The Long Distance Playlist

by Tara Eglington

  ‘Still not as bad as Sydney though, right?’ I say, and they all laugh.

  Taylor’s still quiet.

  Is he annoyed about before? I wonder, thinking of the suitcase moment. He doesn’t seem annoyed. He keeps looking over at me and smiling, but he’s not saying anything.

  You could say something to him, you know. I want to, but I feel stupidly shy. Am I going to feel like this the whole trip?

  Taylor

  Wednesday 5 June

  I’d forgotten how strong Issy is. How her limbs are all lean muscle from years of dancing. I’d forgotten how straight she stands and the way she looks you right in the eye, with no hesitation.

  All the way over to my place from the airport, her eyes absolutely ruined me. I’d turn my head to look at her, my mouth open to start a conversation – and then the second her eyes caught mine, all the words would disappear.

  The only thing I was capable of, right then, was smiling at her. I knew she’d be wondering what was up. Or really, what was up with ME – because normally, when we pick up the Byrnes from the airport, I’m so hyped up, I don’t stop talking for hours.

  We’re at home now, sitting in the lounge, and she’s in the armchair across from me, patting Slash. She’s crossed her long legs, and she’s laughing at something Dad’s just said, and I’m crazy jealous of my own father, because I want to be the one who says something clever enough to make her throw her head back with amusement like that. I want to be the one who makes that dimple in her left cheek come out of hiding.

  ‘Tobi and I are going to head around to the site to check one of the specs for the floral installation,’ Mum says. ‘Did you want to come with us, Louise? I know you’re keen to see the venue in person.’

  Mum’s barely finished the sentence before Louise cuts in with, ‘Absolutely. Patrick can head around to our house with the suitcases.’

  I can see Isolde watching her parents. Taking in how carefully even Louise’s voice is, especially when she says ‘Patrick’. Noticing how her mum’s not looking at him, and Patrick’s not looking at her either when he replies.

  ‘Sure thing,’ he says, smiling at my mum instead. If Louise’s voice is extra-composed, Patrick’s is peppered with enthusiasm to make up for it.

  ‘Issy, why don’t we head over now and start unpacking for Mum – one less thing for her to worry about this week, hey?’

  Isolde is quiet. She’s not looking at her parents any more; she’s looking down at the empty mug in her hands, the one that had held coffee earlier on. I can see the fingers of her right hand shaking ever so slightly.

  ‘Actually, Issy and I were going to take a drive,’ I say to Patrick.

  Issy looks up, right at me, a silent thank you in her eyes.

  ‘Make sure you’re back before dark,’ Mum says.

  ‘Mum, I’m allowed to drive until 10pm, you know,’ I say, more amused than annoyed as I get up from the couch. ‘But yeah, we’ll be back ages before that. Shall we go, Is?’

  I hold my left hand out to her, and her right hand slips into mine. I squeeze it, a silent I’ve got you, and the tiny trembles in her fingers stop. For a second, I go right back to that New Year’s Eve down by the lake.

  Then I pull Isolde to her feet, and we head out the front door to my car.

  Isolde

  Wednesday 5 June

  We drive back over the bridge, this time towards town. Taylor’s popped on a playlist, and we’re both quiet. The scenery is doing all the talking – now we’re down Frankton Road, heading towards Queenstown, Cecil and Walter Peak are in front of me, and the lake stretches right into the distance.

  ‘Far out,’ I say, staring at the view. ‘It’s even better than I remember.’

  ‘Thanks, Goldie, I’m flattered,’ Taylor says.

  His eyes are on the road, but I can see a little smirk curving across the side of his face.

  ‘The view, idiot.’ I roll my eyes, but I can feel myself blushing anyway.

  After that, the silence turns from awkward to comfortable.

  I don’t ask him where we’re driving to. I know. As ‘Ends of the Earth’ by Lord Huron plays, we pass by town, and then we’re on the turning, twisting Glenorchy–Queenstown road. I roll down my window and let the cold air rush over my face. The further we drive from my parents and the more the road opens up in front of us – sky and lake, on and on forever – the better I feel.

