Her eyes were solemn. Her sadness, as dark as that wreck, washed away. For a moment she looked serene. We were happy, embraced deep in the shadows.
We broke the surface together. Eliza desperately gasped for air as we eased back into the world. Perhaps she wasn’t used to this kind of thing like I was. She didn’t have much energy left and I had to help her swim back to shore. I powered along with one arm, my other draped over her neck and shoulder. Above, those sorrowful gulls arced across the sky, still mourning their loss I guess.
We made it to the sand and dressed with our backs to each other. It was a pointless gesture. We had already seen everything but, back on dry land, we still required some level of modesty. We looked out to the ocean for a long while. I thought she’d berate me for holding her down there.
‘Thanks, Monty.’
I guess it was just what she needed.
*
We walked back to Middleford in silence. Being with Eliza now was a meditative experience. It was a little intimidating to know just how much more she was than me. Still, I didn’t care. If I closed my eyes, I could remember her. I could still feel her swimming against me. I wanted to go back and hold her under that ocean forever. We’d lie there for an eternity and never lose our breath. I’d never let her slip away.
I opened my eyes and found her watching me. A sudden pang of panic struck. Could she tell what I was thinking, standing there like an idiot, drool dripping out the corners of my mouth? Disappointment filled her eyes. She could see straight into me, I was sure.
‘You got what you wanted?’
‘No.’
‘What do you want then?’
I hadn’t a clue. Don’t get me wrong, seeing Eliza naked was the best moment of my life. If I had died right then, suddenly sucked in all that salt water and drowned like a floundering rat, I wouldn’t care less. I would’ve gone to my briny grave having seen what most teenage boys would give their right arm to see. Yet my foolish happiness wasn’t about the silky sight of her. I had seen the unseen too.
‘It wasn’t just your body I saw,’ I offered.
She looked at me sharply. Then, for the first time, it was her eyes that dropped away, eager to find safety in some far away place. The sound of her muffled sobs fell like soft rain. She felt something after all.
‘Eliza?’
My hand reached out to her but she flinched before I even got close.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she warned.
‘Okay. I get it,’ I reminded. ‘There is no us, remember?’
*
Some changes are swift. They break over you like a tsunami and wipe away everything in its path. Other changes are gradual, and play out in such small increments you don’t notice things are different until it’s too late. I wish I could go back in time and live a moment all over again. With knowing eyes, I’d bend it backwards, force it uncut, and replay the way I’d like it to run. But which moment would I choose over any other? I guess that’s the hardest thing: to know the right moment. It’s the small things that get missed.
Alias: @The Full Monty
Date: Friday June 6, 4.22AM
I’m in a whirlwind that I can’t escape!
@Gutentag
Is this what you of wanting? To exit this torrent?
@The Full Monty
No. I’m just saying it’s a ride. Like a rollercoaster. I’m hanging on like mad, but I don’t know where it’ll end.
@Gutentag
Then why you buy this ticket?
@The Full Monty
Couldn’t resist, I guess!
*
I waited at Middleford station, as per her orders. She was going to show me a secret, so she told me. I couldn’t resist going. I had to know what she meant. It was early evening. I waited for her as hordes of office workers piled off their trains after work, desperate for hot dinners and widescreen TVs.
They probably all settled down to watch the same show, I thought. And maybe they were all having the exact same thing for dinner, after having watched the exact same cooking show the night before and all thinking they were the only ones who were inspired to make a rustic chicken pie. The effects fell like dominoes: the supermarkets would have sold out of chickens. Caught out, they’d buy twice as many the day after. But by then, people would move on to the next big thing, beef curry or something. And the supermarkets would be forced to throw out all those unsold chickens. Thousands of lives would have been wasted for nothing.
‘Ready to go?’ she asked.
Eliza appeared behind me, dressed like a teenage goddess. She suddenly looked much older. She wore a silky looking top, a tailored skirt, and her hair draped over her shoulders in perfect curls. She looked classy, sophisticated even, like a runway model stepping out with the social elite. In contrast I looked like a bum. I had on the same t-shirt I’d worn all week and my dirty pants and trainers looked like I’d just crawled out of a bin.
‘Geez, good to see you put in an effort, Monty.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘Realise what? That when you go out, you make an effort?’
‘Yeah. That.’
She rolled her eyes and we caught the train to the city. At that time of day, we were the only ones on board. The train at Middleford was a terminus. I always found that curious. The driver didn’t need to turn the train around or anything. He just casually walked to the other end, put it in reverse, and drove backwards all the way to the city. No matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn’t decide which way was forward, or which way was back.
I banged on his window until the driver opened the door. He looked annoyed and pointed to a sign above the cabin. It warned that it was an offence to interrupt the driver and I could be forced to pay a two hundred dollar fine.
‘This is important,’ I said. ‘Which way is the front?’
‘Just sit down and enjoy the ride,’ he said, looking exasperated.
‘I can’t,’ I insisted. ‘Not until I know. Which way is forward?’
‘Look mate, they go both ways. Forward and back. It’s exactly the same.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, relieved.
I moved off to sit with Eliza who stared at me like I was completely nuts.
