Music From Standing Waves

by Johanna Craven

  “Fair enough,” he said. “You know Hayley’s sister lives in Melbourne. I’m sure she’ll help you out if you need anything.”

  I nodded appreciatively.

  “I’ll really miss you,” he said. “I’m going to have to jam with that ranga kid now!”

  I laughed. “It’s only for a year.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You know students from the College are pretty much guaranteed a place at the Melbourne Conservatorium when they finish school.”

  I flashed a smile. “Yeah. But I’m trying not to get too far ahead of myself.”

  “I’m so glad you will finally get a proper violin teacher,” said Andrew. “I’ve been giving myself blisters trying to keep up with you!”

  I looked over the coffee table to catch his eye. “Do you know how much I have learnt from you?”

  “Abby, that’s sweet, but-”

  “But nothing,” I pushed. “Do you know how much you inspire me? You have given me so much. You gave me the passion to get out of here and do something with my life.”

  Andrew shook his head. “I didn’t give you that, Abs. You had that already.”

  I felt someone grab my backpack as I left the school gates a few days later. I whirled around in surprise. My heart leapt into my throat.

  “Hey,” Justin smiled.

  I began to walk faster. He jogged to keep up.

  “Rach told me you’re moving to Melbourne.”

  I nodded, eyes down.

  “For the music thing?”

  “Yeah,” I said darkly. We paced along the beach path in silence. I swatted a fly away from my face.

  Justin’s voice sparked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I stopped and spun around to face him. He was closer than I expected and I could see the green flecks in his eyes. I stepped back hurriedly.

  “Why didn’t I tell you?” I repeated. “Why should I tell you anything? I never want to speak to you again!”

  He reached for my bare forearm, but I pulled away.

  “Come on Abby…”

  “Get away from me.” I dashed down the footpath.

  “Abby, please. Just stop running. I’m sorry about what I did.” He grabbed my bag to stop me. I sighed and turned to him, arms folded across my chest.

  “I broke up with Mia,” said Justin.

  I laughed loudly and started striding again. The first of the Christmas tourists had begun to arrive and looked up from the beach showers as Justin chased me across the grass.

  “You really are something. You think you can come crawling back just because that girl gave you the arse?”

  He stopped walking. “I broke it off. For you.”

  “And I’m supposed to care? After what you did to me?”

  He dug his hands into his pockets and scuffed the grass. “I guess not. But when I heard you were going away I had to do something. I’m sorry, Abby. I really am.”

  I marched away and left him alone on the grass.

  “Abby,” he called breathlessly. “I’ll miss you like hell.”

  I paused. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew part of me would miss him like hell too. I lifted my chin and began to stride home without turning again. What reason did I have to look back? I was about to get everything I had always wanted in the world I’d always imagined. A world that didn’t include Justin. B.F.F.

  “She kicked me out of the house,” said Nick. He stared past me into the windows of his car. His eyes were glazed over like pools of blue ice. “She’s making me live in the caravans. Won’t let me inside.”

  I lowered my school bag and reached for Nick’s arm. He jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me!” He snatched his keys out of his pocket and threw open the car door. I felt my stomach churn, scared of what he might do. I leapt into the passenger seat.

  Nick glared into the dashboard. “Get out.”

  I didn’t move.

  “Get out, Abby! I mean it!”

  “No. I’m not leaving you on your own.” I locked my door. Nick sped out of the drive, leaving a cloud of yellow dust. He roared out of town and onto the highway. I could see the speedo climbing; a hundred and twenty, a hundred and thirty... My heart sped. For a second I thought Nick might crash on purpose. A blaze of fear shot into my throat. I snatched his arm. He swerved onto the side of the road and we flew through the gravel. I clung to the door handle. The car jerked to a stop beside a gum tree. Gasping, I closed my eyes. Silence hung inside the car and a blowfly tapped against the window. Finally, I followed Nick out into the paddock beside the road.

