Raw Blue (18 page)

He shifts and his stomach pushes my head up for a second. ‘Dunno, mate. It’s just a thing he likes to do. He reckons it’s relaxing getting a tatt.’

‘How come you don’t have a tattoo?’

‘Can’t see the point.’

‘If you had one, what would it be?’

‘Dunno. You?’

I think about it for a long time and finally concede defeat. ‘I don’t know, but not a butterfly.’

Later, when I’m going inside, Ryan calls me back.

‘What?’

‘Come here.’

‘I want a drink.’

‘No, come here.’

I go over to him. He’s still lying on his back.

‘Sit down for a sec.’ He pats the deck beside him with his hand. I sigh loudly and sit down with a thump. He takes my right hand and places it palm down on his chest. Then he traces around it with the pen, craning his neck to see, giving himself double chins.

‘What are you doing?’

He shifts my hand away and starts scratching out letters on his skin. ‘I worked out a tattoo – if I had one.’

I look at what he’s done. He’s got the outline of my hand over his heart and in it he’s written,
Her
.

I want to tell him that he’s blown me away, but I think he knows.

28

trust

From there, things fall into a pattern. Whenever Ryan comes back it’s great, then when he goes back to work it’s awful. Time ticks by between long, aching phone calls. We’ve got rules for when he’s away. If he’s short and terse on the phone I have to know that it’s nothing to do with me. It’s the situation: long shifts, being away from me, not being able to surf. And if we fight on the phone I can’t just hang up. We have to sort it out that night because leaving an argument to fester is too cruel when you’re away from each other.

Some phone calls he doesn’t say much and I know he’s called just to hear my voice. That’s all he wants – to hear me tell him about my day, what the surf’s like, what work’s like. And that’s humbling, knowing that your voice can mean so much to another person. I know it helps him if I sound cheerful, and it’s not good for him if I sound down. And I try not to make things hard for him by telling him I wish he was with me.

Georgina asked me about it once, about being in a quasi long-distance relationship. She said,
That’s crazy, I don’t know
how you do it
. And I looked at her thinking she was crazy, because it’s not like you get to pick. You don’t get to choose who you want to be with.

Danny asks more questions about the situation than anybody. We’ve started meeting up for an early on the Saturdays when Ryan isn’t around. We always line it up the night before, when we work together. He says that if he knows he’s got to meet someone he gets up. If it’s just him, he turns the alarm off and goes back to sleep.

Danny is fascinated by the finer details of what’s going on between Ryan and me.

When’s Rhino back?

Next Monday, I already told you that.

How long is he back for?

A week.

Then he goes back there for two weeks?

Yeah. You know this.

What do they call it again? You know – the flying thing.

Fifo. Fly in, fly out.

Do you guys talk on the phone a lot?

Yeah. He rings when I finish work. But not every night because he’s usually on day shift and he needs his sleep.

Do you guys have phone sex and stuff?

Jesus Christ, Danny.

Saturday night, Ryan’s second last night. I meet him out after I finish work. I didn’t want to. He’s having drinks with some guy, Dean, who used to be a local but who’s since moved away, and I don’t like meeting new men. But Ryan tells me that Dean’s a good mate, even though he doesn’t see him much anymore, and that he’d like him to meet me because I’m important. Well, I’ve never been that before – important – so I say yes.

After work I get changed into jeans and a top and I fuss around for too long with my hair, nervous all of a sudden because I think this Dean mightn’t think I’m good enough for Ryan. Not good-looking enough, or with big enough tits, or whatever it is that men think. And underneath all that is the old worry I get when I’m about to meet a man, the worry that I might already know his voice. But then I bury that because I don’t want to think about that stuff any more.

I think Dean’s going to be awful, like that Mick guy at Dee Why, or worse, like Shane, but he’s not.

He’s just normal.

