Still Waving (12 page)

My bed felt like a little life boat on a rocking sea. I was clinging on while waves of emotion crashed over me. More changes. I had friends, but why was Toby going to leave me? Would he become a stranger? Who would I talk to about Dad, like I did with Toby? I saw loneliness in front of me as I fell asleep.

I could tell by the light through the gap in the curtains that the sun had already been up for hours. I looked at my clock. It was nine o'clock. I hadn't woken up this late since I could remember. Not since I'd started surfing that's for sure. It suddenly dawned on me. I wasn't allowed to go surfing today.

I rolled out of bed and went to my window. I slowly opened the curtains. The light was fine. I didn't react to it, like yesterday. I'm better I thought.

I wobbled my way to the kitchen. Aunt Jean was sitting at the bench.

‘Morning, Julie. Do you feel well enough to be up?'

‘So far so good.'

‘Toby's still in bed. How are you feeling?'

‘Better. I'm hungry.'

‘That's a good sign. Sit down. I'll get you some breakfast.'

‘I can get it. I'm not that weak.'

‘No, no, it'd be better if you take it easy. Enjoy the service while you can,' Aunt Jean laughed and went to the cupboard for a bowl.

‘Has Kate rung?'

‘Yesterday. I told her you wouldn't be surfing for a couple of days.'

‘I feel heaps better.'

‘Julie.'

‘I know, I know,' I said impatiently.

‘I told your friends you wouldn't be able to go to the rave, either.'

‘I'm glad.'

‘I thought you wanted to go?'

‘Not really. I'm not into all that techno hoompf hoompf.'

‘Well today you better just stay at home. I think the roof is about your limit.'

‘I feel really embarrassed.' I swallowed hard. Some muesli caught in my throat and I started coughing.

‘Are you all right?' Aunt Jean came over and started rubbing my back.

I started breathing properly.

‘What are you embarrassed about?' Aunt Jean asked softly.

‘The whole spin-out thing. It's so embarrassing.'

‘There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You became ill, that's all.'

‘But you know it's sort of weird it's never happened before.'

‘Let's hope it was a one-off.'

‘You're not wrong.'

‘We'll see what the CAT scan says on Monday. Funny isn't it. Neither of us has been ill, since you came here to live and then at the same time, both of us have to deal with doctors and tests.'

‘Have you heard about your tests?' I asked.

‘I'll get the results some time next week. It's going to be another hot day, I think.'

‘If it gets really hot, can I go for a swim?'

‘I don't think so Julie. I'm sorry. It's just better to be safe than sorry.'

‘What am I going to do?'

‘Toby's here.'

‘He'll want to go for a swim.'

‘We'll see. You just can't exert yourself too much. You said yourself you don't want a relapse.'

‘Let's not go on about it.' I was over it. I'd just have to be patient. ‘What are you doing today?'

‘I'm going into work for a couple of hours.'

‘Aunt Jean, it's Saturday. You know, your day off.'

‘I'm way behind. I just need a few hours without the telephone ringing to catch up.'

‘It's your life.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘Well, they go on and on about how people work too much. You know, they don't have lives because all they do is work.'

‘Julie, I don't do this regularly.'

‘You bring work home most days.'

‘It's a very demanding profession. There's so much preparation that often you don't complete during the day, when you're already busy. It's the nature of the beast, I'm afraid.'

‘See. Everyone has a reason why they work too much.'

‘Unfortunately I have no choice, or else there wouldn't be food on the table.'

‘I'll find a job.'

‘What kind of job?'

‘You know. Waitressing, or something.'

‘You're too young, and anyway you'll have plenty to do when your last year of school commences.'

‘If I earned money, you wouldn't have to work so hard.'

‘Julie, don't worry about that. I know some students work and go to school, but I think that's pretty hard. If you don't have to, then I don't think you need to.'

‘I suppose it will be cheaper without Toby eating everything.'

‘I'm sure you'll be happier for not having to yell at him for eating all the bananas, or drinking all the milk and putting the empty carton back in the fridge.'

‘I reckon. I'll miss having him to fight with though.'

‘Julie.'

‘I will. You're not much good to fight with, to be honest Aunt Jean,' I laughed.

‘I hope you can get through the weekend without feeling the need to fight with Toby.'

‘I think we'll manage.'

Toby didn't emerge from his room until eleven-thirty. I'd been tempted a few times to wake him. Aunt Jean had gone into her office hours ago. I didn't disturb him, because I was fully aware of the consequences of waking a sleeping tiger snake.

Finally, Toby emerged. I was sitting on the balcony reading a surf magazine.

‘What a great sleep.' Toby stretched.

