Please Don't Hug Me

by Kay Kerr

  Jessica Rabbit’s mum, Vicky Rabbit, had agreed to chaperone —I think she still feels like she is a teenager. It’s a bit strange. The whole drive down she was saying things like ‘you’re only young once’ and ‘live in the now’, and giving Jessica Rabbit sly smirks and elbow nudges whenever she mentioned a boy’s name. Vicky Rabbit speaks in the same deep voice as Jessica Rabbit, but all the time not just when boys are around. She dresses in the same style as Jessica Rabbit and her gestures are the same too.

  We passed the dense bushland of Mount Cotton. There were three wallaby corpses on the roadside along this stretch. I don’t remember ever seeing a wallaby alive. I’m sure we did when we were small, or at least I hope we did. Did we?

  Dotted along the side of the highway were the odd pub and shops that seemed as though they were propped up movie sets. Like if I looked behind the front doors I’d see an empty parking lot and someone smoking a ciggie. Next came the theme-park stretch. I love watching Dreamworld’s Giant Drop ride and imagining how the people on it feel in the moment it starts to fall. That knot in your stomach, that sense of anticipation and fear and fun. How it all disappears in a rush of adrenaline, and then it is over. I imagined I could hear their screams of delight. Fear can be fun when the cause of it isn’t a real threat. From there it was like driving back in time; the high rises slowly gave way to smaller houses and then it was green paddocks and open space. Cows and farms and little wooden houses. It felt as though I could breathe again, for the first time in a year. If only we could have kept on driving.

  We pulled up at Byron just before 3 pm and Dee was asleep. Her mouth was hanging open and Jessica Rabbit said it would be funny to put a pen in it, but she didn’t do it. She doesn’t do half the things she says she is going to, and I’m glad this was one of the things she didn’t do. Our apartment was right on the beach, at the top of a three-storey white building that reminded me of the apartment blocks I’ve seen in filler scenes of The Real Housewives of Miami.

  My plans for the weekend included trying to get a tan and sitting in the rooftop spa sipping champagne, but the penis straws and jelly shots Vicky Rabbit was unpacking onto the kitchen bench told a different story. I should have known then.

  Dee and I were sharing a room. She unpacked straight away and told me: ‘You’re going to love it, it’s so laid back here, nothing like where we live.’

  It’s not really me that needs to feel as though I’m away from Cleveland at the moment though. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt that I wanted to be there. I nodded, half-listening and half-thinking about the time you and Damo were supposed to take me and Skyscraper Simon to Byron, but you got that extra shift and you needed the money so we went to the food court at the shopping centre instead. We got slushies and it was actually a pretty good time. I would have loved to have come here to Byron with you too though.

  Dee said the beach would fix our hangovers, but I wasn’t planning on drinking enough to get a hangover. I don’t really feel like it, and there are sharks in the water. Dee didn’t seem to hear me, or maybe she already knows what to do in case of a shark attack. Anyway her mind was elsewhere.

  ‘It’s a different style down here, so try and get more of a beachy look with your hair and makeup.’

  She was instructing me like a YouTube tutorial and I was fascinated as she separated her hair into sections and created waves with her hair straightener. I was struggling to find the energy to brush my hair, let alone style it in any way, so I agreed to Dee’s offer to give me a ‘Byron makeover’.

  Usually I don’t like people touching me, but Dee is different. I sat on the floor while she was up on the bed and she twisted the hot tong through my hair. I liked the smell of warmed-up hair and hairspray. I felt like I was doing something a seventeen-year-old girl should be doing, and it was nice. Dee put glittery eye shadow on my eyelids and very pink blush on my cheeks. She gave me some of her patented styling tips.

  ‘You look great Erin, you have such great eyes. You should emphasise them more. You’d look killer with a liquid line.’

