The Life You Choose and That Chose You

by Figment Publishing

  I got out and opened the gate for the car.

  Joe drove through and I shut the heavy makeshift barrier. The hinges were broken, so the gate rested against the old wooden pylon that also held up the wire fence and car door.

  The dirt road continued through the mission. As I turned around, the car skidded along the gravel, leaving me alone. When I realised, I freaked out. It was my gut reaction. I gulped down the fear and ran as fast as I could, feeling like an awkward idiot, running through someone's home to get away from them.

  I passed the bigger group of adults. They registered my presence with a quick glance and that was all. I headed along the dirt track that cut through the wall of trees up ahead.

  I neared the circle of young girls to my right. I noticed one confidently laughing, turning her gaze from me to her friends and back again. The laughter was directed at me as I ran and hyperventilated with fright. I burned with embarrassment. Then I felt something like anger, from hurt pride, how dare she laugh at me? In the few moments between me noticing her and then passing the group, all the girls were looking at me, giggling. I felt like an idiot. But I didn't stop running.

  I was pissed off at Joe, but I knew Mul and Seano had dared him to do it. I swore at them when I reached the car outside the mission a couple of minutes later. I was out of puff and wanted to go home. Joe and Mul were pissing themselves.

  Then unexpectedly, Joe said to me, ‘Oscar, you dick'ead, you're just as racist as Mul. They're not gonna fucken bite ya.’

  I hadn't even said anything. But I felt a pang, guilt maybe, for thinking I was superior.

  Before this trip I'd only seen Aboriginal people on the news. I'd seen snippets of footage from Darwin or Alice Springs when Howard had sent in troops. Maybe that's where the fear came from. Sometimes at school someone would refer to kids like, ‘Oh yeah, you know Tommo? He's like a quarter Abo or somethin’.’ Maybe that's where my attitude came from.

  After Mul had told Joe to shut up, and I'd told Mul to shut up, and he'd told me not to defend Joe because he was a dickhead, and Joe'd told Mul to shut up or he wouldn't drive him home, we made the ten-minute trip to a grassy area in the middle of nowhere. I trusted the others knew where they were going, because to me the landscape was all the same—bush.

  Two empty parked cars were all that signified life out there.

  ‘So where's the surf?’ I asked.

  One of them said it was a five-minute bush walk. We put on our wetties at the car, got our boards and fins, and headed towards the trees.

  We followed a thin sandy path made by other feet. It was like a sauna with our wetties on. I remember how refreshing it was when we came out onto sand dunes and a salty breeze rolled off the sea and cooled us down. With some whooping and swearing we hit the water.

  The board hissed as it carved across the surface of the ocean. The cold made its way up my wrists and under my wetsuit, then in through my fins and up my ankles. I paddled into the deep, then raised my knee to my waist and drove the nose of my board downwards in a duck dive.

  Mul and Seano paddled out to the break before me. Joe was scared so he tagged slowly behind. I could feel my face burning from the sun and from the reflection of it on the water. Everything was so bright. The silver water glinted and made me squint.

  Once I'd reached the point between the calm ocean and the break I started to feel nervous and sick. When you cross that point there's no safety. If an unexpected set looms up and breaks early you're done for out at Aussie Pipe. I'd heard the stories, but I would learn it the hard way that day.

  Duck diving is the natural reaction when a wave looks like it'll crash on your head, or worse, before your head. But out there if you did that it was so shallow you'd immediately hit the rock and reef just under the surface of the water. Mul, Seano and I went through this initiation process a few times before we figured out how to manage the wave. The best chance of surviving a roaring set of waves is to hug your board like a life raft and hope that it, rather than you, gets dragged across the reef.

  The owners of the two empty cars were out there. They were stand-ups and we followed their lead. To manage the swell on the shallow reef they paddled out beyond the break and waited until they could see the swells in the distance. They'd then estimate where the wave would break and go for it. We did the same.

  Mul and Seano surfed without thinking. Their waves were mangled and ugly and they got hammered most of the time. I think this was the point of surfing for them; so they could laugh about how big their cuts were and prove to the older crew that we surfed at Aussie Pipe.