‘It was long enough. It's nearly twelve o'clock.'

‘So?'

‘I just thought you'd start the days earlier now you're a farm boy again.'

‘I usually do. I reckon I'm tired from the long drive and the lack of oxygen in this place.'

‘You're getting muscles on your muscles.'

Toby flexed his arms. ‘It's the work.' He patted his stomach and inflated his chest. ‘What do you think of my six-pack, eh?'

‘Impressive.'

‘Are you going for a swim?'

‘I'm not allowed.'

‘Oh yeah, the mengie thing, I forgot.'

‘I wish I could.'

‘Look at the beach. How many bloody people do you think are on it?'

‘Thousands.'

‘See that speck of sand over there?' Toby pointed towards the beach. ‘That's mine. Keep your eye on it.'

I laughed. ‘If you got up early, you could have had much more beach to yourself.'

‘How's the surfing going?'

‘Great. I love it more than ever. I hope I can show you some new moves I've learnt.'

‘It's a real bummer you can't come.'

‘You're telling me.'

‘Where's Aunt Jean?'

‘Work. Can you believe it?'

‘Bloody workaholic. I'm getting some breakfast.' Toby went inside.

I sat staring at the beach. There wasn't much of a swell, but enough for there to be action for some surfers. I wondered what it would look like, if all the people who were on the sand went into the water at the same time. I tried to envisage it. The beach empty except for all the towels and paraphernalia of the crowd.

‘I'm going for a swim,' Toby said from the lounge room.

I thought of Dad's letter. I wondered if we ought to read it today.

‘Toby?'

‘What?'

‘What about the letter? When do you want to read it?'

Silence. I waited.

‘I'll think about it after my swim.'

‘All right. It's just Aunt Jean's out, and it might be our only chance this weekend.'

‘When I get back, okay.'

I watched Toby walk down the street, carrying his boogie board. I saw him reach the spot he'd picked out from the balcony. I laughed. He waved. I waved back.

I was absorbed reading about Bali surfers when I heard the front door close.

‘That was great,' Toby said, drying his hair.

‘I saw you got your spot.'

‘Did you see me wave?'

I laughed. ‘Yes, did you see me?'

‘Only just. I'm starving.'

‘You only had breakfast an hour ago.'

‘I reckon the sea air makes me hungry. I'm going to make a sandwich. Do you want one?'

‘I couldn't waste this opportunity. I'll have tomato,
cheese, onion, lettuce and mayonnaise.'

‘Is there any meat?'

‘Probably. Look in the fridge.'

Toby brought out the sandwiches and a pot of tea.

‘You're becoming quite civilised, aren't you?'

‘I even do my own washing.'

‘Toby, that's great.'

‘You think so. It sucks.'

‘Who do you expect to do your washing?'

‘You. I'm thinking about posting it to you every week,' Toby laughed.

‘In your dreams.'

We ate in silence, watching the antics on the beach. The surf patrol boat hovered around Ben Buckler. The wind was picking up and the swell was becoming higher and more regular. There were more people surfing. I wondered if Kate would go surfing by herself. I was surprised my friends hadn't rung to check if I was all right. Maybe they were embarrassed about my spin-out. Weren't they curious to know if I was alive? Did they care? I felt a pang of loneliness.

‘Where's the letter?' Toby enquired, quietly.

‘In my top drawer. Are you sure you want to do this now?'

‘Not really, but like you said, Aunt Jean's out. It might be our only chance.'

I didn't want to think of the underlying message
that Toby was going after the weekend.

‘I've been in this dilemma for months. Will I, won't I? I guess it's scary, you know. I mean Dad wrote it to us when he was in hospital.'

‘I know.'

‘Maybe we need more time to think about it.'

‘You've been thinking about it for months.'

‘I just want us to be sure that's all. It'll probably upset us. I guess that's why I keep delaying it. It might wreck our lives, even more.'

‘That's true.' Toby looked thoughtful. ‘I hadn't thought of that. I've changed my mind. I don't want to read it now.'

‘Toby.'

‘It'll only be crap. You might spin out again.'

‘God no, let's not read it. Maybe I'll destroy it, once and for all.'

‘Dunno about going that far, we might regret it, later.'

‘I suppose you're right. Toby, do you ever think of revenge?'

‘You mean kill Dad?'

‘No. Don't be stupid. That makes you the same as him.'

‘I'm never going to be the same as him.'

‘I know you're not, but do you think of revenge?' I persisted.

‘You bet. Sometimes when I'm out fixing a fence or something, I imagine when I'm driving in a nail that it's Dad.'

‘Wow.'