  I looked in the mirror and tried to keep a straight face. She had done a very skilful job, it wasn’t that. It’s just that the result reminded me of photos I’d seen of myself as a kid, after getting into my mum’s makeup. It was also kind of like borrowing a different face, which I liked in theory. I wore my denim shorts and thongs, and Jessica Rabbit leant me a tight black singlet with a lacy bit across the front. I looked like one of them, not like a girl ‘with autism’, as some people like to say. Something didn’t feel right though. I have been trying to figure out how to be just like them for so long, and when I finally tried it, it felt tight in the wrong places and loose in others. It felt unflattering.

  We sat on the balcony drinking vodka sunrises, watching the sunset and getting a ‘game plan’ together. At least that’s what Pointy Kathy called it.

  ‘No one hits the beach until at least 11 pm, so let’s have pre’s here until nine-ish then we can walk along the main strip and head to the backpackers.’

  It wasn’t a suggestion. Everyone agreed anyway. It was my first time drinking since your accident, so I tried to remind myself to take it slow. Vicky was inside the apartment watching TV. Jessica Rabbit said she hoped we’d all be doing a ‘dirty walk of shame’ as the sun comes up. Except me, I pointed out.

  ‘I can’t wait to meet some guys who don’t act like they’re ten-years-old.’ That was Dee, but I bet you thought it was Pointy Kathy. Jessica Rabbit said, ‘The talent is next-level.’ Netball Emu said something about meeting new people. I didn’t realise at the time that it was all code for hooking up. I don’t know why Pointy Kathy or Dee didn’t just tell me they wanted to meet boys to get with, because then at least I could have been prepared. I hate being unprepared. I don’t ever want to be surprised, not in the movies I watch or the books I read, and definitely not on a holiday where I was already way outside my comfort zone. They could have told me finding a suitable male would mean the night was a success and conversely not finding one would mean we had wasted our time. Oblivious to it all, I was happy to tag along for what I’d hoped would be a bonding night out.

  So we drank, and drank. The thing about drinking for me is that by the time I’m at the point I should be slowing down or stopping, my ability to make smart decisions is completely gone. Another drink suddenly seems like a good idea, and then another. And the conversation didn’t seem to involve me so I drank to fill in the silences.

  At about 9 pm we left the apartment to discover the night. Vicky made us promise to be back before midnight, which was her first attempt at actual parenting. We agreed. I hoped to be in bed long before then. We could have been anyone—backpackers discovering a new town, uni students letting off steam, or a touring band that performs Stevie Nicks covers at local pubs. Okay, maybe not that last one; we were dressed more Little Mix than Fleetwood Mac. There was possibility though, and that put us in motion.

  I think possibility is the reason anyone goes to parties or clubs, and the possibility of what might happen is better than whatever really happens. The first stop was the backpackers, where we slipped past the doorman, who was busy chatting up a girl in a bikini and short shorts. House music was thumping, lights were flashing and the air was thick with sweat. I struggled to catch my breath. Dee must have noticed, because she directed us to an outside table, and let me sit closest to the street. ‘Are you doing okay? Let me know if you’re not and we can bail,’ she said.

  I nodded. Pointy Kathy and Jessica Rabbit were out of their seats almost as soon as we sat down, and Netball Emu was left sitting at the other end of the table. She kept looking over her shoulders as though she expected to see her parents or a teacher.

  ‘Hey girls, so sad you are sitting alone,’ a dark-haired guy said as he approached the table with a jug of beer in one hand and a stack of glasses in the other.

  Dee flashed her smile and he sat down, very close to Netball Emu, smiling back at Dee the entire time. He passed
us each a beer, and I sipped mine slowly. I hate beer. I whispered to Dee that he was older than us, and she said she knew that, but he wasn’t too old to buy us drinks. But it still didn’t feel right.