By the time I get to The Steyne – they went there so I wouldn’t have to go far to meet up with them – and find them in the roof bar, they’re both pissed. But Dean’s still nice and he talks to me, not around me, and when he asks me questions there’s nothing in his eyes that shouldn’t be there. He’s tall and gangly with curly dark hair and gentle brown eyes, and he’s wearing a polo shirt and jeans, both of which have been ironed. Definitely not the hardcore surf maniac I was expecting.

‘Ryan tells me you surf, Carly,’ he says.

I nod. ‘You do too, don’t you?’

‘Oh, yeah, now and then. Not as much as I’d like. We’ve got a little boy, so he keeps me busy on the weekends. But it’s worth it. Changes your life, hey.’

I’m surprised by that. I didn’t think he’d be part of a ‘we’, have a child. He takes a sip of his beer and I spot the gold wedding band on his finger. He sees me looking at it.

‘Ryan was my best man,’ he says.

I’m surprised by that, too. I look at Ryan and he nods, looking slightly abashed.

‘Lost the rings, got in the shit for it. Dean’s wife, Sally, hasn’t talked to me since.’

‘Come on, she’s talked to you,’ Dean says, laughing. ‘Everybody’s got to have at least one mate who’s a black sheep.’ He winks at me. ‘That’s why she’s dragged me up to the Central Coast, to get me away from this guy.’

I tell him I grew up in Forresters. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Bateau Bay. We only bought up there because we couldn’t afford anything down here. But Sal loves the place. So whatever makes her happy, eh?’

And I can see that if she’s happy, he’s happy. I just didn’t expect Ryan to have friends like this.

Dean asks Ryan, ‘So life’s good for you, Ry? On the up since you got out?’

And when he says it, you can see he’s been worried for Ryan.

I’m sitting on a bar stool and Ryan’s next to me, swaying a bit on his feet, in this really good mood.

He says, ‘Yeah, mate. Life’s good. Got a job, got it together.’ He puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘Met Carly.’

My face burns red and I take a sip of beer.

But Dean just nods, looking serious. ‘That’s good, mate. That’s important’

Ryan and I get a taxi back to his place. My Laser’s there: Ryan drove me to work in it and then went back to his place to get ready to meet Dean. Shane’s borrowed Ryan’s Commodore, it’s missing from the driveway and I’m glad he’s not home. I figure because it’s so late he probably won’t be back tonight.

Ryan sways on his feet as he struggles to unlock the front door. When he gets the door open, he gives it a hard push so that it smacks into the wall, then reaches around for me. ‘Come here, you.’

We walk down the dark hallway together, bumping from wall to wall like a pinball. He switches the kitchen light on and squints at me like I’m smudged.

‘You want a drink of water or something?’ He runs his hand over my hair, staring down at me, his face much softer than it would be if he was sober. ‘Hey?’

I can smell the beer on his breath and I like seeing him like this, drunk and gentle, his guard down. And here’s the thing: I’m drunk, too. I am absolutely smashed. And though I drink, I haven’t been drunk for over two years. But tonight I knew I could get drunk because I’m with Ryan and I trust him. Yeah. I trust him.

And right then I want him, and for once there’s nothing complicated about it. I kiss him fiercely. Then I reach for his belt and tug it undone, watching his face change while I do it.

29

Shadows

I wake up so much drunker than when I went to sleep, not sure where I am, upside down in my own body, knowing something’s wrong because there’s light spilling in and I don’t know the shape of this light, the way it cuts across the wall. It’s not familiar to me; it’s not the light that comes through my window when I’m in my bed, when I know where I am. I lift my head to find out what’s happening and when I look my heart stops because there’s the shape of a man standing in the doorway. I’m naked and there’s a man on the bed beside me, I can feel the mound of his body, and I don’t know who’s in the doorway, but I know why he’s here. He’s here for his turn.

The shadow steps forward holding up something dark and he throws it towards me and I shudder, but it falls short and lands on the floor with a soft thud. Then he holds up something white with his other hand and my eyes are more awake now because I can see it’s my underpants. He throws them at me and they land on my legs.

