1514642093 (R) (8 page)

For Vinnie. If I can do it, you can do it.

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile, and she smiled back, then turned her attention to the small group she was with.

I sought out the birthday boy amongst the crowd of fifty or so people, resplendent in his Batman t-shirt and black jeans. The mask hadn’t lasted long, now hanging loosely around his neck, held on by the thin piece of elastic. God knows who had thought of the theme – ‘What I Want To Be When I Grow Up.’ A nod, no doubt, to Vinnie’s newly acquired milestone age. Even when we were kids, Vinnie had been a Batman freak, running around the back yard with a black cape and a mask not too dissimilar from the one that now hung around the back of his neck.

Not me, though – I was drawn more towards Spiderman. The freak, the outcast, the loner. That was exactly how I felt, right up until Em and I had begun dating. She had shown me that it was okay to be myself. More than that, she had shown me that she loved me for it. Four years of learning what it meant to love and to be loved for who you are, not who you were expected to be, and then it was gone. She was gone.

I took another swig of beer, actively searching for a distraction. I didn’t want to wallow. I’d allowed myself that last night, for all the good it did me. Tonight wasn’t about me or Em, it was about Vinnie.

“So,” Marlow said, wandering over to me with a grin. “Where’s this new chick? Can’t see her anywhere.”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Someone probably warned her about you and she gapped it.”

He clapped a hand over his heart, wincing. “Dude. Low blow.”

I grinned, my first real smile of the evening. “You can stand down. She’s not even your type. She’s a brunette.”

He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. “Ah well. The search continues.”

Marlow’s obsession with busty blondes was legendary. He drained his beer and belched loudly.

“I need another drink,” he announced. “Want one?”

I raised my half-empty beer bottle at him and jiggled it. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” he wandered off, and I saw him detour to the buffet table. “Whoa, are those what I think they are?”

I smiled, taking another sip of beer. I could always rely on Marlow to lighten the mood. I spotted Joel on the other side of the room, deep in conversation. He glanced over and I raised my beer at him in greeting. He returned the gesture and went back to his story. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to be, someone to talk to. I should be sociable, make an effort, but I wasn’t feeling it.

What I was feeling was annoyed. I wiggled my toes inside my shiny black loafers. Shoes had been a mistake. I should’ve come barefoot, costume be damned. I glanced around the room, searching out Bridget. Finally, I found her, talking to Maia in the doorway to the kitchen.

Bridget wore a long, flowing dress and had a guitar strapped to her back. Maia was the only one at the party not dressed in costume. She wore a long white, tiered cotton skirt and white lace-trimmed singlet. In this light, she looked ethereal, like something out of a dream, and I couldn’t help but stare at her, although I’d been actively avoiding her until now.

I didn’t know what to make of her. Her obvious physical similarity to Em disturbed me, but watching her from a distance, that was where the similarity ended. Em had been confident, sure of herself, the life and soul of the party. By comparison, Maia seemed kind of lost, just as Bridget had said yesterday. As if she wasn’t sure she should be here. I found myself feeling sorry for her.

Jas floated over to join their conversation. She rubbed her pregnant belly, rolled her eyes and they all laughed. I couldn’t hear what was being said above the music, but I could see that Maia was beginning to unwind and relax a bit more. After a few minutes, Jas flitted away and it was just the two of them again.

Bridget caught my eye, then beckoned to me. Maia smiled, and my stomach suddenly nosedived. Any sympathy I’d been feeling for her went out the window. I snapped instantly back into self-preservation mode as I slowly made my way through the crowd, behind the counter and into the kitchen. I was suddenly acutely aware of my costume choice.

“Come on, Agent Kay,” Bridget laughed, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer.

“It’s Jay – Kay was Tommy Lee Jones. Jay was Will Smith,” I said, as they openly studied my ‘costume.’