‘Do you do that?'

‘Not really. I put him on trial for murdering Jesse, because no one is ever going to make him pay for that.'

‘What do you do to him?' Toby asked.

‘Nothing much. He goes to jail, that's all. I don't imagine any more than that. I try not to think about him. Sometimes he just comes into my head for no reason.'

‘That happens to me. I'll be drenching a sheep and sometimes it's like the sheep's eyes become Dad's.'

‘Weird.'

‘Do you think I'm crazy?'

‘It's mad thoughts because of crazy things. You're no crazier than me.'

‘Help! Oh no,' Toby grabbed his head.

‘What's wrong? Are you all right? Toby, don't spin out on me.'

‘As crazy as you. As crazy as a girl,' Toby shrieked and pretended he was going to throw himself off the balcony.

‘Toby shut up. I take it back, you're a nut.'

‘Takes one to know one.'

‘I'll ring Aunt Jean and see how long she'll be out. If we're going to read it, I want to do it round the rocks. Not here.'

‘Round Ben Buckler somewhere?'

‘Yeah, at our grotto.'

‘Cool.'

I picked up the phone and dialled Aunt Jean's office.

‘Aunt Jean must have left. There was no answer.'

As I finished saying it, Aunt Jean called from the hallway.

‘Out here on the balcony,' I answered.

Toby and I looked at each other. ‘I'll ask,' I whispered.

Uncle Wayne invited us all out for dinner. Aunt Jean asked me if I felt well enough to go. I had no hint of a headache. The light seemed normal, but I felt a little light headed and spaced out. At least I didn't feel nauseous anymore.

‘It's only for dinner. I'll be fine. It will be cool to go out.' I knew it would help my recuperation to get out from these four walls and my closed-in thoughts.

‘Any time you feel unwell, you'll tell me, won't you?'

‘Believe you me, you'll know. I'll have a shower and get ready.' I felt steady on my feet for the first time.

We were meeting Uncle Wayne outside the restaurant. Normally it would have been hard to get a booking for a Saturday evening. Aunt Jean had known the owner most of her life so it was no problem for them to find a table for us when Aunt Jean had rung to make the reservation.

The three of us walked along the promenade. It was
busy around the pavilion. All kinds of people sat on the grass, picnics spread out in front of many of them. The night was balmy and there was a slight cooling sea breeze. Some people were still in the water. The last of the daylight was disappearing fast in the west. Streetlights emitted halos of glimmering light. Hundreds of insects flew around and around the glow, as if caught in a vortex. In the car park, several surfers hung around the back of a panel van, sharing cans of beer.

I hadn't rung Kate or Phoebe and Jasmine. I wished I'd told Kate the truth about my family. It would have been so much simpler. I'd once heard that to be a good liar, you had to have a good memory. I think it was a politician who said it. I hadn't been asked to elaborate on the car accident, yet. I knew at some time questions would come. They always did. So far it was a simple lie I was used to telling. I couldn't be tripped up with some inconsistency. The thought of embellishing the lie, or admitting it was one, bothered me endlessly. Was it very wrong to lie in the first place? How do you answer your own questions, satisfactorily?

‘A penny for your thoughts,' Aunt Jean said.

‘What? Right, yeah.'

I hoped Aunt Jean couldn't read my mind, like she sometimes did.

We walked up the path to the top of the slight hill. Traffic was constant. Not everyone had their headlights on and I nearly stepped out in front of a four-wheel drive I hadn't seen. Toby grabbed my arm.

‘Turn your lights on,' I shouted, waving my fist.

We eventually made it across the road safely. The cafés along the Parade were doing a roaring trade. Some people hung around, chatting in their bathers. Others were dressed up for a night out. I pretended I was on a film set with all the extras waiting for their scenes, and I had the lead role.

The restaurant was crowded and noisy. We made our way through the throng, to our table. Aunt Jean became entangled in a big bosomy embrace.

‘Jean. Your family. Benissimo.' Carla, the owner, beamed at us.

‘This is my sister's brother-in-law, Wayne.' Aunt Jean indicated Wayne.

Carla grabbed him and kissed both cheeks. ‘Benvenuto.'

Uncle Wayne seemed overwhelmed and I couldn't hear what he mumbled.

‘Bambini.' Carla turned her attention to Toby and me.

‘Bella Julia. You grow beautiful like your madre. Toby, regazzo!' Carla hugged us both. I was embarrassed, but pleased as well.

Carla shouted out orders and sat us at our table.

‘Gee, it's pretty chaotic in here,' Uncle Wayne said, looking around.

‘It's always like this on a Saturday night. Aunt Jean looked around, waving at a couple of people at other tables.

