by Pip Harry
In front of me Rachel gets the giggles too and behind me Millie catches on, then Penny and Meg, all the way down to the bow. The whole boat cracks up. The harder it hails, the harder we laugh. Even Aiko gives up trying to get us into line.
‘Bugger this,’ says Laura, looking up at the grey, closed-in sky. ‘Middle of summer and it’s hailing. Let’s ditch this session and get dry. At least you girls still have your sense of humour.’
As we pull the boat into the staging, we’re still laughing and talking. The rain has broken up a dark stagnant pond, revealing clear water underneath. After we put the boat on racks, I spot a group of Year Nines in the rain. They’ve decided it’s so wet they might as well have a swim in the river, and they’re cavorting on the bank, sopping wet. Usually I’d ignore them but I have a job to do. Like it or not – I’m in charge of this rabble.
‘Oi!’ I shout at them. ‘You lot!’
I gather up an armful of dry towels and beckon them inside. ‘Let’s go, girls. Get out of the rain!’
They run towards the shed and shiver around me as I hand out towels.
‘Dry yourselves off. I’m going to make hot chocolates for everyone upstairs in the dining hall,’ I say. Group hot chocolates. Could anything be less me?
They look at me in shock, drying off their hair and bodies, teeth chattering. I’ve never spoken to any of them. I don’t know their names. That has to change. I remember how much I looked up to previous captains. How they never paid me the slightest bit of attention and I yearned for it. I have a chance to be a different type of captain this year.
‘Wet gear off, hot showers, dry clothes and I’ll see you in the hall in ten minutes,’ I say, liking how my voice sounds. Strong, almost motherly.
‘Training hard?’ I say to one of them as she passes by. Tall and solid, she could be a future first-boat rower.
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. Having fun too?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. That’s what camp is about. What’s your name?’
‘Amelia.’
‘I’m Leni.’
‘I know,’ she says, and finally gives me a shy smile.
Dad pulls me into the empty training room before dinner. I flinch when I see the ergo machines. There should be crime scene tape draped across them.
‘Come, sit,’ says Dad, patting a seat. It seems so innocent now. Not the dreaded lump of steel that beat me to a bloody pulp.
I roll up and down on the slide, the wheels turning gently on metal. Dad sits on the machine next to me and does the same. Outside dinner has started. We can hear the muted roar of starving rowers clawing for plates of hot food. The smell of barbecued meat makes me hungry. I want this father–daughter chat to be brief.
‘Why did I stop?’ I say. ‘You know everything about rowing. Everything about my rowing. So why did it happen?’
‘I can’t tell you that, Leni,’ Dad says, switching to Romanian so I know this isn’t going to be a short chat. ‘Every trial is a mental game. You’re fit enough to do 7.20. Your body was strong, but your head gave up today. You got spooked.’
‘My brain was weak? Nothing to do with it being a furnace and going out too hard on your advice? I couldn’t keep it up. I’m obviously not as good as you think. I couldn’t even break 7.30.’
‘Don’t be the rower that makes excuses after a poor result,’ Dad says. ‘You’re just starting out in this sport. In rowing years, you’re a baby. If you progress to senior crews, you’ll push yourself further than you can even imagine sitting here right now. You will scream for mercy. You’ll summon every fibre of your being, every ounce of energy trying to claw your way to the line first. You’ll be ten times fitter, stronger, faster and tougher than you are now. Today was a lesson. You’ll face so many more in the future.’
‘I learnt a lesson by falling apart during an erg?’
‘Did you learn you can be beaten?’ asks Dad.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re human?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have weakness?’
‘Maybe you’re my weakness,’ I say. I don’t mean it, but I want it to be someone else’s fault.
‘Maybe,’ Dad agrees. ‘Maybe your lesson was not to listen to your silly old father.’
‘Why did you tell me to go hard? It wasn’t the right thing today.’