‘You left these in the kitchen.’

And I scream. A raw howl of a noise that rips my throat and jolts the man beside me awake.

‘
Carly?
… Aw, for shit’s sake, Shane, piss off!’

Ryan climbs over me, switches the bedroom light on, grabs the towel hanging over the end of the clothes rack, wrapping it round his waist. ‘
Shh
, Carly, it’s all right. Hang on, I’m just going to –’

He’s out the door, the house shaking with the thud of his steps. I roll off the bed and find my jeans on the floor where Shane threw them. I’m wobbly and have to sit, shaky-shaky hands can’t drag them on fast enough, got to get covered up, because they might come back.

‘What the hell are you doing, Shane? That’s taking it too far. I tell you what, it’s not funny, mate, so you can wipe that grin off your face.’

Out – before they come back. Shirt on, stuff my underpants in my jeans pocket because I don’t want Shane to get them. Wavy legs, my head spins, and it makes it hard to think where my purse is, or the keys to my car. There, on the desk – God, I’ve got to get out of here, please help me, please help me. Not again.

The back way, the back exit. I can hear something smash, Ryan shouting still.

‘You’re out, mate. I have had it with your shit. I don’t need this anymore. You’re all over the friggin’ place and I’m sick of it. Next week, you get yourself sorted. You’re out.’

The handle turns but the door won’t open even though I’m jerking it as hard as I can. I’m not thinking properly because I can see then it’s deadlocked and the key’s sitting in the lock; my head’s not clear. There’s a ramp down into the yard and I hurry around the side of the house. There’s light coming out of a window and I pass it with my head down as though they’ll see me if I look up. I can hear Ryan’s voice.

I’m at my car now and I’m too drunk to know at first that I’m trying to unlock it with my house key. But then I get the right key and the door opens. I remember to lock it after me, which is good because something thumps on the bonnet. Ryan’s there, that’s his shape, his pale chest I can see in the glow of the streetlight. I block out his shouting, I’ve got to think and get this car started. Now, put it in first, that’s good, work the clutch, move off, don’t panic, you’re moving, you’re getting away. Change gears, go a bit faster – he might get his car. Change gears again. I think it’s the end of the street so I start turning right, but everything’s dark, I can’t see. I remember lights; that’s why it’s dark – I haven’t turned the lights on.

But I don’t get time to turn them on because then the crash happens.

30

after

‘Who was it?’ Ryan sits down and my bed dips with his weight. I don’t turn away from the wall.

‘Carly?’

He’s quiet, then, for so long I can almost believe he’s gone and I’m here by myself, which is what I want. Except I can hear him breathing, so I know he’s still there, wanting to know.

31

the trouble with you

‘Hey, Cookie, you want sugar?’ Hannah’s legs stop directly in front of me.

I look up from the paper, blinking at her.

‘You want sugar in your tea?’

I nod, but I don’t know why she’s asking. She knows I have two sugars. Hannah knows all the little things.

‘And milk, yes?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

She puts the tray she’s carrying down on the deck and sits cross-legged in front of it. I watch her take the lid off the sugar bowl and measure out two spoons of sugar into a cup.

‘Have you always had that tray?’ Every other time we’ve sat out here on a Saturday morning Hannah’s brought things down from her place in two trips.

‘No, I bought it from the Garden Street Bazaar. Especially for tea with Cookie.’

That hurts for some reason. I look back down at the paper.

Hannah places my tea in front of me on the deck. I think she’s going to be quiet then, but she stretches and says, ‘Ah, this sunshine. It’s good, eh?’

I sigh.

‘Ah, come on! It’s good for you. You needed to be out of bed. Ryan came around before. When you were pretending to be asleep.’

I keep staring at the paper.

‘He’s very worried about you. It was in his eyes. He is kind, I think.’

I don’t answer.