  We pull over at Bennetts Bluff, like everyone does – but unlike everyone else, we don’t take photos. We stand there, taking it all in, because photos never do the view justice. The mountains are bigger, the lake wider, the whole view wilder and more mysterious than it ever looks in pictures. The fact that on the other side of the lake there are only mountains rising steeply out of the water, always blows my mind.

  When we reach Glenorchy, it’s too late to sit in the café. We just manage to grab takeaway hot chocolates before they close, and we take the drinks down to the pier. We sit at the end of the dock, watching black swans in the water. One of the swans has four babies trailing behind her, echoing every move she makes.

  ‘Weather’s rolling in,’ Taylor says, pointing at the heavy cloud building up past Dart River, out towards Paradise.

  ‘I can feel it,’ I say, tucking my chin into my coat. I’d forgotten my scarf in my rush to get away from Mum and Dad.

  ‘Are you cold?’ Taylor’s looking over at me now. The wind is blowing hair into his eyes. I can feel my fingertips twitching because all I want to do is lift my hand and brush it away.

  ‘A little,’ I say.

  ‘Here.’ Taylor slips his coat off his right arm, and for a second, I think he’s going to give me the whole thing and sit there in just his black sweater – which is crazy because it can’t be more than four degrees now. I start to shake my head, no, but then I realise he’s shifting closer to me, closing the twenty centimetres between our bodies till our thighs are touching. He stretches the coat around both of us.

  I can’t look at him after that. I’m feeling too much.

  I know for him this is just a simple gesture – two friends cuddled in against the cold – but for me, I can feel exactly where my thigh stops and his begins. We’re pressed in that close.

  ‘What can I do to help, Issy?’ he says.

  The wind is picking up now, and his voice is quiet. The sentence is lost in a second, but because his head is so close to mine, it’s like I can feel the words, just like I can feel how he’s hurting for me. For that moment back at the house with

  Mum and Dad, for everything we’d talked about last night on the phone.

  ‘I can’t . . . talk about it yet . . .’

  I don’t know why last night I had to talk, like spilling one word after another felt like the only thing that would stop me from going crazy, and now, today, my throat aches every time I try to get a single one out. Maybe it’s because Queenstown has always been my happy place – the spot where Mum and Dad were better somehow, or at least seemed to be. But now, misery has followed them over here. There’s no pretending any more.

  Taylor’s hand finds mine under the coat. He squeezes it, just like he did back at the house, and the lump in my throat loosens its hold, just a little.

  ‘Will you distract me?’ I ask.

  ‘That’s a great plan.’

  Taylor

  Wednesday 5 June

  I could have stayed there forever with her. Looking at the lake, watching the cloud and mist roll in from the north. The cold settling deeper into everything outside of the coat we shared – like a bit of goose down and nylon could be a haven against come what may. Her hand in mine, warm and soft and right. The side of her left leg pressed against the side of my right one. Her calf is touching my prosthesis.

  I hadn’t thought about that when I’d pulled the coat around us. All I’d thought about was being closer to her. My heart is pounding, thinking about it. I have to keep my eyes straight ahead, on the river, to try to get a hold of myself.

  Th
e rain starts. We ignore it at first because it’s little spittles here and there, but within a few minutes, it’s coming in heavy.

  ‘We should go,’ I say, not because I want to, but because I’m worried about wet roads and the fact that the light is getting lower.

  We’re quiet on the way home. I’m focused on trying to safely beat the storm without speeding, and Issy’s lost in her thoughts.

  ‘Do you think it’s going to snow?’ she says finally. ‘In town, I mean.’

  ‘It’s flipping cold, but not the right kind of cold,’ I reply, looking at the temperature gauge, which is reading two degrees now. I know the kind of cold that brings the snow in. I can feel it.

  ‘Snow-whisperer, hey?’ Issy jokes.

  ‘Maybe. It’s not far off though,’ I say. ‘The weather reports keep saying a major front’s due in the next week.’

  ‘I hope we’re together when it arrives,’ Issy says.

  Together. I think of us back on the dock, how badly I’d wanted to tell her how I felt, but it wasn’t the right time, of course.