  I can remember one particular wave from that day. It was much bigger than my others but it shaped up nicely before the reef. I timed the drop in so I wouldn't have to crash down the steep face. I caught it early and leaned into the barrel effortlessly. The wave held its shape all the way down the line. The energy of the swell sucked up the remains of water covering the reef and streaked its face. The peak fell listlessly and perfectly overhead. I saw how the wave was moving and I rode accordingly. All I had to do was pump across and glide, pump across and glide, along the smooth surface of water. I travelled that barrel like a dream. Then I woke up, out in the deep, and I just shouted out to the pounding waves as loud as I could.

  I began another paddle out to the break, and turned to look for Joe. He was heading back in to the safety of land with his head directed down at his board. He hadn't caught a single wave. I felt a pang of resentment that he'd left me on my own, while Mul and Seano stuck together.

  As the tide reached its lowest point the reef came out into the open like a bone out of flesh. The shallow water couldn't contain the jagged earth, and so it attempted tirelessly to smash it with its waves. We weren't welcome at the break at low tide. It was too dangerous for us.

  We paddled in with cramps in our legs and burnt faces. Mul and Seano gloated over their daring. And I couldn't pretend I wasn't stoked with my barrel. I was happy and exhausted, a perfect combination.

  We took off our fins on the sand and walked over to the tree that shaded Joe. None of us said anything to him. There was no point. He knew he'd failed and we could read it on his face. We sat down around him and Mul piped up with something like, ‘Eh, did any of you guys see that Abo chick in at the mission? Pretty good sort.’

  Seano laughed, ‘Wouldn't say no.’

  I was trying not to think about her. Mul had brought it back to the surface. But even if it was painful, it was necessary.

  I realised it was only me who had any real interest in her, or them. Seeing the girl at the mission made me feel something I'd never felt before. She provoked something in me, planted a seed. Later on I would take an interest in our separate and shared histories but right then I pushed the thought aside because I was sitting with the guys and their talk was distracting.

  ‘Ha ha, Seano, ya dick'ead, you wouldn't say no to a flesh wound.’

  ‘Fuck awf. Na, I seen her, she was pretty young though.’

  ‘Yeah, so what?’

  ‘So nothin’. All I'm sayin’ is she was pretty young.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Jeez, Mul. Calm down. Why don'tcha put her on lay-by or somethin’?’

  ‘Haha.’

  ‘I should ask her if I can purchase a favour, eh? Haha.’

  Joe shook his head at me, as if to say, ‘Jeez, they're never gonna change.’

  I knew then that I'd grown out of, or maybe tired of, my friendship with Mul and Seano, who were my mates. It was a big deal, the force of it felt like a blow. I realised I felt lonely even with them around.

  I had been distancing myself since I first broke ranks and disobeyed them by hanging out with Joe. I knew now, after Mul and Seano raved and laughed about the girl, that I'd have to leave the group for my own sake. It was my final school summer holidays. I wasn't a child anymore. Joe, for his own reasons, was desperate to get into our crew, but no matter which way he went, I was out.

  Dr Matthews cleans the crook of my right arm


  with cotton wet with alcohol.

  She compliments me

  on my veins, blue lines clearly visible

  under a thin layer of skin.

  I expect the needle-prick, but

  no-one has ever taken my blood.

  I have an implant in my other arm,

  a plastic rod silently altering my body,

  over three years releasing hormones to keep me

  young—unpregnant—slim.

  In a book about a war-time Sydney, young girls ‘go big’

  and are sent to the bush for illicit

  adoptions, abortions.

  I've never seen my blood before

  not so much, not bottled, labelled, ready

  to be examined by white coats and gloved hands

  in a sterile lab.

  In the vial it's almost black,

  red

  like lipstick on beautiful women

  in black and white photographs,

  darker

  than my mother's eyelashes

  than the red wine in my glass

  than my hair at fifteen

  than the back of my eyelids

  when I fainted this morning.

  Rain flogs the paintwork of our rental four-wheel drive. Outside it is miserable, with fat clouds hanging over the poplar trees. It has been raining for two days without catching breath, a persistent downpour of cold—bringing with it endless boredom. The daytrip ahead promises to be more of the same.

