by Dave Hackett
‘Hey, steady on, big guy,’ he says. ‘Don’t get your tackle in a tangle. She’s out the back looking for some bags.’
I’m walking now, towards the back room, and I have no idea what I’m going to say to her, how it’s going to go. Are we about to break up? Jesus, this could be it. How do I forgive her? I know that had push come to shove I might have gone all the way with Candace, but I didn’t. So is what Ellie did worse because she actually slept with someone? But it wasn’t just anyone – it was Warren. And I have to find a way to decide if I can forgive her for that. My thoughts scroll back to when he was talking about the hot waitress on the cruise and all the guys being into her, and it was Ellie he was talking about the whole time, and I feel sick for her, but for Rue, too. Ellie, my Ellie, is the reason that Rue and Warren broke up.
I slide my key into the lock and twist the handle, finding Ellie seated on the floor between the lay-bys and the smallest functioning sink on the planet. I still don’t know what I’m going to say. I don’t have anything planned. So I call on Mr T’s aggressively cryptic advice: tell her what’s up.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘First of all, I’m … I’m so mad that you slept with Warren the Tool.’
Ellie’s face reads like a who’s who of emotions. She’s crying and all I can feel is her hurting. I bend down, sit on the floor and reach out to put a hand on hers. ‘I’m mad,’ I say. ‘Really mad, but it’s Warren I’m mad at. I’m pretty sure that I’m not mad at you.’
‘I didn’t … I didn’t know he was …’ she says through her tears.
‘I know.’ I lift a wisp of her hair and tuck it behind her ear.
‘Because I wouldn’t have …’
‘I know,’ I say again and she leans her head against my shoulder, puts both arms around my neck.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ she says. ‘I was just so angry – so pissed off at you. And I was maybe a little drunk, too.’
‘I guess we’ve both done stupid things,’ I say. Technically I shouldn’t feel so bad about what happened that night at the party because Ellie’s lapse in judgement should cancel out mine, but it’s still there. I’m still the same guy and I still cheated on her and I still feel like crap about it and that one act of indiscretion is something that will follow me everywhere.
‘You know I didn’t sleep with him, right?’ says Ellie. ‘Not that it makes it any better. I just wanted you to know.’
‘But he said …’ and I stop myself, because I realise I’m about to argue the truth based on what Warren has told me.
‘Yeah, well, he’s hardly a quality guy,’ Ellie says. ‘We just made out. That’s it.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, same goes for me, too,’ I say.
There’s a key in the door and it’s Scene. ‘Woah, don’t mind me, love monkeys,’ he says. ‘Just need to find a coat-hanger for this Floyd shirt.’ He pulls out the stepladder and climbs onto it.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Ellie says. She’s a little more composed. She reaches up, takes a tissue from the communal box and dabs it against her eyes. ‘That girl at Christmas lunch,’ she says. ‘Your dad’s girlfriend’s … whatever. The girl who was wearing your shoes. That was her, right?’
‘Yep,’ I say. Everything is on the table now. ‘That was Candace.’
‘Wait, but wasn’t her name Cee-Cee?’
‘Hey, back the truck up,’ Scene says to Ellie. ‘Cee-Cee?’
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Why? You’ve had the pleasure?’
‘You might say that.’ With two wooden coat-hangers in his hand, Scene’s feet find a sequence of rungs and he secures himself a seat on the top step of the ladder.
‘You remember that one chick who’s been stalking me for like … months, right?’
‘Your schoolgirl groupie?’ says Ellie. ‘Holy crap, she’s your schoolgirl groupie?’
‘Wait a sec,’ I say. ‘You and Candace?’
‘Dude, if her name’s Candace, she never told me. I only know her as Cee-Cee,’ says Scene. ‘Anyways, she’s been trailing me for ages,’ he says. ‘First, she just comes into the store, you know, once or twice a week. Then pretty soon she starts booty-texting me and she’s hot and she’s legal and she’s into me and so I think, hey, why not? I mean, you know her, dude. You’d do her if you could, right?’
There’s no single way that I can give an appropriate answer to that question.
‘She even blew off school one or two times a couple of weeks ago for a little one-on-one Scene time,’ he says.
