Music From Standing Waves

by Johanna Craven

  We glared at each other. The shutters banged and the old house groaned.

  “I’m going,” Justin said finally. “There’s nothing there. Just a bunch of empty rooms. Don’t know what Hugh was on about.”

  I hurried downstairs after him, not wanting his company, but wanting even less to be in the creaky old house alone. We climbed out through the hole in the wall. The silver marbles of the monsoon slapped against our skin as we sprinted up the street. Water bubbled out of the gutters.

  Justin stopped suddenly and grabbed my elbow. I squinted through the sheets of rain. His mum was arm in arm with my parents, huddled under an umbrella and heading for his house.

  “You don’t think they were looking for us do you?” he asked.

  We clicked open Justin’s front door and hurried down the hallway. Michelle was sitting on the couch with Hugh beside her. Tears rushed down her cheeks. Dad sat with a hand on Michelle’s shoulder, Sarah in the armchair opposite. We walked into the back room, leaving silver trails of water on the tiles. My voice came out in a whisper.

  “What’s wrong?”

  TEN

  “Mum?” said Justin. “What’s going on?”

  Michelle wiped her eyes. “Oh honey. Your dad’s fishing boat is out past the Marine Park and Coast Guard lost contact with them when the storm hit the reef.” She gave another loud sob.

  Justin stepped closer to me, the wet skin on his upper arm pressing against mine. “What’s happened to them?”

  “We don’t know,” said Dad. “They’re out looking for them now.”

  Justin stared through the smeary bay window. Torrents of water streamed down the glass. Rain beat against the old fisherman’s dinghy behind the washing line.

  Michelle clutched the phone. “Why isn’t anyone calling me? Do you think I should go down to the marina? What if someone’s trying to ring and our line’s down?” She lifted the receiver and listened for the dial tone.

  Sarah reached over and patted her shoulder. “It won’t do you any good to be down at the docks. I’m sure they’ll call you as soon as they hear anything.”

  “They shouldn’t even have been out there!” Michelle sobbed. “Why would they go out in weather like this?”

  “You know what these storms are like,” Dad said gently. “They come on so quickly.”

  Michelle looked over her shoulder at us. “Oh God, they’re soaking wet,” she said distantly. “They need towels…”

  Justin rushed from the lounge. His sneakers thumped against the floorboards as he trampled upstairs to his bedroom. Michelle stood up.

  “Wait,” I said. “Can I go and talk to him?”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I think he would like that.” She pulled me into her suddenly and held me in a tight embrace. I could hear the faint drumming of her heart.

  The steps creaked under my feet as I climbed up to Justin’s bedroom. I knocked faintly.

  “Can I come in?”

  No answer.

  I turned the handle and peeked inside. Justin was curled up on top of his red and blue coverlet. He stared blankly at a wide crack along the ceiling, muddy feet resting against the pillow. I nibbled my thumbnail. My wet dress clung to my legs.

  “Jus?” I stood motionless in the doorway. “Do you want me to go?” I took a step backwards.

  He sat up. “No. Stay.”

  I perched beside him on the bed and picked at the mud on hem of my dress.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” His voice was scratchy.

  I nodded.

  He took a deep breath. “I’m really scared.”

  I hugged the soft flesh above his elbow and held my eyes closed against his t-shirt. I slid my hand down his arm until our fingers laced. His hand was warm in mine. I stared into the floorboards. Neither of us spoke. Rain pelted the windows and overflowed out of the drain. Finally, I said in a squeaky voice:

  “Of course you’re scared. I’m scared too.”

  Justin lurched suddenly and threw his arms around me. I swallowed hard. In all our fifteen years, we’d tickled, punched, poked, Chinese burned and wedgied, but never held each other. Not like this. My heart was pounding. I stared into his wavy blonde hair. I wanted to touch it, but kept my hands resting on his back, my thumbs tracing subconsciously over his wet t-shirt. His head began to shudder and I felt hot tears slide down my shoulder.