  “I hate her!” he cried, pounding his fist into the bonnet. I fucking hate her! I swear!” He kicked the front tyre. “I hate all this shit!”

  I stood motionless, watching him pace wildly through the dust. The blowfly buzzed in my ear and flitted against my cheek. I could feel the heat closing in around me. Finally, I reached out and took Nick’s elbow. He stopped pacing.

  “I hate her,” he repeated, stumbling back to the car and leaning against the bonnet. I sat beside him in silence, listening to his heavy breathing. A truck roared past and tooted its horn. I watched a trail of bull-ants winding towards the tree.

  “Were you going to crash?” I asked. “Is that why you didn’t want me in the car?”

  Nick closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  I rested my head against his shoulder. I could feel his arm rise and fall as he breathed.

  “I have to get away from her,” he said. “But I got no way to do it.”

  “You’re really that broke? You can’t even afford somewhere crappy?”

  “I’ve got nothing,” he grunted. “It goes.”

  I drew in my breath. “It’s not just pot, is it.”

  Nick rubbed his eyes. “Smack,” he mumbled. “Heroin.”

  I stared at him. “Jesus. You idiot. You stupid fucking idiot.”

  Nick said nothing. He kicked at a clump of grass until it dislodged from the ground.

  “Nick,” I mumbled. “For God’s sake, get yourself off it. Apart from all the other reasons, think of all the money you’d save.”

  “Abby-”

  “I sound like her, I know. It’s just… I’m right about this.”

  Nick stood up and wandered away from the car, shooing a bug off his face. “Just stay out of it. I don’t want you involved in all my mess.”

  “Yeah well I am involved. And I want to help you. What can I do? Just tell me.”

  “Abby, please. Don’t. You wouldn’t understand.” He sighed and rubbed the pale brown bristles on his chin. “What if I don’t want to get clean?”

  Perspiration dampened his forehead and the back of his t-shirt. A crow flew over our heads. I could hear the beating of its wings. Nick spoke up finally in a monotone voice.

  “You know how much this place kills me.”

  I jumped off the bonnet. “I hate it too! But you don’t see me turning into some desperate junkie, do you?” I regretted the words as soon as they had come out of my mouth. Nick glared at me, his eyes flashing like there was a fire behind them.

  “Well then I guess I’m just worthless compared to you, aren’t I.” He threw open the car door and slumped into the driver’s seat. I stumbled backwards, expecting him to drive away, but he sat motionless, the engine idling. I slipped into the passenger seat. Nick’s brown hands clutched the steering wheel, eyes gazing through the windscreen at the flat green landscape.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “I am worthless,” he mumbled. “And I am a desperate junkie. I just wish you hadn’t had to see it, Abby.” His voice was hoarse. “I remember when you used to look up to me. Like there’s anything to look up to now.”

  I stared into my hands. Nick clicked off the ignition and the empty silence returned. He rubbed the dark shadows under his eyes.

  “Just tell me something,” I said. “Do you take it because you like it, or to get back at Sarah? Because if it’s to get back at her, then it
’s a really stupid way to do it.” My voice began to rise. “Did you ever think that it could kill you?”

  “Yeah,” said Nick. “I thought that heaps of times.”

  I felt a sharp pain at the back of my throat. I lunged over the handbrake and threw my arms around his neck. My eyes overflowed with tears. Nick sat motionless.

  “Jesus,” he said. “I didn’t think you were going to cry.”

  I felt his arms slide around my waist. I could smell his cigarettes and saltwater in his hair. It reminded me of being a child again and of being carried on his shoulders in the rock pool; of all the times when I had looked up to him.

  “Come on,” he said finally, pushing me gently back to my side of the car. “It’s alright.”

  “It’s not alright!”

  Nick sighed and wound down the window. Damp air wafted inside.

  “Look,” he said. “I tried to get off it before, okay. Really. I tried heaps of times. But I couldn’t. Getting high is the only way I can deal with all this.” He picked at the peeling buttons on the cassette player. “You’ve got your violin and your music and stuff, but I got nothing like that. This is all I got. It makes it bearable.”