I looked at the menu. My mouth watered at the thought of all the delicious food. Another sign I was getting better. I felt like my appetite had returned, in a big way.

Uncle Wayne asked Aunt Jean for her suggestion from the menu.

‘I imagine you don't get fresh seafood often, so I'd recommend pesce del giorno.'

‘You're not wrong there.' Uncle Wayne closed the menu. ‘Pes whatever sounds fine by me.'

I saw him wink at Toby.

‘Carla is a superb cook.'

‘Is she the cook?' Uncle Wayne turned and eyed the kitchen.

‘Only for special people,' I butted in, smiling at Aunt Jean.

If he and Toby could exchange glances, so could we.

‘I eat river fish and eels, occasionally. I ate fish every day when I was on the boats up the north of Australia.'

Eels. Yuck, I thought. Dad used to catch them sometimes, but I refused to eat them. I glanced at Toby. Had he eaten eel lately? I wondered if when we stopped living together, the absence would make us become strangers. Would we know each other in ten years, like we do now?

‘Why are you looking at me? What have I done?' Toby asked me.

‘Nothing. Sorry. I wasn't really looking at you.'

‘You were staring at me.' Toby gave me a look, implying I was crazy.

‘Sorry.'

Our meals arrived. Carla busily super vised placement of the dishes on our table. It was like a banquet. We each had a whole fish on our plates. The first time I'd been served a whole fish, I'd freaked out at its staring eyes. I couldn't eat it unless they cut it up and hid the eyes. I wasn't so bad now. I could eat a whole fish. I'd put lemon slices over the eyes, so I could eat without being stared at.

‘Mangiare; enjoy.'

‘Grazie.' Aunt Jean held Carla's hands. ‘Molto bene.'

‘This smells fantastic.' Uncle Wayne closed his eyes and inhaled steam, arising from the fish.

I hurriedly looked around to see if anyone was watching.

‘The fish is divine.' Aunt Jean held a piece up on her fork. ‘It melts in the mouth.'

‘It's bloody fresh, I can tell that,' Uncle Wayne said between mouthfuls.

The voices at the table blended with the hum of the other patrons. A waiter appeared with a bottle of wine, compliments of Carla. I wondered if Uncle Wayne turned nasty like Dad? Any sign, I was out of there. I hadn't asked Toby about Uncle Wayne and alcohol. I tried to attract his attention. Toby was too busy eating to notice. I'd have to ask him later.

When we'd finished eating, the table looked like a tornado had passed by. I helped Aunt Jean stack the dishes, and straighten the table out. Our waiter removed the plates, chatting to Aunt Jean in Italian about his family. As far as I could make out from snippets of similar-sounding words, they were absolutely fabulous. The noise level in the restaurant rose several decibels. The clanging of cutlery jangled my nerves. I tried to blot it out, and felt a slight ache in my right temple. I glanced at a table nearby. They were celebrating a birthday and everyone at the table was smiling and laughing. I felt happy for their happiness. We were asked to join in the birthday singing when the cake was wheeled out. The refrain commenced with a hesitant start, but quickly grew to a crescendo. The happy birthday song was belted out
with much gusto, not least by Toby and Uncle Wayne. My head still had a dull ache, so I sang rather softly, and watched all the other customers, singing to a perfect stranger's happiness.

The birthday girl sat the whole time with her face in her hands. I wasn't sure if she was dying from embarrassment or what? When the singing stopped she was crying. The others at her table hugged her, while a queue formed of other patrons, to wish her well.

I didn't join in but I felt good. The ache had gone. The atmosphere in the restaurant had changed from a hectic pace, to an air of congeniality. Everything had slowed down. It felt like we were at one big table and that we were all long-time friends. I wondered how often this happened in restaurants? The right crowd, the right night, the right atmosphere, and boom, instant party.

A guitarist appeared from the kitchen. I was surprised to see it was our waiter, strumming like a professional. The music was soothing and rippled through my senses. I closed my eyes and imagined I was somewhere sunny and green. Huge trees towered over me and all kinds of creatures played and danced in the sunbeams.

‘Puccini,' Aunt Jean whispered to me.

I didn't know what she was saying. It sounded Italian.

‘Pardon?'

‘Puccini.'

‘Oh.' I went back to watching the guitarist's hands. It looked so easy, but I knew it was quite difficult. It was like surfing. To be good, you had to practise heaps.

The music stopped and cheers erupted, followed by prolonged clapping.

‘I didn't know all this came with the meal,' Uncle Wayne said. ‘What's the GST on entertainment?'

We all laughed.