  Part of the reason I’d kept my eyes on the view was because if I hadn’t, and she’d looked over at me, her head that close to mine, our shoulders touching, I would have leaned right over and kissed her. And that would have been all kinds of insensitive and selfish. She needs a friend right now in the chaos of what’s happening with her parents, not some guy trying to make moves on her.

  ‘I hope so too,’ I say, keeping my eyes on the road.

  Drive to Paradise with You

  Ends of the Earth Lord Huron

  Spirit Cold Tall Heights

  No Rush Guy Burns

  All My Love Imaginary Future

  Frames Luke Thompson

  Forever Ago Woodlock

  Mountains Jome

  Snow Jome

  Glassy Blue Hammock

  Turn Away and Return Hammock

  Instant Messenger Conversation

  Wednesday 5 June, 9:12pm

  Finn Williams: You need to take deeper breaths, mate. That laugh you just let out? It sounded like you’d been sucking on helium for a year.

  Taylor Hellemann: You’re loving this role reversal, aren’t you? All those years I doled out the girl advice, and now you’re sitting there, lapping up this scenario with a smug face.

  Finn Williams: I’m loving that there’s the world’s best mac and cheese sitting between us right now, and you’re so lovestruck for the girl across the table that you’ve completely forgotten about it, and the entire dish is MINE, ALL MINE.

  Taylor Hellemann: You know this dinner was meant to be me, my parents, the Byrnes and Jack’s fam, right? You gate-crashed the whole thing.

  Finn Williams: Because you need me here as your wingman/coach/get-your-act-together guy.

  Taylor Hellemann: I really don’t.

  Finn Williams: Ah . . . You kinda do. Who’s the one who jabbed you in the ribs earlier on so you’d pick your jaw off the floor before Issy got to the table? She DOES look stunning in that dress. I get why you gaped when the Byrnes arrived. And why you knocked your dad’s wineglass all over the table earlier on. And somehow said ‘Vack and Ji’ instead of ‘Jack and Vi’.

  Taylor Hellemann: Could you just go home before you kill the last of my confidence?

  Finn Williams: And not finish this INCREDIBLE steak?

  Taylor Hellemann: Eat your food and stop texting me. I keep having to glance down at my lap to read them, it looks weird.

  Finn Williams: Dodgy, you mean.

  Taylor Hellemann: That’s it – I’m not replying to any more texts from you – I’m focusing on HER.

  Finn Williams: You’re probably not interested in finishing your steak, then? I’m just going to slide your plate over to mine . . . there we go! :) Welcome to Finn’s plate, baby! Now THIS is love.

  Instant Messenger Conversation

  Thursday 6 June, 9:55pm

  Ana Zhang: So, when did you finally figure out you were in love with Taylor?

  Isolde Byrne: Sorry, what?

  Ana Zhang: Is, come on. The second he opened his front door tonight, your face lit up like lights on a Christmas tree.

  Isolde Byrne: Don’t be stupid.

  Ana Zhang: There it is again! When he handed you the hot chocolate just now.

  Isolde Byrne: My face is normal. I’m normal.

  Ana Zhang: Issy, I love you, but you’re so not normal right now.

  Isolde Byrne: Do you think he can tell?

  Ana Zhang: Nope. ’Cause if you’re a lit-up Christmas tree, he’s a metal rod that’s been hit by lightning. Way more obvious. At dinner, when you told him you liked his sweater, it was like you’d crowned him king of the world.

  Isolde Byrne: He was just smiling, Ana.

  Ana Zhang: His smile was so huge my face hurt looking at it.

  Isolde Byrne: We’re friends. He doesn’t see me that way.

  Ana Zhang: Are you BLIND to the expression on his face RIGHT NOW? He’s sitting there watching you IM me with ADORING eyes.

  Isolde Byrne: There’s another girl – he made a playlist about her and everything.

  Ana Zhang: Is that why you were fighting? Whatever happened before – I can tell you right now that the playlist’s dead and gone, Is.

  Isolde Byrne: We need to stop IMing. Finn keeps trying to shift closer to you on the couch – he’ll be in your lap in another minute, i.e. SEEING THESE MESSAGES. I don’t want Taylor’s best friend knowing I have feelings for Tay.