  I sweat under the claustrophobic breath of the rear-seat heaters. I glance at Meredith, sitting in the backseat with me, and catch her eye by mistake. She throws me a bright smile.

  ‘God, we're drowning.’ She leans forward to speak to her husband. ‘Baby, turn up the heater.’

  Finnigan turns up the heat and swings around. I'm caught peeling off my jacket. He has hair of substance, dark waves that belong on the head of a twenty-year-old, not a man hitting the higher end of his fifties. ‘So, Karen, how's nursing these days? They still treat you like shit?’

  ‘I'm only casual, Finnigan.’ I inwardly cringe, recalling the fights with Jonathan over my decision to study medicine again.

  ‘Karen wants to be a doctor now,’ Jonathan says, looking at me in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Really?’ Meredith's eyes widen, stretching the shaky lines of black liner. ‘But why?’

  ‘I'm bored,’ I shrug. ‘Time for a change and better now than later, after kids come.’ The lie comes easily and I can still feel Jonathan glaring at me via the mirror.

  ‘Right,’ Meredith nods, looking confused.

  I stare at my reflection in the window; short blonde hair and chocolate-dark eyes, like Jonathan's. I refocus and my image fades. I watch the scenery bleed past.

  The water has turned the paddocks into swamps, has cornered the sheep in packs beneath beech trees and left Jersey cows standing stupid in the mud. We head to the village of Akaroa, where our lodge owner promised we would find the best fish and chips in the South Island and a pearl jeweller for Meredith. It's an hour before the rain eases and we reach the mountain pass, a rugged edge of the Banks Peninsula that will eventually lead us down into the valley and the village.

  Finnigan and Jonathan talk business, a swell of noise that doesn't stop Meredith from falling asleep. Her head has dropped back, stretching the skin of her neck. Her make-up is heavy and one corner of a false eyelash has lifted free and sits quivering in the heater's warm air.

  ‘Finnigan, I hate to bring this up now, but did you manage to look at the investment figures?’ Jonathan turns to look at Finnigan. ‘I want to take you around to the school tomorrow.’

  ‘I did, but you sure about the numbers? They're a bit high…’

  I watch Jonathan's back and neck, the worn navy jersey I wish he'd throw out. He's driving with only one hand on the wheel, gesturing with the other and I notice their voices are rising. I'm tired, I wish I could throw my head back and sleep like Meredith but sleep hasn't been coming easily. I think of the appointment I have booked with my lawyer friend, Susan, for when I return to Sydney. At that moment Jonathan looks up and our eyes meet.

  ‘Jono, I appreciate you bringing me and the missus for this trip, I really do, but I can't promise anything. Things are tough for everyone right now, myself included.’

  Jonathan blinks slowly and glances at Finnigan. ‘What're you talking about?’

  ‘Nothing to worry about but there's been an issue with the tax department,’ Finnigan raps the back of his fingers on his window. ‘Damned nuisance.’

  I straighten in my seat, looking past Jonathan to the road ahead. We're driving on the edge of a cliff and the road is narrowing. Jonathan stares at Finnigan. My hands curl into fists.

  Jonathan glances forward and follows the curve of the road, drifting over the broken white line. He clears his throat. ‘Finnigan, what kind of issue, mate?’

  There's no oncoming traffic and we clear the bend. I relax.

  ‘Gee, look at this.’ Finnigan hits a button and his window rolls down. A blast of chilled air stumbles into the car and I breathe it in. It wakes Meredith.

  ‘Baby, close that,’ she mutters, sinking into her suede jacket.

  ‘Sorry, babe. It's rain one minute, snow the next.’

  ‘Finnigan? What the hell's going on?’ Jonathan's voice rises. He's gripping the wheel with both hands but his eyes aren't on the road. Finnigan continues to stare out the window. Meredith is fully awake now, her eyes flicking between the two men under her honey fringe.

  ‘They're saying this and that and it looks like the press might get involved. You know how they like to blow shit out of proportion.’ Finnigan shakes his head but he's still not looking at Jonathan. ‘It'll work itself out.’