‘It’s tough for me not to guide you. I taught you and Cristian to row. I feel like I know you best. Better than these coaches. But I have to trust them. I have to let go. I’ve spoken to Laura. We’ve agreed I’ll stay out of the way and not offer my opinion, unless I’m asked. I wish I’d been across the room during that trial, not in your ear.’
I feel torn. I’ve always loved having Dad by my side. He gives me strength.
‘Sometimes I will ask you for advice. Would that be okay?’
‘I’ll always be there for you. You’re my daughter.’
‘Should we go and eat?’ I ask. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Yes, go. Never get between a teenager and their food,’ Dad says.
‘You coming?’
Dad straps his feet into the ergo and picks up the handle.
‘In a little bit,’ he says.
His body may be ageing, but his rowing style is polished to perfection. Each stroke flows gracefully into the next, his tree-trunk legs revving the wheel slowly into a crescendo of power. He takes it up a notch, knowing I’m watching. Then he smiles and waves me away.
Cristian
Leni sits with me at dinner. Her plate is heaving and she shoves food into her mouth, stopping only to gulp down a glass of milk.
‘Hungry?’
‘Starving,’ she says with a full mouth.
I’m picking at a flaccid salad and a gristly piece of steak. It’s hard to choke it down, but I need the energy to get through camp. I suck back at a sports drink, trying to satisfy the awful thirst. Since I started on the pills, I can’t get rid of the dryness in my mouth. I wish I could chuck the packets in the bin. I dream about Mum’s cakes and stews. I’m starving, too, but in a different way to Leni.
‘Okay after today?’ I say. It’s not right. I should have crashed out, not her.
‘All good now. I heard you had a blinder.’
Nobody could have guessed this is how camp would turn out. Leni dying at the 1500-metre mark and me – former fatty – taking the whole thing out.
‘Ergo gods smiled today.’
My record is all anyone wants to talk about, but it feels like a poisoned chalice. I didn’t earn this time. I cheated.
‘You’ll get that 7.20,’ I say to Leni. ‘You’re so strong, you just had a bad day.’
‘Thanks, Cris.’
After our plates are cleared, everyone starts banging the sides of their glasses with their knives and Westie walks up to the front of the room.
‘Someone in this room did something extraordinary today,’ he says. He pauses for effect and the silence deepens. People turn to look at me.
‘Cristian Popescu didn’t just do an erg trial. He smashed the school, state and Australian record for under-nineteen-year-olds over 2000 metres. According to Google, our very own Cristian is now ranked the ninth fastest eighteen-year-old in the world. In. The. World,’ he says, stressing each word.
Leni ruffles my hair as I look down at the table. I don’t feel proud. I’m a cowardly, dirty con artist. Completely undeserving of all this attention and admiration. Everyone starts stomping their feet on the floor, like they’re at a rock gig and they want an encore. I glance at Adam and he’s leading the noise and clapping. I’m his science experiment gone right. He wolf-whistles between two fingers.
Thankfully Westie settles the room down and moves onto other news items.
‘In other developments, we welcome Cristian and Adam Langley back into the first boat
for the duration of the camp. Your co-captain Sam Camero has also recently arrived and is settling into his room. Sam has been absent due to a family matter and I expect you’ll make him feel welcome. He’s still a valued member of our first eight and will be making up his missed ergo tomorrow morning first thing.’
‘He shouldn’t have come,’ I say, in solidarity with Leni. I still hate the guy for doing the dirty on my sister. I was right about him. He’s shifty.
‘Yeah,’ she agrees.
Dad shakes my hand, then pulls me into a hug.
‘Well done!’ he says. ‘Amazing, Cris. I knew you could do it.’
It feels good, even if I swindled my way back into the firsts, to bask in Dad’s full, golden attention. To see pride, rather than disappointment on his face.
As we shuffle out of the room towards an early night, I catch the eye of Damien Yang. One of the guys dropped from the first eight to let Adam and I back in. He has tears in his eyes.
‘Tough break, man,’ I say to him. ‘I’m sorry.’