  Ana Zhang: He knows, Is. Everyone can see the Christmas tree in the room.

  Isolde Byrne: How about we talk about YOUR face, now that Finn’s poking you in the arm like a six-year-old trying to get your attention?

  Taylor

  Friday 7 June

  The mountains disappeared this morning. Or at least, it looks like they did. When I open my curtains just after 8am, I can’t see the houses on the other side of the lake. Long, low cloud has moved in overnight, and it’s drizzling outside.

  Mum, Dad and I drive over to the wedding venue later in the morning, and by then, the cloud’s almost all the way down The Remarkables.

  ‘It’s not looking great for tomorrow, is it?’ Dad says as we turn down Maori Jack Road, our headlights on high beam.

  ‘Positivity, Tobi,’ Mum replies, turning the windscreen wipers up a notch.

  The house for Vi’s wedding shouldn’t be called a house. It’s really an estate. If you saw it from above, you’d say it looked like a stealth bomber, with two massive wings on either side. You can’t see much except grey cloud right now, but I can still tell that the ‘lawn’ is an entire plot, with unobstructed views right across the peninsula. It’s crazy to think some people live like this.

  Mum, Dad and I get stuck into helping Judith, the florist, with the reception space. Across the room are boxes of flowers that have been water-packed so they stay fresh for tomorrow.

  The Byrnes arrive at 1:30pm, along with Vi’s bridesmaids, Jack’s groomsmen and the celebrant for a ceremony rehearsal. I only let myself zero in on Issy for the first few minutes after she walks in, and then I tell myself I need to be less obvious and pay attention to what’s going on around us.

  You can see from Vi’s face that she loves the house – she’s exclaiming over the big glass doors all along the reception room, the stone fireplace, and the huge deck where Mum’s going to set up post-ceremony drinks and canapés. If it’s not raining tomorrow, that is.

  ‘Mountain weather changes all the time,’ Mum reassures Vi. ‘An hour from now, all this cloud could be gone.’

  ‘What if it’s not?’ Vi’s smile, the one she’d been wearing when she’d first arrived at the house, has faded now that she’s staring out at the rain running across the deck boards. ‘What if it’s miserable like it is now, and we can’t do the ceremony outside?’

  ‘Then we’ll set up a space right over here against the stone wall, and have candles and drapery everywhere,’ Mum says. ‘It’ll be beautiful.’

>   The bridal party runs through the rehearsal in the same spot, pretending there’s an aisle leading up to the stone wall. Issy’s the last bridesmaid in the procession, and her face is super serious. Too serious. As she takes her place in the bridesmaid line-up, her eyes meet mine and I pull my most ridiculous face at her – cross-eyed, tongue splayed to the side. She starts giggling.

  ‘You better not do that tomorrow,’ she says, coming over to me after the rehearsal wraps up. She punches me in the arm softly.

  ‘And if I do?’

  I can’t help teasing her. I want her to touch me again. Ever since we held hands up at Glenorchy, all I’ve thought about is how to get close to her.

  Yesterday had been a write-off – the girls were at the spa most of the day, and then last night, when Finn and Ana had been over at ours for dinner, I’d been way too self-conscious to do anything.

  ‘You’ll be in major trouble,’ Isolde says, poking me in the shoulder.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ I grab her hand, the one touching my shoulder, playfully. ‘Unless I’m too fast for you.’

  ‘What, like a T-rex?’ she says, referencing one of our kid fights from way back when.

  ‘You know it.’ I let out a dinosaur roar and it echoes around the room. Jack’s groomsmen turn their heads and give us a weird look.

  ‘You’re such a weirdo,’ Issy splutters.

  We’re both grinning stupidly at each other, holding hands.

  ‘Isolde!’ Louise calls. ‘We need to get going.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I say to Issy as I reluctantly let go of her hand. ‘When you come down the aisle.’

  ‘NO FACES, okay?’ She gives me a mock-stern look.

  ‘I’ll be the one in the crowd staring adoringly,’ I say, like I’m joking.

  ‘You better be.’

  Isolde

  Friday 7 June

  When I go into Vi’s room to ask if she wants a hot drink, I find her crying on her bed.