  “What if they don’t find him?” His words were muffled. I lowered my head until my cheek touched his hair.

  “Don’t think like that.”

  Justin curled back against his pillow and I lay beside him, our legs entwining. I took out my butterfly clips and let my hair fall across my cheek. Our wet bodies left imprints on the coverlet. Justin looked at me with watery eyes. For a while, we lay in silence.

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said finally, resting his hand on my side. His fingers slid up and down my waistband. I felt hot and squirmy.

  “Sorry about that stupid house,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you that bad. And I’m sorry you messed up your new dress,”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m glad you noticed. I didn’t think you would.”

  Justin paused. “I notice lots of stuff about you.”

  “Really? I thought I was old news. That I’d always just been there. Like wallpaper or something.”

  Justin laughed a little. “Wallpaper?”

  “You know what I mean. Like there’s nothing new and exciting about me.”

  “Your dress is new,” smiled Justin. “And it looks hot.”

  I giggled, feeling my cheeks fill with colour. Justin shuffled closer to me. His breath was hot against my cheek. I closed my eyes and listened to the rain splatter against the roof. Slowly, the drumming eased; softer and softer until I could hear us both breathe.

  I looked up. Over Justin’s shoulder I could see the vibrant turquoise sea and the sharp edge of the horizon as the purple storm clouds became sunset.

  “It’s clearing,” I said. “They’re going to find him now.”

  ELEVEN

  We fell into a distressed sleep, lying with our heads at the bottom the bed. Floating in and out of consciousness, I was aware of Michelle walking in and out of the room, and of a blanket being thrown over us and the light being turned off. When I woke up properly, it was at the shrill ringing of the phone, which had started in my dream then turned into reality. I sat up in the darkness. My legs were cramped and sore. Justin lay on his side, facing away from me. I wondered whether to wake him. Then, he sat up on his elbow and mumbled:

  “Abby.”

  “I’m here.” My stomach tightened as Michelle’s cries echoed up the staircase.

  “Abby,” said Justin again.

  I shuffled across the mattress and held him so my chest pressed against his back. Michelle’s footsteps rose towards the bedroom. She opened the door and curled onto the bed, pushing her head against Justin’s.

  “They found him,” she coughed, her voice husky. “He’s alive.”

  Justin burst into a rush of grateful tears. Michelle reached her arm over both of us.

  “The boat was wrecked on the reef. But he’s alive. He’s alive.” She repeated it over and over, her hair clinging to her wet cheeks. I was going to say ‘I’m so glad’, but it didn’t seem like enough. Instead, I just lay beside Justin and felt our bare arms press together.

  It was four in the morning when he walked me back to the caravan park. Twisted palm branches lay across the road. Bark had washed up from the gardens and thatched the bitumen. Seas of bugs clapped their wings around the streetlights.

  I stood on the doorstep and took Justin’s hands. “I’m so happy your dad’s safe.”

  He stared vacantly into his sneakers. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “For staying tonight.”

  I could hear the dull drizzle of the gutter overflowing into the mud.

  “Are you going to school tomorrow?” Justin asked finally.

  “I guess. Are you?”
/>   “I guess.”

  He held my glance. I shuffled backwards and thumped into the door.

  “I’d better go,” I said, fumbling for my keys. “Thanks for walking me.”

  Inside, the house smelled of wet towels. The lounge was full of drenched campers, their clothes dangling from a drying rack in the corner. A young woman sat up and turned over her pillow. I climbed over the maze of sleeping bags and stopped at the foot of the stairs. Nick was sprawled across the bottom three steps, his head lolling against the wall like a rag doll. I knelt down and rocked him gently.

  “Nick…” He didn’t move. I took a blanket from the linen cupboard and tossed it over his body. “Jesus Christ,” I mocked. The blanket slipped off his shoulders. I sighed and pulled it back up towards his neck, careful to cover the deep purple bruises on the folds in his arms.