  I watched him dumbly, tears falling off my face onto the frayed seat cover. “You can’t live like that. That’s not a life!”

  “You think I don’t know that?” His voice wobbled and he covered his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. I froze. I had never seen my brother cry. Cautiously, I touched his shoulder.

  “Get some help, Nick,” I begged. “Please. You could save up and get out of here.”

  He forced a short smile. His eyes were glistening. “And go where?”

  “Anywhere! Get away from Sarah! Get away from the farm! That’s where you’re getting all the smack from, isn’t it?”

  “You talk like it’s so bloody simple.” He leant back in his seat and closed his eyes, to make it clear the conversation was over. The back of my head ached. I needed water.

  “I’m moving to Melbourne,” I said finally. “I got a scholarship for the Arts College.”

  Nick turned to me, his eyebrows knitted. “You serious?”

  “I’m sorry, Nick. I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be.” He puffed out his breath and turned the ignition. “Jesus. I am so happy for you. I am so fucking happy for you.”

  EIGHTEEN

  With two days left in Acacia Beach, the College was no longer an intangible dream. My bags had been packed for a week. My bedroom walls were bare, cupboards empty. I had taken most of my clothes to the op shop. The more things I gave away, the more I was relinquishing Acacia Beach; banishing it, forgetting. The College was as much about escaping the past as it was about shaping my future.

  “Do you have any advice for dealing with the College?” I asked Andrew, during a farewell dinner with he and Hayley. It was a hot, humid night. The air was heavy with the promise of rain. Thunder rumbled like an approaching freight train.

  “When someone asks what instrument you play, you have to do violin actions,” he said with a laugh. “You can’t just say it, you have to mime it as well.” Then he added: “Don’t let it get to you.”

  I wondered if he was talking about the violin actions or the College in general. I wanted to ask, but Oliver had interrupted the conversation by dropping a bowl of ice cream in his lap.

  After dinner, Andrew took me into the basement. As we climbed downstairs, the clouds opened. Rain hammered the tin roof and echoed around the house. Andrew reached into the piano seat. He handed me his leather bound score of the Elgar Sonata.

  “I want you to have this, Abby.”

  “I can’t take that,” I said. “It’s a family heirloom.”

  Andrew pushed it into my hands. “Take it. Please. Consider it a going away present. Besides, you’ll have more people to play it with than I will.”

  I threw my arms around him. I knew I would never play it with anyone but him. Andrew slid his violin case towards me.

  “You can’t go home in this weather. Play it once more?”

  I nodded. A knot was building in my throat. I knelt hurriedly and pulled out the violin. Thunder rattled the roof panels. The lights flickered and blackness fell over the street. The fan in the corner groaned into silence. Rain churned out of the gutters and thundered in the mud. I stood up in the dark.

  “Hang on a sec,” said Andrew. “We have a torch somewhere.”

  “I know it from memory,” I said. “You?”

  “I think so. Guess we’ll find out.” He crashed his way to the piano. I lifted the violin to my shoulder and took a deep breath. I could smell the vanilla candles Hayley was burning upstairs. They mixed with the fragrant air that floated through the open window above our heads; a breath of frangipani and rain and the sea. They were scents that had surrounded me my whole life and only now, as I prepared to leave, did I realise how beautiful they were. I swallowed hard and gripped the fingerboard.

  “Count in when you’re ready,” said Andrew.

  My fingers found the notes of the first movement and wove my melody through the piano accompaniment. The arpeggios strained skyward and this time I went with them. Melbourne may not have had snow, but it rained and hailed and the leaves changed colour and fell from the trees. And Melbourne had a place for me in their Arts College. I was grateful for the darkness. Andrew couldn’t see the tears rushing down my face. All I had ever wanted was coming true and there I was crying like my world was collapsing. Music had lifted me out of my present so many times, but as the notes played their final encore, a part of me desperately wanted to stay forever in the past. To stay forever playing Elgar in Andrew’s basement.