He nods, but can’t speak. There couldn’t be a worse feeling than being dropped at rowing camp with three months to go until the Head of the River. I feel a surge of fresh guilt, but brush it aside. Rowing’s tough. You have to be tougher to survive.
Adam claps me over the shoulders as we walk towards our room. ‘Woo Hoo! Didn’t I tell you we’d be back?’
I should feel like celebrating, but after the high of the ergo earlier, all I have the energy for is collapsing into my sleeping bag. I’m so exhausted. I’m usually up half the night, worrying about small stuff, blinking into the darkness, my pulse racing. I have to fire up my phone and watch podcasts until I can fall asleep again. It’s hard to believe a few months ago I used to crash out all night in a warm, calm cocoon. I miss that.
‘Long way to go yet,’ I say. But we both know crew shuffles are unlikely now. ‘I think we should play it down a little,’ I add in a whisper. ‘Don’t you think maybe I did a little too well today?’
‘Mate, you are Vasile Popescu’s son, you could rip the handle off the ergo and no one would even raise an eyebrow. We are home free, Cris. Enjoy it.’
Leni
I don’t hear him until he’s right next to me in the dark, breathing loud enough to wake me, saying my name in a loud whisper.
‘Leni … Leni.’
I’m dragged out of a black sludge, 3 am sleep. The kind of sleep that whacks you over the head for ten hours. My body aches all over from training. When I move, it protests.
‘Are you awake?’
I sit up, confused, and blink into the pitch black, reaching out with my arm. I’m frightened and I have no idea where I am or why someone is whispering my name. Is this a nightmare? It feels real.
Slowly, I see his silhouette. Make out his body shape. He catches my hand and I snatch it away.
‘Sam? You scared me. What are you doing in here? Get out. If the coaches catch us, we’ll be sent home.’
I’m still so angry with him. Anger mixed with desire. It’s a confusing sensation.
I reach for the water bottle beside my bed, taking a long sip. I’m sweating inside my nylon sleeping bag and I unzip it and let my hot limbs free. Rain patters on the tin roof. My brain is in soft focus.
‘I had to talk to you,’ he says.
‘Now? You could’ve called or texted. You’ve had all summer.’
‘I wanted to say I’m sorry. For not telling you about Bee.’
Bee. Her name flattens my spirits. ‘Did you think it was okay to muck around with me and not tell me you already had a girlfriend?’
‘I stuffed up. Can I lie down?’
‘No, you can’t.’
‘Please? I’ll just stay a minute.’
‘You hurt me. I’ve never done those things we did with anyone else. Didn’t that Sunday at your place mean anything to you?’
Has he thought of me? I’ve thought of him every day of this unbearably long, slow summer.
‘Of course it meant something. You mean something to me Leni.’
I want to believe him, but I won’t be someone’s bit on the side. Not even the heart-stoppingly gorgeous Sam Camero.
‘Are you still with Bee?’
‘Not right now.’
I feel a door open. Sam is single? I’m single. Is it finally okay for us to be together? It’s what I want so desperately.
‘You broke up?’
‘We’re not together. She’s gone overseas on a study tour.’
‘Oh. Okay.’
I let him lean into the space next to me. We lie in silence and his hand finds mine. I don’t move it away, although I should. There are things I haven’t yet forgotten or forgiven.
‘What are you doing?’ I whisper.
‘Lying in the dark, holding hands with a beautiful girl,’ says Sam. ‘I’ve missed you Leni. I can’t stop thinking about you.’
‘Where have you been, Sam?’
We lie still and listen to Penny’s heavy, measured breathing. Rachel moves in her sleeping bag and I wonder if she’s awake, listening to this soapie.
Sam puts his fingers on my forehead and strokes along the hairline. I close my eyes. The feeling of his fingertips on my skin is so soothing I never want it to stop. I breathe in his smell and feel excited by his closeness.
‘My parents split up,’ Sam says.
‘What happened?’
‘Dad’s moved into my apartment. His apartment. He told Mum it wasn’t his dream to open a yoga retreat in the middle of hippyville. He doesn’t even like yoga. He’s gone back to his old job. Back to wearing suits and checking the stockmarket. He said they’ve lost more money than he can count with her silly pipe dreams. Now someone has to be a grown-up and accept it hasn’t worked out.’