  ‘No, it won't,’ Meredith mutters. ‘You said that the last time and we had to leave England.’

  ‘Meredith,’ Finnigan warns.

  ‘I'm just saying, I'm not going through that again.’ Meredith flicks at something on her sleeve. ‘Had to leave my Pekingese with the housekeeper.’

  The car is picking up speed. I slip my hand through the gap between Jonathan's seat and headrest and tug on his dark hair. ‘Slow down, Jonathan,’ I hiss.

  ‘Relax, Karen.’ Jonathan forces a laugh and shifts in his seat. ‘Enjoy the scenery.’ He doesn't slow down. I force my eyes away from the road and stare at the snowflakes sticking to my window. The road is swerving, drunk, and the corners are coming tight and fast and I wish I were the one driving. I should have pushed the matter when we got in the car. I am the one used to the jagged curves of the New Zealand mountain roads, not Jonathan. I wish I had done a lot more pushing with Jonathan, actually. For my career. For not putting Mum into the care facility in Randwick. For Jonathan to relegate work so we could have seen something of each other the past three years.

  My eyes jump back to the road, the blind corners, the cliff drop on our side of the road, the cliff face on the other.

  ‘You told me you were looking to invest,’ Jonathan said, lowering his voice. ‘Now I hear that you're in trouble with the ATO. What about the forestry investment in Darwin? We've got everything tied up in that.’

  Meredith snorts softly, shaking her head.

  I strain forwards, I can smell my husband's cologne, sharp like crushed cloves. He's drifting out of his lane again. My fingers grip the dark leather of his seat. My knuckles are turning to white but I can't let go until we clear the corner and he's back within the crisp lines.

  ‘It'll be fine, Jono. We're partners and I don't let my partners down.’

  ‘And what if I wanted to withdraw from the Darwin project? What then?’

  Finnigan doesn't reply immediately. Jonathan smacks the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. ‘You're joking? Tell me you're joking.’

  We're climbing higher and I can see snow trapped in the crevices of the mountain ahead.

  ‘Sorry, Jono,’ Finnigan finally murmurs. He wipes a hand over his face. ‘They've seized i
t all. Bastards think I'm hiding funds offshore.’

  The snow is falling faster and I hear the wind pick up. A yellow caution sign appears at the next corner urging Jonathan to slow to 40 kilometres for the turn. He's still driving with only one hand on the wheel.

  ‘Jonathan, can you please keep your eyes ahead,’ I try again.

  Jonathan rubs the bridge of his nose. ‘I don't believe this.’

  We're coming up to the bend but his foot doesn't touch the brake. He's looking away from the road, shifting in his seat to look at Finnigan. His free hand hits the wheel before taking flight again, making his point in the space between them. ‘Why didn't you tell me? I brought you out here because you said you wanted to invest in a new project and now you're telling me that our investments are dead in the water because of your dumbass antics. I was warned about you.’

  He's out of his lane and my hand jumps to his shoulder.

  ‘Nothing's dead, mate. They'll ferret around is all, ask some questions, look through files. If they contact you, just tell them the truth.’

  ‘And what's that look like in your world, Finnigan? I always knew you were unstable, but tax evasion? You're a damn idiot.’ He snorts. ‘We're both idiots.’

  Finnigan glares at Jonathan. ‘That's not fair, mate.’

  ‘They've taken everything, half of which is mine!’

  ‘It's only temporary. They'll realise it was all a mistake—’

  ‘Bullshit. It's over. Your cutting corners has made sure of that.’

  Beneath my hand, I feel Jonathan's arm drop to his side and I hear him exhale. I realise my hand is still gripping Jonathan's shoulder, I slowly let go and fall back in my seat.

  ‘It's all gone.’ His voice is brittle and sounds like it will break.

  Finnigan clears his throat but says nothing. Meredith nestles deeper into her jacket and closes her eyes. Silence fills the car and I stare through the snow which is now falling in a blanket of white. My jacket has slipped off my lap and I feel a chill. Jonathan's eyes search for me in the rear-view mirror, but I can't look at him. The car is slowly drifting into the other lane.