‘It's not always like this,' Aunt Jean assured him.

I might have my next birthday here, I secretively thought.

We ordered dessert. The restaurant had returned to a more businesslike atmosphere, as different people left and new ones replaced them hurriedly, at the barely cleared tables.

Carla came up to our table.

‘Would you like a sliver of birthday cake? The birthday girl wants my favourite customers to each have a piece.'

‘We'd be honoured, thank you and thank her.' Aunt Jean nodded in the direction of the birthday table.

‘I made the cake from a very old family recipe.' Carla clapped her hands together. ‘Iced lemon curd
cake. The lemons come from my own tree, the cream from a cousin with a small dairy herd at Dural. If I don't sound too immodest, it's more than delicious.'

‘Sounds heavenly,' Aunt Jean responded, patting Carla's hand.

‘I'll have it wrapped. Don't forget to ask for it before you leave.' Carla gave us all a huge smile. ‘Here's your dessert. Enjoy.'

I already felt quite full, but ate it all anyway. Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne had a coffee and a special liqueur. They'd drunk two bottles of wine. Toby and I had looked at each other when they'd ordered the second bottle. Toby's eyes said ‘Here we go again. Run.' We didn't. I guess we weren't scared enough to feel we had to take off.

Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne laughed at each other's stories. They seemed to be getting on really well. Toby and I exchanged glances.

‘I'm stuffed,' Toby said holding his belly.

‘I've overdone it,' I groaned. ‘Aunt Jean, I need air.'

‘Right, you and Toby go out and wait.'

Toby stood up. I suddenly wanted to get out of there fast. I felt hemmed in and I couldn't breathe. I waved a thank you to Carla and fled out the front door.

‘Are you all right?' Toby asked.

‘I just needed air.'

‘You call this air?'

I didn't have the strength to debate. The Parade seemed busier than before. There was more hooting of car horns than previously. Eventually, Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne appeared. We walked along in pairs towards Uncle Wayne's hotel.

We said our goodbyes and crossed the road. The path was well lit and we headed past the pavilion.

‘Do you want to walk on the beach?' Aunt Jean asked.

‘Cool.' I looked towards the rolling surf.

There were a few people on the beach, having parties, or writhing in the sand like snakes. Some were in the water. Everyone sounded loud and drunk. I wondered if any of them would stupidly drown, or be taken by a night-feeding shark. We walked along the water edge. I took off my shoes. The water felt as warm as the night air. The moon wandered across the sky, as if looking for a friend. The glow from the street lights made an orange haze in the black sky.

‘Look,' I shouted, ‘stars!'

In the far-off distance of the horizon I could see weak twinkling stars above. I couldn't make out any constellations, just these far-off lone stars, following the moon.

I started humming the old star song of my mother's. Aunt Jean and Toby joined in. We linked
arms and even got a little dance routine happening as we made our way along the beach.

The flat was several degrees cooler than the outside air. I shivered at the sudden change in temperature. There were lots of messages on the answering machine. My friends had rung, enquiring about my health. I'd definitely ring everyone tomorrow. I felt a million times better. In fact, I felt great.

‘I hope tonight hasn't worn you out too much, Julie. I didn't expect to be out this late,' Aunt Jean said as she put our birthday cake in the fridge.

‘It was great. I'm tired though. I think I'll sleep like a log tonight.'

‘It was a good night. Did you enjoy yourself Toby?'

‘I'd forgotten how good restaurant food tastes.'

‘I'm going straight to bed,' I yawned.

‘Me too,' Toby said.

‘Goodnight, sleep well,' Aunt Jean said to us both.

‘Oh, before I go Aunt Jean, I nearly forgot. Toby and I want to go for a walk tomorrow. If I handled a crowded restaurant, I think a little walk around the rocks won't kill me.'

‘I think that'll be fine.'

‘Thanks, Aunt Jean. See you tomorrow.' I walked over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

‘Goodnight dear. Pleasant dreams.'
The moonlight streamed in my window. I looked at the sea. I could make out the little whitecaps riding the waves. The night sky was cloudless. I slipped under the duvet into bed. Sleep came slowly. My mind had once again turned to the letter in the top drawer. I wondered if Toby would back out again, or if he really did want to read it. I still couldn't make up my mind. Oh well, no point worrying about it now. I asked my mind to think about something I liked, something good. I wanted to keep the happy feeling I'd had by going out. Doing something a bit different cheered me up. I could hear the music from the guitar in my head. I tried to capture a consistent tune. I'd have to find out more about this Puccini. I fell asleep to lyrical notes floating out into the distance, while the sea monotonously eroded the rocks around me.