I think of Candace’s poor twice-dead dog and it turns out I’m working for him.
‘So I have a conscience attack or whatever and I try to break it off with her because as hot as she is, I’m just not into her. She’s fricking bland as. But get this – she won’t do it. Won’t accept the break-up. She starts texting me, like, twenty times a day. Total nutjob, right?’
‘And yet she still attracts the men-folk,’ says Ellie. ‘Gotta wonder.’
‘So what happens next?’
‘OK, so she has this party the other night,’ he begins. ‘And I try to call her, to tell her again that we have to end it, but she doesn’t pick up. Her phone’s switched off or something. So I go over there.’
‘You went to her house?’ I say. ‘To the … to her party?’
‘Yeah, you know, just so I could tell her face to face that it was over. I go up the stairs, up to her room, and she’s there with some other dude. Can you believe that?’
I can.
‘Scene … about that,’ I begin, and I don’t really know if this is a good idea, but I’ve had a few visits from the honesty fairy of late, and what I’m learning most of all is that for better or worse, if the information you put out there is the truth, it’s the truth. What people make of it, that’s up to them. From now on I’m going to let the cards fall and see where they land. ‘The other guy who was in her room …’ I’m addressing both Scene and Ellie.
‘Ernie?’ he says. ‘You and her?’
I nod slowly.
‘Holy shit, man.’ Scene reaches out a hand to me. ‘High-five?’ But I decline.
‘Ah, not high-fiving because of …’
Scene looks down to Ellie. ‘Right. Probably not a good idea, then.’ He takes his clutch of coat-hangers and makes the wise decision to head back out into the store.
‘How about that? You and Scene loving on the same girl?’ Ellie says with a smile. ‘That’s not at all weird.’
‘Neither’s you hooking up with my ex-almost-brother-in-law,’ I say.
‘Mmm,’ says Ellie. ‘But remember, you got hot and heavy with your future step-sister,’ she laughs.
‘Touché,’ I say. ‘You think that’s a touch creepy?’
‘Only in a Bold and the Beautiful kind of way,’ Ellie says. ‘They totally condone incestuous behaviour so long as you can prove that you really didn’t know you were related at the time.’ She smiles at me and her gaze takes mine in completely. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry, too. And I promise to at least attempt to not hook up with any family members from here on in.’
‘Yeah. I’ll try, too,’ she says. ‘But I can’t make any solid promises. You haven’t met my brother, have you?’
I shake my head.
‘Totally hot,’ Ellie says. ‘Just saying.’
Chapter 34
Come on over, baby
The uprights that support the bus-stop awning are about two metres apart. Someone’s tied a strand of green tinsel around one of them and it hangs lifelessly, only waking from its coma to dance in the slipstream of each passing car. As we wait on the silver seat, the sun dipping below the backdrop of grey gums that blanket the hills beyond Sunshine Beach Road, Ellie’s hand is in mine and her fingers are twirling, dancing playfully in my palm. The t
rees to my left stand close to the edge of the road like pedestrians about to cross, and although it’s still daylight, every second or third one is lit up and flashing the heartbeat of Christmas.
‘So,’ she says. ‘Do you think you might be able to get off at my stop tonight? Come to my place?’
‘Your place?’ I say.
‘Sure.’
‘I guess so. I don’t know where you live, though.’
‘Hm,’ she says flippantly. ‘Are you in?’
I’m in.
Instantly, Ellie’s crowd-watching again. ‘Check it out,’ she says. ‘Christmas snoggers, three o’clock.’
They’re an odd-looking couple, going hardcore at each other’s faces. I see her from behind and she’s tall, kind of heavy-set, and he, well, from this angle there’s not much of him to see at all, because he’s a little on the miniature side.
‘I wonder if he knows that there’s a chance she may actually eat him,’ Ellie says with a giggle.
‘You give me the signal and I’ll hit record,’ I say, jokingly holding up my phone.
‘Woman Eats Teensy Love Interest,’ she says. ‘Do you think you can handle two viral videos in almost a fortnight?’
And now they’ve switched position and I see them. Well, I see her.
‘Hey, I know who that is,’ I say.
‘Then we should go say hi,’ Ellie says. ‘Can you promise she won’t try to eat me?’
