Hitch

  Ron stepped further away, spread his legs into a wider stance. The woman resumed her flat stare. Ron’s face was lifted to the sky and Amelia followed his gaze, tried to find whatever had grasped his attention up there. She gave up and looked to the car park; Will’s ute was in the same place as the night before. Acid rose in her throat. She focused on the rise and fall of Ron’s shoulders, wishing on each of his breaths for a yes.

  ‘Fine,’ the man said. ‘Fine, fine, fine.’ He turned and walked in the direction of the shop, digging in his back pocket and pulling out a wallet. He turned again, pointed a short finger at her. ‘Don’t get in yet. I’ll put a towel down.’ The tone of his voice brought a flush to her face, as if she’d already done something wrong. He continued walking and pushed open the door of the servo.

  Amelia breathed deeply through her nose. Blood pounded in her ears. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

  ‘Sweetheart … what’s your name?’ The woman’s voice was soft. Amelia stepped closer, ducked down to the window.

  ‘Amelia.’

  ‘Amelia. Well, what a lovely name.’ The woman paused. ‘Look, Amelia, I hope you know that we’d love to help. I do wonder though if you’d be better off trying someone else.’ She looked up from beneath thick, wiry eyebrows. ‘I know my husband, you see, and, well, he’s had a big few days.’ The woman blinked three distinct times, as if each one held a secret message. ‘He really is very, very tired.’ The woman gave a slight nod, setting her pinned arrangement of curls jiggling. ‘I know him better than he knows himself, you see …’

  ‘We won’t be any trouble,’ Amelia said, trying her stiff smile. ‘Promise.’

  The woman slid the window up. Amelia knocked lightly on the glass. ‘I’ll be back in a sec,’ she said, getting Sid’s postcard out of her pocket, pointing to it. The woman blinked, looked away.

  Amelia walked over to the postbox at the edge of the car park. As she neared Will’s ute, she could see herself sitting in the front seat, feel the coarse material beneath her, smell the car’s odour of fried food; she wished she could reach into the car and shake that girl.

  She pushed Sid’s postcard through the slot, listened to it flutter to the bottom. She stood for a moment, rested her head on the warm red metal, peering into the gap. She could picture him walking down the garden path at his place, his fingers finding a corner of the card in the cobwebbed letterbox; his face lighting up, then sinking in disappointment as he read her effort. At least she didn’t have to disappoint him in person.

  Lucy barked and Amelia looked up; Ron had returned to the car and was scrabbling through luggage in the boot.

  She worked up a fresh layer of sweat as she jogged the few metres back to the car, her skin irritated beneath the scratchy material of her replacement T-shirt. Ron was spreading a dark pink towel over the back seat, pulling the material tight and straight. The name Brenda was stitched in purple cursive in the corner.

  ‘I wonder if I should use something of mine …’ Amelia said. ‘That towel looks pretty special.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a very nice one – a wedding present from my great-aunt,’ the woman, Brenda, said, turning round in her seat.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Ron said. ‘Just make sure your dog enjoys it.’

  He threw a lime-green towel at Amelia; she caught it, then held it up by the corners, letting it unroll. ‘For you,’ he said. It took her a moment to comprehend. She spread it across the other half of the back seat.

  Ron settled in behind the wheel, rolling his shoulders back, moving his head from side to side until his neck cracked. As they pulled out of the service station, she caught the eye of the cashier; the woman shook her head.

  Amelia leaned back in her seat, let the tick of the indicator wash over her. As they turned onto the highway, she looked out the back window, watching Glendambo as it was swallowed by desert. She patted her pockets, pretending her unease might be lifted simply by assuring herself she hadn’t left anything behind.

  Ron accelerated hard and blasted the air conditioning; the fan was loud, making conversation difficult. She dropped her persona, sinking into the seat and back into her own skin.

  The kilometres racked up as the car bumped over uneven patches of the highway, setting Brenda’s curls bouncing. Ron drove fast. Amelia closed her eyes and submitted to the thrust of the vehicle. If they were to crash – if Brenda’s head were to be bobbing on an airbag, her legs broken and trapped beneath the dashboard, if Ron’s delicate eyelids were to close, blood dripping from his temple, and Amelia was to finally leave her body, watching the scene from above – then at least she was rushing towards something. Amelia reached across the back seat and rubbed Lucy’s neck, causing her back leg to twitch when Amelia reached the itchiest places. She took hold of her collar, huddled in closer; Lucy couldn’t be part of that scene.