  I opened my eyes the next morning to an orange glow seeping through the matchstick blinds. The red numbers of my clock radio glowed eleven-thirty. I rubbed my eyes; glad my parents had let me sleep.

  I turned onto my back and stretched. The rest of the house was silent, but I could hear voices coming from the park. I pushed aside the mosquito net and swung my legs out from under the covers. My feet touched something hard. I looked down in surprise. Beside my bed lay a long black instrument case. I knelt down and opened the lid. Let out my breath. Inside lay an antique violin, polished in a deep chocolate brown. Beside it, a bow and new block of resin. I threw on my clothes and carried the violin to school.

  I swung open the music room door when Andrew’s piano lessons had finished. I held the violin out to him. “Here.”

  “What’s this?”

  “I already told you I can’t take your violin. You know what my mum would say. Besides, if I take this, you’ll have nothing to play on.”

  He stood up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Someone left this at my house last night,” I said. “And I have a feeling that someone was you.”

  “Someone left a violin at your house? Are you kidding? Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and find a Ferrari in my driveway!”

  “Don’t be stupid! Just take it back! You know I can’t accept it.” I forced it into his hands.

  “It’s not mine, Abby. My violin’s in my basement. I’ll show you if you don’t believe me.”

  I paused. “It wasn’t you?” I opened the case and ran my fingers over the glossy wood. “Then who was it? Maybe I have a guardian angel or something.”

  “Maybe,” he laughed. “That’s a Pollastri. It must be worth a fortune.”

  I lifted it carefully out of the case and bowed the bottom string. “It’s beautiful,” I agreed. “But I feel bad just taking it.”

  Andrew smiled. “How can you give it back when you don’t know where it came from? Take it, Abby. It was obviously meant for you. Just keep it out the way of your mum.”

  I looked him in the eye. “You really had nothing to do with it?”

  He laughed a little. “You think I’d be brave enough to come to your house and drop off a violin?”

  I smiled.

  “Come round tonight and have a play. We can go over the Elgar.”

  TWELVE

  Until I was fifteen, there were two certainties in my life. One was that I would eventually escape Acacia Beach to perform in the concert halls. The second was that Justin and I would one day be together. Both seemed inevitable.

  We walked home from school together in awkward, not-sure-if-we’re-boyfriend-and-girlfriend-yet silence.

  “Did you watch The Simpsons last night?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither...”

  I could hear the bubbles popping in Justin’s Sprite can.

  “You going to Simon’s party?” he asked.

  “Dunno. You?”

  “Dunno.”

  I missed the days when we could talk crap for hours.

  I started to play my pieces in my head. I floated away from Justin, out of Acacia Beach, to the world I had only ever imagined. I stepped on stage to play for a packed theatre; three thousand people holding their breath, waiting for my first note. The music rose into the domed concert hall ceiling, while outside, snow fell; the same sparkling white I had imagined in my Antarctica.

  Justin elbowed me. “Hey. I’m talking to you. You ignoring me?”

  “Huh?” We were at my front gate. “I have to go.”

  “You going to practise?”

  I chewed my lip. “Yeah.”

  “Can I come?”

  “What?”

  “Can I come? You’re always on your violin. And you never tell me about it. I just want to see what you’re up to all the time.”

  My heart fluttered at the thought of him hearing me play; the thought of no longer having to hide my passion from my best friend. I tried to act blasé. “If you want.”

  He followed me into the van and sat on the bed while I set up my music stand. I decided to play him the Elgar. Surely, I thought, he would understand my obsession when he heard the sweeping lyricism of the E Minor.

  Music engulfed the tiny caravan. I blocked out the voices from the park and the sound of birds scratching on the roof. Blocked out the heat blazing through the plastic windows. Even without the piano part, the sonata churned dramatically; each note so full of emotion, so full of my dreams, of my desire for success and escape. I felt Justin’s eyes on me and suddenly I was the soloist on stage, sharing my music with the world. Half way through the second movement, he shifted on the bed and it creaked loudly.