‘He told me that you could use his car. But I said, “
Ah
, don’t worry about it. She can use mine.” ’

‘What are you going to do for a car?’

‘I’ll get Victor to drive me. And if not Victor, then Gavin.’

‘Who’s Gavin?’

‘Gavin, I work with.’

‘You work with, or are working on?’

‘A euphemism?’

‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

‘I’m working on Gavin.’

‘Jesus Christ, Hannah.’ Shaking my head, I flap my paper.

But she’s back to Ryan. ‘He said to tell you that he has taken care of your car.’

My car had been left where it was, crumpled into a tree. It wasn’t something to report, that accident, given that it involved me and a tree and neither of us was hurt and I was drunk out of my head when it happened.

‘He shouldn’t have done that. It’s not his problem,’ I say.

‘Ah, but what does it matter? He said he knows someone who owes him a favour. They’ll do it for free. A friend of his will beat it for you.’

‘Panel.’

‘Panel?’

‘It’s called panel beating.’

I had to be near the break feeling all mixed up like this: sweet, sour, hurting and sad. The ocean’s flat as flat and it reflects the sky so perfectly you could be upside down. I’m glad there’s no surf because there’s no chance of seeing other people who surf, the ones who know me and Ryan and know we’re together. If there was surf I couldn’t surf anyway: my board’s at his place.

Barefoot, I can feel the sunshine still trapped in the sand. There are a lot of people down on the beach tonight – people eating fish and chips, kids running around, lovers sitting side by side, loners like me. The sweep of the beach south to Collaroy is framed by lights. It’s just beautiful and it puts an ache in my throat.

I’ve got a towel slung around my shoulders and I dump it down near the water’s edge and then wade in. The water is cold at first, but after I dive under the surface either it gets warmer or my blood gets colder because it feels like nothing at all.

On the beach not far from me is a redheaded boy. He’s watching over a toddler, who I see when he pulls his nappy down and kicks it off is a little boy. The toddler gurgles and laughs up at the redheaded boy, then waddles off as fast as he can, and the redhead knows the game because he crouches down and runs just fast enough to always be there behind him.

And I’m struck by the redhead’s face. He looks so gentle and joyous, completely wrapped up in this moment with a little streaker. How can he be so pure? How can he know such peace?

I park Hannah’s Barina in the carport, noticing there are no lights on at her place. Gavin, or perhaps it was Victor, was coming to take her to the movies tonight.

It’s dark now, but the air’s still warm, so I put my wet towel down on the deck and sit there in my bikini. I’ve been there for maybe twenty minutes – two cigarettes worth of time – when my mobile starts ringing inside the house. I let it ring, feeling my scalp prickle because it’s too late for Emilio or Mum to be calling, so that just leaves Ryan.

I won’t check for a message. Tomorrow he’ll be gone.

A short while later I hear the noise of someone wearing thongs walking down the side steps to my place. For a second I think about unlocking the sliding door and hiding inside, but it’s too late for that. I’m hoping it’s going to be Hannah, but she doesn’t wear thongs. I get up and quickly shove my cigarettes, matches and smoking jar into my wet tub, then throw myself back down on the towel.

Ryan appears around the corner of the house carrying my board. When he sees me there, sitting in the dark, he gives a start.

‘
Whoa
shit … Hey. How’re you goin’? Didn’t expect you to be here.’ He glances around and sniffs and I wonder if he can smell cigarette smoke. ‘Wanted to drop this off for you before I leave tomorrow.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’

‘I tried calling.’

‘I, um … The phone’s inside and I didn’t really hear it.’

He does a slow nod, looking unimpressed. His sandy brown hair is soft and shaggy, like he’s washed it recently, and he’s freshly shaven. He’s wearing a retro Crystal Cylinders shirt and a faded pair of jeans; I recognise them as the same pair he was wearing the day we went to Dee Why by the tear across the left knee.

I pull my knees up to my chest and scratch my foot.