  The motifs from the first two movements twisted through the finale. I tried to cover my tears with a choked up cough. Andrew paused on the piano. He reached into the darkness and touched my bare arm.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Keep playing,” I said. “Just keep playing.” Music returned to the darkness and wove through the shadows. I closed my eyes and my hearing heightened. I swam in the sounds that had always made up the orchestra of Acacia Beach. Rain on the roof, croaking frogs and the Elgar E Minor.

  PART TWO

  NINETEEN

  I celebrated a new millennium by breaking free of everything I knew. When I stepped off the plane in Melbourne into a jumble of shuttle buses and multi-level car parks, I felt as if Acacia Beach had been nothing but a bad dream. After nearly eighteen years, I was finally waking up.

  The Saint Mary’s boarding house was a small, round building behind an old church. The dorm rooms were tiny, with two beds pushed against the cracked white walls. Opposite the beds was a tiny bathroom: a sink, shower and toilet squeezed into the space of the bathtub in my parents’ house.

  “The hot water system here is pathetic,” my roommate Clara told me. “It keeps turning cold in the middle of your shower, almost like it knows when you have shampoo all over your head.”

  Clara’s hair was long and the most beautiful shade of dark red I had ever seen. “It’s natural,” she assured me. “That shampoo in the bathroom for colour-treated hair just gives it extra moisture.”

  Clara had brought a redwood dressing table with carved legs that slotted in between the two beds. On the table she kept her alarm clock, hairbrush and a photo of a young boy; his round eyes staring broodingly into the camera. He reminded me of Oliver.

  “Is that your boyfriend?” I had joked. Clara raised her eyebrows and I kicked myself for being immature.

  “He’s my nephew,” she said as she arranged her violin music into categories on the bookshelf. “Isn’t he gorgeous? My sister was a model, you know. He looks like her.”

  Clara could have been a model too if she wanted. She was tall and thin and moved her hips when she walked. She was stunning, but in a scary way. Her blue eyes were cold and her features sharp. The snow queen.

  “So what about you?” she asked. “Brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews…?�
�

  “Two brothers,” I told her. “No nieces or nephews. My brother doesn’t have kids. He doesn’t even have a girlfriend. I don’t think he really wants one.”

  Clara bubbled with laughter. “Of course he does. He’s obviously just covering. He just doesn’t want everyone to know how lonely he is. That’s what people do.” She turned back to arranging her music.

  What would you know?, I wanted to say. I thought about Nick a lot. I couldn’t shake my guilt for leaving him.

  “Hey do you play this piece?” Clara called, dropping a copy of a Handel sonata on my bed. I was yet to decide if it was a good or bad thing living with another violinist.

  “Maybe I can give you some tips,” she had suggested. “Just to help you settle in to the College, you know, get used to your new teacher…”

  I opened the music. “I’ve never heard it,” I admitted. “Can I borrow it?”

  Clara tutted. “It’s kind of my piece,” she said, sliding the music back into the bookshelf. “You know how it is. I played it for my AYO audition. That’s why I wanted to know if you played it too. I’m kind of glad you don’t.”

  I nibbled my thumbnail, wondering if it was possible to make it through the year without ever having to play in front of my roommate.

  The church in front of the boarding house had been turned into the dining room. It was a long hall with a high arched ceiling and polished wood floor. Long tables filled the room, meeting stained glass windows on either side. A stone carving of the crucifixion stared down at us.

  Clara handed me a tray. “You’re lucky. It’s chicken casserole tonight. If it had been their disgusting spaghetti bolognese you would have been on the first plane back to Queensland, believe me.”

  “It smells great,” I said. The nerves from my first day were beginning to settle and my stomach was grumbling. We sat opposite each other at the table, Clara not acknowledging the other students around us. I tried to flash a few casual smiles.