‘We’re not like trains,’ I explained.
That didn’t help. She was still looking at me like I was nuts.
‘We can’t go backwards,’ I said.
‘Right. Most people already know that, Monty.’
The train began its reverse journey all the way to the city. I amused myself by thinking we were travelling forwards and backwards simultaneously. We were heading to our inevitable conclusion, which we had already seen, and back to our beginning, where we’d already been. Only the ride in between mattered.
We sat opposite each other. Most people don’t like looking at a person for very long. They find it rude or confronting, as if they’re breaking some social taboo. I sometimes forgot rules like that. I stared at Eliza, unblinking.
‘There’s a window, Monty. Why don’t you use it?’
‘Huh?’
‘Stop staring. You’re giving me the creeps.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
I turned away and looked out the window. But it was dark out and there was nothing to distract me. I longed to see a man walking his dog. Or a couple sitting at a station. Or a bird on a wire. Anything. All I could see was her reflection. That’s all I wanted to see, I guess.
The city was dark and loveless. Concrete and petrol fumes invaded my senses. Eliza seemed to know where she was going and led me through backstreets and alleyways. I hadn’t been to the city much, maybe once or twice when our school went to an excursion.
One time, we had spent the day wandering around the Botanic Gardens looking for endangered plants. I didn’t really get how a plant could be endangered. After all, couldn’t you just plant more of them? It wasn’t like an animal. You didn’t have to wait for them to breed in a zoo or anything. If we wanted to, we could plant entire rainforests. Maybe that was the point? We just didn’t want to. Our preferred habitat was bitumen and traffic lights and high-rise apartments. Maybe nothing else stood a chance? In the end the world would become one big city and people would go to museums to look at pictures of sunflowers.
The club that Eliza took me to was noisy. Music boomed from within and there was already a small line-up outside. Twenty-year-old girls in high heels giggled. Muscled guys in tight t-shirts paraded. At the door, a massive guy with arms as wide as a tree let people in one by one. He looked like some fierce Polynesian warrior, ready to go into battle at the slightest provocation. This guy put Tony Papadopoulos to shame. I looked to Eliza, a little fearful.
‘I don’t think this is a very good idea,’ I said.
‘It’s alright, I know what I’m doing. Come on.’
Eliza led me around the back of the club to a small alleyway, filled with broken glass and the smell of dead rats. She pulled an old milk crate to the wall and climbed up to a small, high window.
‘Give me a leg up,’ she ordered.
I held on to her shoe and pushed her up to the window. She tugged it open and slipped inside. I waited in the dark for a second, and thought about being left alone in city. I feared abandonment. The thought of travelling back on the train alone terrified me. Her voice cut through the gloom and she extended a hand through the open window.
‘Hurry up, will you?’
I took her hand, a little too eagerly, and pulled myself up over the crate and into the club. We had snuck in to land inside the toilets. Luckily nobody was inside that cubicle at the time. There were voices outside the loo. We weren’t alone. Eliza didn’t seem to care and led me straight out past a group of young women. They stared at us but didn’t make a big deal of it. They just smiled and giggled as if they’d seen it all before.
The club was a dark pit of energy. Music thundered all around. The heavy bass boomed in my chest, commanding my heart to beat in time.
‘Doof. Doof. Doof!’ it summoned.
Over the top sang a high-pitched wail. It was relentless. I thought
of that mad cat and the sound of pure insanity. I lost all notions of time and space, up and down, forward and back. I was spinning out of control. Eliza grabbed my hand and led me towards the lights.
We descended to the dance floor and moved among a horde of people so thick I didn’t know where their bodies ended and mine began. We became one with the throng. We surged and swayed. Dancing to the music was instinctual. I didn’t think about it. I just did it. We held each other and danced like mad, lost amid the heat and the sweat.
I caught her eyes in the strobe lights. They flickered maniacally, like stuttering neon. Eliza was electric. She sparkled with life. I’d never seen her smile like that before. She beamed a wide, happy grin. Her face was joyous and light. She suddenly looked younger and I remembered the girl she used to be.
I saw her riding her bike up the street again, the one with the little pink tassels. She used to smile like that then: joyous and free, like nothing mattered. We were in the moment. That was all we ever needed.
We danced and danced and danced, for I don’t know how long. It must have been hours because the people around us constantly changed and I thought I must have heard the same song at least three times.
We didn’t try speaking to one another. There was no point. You couldn’t hear a word you said, let along thought. And that was the best thing about it. On the dance floor, there were no thoughts. There were no distractions. There was only the music.
A great Polynesian hand gripped my shoulder. I buckled under the force of it, and my knees threatened to give. The security guard reached out with his other massive paw and snatched Eliza by her arm. He threw us out onto the street with about as much care as he’d take to swat a fly.
‘Don’t come back here, hey? You two kids could get in a lot of trouble.’
He spoke with a remarkably calm and sweet voice, like a little child’s. He almost pleaded with us not to bother him. Two underage kids in a dance club was a problem. The cops would probably shut the place down if they found out. But his calm demeanour betrayed cold intent. He’d break my legs if he had to, I thought.
The Hounded Page 9