‘She won’t eat you,’ I say. ‘She may eat me, though. I was pretty nasty to her last time I saw her.’
‘Well, if there’s any trouble, I do have this,’ Ellie says, untying the strand of green tinsel from the pole.
‘What do you plan to do with that?’
‘I’ll get creative,’ she says. ‘C’mon, introduce me to your bus-stop pashing friend.’ We wander towards them.
‘Mikayla?’ I say. ‘Hey.’
‘Good grief, Starrphyre?’ she says, peeling herself away from her love victim. ‘What are you doing here?’ She daintily wipes the back of her hand against both lips at once. Saliva removal technique number one. ‘You’re not bus-stop stalking me, are you?’ It’s only been less than a week since I yelled her down, but she smiles as if all is forgiven.
‘Not stalking,’ I say. ‘Promise.’ I do the introductions. ‘Ellie, this is Mikayla, a friend of mine from school.’ I look at Mikayla. ‘A good friend. And Mikayla, this is Ellie.’
‘Oh my gosh,’ says Mikayla, reaching out a hand. ‘I’ve heard such a lot about you. Well, not really a lot, you know, but a little bit about how Starrphyre here just couldn’t decide between you and that slaggy Candace McAllister, which seriously was a no-brainer, but I’m glad our little Starrphyre finally made the right choice because look at you, you’re so cute, and I love your top and that Candace is such a total bitch – always has been.’
It’s no surprise that Ellie looks a little stunned. Mikayla’s like a verbal tornado, tearing in and throwing things in all directions without any warning. She stops to look at me. ‘I haven’t said anything I shouldn’t have, have I?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s all good.’ Because really, it is.
‘So don’t leave us hanging,’ I say. ‘Who’s your friend?’
‘Oh.’ His head pops out from behind Mikayla. ‘Hey, Starrphyre.’
‘Bailey?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Hi.’
I’m pretty sure that on the bizarro-meter, the Mikayla–Bailey kiss-fest is on a par with breakdancing internet cats.
‘So, how long have you two …?’
‘Six days,’ says Bailey.
‘And counting. And we totally have you to thank, Starrphyre. If you hadn’t invited me to that band practice …’ Mikayla says, as she moves in for a hug. It’s tight and it lingers maybe five or six seconds longer than any normal hug should, and with her reluctance to let go, I can’t help but wonder if little Bailey isn’t some kind of consolation prize.
‘Hey, Starrphyre – have you heard from Hemmo yet?’ Bailey asks. ‘About that show we were supposed to play? He was going to text you.’ I shake my head. ‘The place cancelled when they found out that most of us were underage. We probably weren’t all that ready for it anyway.’
‘I don’t know, Bale,’ I say. ‘Another two or three hundred practices and we would have been right in the pocket.’ Bailey and I share a laugh.
‘Hey, look, we’d love to hang out with you guys, you know, to talk and whatever, but Bailey’s taking me back to his house to meet his parents.’
‘Sounds ominous,’ says Ellie. ‘But hey, good luck. Oh, and by the way, I love your shoes.’
‘Wow, thanks,’ Mikayla says, staring down at her own one-of-a-kind pair and then at me. ‘Totally inspired by this one.’
‘Hey, Mikayla, word of advice,’ I say. ‘If Bale’s mum breaks out the WHAM! CDs while you’re there, just fake interest and sing along as best you can.’
‘WHAM!?’ says Mikayla. ‘I love WHAM!.’
‘Who doesn’t, right?’ Ellie says.
‘Us four, we should totally do like a couples thing,’ says Mikayla. ‘Games night or something. Starrphyre and I will talk about it and let you know – we’re always running into each other. This is great,’ she squeals. ‘We can totally be couples besties.’
As the two freshest lovebirds on the block skip off hand in hand towards romance city, Ellie and I wait for the next six-thirty-one to roll up to the kerb. Finally one grumbles to a halt and we step aboard.
‘Guten Abend, Shh-tarrphyre,’ says the driver in a fairly hit-and-miss German accent. ‘Velcome aboard. Today ve are shtopping all shtops to Thomas Strasse,’ he says.