  ‘You’re lucky it’s me picking you up, you know,’ Ron said, his voice raised over the roar of the air conditioning.

  ‘Thank you,’ Amelia said.

  ‘It’s not safe for a girl like you to be out here alone.’

  Amelia nodded, bit down on the gummy ulcer inside her mouth. Red sand scattered on an otherwise spotless mat beneath her shoes. Lucy perched on the plush towel and looked outside, her wet nose leaving streaks on the window. Amelia struggled to keep count of the road posts as the car rushed past.

  Brenda held the handle above the door. Her arm was sprinkled with moles, her fair skin glowing pink. That patch of skin could have belonged to Amelia’s mother, also prone to heat rash and sunburn. Her heart picked up even as she told herself it couldn’t possibly be, that it meant nothing. During her first year of high school, Amelia had come home one day to find her mother sunbathing topless by the pool. Triangle sections on her breasts were a few shades lighter than the surrounding skin. There was a cocktail glass on the ground beside her, one Amelia had never seen before, and flies gathered around the slice of pineapple that adorned the side of the glass. Her skin was already a dangerous red. Amelia rubbed sunscreen into it, making sure to cover the little section of caesarean scar showing above her bikini bottoms, white and ragged on the soft, rounded flesh of her tummy.

  The car surged forward, the force pushing Amelia into her seat. She placed a hand on the black leather and it was cool to touch. Through the hole in the headrest, she could see the goosebumps that rose on the skin of Brenda’s neck, the muscles beneath locked stiff and straight. Amelia lifted her hand from the seat and examined the greasy print it left behind.

  Lucy sat up, her eyes flicking between the view from different windows. Amelia leaned forward, adjusted the tongue of her shoe and sneaked a glimpse at the speedometer. Thirty kilometres over the speed limit. Ron’s arms were at full extension, each hand gripping the wheel. His skin was hairless, his fingernails trimmed and the cuticles pushed back to reveal perfect crescent moons. He caught her staring; his eyes met hers in the rear-view mirror. She looked away but his gaze remained, saw beneath her clothes, crept across her skin. He could see the pulsing tracks of Will’s fingertips. He followed the map of touch branded across her body, found the hotspots where Will’s prints overlapped with those left by others.

  She glanced back at the mirror and Ron’s eyes were there, waiting. A car approached in the opposite lane and the passing force of it buffeted the Subaru. She willed Ron to go faster.

  Sweat cooled and thickened on her skin as they continued through the desert with the air conditioning on full. She began to shiver. She tucked her arms inside her T-shirt and folded them across her belly. A ray of sun angled into the window and she moved over to capture its warmth. Lucy yelped, only once, small and high-pitched. She looked at Amelia, then circled around on the towel, lying down with a sigh, head on her front paws. Amelia cupped her head, massaged her ear.

  The car drifted towards the middle of the road as Ron fiddled with buttons on the steering wheel. He clicked one but didn’t get the desired result. He pressed again, holding it in this time. Ther
e was no apparent reaction from the car. He hit the row of buttons with his fist. Lucy sat up with a start. The car beeped.

  ‘Piece of shit!’ he said, then corrected the vehicle with a sharp swerve, sending a fat strawberry air freshener swinging. Avenues of cartilage rose from Brenda’s thin wrists as she tightened her grip on the handle above the door. Ron punched a different combination of buttons with his index finger: no result. He mashed several buttons at once with the heel of his hand and finally there was a response; the car shifted gear and lurched forward. Lucy sat up, barked.

  ‘Shut that thing up,’ Ron said, still pounding buttons. Lucy scratched at the seat. Amelia tried to grab her paws, to draw the towel back under her, but Lucy continued scratching, leaving long white lines in the leather.

  Ron turned, inspecting the damage: one hand on the wheel, the other on Brenda’s headrest.