‘Sunbathing at night, eh?’

‘I went for a swim and it’s a nice night so …’ I shrug.

‘Where do you want this?’ He holds the board up.

‘It’s fine just there. Thanks for dropping it off.’

He lays the board down on its side, leaning it against the railing. He’s wrapped my leg rope neatly around the fins. Instead of leaving, he walks across to the railing and stands there looking out, tapping his fingers. ‘Pretty flat down there, eh?’

‘Yep.’ God this is hell, please make him go.

‘So you feeling all right?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Nothing hurt or sore?’

He means from the accident.

‘No. Everything’s fine, thanks.’

‘Everything’s fine, thanks. Well that’s good, Carly, I’m glad everything’s fine.’ His voice is hard and angry.

I stare at his back, the solidness of him standing there on my deck, and a hand twists my stomach.

‘Your neighbour – Hannah – did she tell you I’d been over?’

‘Yes.’

‘You know about your car?’

‘You didn’t have to do –’

‘Don’t start with that shit.’

Something rustles in the bamboo but apart from that the night is quiet. Too quiet. And then I realise I can’t hear the surf. There are no waves, it’s flat.

He turns around, leaning back against the railing, sniffing again. ‘So you’re a smoker, eh?’

‘No.’

‘Okay, you don’t smoke.’

He’s dissecting me, looking utterly indifferent while he does it.

‘Can you remember what you said when I got you out of the car, Carly? Can you remember what you told me?’

I freeze, feeling terrified because I can’t remember. I don’t know what I’ve told him, how much he knows. The only thing I remember is him asking me the question later when he’d brought me back here.
Who was it?

His voice softens. ‘Carly, I’m not going to … You gotta know me a bit better than that by now.’

I rub my face with both hands.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asks.

‘About what?’

‘About what happened to you.’

‘What happened to me? Like I’m some sort of freak?’

He shakes his head. ‘Mate, that’s not where I’m coming from,
at all
.’

I can’t look him in the eyes because then he’ll see it: my disgrace. He’s the first person to do this to me, to take the things I hide, and I think it’s cruel, unbearable, like having my chest torn open.

He’s the first person to know.

I get up then, not sure if I want to be sick or punch something, or maybe I should ram my head into the wall, do it until I pass out so I can get away from him. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not fair. I didn’t want to know his details. I don’t deserve this.

He takes a step towards me. ‘Carly …’

I try the sliding door, but it’s locked. The keys are in the wet tub, over near the railing. I go over to it, aware that he’s watching me, not saying anything, and I hate the way he’s just standing there.

‘
Go away!
’ I scream at him and it’s the start of a flood. ‘Get out, Ryan, just get out. Leave me alone!’

I tip the tub upside down, spilling its contents onto the deck: wax comb, wax, fin key, hair ties, hair comb, deodorant, spare towel, cigarettes, matches and the glass jar with dead butts in it, which makes a loud clunk and rolls towards the edge of the deck. Ryan bends to stop it and places it upright.

I scrabble through the mess of stuff from the wet tub, trying to find my keys. ‘Happy now?’ I say, throwing the packet of cigarettes at him. ‘Yes, I smoke sometimes. Congratulations, Ryan, now you know.’

My keys aren’t there. They’ve got to be in my shorts then. I go to pick my shorts up off the deck, but Ryan grabs me by the shoulders.

‘Don’t! Don’t touch me. Just leave me alone.’

‘
Shh
. Carly, settle down.’ Those eyes, seeing into me.

‘I don’t want anything to do with you.’

‘Don’t push me away –’

‘Leave me alone!’ I give a big jerk backwards and he tightens his hands for a second to stop me keeling over then lets me go.

Straight away I’m over at my towel, picking up my shorts, shaking them to feel whether the keys are there in the pocket.

‘Carly, I told you already it doesn’t matter. Everybody’s got something, it’s how you deal with it that counts. I’m not here to hurt you, or rub your face in it.’