I was wearing my so-called ‘funeral suit’ – black and far too hot for this time of year – with a white shirt and black tie. Perfect ‘Men in Black’ attire, complete with a toy gun tucked into my jacket pocket. It was an easy costume, but not a particularly inspired one. Regardless, I had thought it showed commitment to the party, and to Vinnie.

Under scrutiny like that, though, I felt like an idiot. I also felt gipped. Jas had insisted I make an effort, yet Vinnie had somehow gotten away with black jeans, a plastic mask and a Batman t-shirt? Lucky bastard.

“So, you wanted to work for a fictitious government agency, saving the world from aliens?” Bridget chuckled. “That was your life’s goal?”

“What proof do you have that it was fictitious?” I rallied, mentally praising myself for my quick wit.

“Ah. Touché.”

Maia smiled and my heart skipped a beat. I took a sip of my beer, trying hard to recover. It was unnerving, staring at a stranger with Emily’s face.

“How old were you when you saw that movie?” Bridget asked, thankfully, so I didn’t have to think of something else clever to say. I didn’t think I was capable of it.

“Ten, I think. Or eleven. I’m not sure, I can’t remember. I just liked the alien stuff. It was cool.”

I felt like that ten-year-old boy again, over-heating thanks to the outrageously hot suit. Maia took a sip of her drink and I found myself staring as her lips enclosed the straw. Full and rose-red, with just a hint of gloss.

The collar on my white shirt suddenly seemed far too tight, and I reached in to loosen it with my fingers.

“Anyway, moving on from alien-hunting,” Bridget said, winking, “We were just talking about surfing. Have you given any more thought to giving Maia some lessons?”

My heart fell, lodging on top of my shiny black leather loafers.

I wanted to do it, for Bridget, but there was no way. I could barely think straight when I was around Maia. She’d pick up on it, and I’d feel like an idiot.

“I completely understand if it’s an imposition,” Maia said quickly. “I mean, I’m a total beginner, and you’ve obviously been doing it a while – I get it, really I do, and it’s perfectly okay.”

Another difference between her and Em. Em had been a great surfer.

“It’s not an imposition at all, is it Heath?” Bridget insisted.

God almighty. I hated to disappoint her. I owed her. She was a good person, who wanted to help someone. I should
want
to help. I was a good person too, wasn’t I?

I took a quick sip of beer as I tried to gather my thoughts, but when I looked up, it was directly into Maia’s eyes.

They were so like Emily’s, and right now, they were full of hope.

I had the fleeting thought that maybe that’s what was making this such an impossible situation for me. Hope was something I had found was in short supply these days. It was intoxicating, seeing it up close like that. It made me want to say yes, if only to keep it close, but still I couldn’t quite manage it.

“Heath?” Bridget prodded gently, squeezing my arm.

The walls were closing in on me.

“I think I need some air,” I mumbled, forcing a smile. “I’ll be back in a minute. Sorry.”

I turned my back on them and made my way through the kitchen until I was pushing open the back door. The warm air tumbled over me and I sucked in a deep breath. For the first time that night, I gave some serious thought to ditching my promise to Vinnie and Jas, and just getting the hell out of there.

I SANK INTO ONE
of the chairs set up beside a table in the delivery lane that ran along the back of the café. Bridget used this as a break table, somewhere to take five from the chaos when she could. Right now, it was just the sanctuary I needed.

The wall behind me had been painted with a colourful mural years ago, but now it was covered in graffiti. The lane was tar-sealed but full of pot-holes and loose gravel, and the fence opposite guarded the back section of the shop next door. Weeds poked up between the fence posts, the only greenery out here. It was dusty and close, and the breeze was warm, not cool.

I felt like I’d been transposed onto this landscape, into this scene. Layered over the top of the grime and the dust, completely out of place in my pristine black suit, white shirt and shiny, black, life-sucking shoes. I didn’t belong here. I was a loner once again, standing out in a sea of t-shirts, shorts, superhero masks and ballet costumes.

I felt like Spiderman in a room full of Batmen.