  Brenda screamed. There were kangaroos, big reds, two of them. The smaller stood on the side of the road, scratching its belly. The other was just ahead of it: tail flat against the black surface of their lane, nose to the ground. The kangaroo looked up and observed the vehicle’s approach. It turned and moved outside of the lane, then took a big hop back into the car’s path. Amelia gathered Lucy in her arms as Ron yanked the wheel and they headed sharply towards the wrong side of the road. The car screeched as it gripped the edge of the bitumen and then careened to the left. Lucy was ripped from Amelia’s grip and flung across the back seat, slamming against the door. Amelia braced herself for the violence of the flip, imagined the crunch of sand on the roof as they eventually stopped, a boat coming aground in a bay.

  Brenda’s shouting was shrill: ‘Stop! You idiot!’

  The car headed off the left-hand side of the road and caught loose gravel; it squiggled back onto the asphalt then headed sharply into the right-hand lane. Ron no longer had any control over the vehicle; the wheel spun and he was unable to get a hold. Brenda threw herself across the car and grabbed the wheel with both hands. She yanked down. The car obeyed but over corrected; she jerked the wheel the other way and they were back on the road, slower and straight.

  Ron sat, frozen, left hand limp and white beside his red seatbelt buckle. The wildflowers of Brenda’s dress splayed over the gearstick as she continued to steer the car.

  ‘Take it!’ Brenda said. In the rear-view mirror, Ron’s eyes were wide open, locked on to something ahead. He slowly took hold of the wheel, flicked the indicator on and rolled to a stop by the side of the road. Brenda shut the air conditioning off. They sat in silence, except for the ticking indicator and Lucy’s panting. She was unhurt, her tongue dangling out the side of her mouth.

  Amelia looked out the back window; the kangaroos were there, pelting across the desert, a trail of dust behind them. The car had left skid marks, black snakes curving and flicking their way down the highway.

  ‘Continue to follow … the road.’ The female voice of the GPS delivered a stilted, conglomerate sentence. Amelia lowered her window, shuddered as the wall of warmth collapsed onto her.

  ‘Continue to follow … the road.’

  Brenda gathered her dress then opened her own window. Ron’s manicured hand moved towards the back of her neck.

  ‘Get out,’ Brenda said, dodging his fingers. Amelia was out, Lucy behind her, in an instant.

  ‘Not you,’ Brenda said, glancing up through the window, a strand of hair out of place across her forehead.

  ‘Ron, move,’ Brenda said.

  Ron covered his face with his hands, rubbed up and down.

  ‘Get in the back,’ Brenda said. ‘Now.’

  Sun beat down on Amelia; she shielded her eyes from the glare. Ron opened the driver door and stepped out, walking with shoulders hunched to the back seat.

  Brenda looked to Amelia again. ‘You can get in the front here, sweetheart,’ she said, red patches of skin flaring across her cheeks. She got out of the car. ‘I’m so sorry about this.’

  ‘It’s fine, really –’

  ‘Please. The front seat,’ Brenda said, leaving the passenger door open and walking around to the driver’s side.

  Amelia rearranged the pink towel on the back seat. She clicked her fingers and Lucy jumped in. Ron had discarded the lime-green towel on the floor near Lucy and Amelia picked it up, began spreading it on the front passenger seat.

  ‘Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about that,’ Brenda said. Amelia looked to Ron, who avoided eye contact. ‘Please,’ Brenda said, ‘you’re fine. Just sit down.’ Brenda patted the seat beside her, blinked slowly. Amelia climbed in.

  Brenda turned the air conditioning to a gentle, comfortable cool then selected some classical music to play, volume lowered. She checked her mirrors, indicated, and pulled onto the highway. The next few kilometres were peaceful and steady, Brenda sitting straight and alert at the wheel. Ron was silent in the back; Amelia put her hand behind her neck, blocking the space in the headrest.

  The soft rocking of the car sent Amelia into snatches of sleep, and she woke with a start as her head fell to her chest.

  ‘Amelia, sweetheart … why don’t you have a little rest,’ Brenda said, her voice soft; for a moment Amelia felt her mother’s palm resting on her forehead, the pound of a headache subsiding.

  ‘Ron, would you please pass Amelia a pillow?’ Brenda said.

  There was rustling and muttering at the back. Amelia turned to see Ron out of his seat and reaching over into the boot. Lucy was curled up, her chin resting in the crook of her hind legs. Amelia faced the front as Ron grunted, swore to himself.