‘Awesome, Fritz,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’
‘Und who is your little Fräulein?’
‘Don’t engage in conversation,’ I whisper to Ellie. ‘Just head for the back of the bus.’ I flash him my card and Ellie does the same. ‘Ellie, this is Fritz,’ I say. ‘Fritz, Ellie,’ and before he has a chance to strike up any kind of strange not-quite-German chit-chat, we’re halfway down the bus, preparing to sit along the back seat.
‘This is where the cool kids sit,’ says Ellie, staking her claim on the long stretch of green vinyl.
‘Hmm. Do you think we’re allowed to be here, then?’
‘Well, I’m pretty sure I am,’ she says. ‘But you? Who’s that on your shirt – Pac-Man?’ she laughs. ‘Sorry, mister. Looks like you’ll be in the cheap seats. Someone’s not quite cool enough for school today.’
So we ride the rest of the way home, talking, laughing and people-spotting, with Ellie in the super-cool back seat and me in the seat directly in front, where typically each of us belongs.
‘Here you are,’ Ellie says. We’re standing on her front porch. It’s busy with plants and the kind of outdoor cane furniture you might find left out for council pick-up. The decking timbers are unstained or I get the feeling that they were long ago, and are somewhat rickety. There are people who would call the place overgrown and derelict. Others would use the term ‘rustic charm’. But I wouldn’t care if Ellie lived in a cardboard box – anywhere that we can be together works for me.
‘Your Christmas present,’ she says, holding out what is clearly some kind of boxed object, the wrapping paper doing little to disguise the boxy shape. It’s rectangular, and kind of heavy. I gently pick at an end of sticky tape, but Ellie quickly joins me, and tears into the package on my behalf.
‘Hey, cool,’ I say, reaching into the box. ‘These are … they’re perfect.’
‘I thought, you know … that you could start from scratch. ’Tis the season,’ she says. I sit down on Ellie’s front steps, kick off my thongs and I try the Chucks on. I’ve never had grey before. They’re a little stiff at first, but they’re pre-laced, criss-crossed in that familiar way, and once I pull them tighter they hug at my feet an
d take their position like they were always meant to be mine.
I stand up and immediately Ellie stomps on my right foot, grinding her shoe into mine. ‘Can’t have you looking like a new-shoe nerd, now can we?’ and I’m smiling with her, and she’s looking at me. Looking at me because traditionally it’s my turn to reciprocate. It’s my turn to show her how much she means to me by presenting her with an impressive gift of love. As I hold her hands, I look around and all I can see under the yellow bulb lights are potted plants, a small garden trowel, a concrete floor-wombat and a dumb rainbow-coloured twirly wind-powered thing nailed to an upright beam. If only one of them was gift-wrapped.
‘Ellie, I …’ I begin. ‘I’m such a freaking idiot.’
Her smile, even though it looks like she’s trying to hold it, begins to fall.
‘It’s just that with all that was going on, I guess … I don’t know exactly, but … I didn’t get you anything.’
And what kind of low-life moron does that? Our first Christmas together and no present? Sure, it’s a rookie mistake, but a mistake that can’t go unnoticed. It’s a justifiable instant-dump offence. ‘But look,’ I say. ‘I’m going to get you something, something awesome.’
There’s still an element of disappointment on her face.
‘OK, I can’t leave without giving you some kind of present, so …’ I look around again. ‘Give me … two minutes?’
‘Your time starts now,’ she says, and I reach for the porch items. The twirly rainbow thing. The trowel. The potted plant. I place them on the handrail before us.
‘This … is a plant,’ I say, holding the pot out to her. ‘A geranium, I’m pretty sure.’
‘It’s a marigold,’ she says with a slight smile. ‘Go on.’
‘Right. Well, the green stalky part, I figure that’s kind of us.’
‘We’re a marigold stalk?’
‘Bear with me,’ I say. ‘It’s us in the sense that we’re growing. You know, starting out small, maybe having a few hiccups along the way, but if you look at it, it’s healthy. I’m pretty sure it’s going to make it. And the flower at the top, see how vibrant and bold it is?’ I’m thinking on my feet here. ‘It’s not afraid to show who it really is. It’s confident and it’s beautiful.’