  I was mesmerised watching people dancing on a table near ours, and within ten minutes Pointy Kathy and Jessica Rabbit were back at the table, leading two tanned guys behind them. Pointy Kathy’s guy looked like a Byron local, blond and freckled, while Jessica Rabbit’s was definitely a backpacker. No one from here would be wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Sydney on it.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Jessica Rabbit announced in her strange deep voice. We all got up to leave. The beer-buying guy seemed upset, until Netball Emu took his hand and asked him to come with her. Dee shot me a look that said ‘better her than me’, and we filed out onto the street.

  We walked towards the beach and found a picnic table on the foreshore to continue the party. It wasn’t long before Dee was kissing a good-looking surfer guy. He had appeared out of nowhere. The sea breeze was chilly and the hairs on my arms stood on end. I played on my phone, pretending I had a message from someone that I had to respond to. When I looked up, it was just Dee and the surfer guy left, and they seemed anxious to leave.

  ‘You’ll be fine to head back by yourself, right?’ Dee asked, in a tone that said there was only one acceptable response. Even though she’d promised to walk me back if I’d needed her to.

  I can read her a lot better than I can most people, because I have known her since I was eight. I said, ‘Of course,’ which wasn’t the truth. I wanted it to be though. She hugged me and I went back towards the apartment and they went towards the darkened headland in search of somewhere to make out some more, I guess.

  I took the long route home, so I could check out the Byron nightlife from the footpaths without having to get involved. There were drunk, tanned people spilling out of bars everywhere, and bikinis seemed to be the number-one choice of attire. These drunk, tanned people were pashing or fighting or vomiting right there for everyone to see. I think a lot of them were on drugs, judging by their wide eyes and erratic movements. Dee talks about how healthy the lifestyle down here is, but wouldn’t all the alcohol and drugs make you unhealthy?

  Finally I came to the end of the street and made my way back to the apartment. It wasn’t until I reached the entry gate that I realised I didn’t have a key. Or Vicky Rabbit’s number. I tried calling everyone except Netball Emu, because I don’t have her number either, but no one answered. It was starting to get chilly, and I stood pressing the buzzer for at least twenty minutes before I gave up and sat in the garden bed. My head was spinning from the vodka sunrises, and I could feel my mind percolating. I started counting pieces of bark. My temper was rising like a tide and I couldn’t stop it.

  I have always had a terrible temper, or what my parents often referred to as ‘behavioural issues’ before they knew anything about ASD. When I was little I would rage and stamp and scream if Mum changed our brand of shampoo, or if we left the house at 2 pm instead of 1 pm as planned. I often wonder how early your behaviour indicates you are a bad person. Did my parents look at me as a two-year-old mid-tantrum at the shopping centre and think there was something wrong with me? Or is two too young to know? And how long can I continue having these explosions and saying things to hurt other people before I am a bad person instead of just a bad kid? I want to get my temper under control and my outbursts as well. I don’t want to be a bad person. I want to only say true things if they are nice and to hold my tongue if they are not.

  I’m scared I’m already at a point of no return, like one of those choose-your-own-adventure books. I used to love those. I used my fingers to mark the route I had taken, so if I ended up meeting an untimely end I could backtrack to an alternative course. Otherwise you could reach a point where every option would end badly based on previous poor decisions. That’s exactly what I’m scared of in my real life, where there is no way of backtracking if I stuff up.

  What felt like hours passed as I sat in that garden bed before Netball Emu returned, stumbling and laughing her way up the street with keys in hand. I was too angry and cloudy to talk to her, so I followed her silently through the pool area, into the foyer and up to our room. Vicky was asleep on the couch. She must be a deep sleeper. Dee and Jessica Rabbit buzzed up soon after. We sat on the balcony and they all had another drink while they discussed the specifics of their conquests—age, nationality, size of the hardware, and I could feel the wind picking up and the fire of my anger spreading. My mind was raging and I felt the truth of my dissatisfaction begging to be known. Luckily a vibrating in my back pocket broke the silence—Aggie was calling me.