  A white pillow appeared in the gap between the seats.

  ‘Thanks,’ Amelia said, resting the pillow across her lap.

  Brenda pulled in at the next service station they reached, saying she needed to get a few supplies. ‘Can I get you something?’

  ‘No, I’m good thanks.’

  ‘Are you sure? I can get anything you like.’ Brenda’s eyes searched Amelia’s. ‘My shout,’ she said, raising her purse in the air.

  Amelia unclipped her seatbelt. ‘I’m fine, really. Thank you though.’

  She and Lucy stretched their legs while Brenda was gone, avoiding Ron, who sat dozing with his frowning face propped up on his fist.

  Brenda returned with a bag of groceries, which she unpacked in the boot. They got back into the car; the whole efficient stop was over in less than five minutes. Brenda dabbed at her cheeks and neck with a tissue, then re-pinned strands of hair that had come loose around her face. Before setting off, she opened a packet of chocolate-covered raisins, positioning them carefully in a cup holder in the centre of the car.

  ‘These are really nice,’ she said, popping one into her mouth and closing her eyes to savour it.

  Brenda guided the car back onto the highway. Keeping her eyes on the road, she reached down and widened the opening of the packet of chocolates. ‘Please, help yourself,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Amelia said, but didn’t take one. She looked out the window and started a new count of road posts.

  ‘These are my favourite but he doesn’t like them,’ Brenda said, flicking her head towards the back seat. ‘It’s nice to have someone to share them with.’ She held the bag out to Amelia, showing the rash up the inside of her arm. ‘It’s just the two of us at home, so …’

  Amelia gave in and took one, rolling it around her mouth as she avoided looking at Brenda.

  ‘What about you?’ Brenda said. ‘Do you have family around here? Friends?’

  Amelia’s stomach kicked as she swallowed the sweetness, chocolate slick on her tongue. ‘I’m just passing through, really.’

  ‘I see. Well, I’m more than happy to take a detour. I could drop you somewhere if you’d like. We’re in no rush.’

  ‘Just further down the highway is good for me. Nowhere in particular. I’m just taking it all in.’

  ‘Maybe a train station, or a bus stop? Anywhere, truly.’

  ‘Wherever is fine – no need to go out of your way. Thank you.’
Amelia plumped the pillow up against the window and nuzzled into the crisp material; she fended off further questions by closing her eyes.

  She woke to the car slowing. They passed street signs and buildings and she closed her eyes again, lingering in half-sleep as civilisation flickered past in light and shadow.

  The indicator was on and the car turned, then stopped. Amelia opened her eyes. They were pulled up next to a park. A family had a picnic spread across browned grass; a woman shooed flies away from a chicken carcass.

  ‘Where are we?’ she said.

  ‘Port Augusta,’ Brenda said. ‘Bathroom stop.’ She took the keys out of the ignition. ‘He’s still out of it,’ she said, then lowered her voice to a whisper: ‘Have a look.’

  Amelia turned; Ron’s head was tipped back, mouth wide open. Lucy yawned and thumped her tail against the leather. Ron stirred and Amelia looked away.

  Brenda opened her door and swung her legs out of the car. Amelia let Lucy out then walked behind Brenda towards the toilet block. There were two cubicles inside, each with battered apricot-coloured doors. The smell of dried piss was sharp.

  Brenda’s feet shuffled in the gap under the wall between the stalls. The toilet seat was on the floor, so Amelia hovered over the silver bowl. She finished quickly. Ants crowded around the sink, scurrying into action when Amelia rinsed her hands under the trickle of lukewarm water. She made a pool with her hands and scrubbed her face. Amelia turned and Brenda was there; they each stepped to the side, trying to get out of the way of the other.

  ‘Sorry,’ Brenda said, giggling. She stepped forward to the basin, dodging the squares of toilet paper littering the floor. Amelia wiped her hands on her shorts and turned to head out of the bathroom.

  ‘Amelia … wait a second,’ Brenda said. ‘I wanted to ask you something, if that’s okay.’

  Amelia paused, then turned to face Brenda. ‘Ah, I’ll just be out there,’ she said, pointing to the exit.

  Brenda shook her hands out, reached for a paper towel. ‘It’ll only take a moment,’ she said.