‘Oh really? It doesn’t matter? Oh, thank you so much, Ryan. It’s so big of you. Thank you for overlooking all my revoltingness. You’re a real charity worker, you are.’

I’m crying, face all twisted up, snot and tears making the words bubble. Where the hell are my keys? I look about wildly, trying to find them.

Ryan stoops down and picks them up – they were on the end of my towel. I go to snatch them from him but he closes his hand.

‘Carly, I want to talk to you, but I can’t when you’re like this.’

‘Yeah? That’s because it’s just all too hard, isn’t it, Ryan? Isn’t that what you said? It’s just all too fucking hard.’

‘I never said that.’

‘Yes, you did. On the phone, in the beginning, before you scored with me. Well, you’ve had me now. So good for you – you scored, Rhino.’

‘
Aw
… now hang on a second …’ He shakes his head, eyes slitted. ‘That’s just bullshit, that is. That’s not how things are and you know it.’

‘Is that what you’re doing here tonight? Looking for a quickie? Two dry weeks ahead, better get one in with Carly before I go. She’ll be up for it.’

‘
Aw
– Jesus, Carly. That’s not –’ He kicks the glass jar and it slams into the side of the house, but doesn’t break. He looks at me, his face blotchy and hands clenched. ‘The trouble with you is that you’re still letting whoever it was do it to you. You’ve let him get inside you, so he can fuck you from the inside out. So get rid of me then if that’s what you want, but you’re only letting him win.’

I sit down slowly, my back against the brick wall, hugging my knees to my chest.

Ryan’s squatting down beside me, taking my hand and holding it in his. ‘Tell me, Carly. Get it out. Tell me what happened.’

Everything is so black inside my head. I don’t even have to think about it. I just tell him, let him have all of it.

‘It was at the Gold Coast. Schoolies week. I was at a club with my friends and I lost them – we were all drinking and I was off my head. I ended up wandering around the Mall, looking for them, pissed off because I thought they’d ditched me. I started talking to this guy and he said he was going to a party. He was really sunburned – I remember that. I asked him if he’d fallen asleep on the beach and he said it was from surfing. That’s why I started talking to him, because he surfed, not for any other reason – God, I was a virgin until that night.’

I blink for a moment, not really believing that I’m telling him all this, but then I just keep going. I’m unravelling. And if I keep it up soon there’ll be nothing left of me.

‘Anyway, he said I should come to this party with him. And I was pissed at my friends and I thought, you know, screw it. So I did. On the way there I bought more stuff to drink because I was nervous about going to a party where I didn’t know anybody. Vodka. I got stuck into it as soon as we got there, drank it straight. Then, of course, I felt really sick. He said I should go and lie down for a while. Go into one of the bedrooms, sleep it off in there.’

I swallow and my voice loses its sharp edge. ‘So I did. I must have passed out. It was later when they came in. Three of them.’

‘Jesus Christ, Carly …’ Ryan looks paler than I’ve ever seen him.

‘I was still really drunk. I don’t know who they were. They must have been at the party, too. Maybe he told them I was in there. But he wasn’t one of them, so maybe he had nothing to do with it. I don’t know. I didn’t see them – I kept my eyes closed, pretended I was passed out. I just heard their voices.’

He’s squeezing my hand so tightly that it hurts. I don’t think he knows he’s doing it.

‘I don’t want to say the rest.’

‘That’s okay,’ he says. ‘That’s okay. You don’t have to say any more.’

We’re both quiet for a really long time. I feel dead now. Absolutely blanked out.

‘I’m sorry, Carly.’

And he is. I can hear it in his voice.

‘Can you go now?’ I ask.

‘I don’t want to leave you, Carly.’

I don’t look at him.

‘Carly?’

He waits for a long time, watching me, trying to draw me out with his eyes. Then he stands and picks up all the stuff spilled over the deck, putting it back in the wet tub, moving like he’s old.