‘You okay?’
‘Yeah … nah. Better now that I’m here with you.’
‘You should go back to your room,’ I say, wanting him to stay with every molecule in my body.
‘Do you want me to go, Leni?’
Sam turns to face me. We’re so close, it’s almost an accident. Like tripping. We start kissing. Really kissing. Kissing like we’re going down on the Titanic.
‘I want to make you feel good,’ Sam says between head-spinning kisses.
Feeling good with Sam is all I can think about.
‘We can’t,’ I say, trying to slow things down. Think this through. ‘I don’t have anything with me.’
‘I do,’ Sam says, knocking down my last hurdle of resistance. ‘In my wallet. I can go get it. If you want.’
‘Okay, but not here,’ I say, letting go of the edge of the railing.
Dawn creeps under the curtains and throws a block of light onto the carpet. The girls are starting to stir in their bags. The night is over. Sam is gone. I’m an undone knot. Everything that was once tight is now unravelled. I lie on my back and look at the ceiling, smiling to myself, saying Sam’s name like a prayer. I reach for my phone and text Audrey. Hoping she’ll text back this early. Wanting to share what happened. I’m excited, my heart still drumming. I wait a few minutes and then hear her message ping back.
No way! RUOK?
I’m OK x
How did it feel?
How did it feel?
I could only think how it didn’t feel. It didn’t feel wrong, bad or something to regret. It was quick, painless and as natural as breathing. And in the hazy aftermath, the build-up, the waiting, the importance seemed all at once, inconsequential. I wasn’t a virgin anymore and that was that.
Good I think
I want gory details.
Later.
PS: Who was it?
Sam.
:-o
All the details Audrey wants are fading. My strongest memory is how it felt when Sam held me afterwards. Closer than I have
ever been held in my life. Skin to skin. Almost breathing for each other.
The day feels too bright and loud. I want to go back to Sam and I in the dark. Where I can say anything. Be the girl that lets go. I look for Sam at breakfast, before I remember he’s making up his erg trial. I should be disappointed but I’m relieved. It gives me a few more hours to swim lazy laps in the memories of last night. To wonder how and when we will make our togetherness official.
I wander dreamily down to the water with an armful of oars. Take my place as usual at the seven seat. It’s our last session today. This afternoon we will pack up and take the bus back to the city. I’ll be leaving a part of myself here on this beautiful river. The part that holds on too tight.
‘Leni, move up a seat,’ Laura says as we put hands on the boat. ‘I’m chucking you back in stroke for this last session. Don’t get too excited. It’s not necessarily permanent. I want to try you up front with Rachel behind. I think you two have some special chemistry going and I don’t want to split you up.’
‘Okay, thanks,’ I say, stunned. She hadn’t given me any hint she was going to try me back in stroke. She leans into my ear. ‘Forget your erg. We all know how fit you are, but turn your head off, mate. Don’t overthink it. Listen to the water, feel the other girls behind you. Don’t go at it like a bull at a gate. What do I always tell you?’
‘Have fun.’
‘Exactly.’
The river is wearing a coat of mist, gum trees reflected silver on the glassy surface. I look over Aiko’s hat at the boat slicing through the water, rudder leaving behind a straight ribbon of disturbance and tight, swirling eddies from the push of our blades. My arms swing loosely over my knees and the water seems to find the tip of my blade, with just a tiny lift of my knuckles. It’s still cool out, and after all the rain, the river smells freshly washed.
The boat sits level, no one tipping it out of balance. Rachel gives me gentle encouragement to push up the rating. She’s like a strong pair of hands, a boosting me up to a high window to see the view. There’s no nitpicking, mindless chatter or laughing. We’re all in the zone. One crew, not a gaggle of individual girls. I resist ripping my blade through the water. Thinking of Laura’s words. Feel the girls behind you. Turn your head off.