  I went into the bedroom and answered and it all spilled out of me. I started to think about how I had been alone, and what if I’d been mugged or raped, and the sound of the wind outside was too loud and soon I was in tears. Huge, overwhelmed and anger-induced sobs and sniffs. I cried for my own bed and my own pillow. I might as well have been eight again.

  ‘I’ll come and get you, I’m at the Goldy anyway so I’m only an hour away.’ Aggie’s voice was a balm. I cried down the handset while she gathered her stuff until she hung up to start driving. I couldn’t bring myself down from the anger, though. It was flooding me and soon I found myself standing in front of the table where everyone was sitting. Then I said the thing. The worst thing.

  ‘Aggie is coming to get me. I don’t want to stay here with a bunch of SLUTS.’

  I am covering my face in shame as I write this. Yes, I called them sluts, except I kind of screamed it as well. I wanted to them to be hurt, like I had been. They were more interested in finding guys than making sure I was okay and not getting mugged or raped or murdered.

  They were all looking at me with their mouths slightly open. Dee looked like she was about to say something to me, but it never came out. Vicky Rabbit poked her head out onto the balcony; finally awake, with a look of utter disgust on her tired, puffy face. She ripped into me about my ‘inappropriate language’ until I couldn’t listen anymore, and I crashed into a chair as I made my way back to my room. This was a big one for the cringe list, maybe too big to be counted as just one item. I’d said something so awful. I’d hurled it at them like a grenade, and that was that. I packed my bag and went back to the garden bed I’d waited in earlier and waited some more.

  I heard Aggie before I saw her. Her music was vibrating her little red car, and she hit the kerb as she pulled up to a stop. I don’t think I’ve been happier to see someone than I was to see her. I jumped in, she pulled an illegal U-turn and we were on our way. On the drive I was too busy in my own mind, replaying the events of the night and cursing Dr Lim because I’m not really doing better at all. Calling Jessica Rabbit and Pointy Kathy and the emu girl sluts wasn’t as bad as saying it to Dee, because she has been a really good friend to me since we were eight. I don’t like the part of me that says things to people to hurt them, even more than I don’t like having outbursts and my lack of social skills.

  This morning I messaged Aggie to say thanks, because she is really the only friend I have at the moment who I haven’t said anything mean to, and I asked if she could bring over some donuts. She came around with donuts from the supermarket instead of from Donut King, because she didn’t know they were supposed to be from Donut King. I told her they were supposed to be hot cinnamon donuts in a pink bag, and she promised to get those ones next time. I figured it was also time to tell her about:

  Autism

  My outbursts

  My cringe lists and nicknames.

  When I finished telling her she thanked me, as though I was doing her some kind of favour just by being honest. She asked me what it was like. She said she would do some reading to learn more about autism, and then she told me she struggles with depression. She knows it’s different, but she wanted to share something too. All that talk about feeling sad makes sense now I guess. She gave me some good advice: ‘If you can find something to channel all of th
ose feelings you have during your outbursts into, it might help.’

  She said writing songs helps her, and so does medication. I told her about these letters. She said writing might be the thing for me. ‘You see the world in a different way, Erin, and I think people might be interested in hearing about it. My songs were infinitely better when I started to draw on my own experiences.’

  Then she showed me some blogs about music, and some about books. She showed me blogs about feeling sad and about being alone. People are so honest on their blogs, it is amazing. Then she left before dinner because her mum was making her favourite meal, baked fish and honey vegetables. When she was gone I thought a lot about what she said. Seeing the world in a different way sounds much nicer than having a brain with different wiring, and I am going to try and think of it like that from now on. I hope Dee forgives me so I can tell her about it.

  I feel back to square one, Rudy, and I don’t really know how to sit in these feelings. Just when I started to feel like I was pulling myself out of it, I went and said that thing to some people I don’t really care about and one person I really do care for. But I’m glad I still have these letters, because I might not be able to handle all of this without them.

  I could really do with some of your words of wisdom, so maybe now is the time to pull a Mufasa and appear in the clouds to tell me what to do.