  “That’s great, Abby,” he said. “Really impressive.”

  “I wasn’t finished.”

  Justin stood up. “Let’s go to the beach or something. It’s not going to matter if you miss one day of practice.”

  I paused, not convinced. He took the bow out of my hand and squeezed my fingers.

  “Fine,” I sighed.

  We walked to the water hand in hand, teetering on the edge of discomfort. Justin sat on the sand and tugged me down beside him. My heart sped. He was going to try something, I just knew it. Not that I didn’t want him to… But what if after all this time, all this build up, he thought I was a bad kisser? What if I did something embarrassing like smash noses with him? How were you supposed to avoid smashing noses? My mind was tripping over its own feet. Why hadn’t I checked these things with Hayley first?

  For a while, we just sat, watching the boats slide across the water. Then I buried my feet and began to get impatient. If Justin was going to try something, I wished he’d just do it so I could get back to my sonata.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, twisting the buttons on my school dress.

  Justin shrugged. “Just hanging. You want to go to the rock pool?”

  “I should go back and finish practising,” I said.

  He frowned. “Is that all you ever think about?”

  I didn’t reply. It wasn’t that far from the truth. Violin really had begun to consume my thoughts. Not just the violin, but all it represented: an escape, a future, a new life.

  “Do you ever think about getting out of here?” I asked. “Leaving this place?”

  He paused. “Not really.”

  I turned away with the sudden realisation. Where was Justin in this exciting new life I’d imagined?

  “Never?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, Abby. I never thought about it. I guess not.”

  Silence fell between us again. It was deafening. I wanted to scream, just so there would be sound.

  Finally, Justin spoke up. “You’re going to Melbourne aren’t you? For that music thing?”

  I swallowed heavily.

  His voice was croaky. “When?”

  I hugged my knees. “I don’t know. Not for a while, I guess. Not til I’m eighteen… ” I squeezed my eyes closed against my knees. I thought back to the caravan where my violin lay across the bed. I felt sick. Suddenly, the thought of the city loomed dark and frightening. I shuffled closer to Justin and pres
sed my head against his shoulder. He smelled of Lynx and lemonade.

  “And even then,” I coughed. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I won’t even get in. Maybe I’ll just stay here. Like you…”

  There were two certainties in my life. I had just never realised that one cancelled out the other.

  I went to Andrew’s anyway the following night, to rehearse my Kreisler study. For the first time, I didn’t care about perfection. What difference did it make how I played my scherzo if I was going to stay in Acacia Beach with Justin? My violin squeaked and skidded over the semiquavers like I was a ship’s fiddler hyped up on rum.

  “Steady,” said Andrew. “You’re slowing down… Watch your pitch… Faster… Listen, Abby, you’re way too sharp!”

  I threw down my bow. “Stop being such a hard-arse!”

  “Well if you want to play out of tune, go for it…”

  I flung myself onto the piano seat.

  “Why are you cracking it?”

  I let out an enormous sigh. “You wouldn’t understand,” I opened my mouth to say, then stopped. Andrew was the only person that would understand. He had been forced to make the same decision I was facing. A life as a performer or a life with Hayley. And hadn’t he found everything he wanted right here in Acacia Beach, away from the Conservatorium and the concert halls? Had he agonised over the decision, I wondered, or did he just know? Why didn’t I just know?

  “Am I doing the right thing?” I asked. “Making this my life?”

  He smiled sympathetically. “You know I can’t answer that for you, Abs. That has to be your decision.”

  I huffed. My decision, but I needed someone to help me make it. Needed some assurance that I wasn’t heading blindly into chaos. I dropped my violin into its case.

  “Where’s Hayley?”

  Hayley was no more willing to help me than Andrew was.

  “You’re way too young to think about things like that,” she said. “Just enjoy yourself.” She gave me a cuddle and sent me on my way, no doubt happy I’d freed up her husband for the evening.