I needed to get rid of these damn shoes. I couldn’t breathe with them on. I toed them off, ripping my black socks off and shoving them inside. My jacket quickly followed, and I threw it over the back of the chair. I undid the top button of my shirt and loosened my black tie. Finally able to wiggle my toes, I tried to relax.

I was blowing this all out of proportion. She was just a girl. A girl who happened to bear a striking physical resemblance to Em. That explained the so-called ‘connection’ I felt to her. It was purely physical, that was all. Unnerving, yes. But understandable, given the circumstances.

I felt like a lawyer, giving an opening argument to a jury of my peers. Who exactly did I think was going to judge me?

I was twenty-eight, for God’s sake – hardly over the hill. Yet if I carried on like this, I’d be alone for the rest of my days. I’d be lying if I said that spending the next fifty or sixty years or more by myself wasn’t depressing the hell out of me. Yet ‘moving on’ had a hollow ring to it, too. Wasn’t moving on synonymous with giving up? To use one of Vinnie’s favourite expressions, I was all over the place like a madwoman shitting.

Suddenly aware that I was no longer alone, I glanced up to find Maia standing in the doorway.

For a moment – a nano-second, really – I felt that same gravitational pull I’d felt when I’d first met her. It put me on the back foot, just like it did yesterday, and I’m sure it was written all over my face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, backing away. “I didn’t mean to… I’ll leave you to it.”

But for reasons unknown, and despite everything I thought I wanted, I found myself unwilling to let her go.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said quickly, loosening my tie further, my heart pounding. “I just needed some fresh air – this suit is baking me alive. Bloody costume party. He’s thirty, not thirteen.”

She glanced down at my shoes and socks in their haphazard little pile beside me, and smiled. “I thought it was kinda fun. He looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

I looked behind her, towards the café, as the music came filtering out through the open door. He did look like he was having fun. That was good, he deserved it. I should stay. If I left now, he’d worry, and that wasn’t fair. He needed to let his hair down, especially after what happened this morning at the beach.

Maia stood in the doorway, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.

“It’s okay, I won’t bite,” I smiled, trying to put her at ease. God only knew what she must think of me, running out like that. “Grab a pew.”

She glanced behind her for a second, as if unsure, then stepped out into the lane, walking over to join me at the table. It was darker out here, away from the light of the doorway. The warm breeze lifted her hair, sending tendrils fluttering around her face. She tucked them behind her ear as she settled into the chair across from me. Our backs to the wall, staring out at the rickety wooden fence opposite, I was grateful we didn’t have to look each other in the eye.

“I’m sorry for running out like that, that was really rude,” I said, trying my best to relax. Just being in close proximity to her like this was disconcerting, whether we were opposite each other or not. I could feel her looking at me, but I didn’t feel brave enough to do the same. I watched her out of the corner of my eye instead, hoping she wouldn’t notice in the dim light. She sat so still. I was the complete opposite, my leg bouncing with nerves.

“I’m the one who should apologise,” she said. “I got the impression Bridget was bullying you into teaching me how to surf, and I really didn’t want that. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

I was such a bastard. “Look, I promise you it’s not that – at all. I’m sorry if that’s how it looked.”

“It’s okay. I totally get it. I’m a beginner, after all. I gather from Bridget that you’ve been surfing for a while?”

I nodded, glancing over at her briefly before studying the shoes and socks on the ground beside me. Even the dusty gravel beneath my feet was still warm from the sun’s heat. I longed for some cool grass, or the beach. Something to ground me, because it felt like I was out of my depth here.

“When did you first learn? I bet you were just a kid.”

Memories came rushing back and I smiled in the half-light, leaning back in my chair. Although I was staring at the forlorn fence opposite us, what I saw was Dad, the back-yard, the hose, and lots of laughter and advice. Things were easy then. It was a simpler time. Our family was a unit – the four of us, against the world. Before everything came crashing down around our ears.