Still Waving (3 page)

‘Not an issue. It's a deal. Do you think we should write it down and sign it in blood or earwax or something?'

I laughed. ‘That's disgusting.'

‘What, blood?'

‘Earwax, that's an ugly thought.'

I felt more comfortable. Laughing did that I reckon. I relaxed and listened as Kate told me about some of the different beaches she'd surfed. I felt a bit light-headed and pleased with the world.

‘Do you want another one?'

‘No thanks, I better go. Maybe we could meet later on this afternoon if the breeze changes. I could ring you.'

‘That'd be great. I'll give you my number.'

‘I won't surf with you if you're drunk, okay.'

‘Chi-i-ill! I don't surf if I'm drunk. It's a trip to suicide, not my kind of thing. I won't have any more now. I don't drink alone, that's so desperate, I reckon.'

I smiled. Kate was different from my other friends. I admired her for being so upfront and saying chill in this cool voice. Maybe our surfing bond made me feel like I'd known her for ages, not that we'd only met a couple of hours ago.

‘I'll call you with a weather report.'

Kate grabbed me and gave me a hug. I got such a shock.

‘It's so good I met you, Jules. I had a feeling something was going to happen, you know. Today felt different. I'm so psychic, I should write personal predictions for a girl-power mag.'

I laughed, ‘I'll ring you even if the weather doesn't change.'

‘Don't forget.'

I sort of skipped home not even feeling the surfboard's weight. A surfing friend, I could share impact zones, floaters and cut-backs with. I felt so good. I wondered how long it would be before I let something slip about my past. That put the anchors on my skips. Sighing, I slowly walked the footpath breathing in that burnt eucalypt smell.

Aunt Jean was home. I could hear her in the kitchen.

‘Hi Aunt Jean.'

‘Hi Julie, how was your day?'

‘No surf but I met this cool girl curl.'

‘Girl curl?' Aunt Jean gave me a queer look.

‘You know, girl surfer, don't be so yesterday. That's what I am. A girl curl. A waxhead.'

Aunt Jean looked concerned. ‘I hope you're a bit more than that, Julie.'

Why was Aunt Jean so serious, why didn't she just chill out and get a life!

I know my school results were on her mind and that she was dying to ask if they'd come with today's mail. My mental vomit zone was thinking what those results were going to say. It had been a bad year and I didn't feel I could possibly have done very well. I prayed every day for a mail strike.

I went to the fridge to get some chilled water.

‘Do you want a slice of lemon with that?'

Aunt Jean already had a tumbler filled with ice
cubes and lemon.

‘Yes.'

‘Let's go up to the roof where you can tell me all about this, um, girl curl you've met.'

The air became thicker as I climbed the stairs. I stepped out on to the roof and the heat closed in all around me. It was hard to breathe and my throat burnt slightly. ‘Gee it's bloody hot.' I remember the first time I'd said ‘bloody', when I was about seven, I got belted. It didn't seem fair because I'd learnt the bloody word off Mum and Dad. It didn't stop me saying it then, and now I say it when I bloody well feel like it, whenever I bloody can.

We walked to the roof's edge.

‘I've never seen it like this before. So much smoke, so close and even burning embers falling in some parts of the city,' Aunt Jean said. ‘They believe most of the fires were deliberately lit.'

I shuddered. My father deliberately lit a deadly fire.

Aunt Jean looked at me and put her hand on my arm. ‘Sorry. I didn't mean to bring up that subject.'

‘I've got to get over words like, you know, murder, arson, domestic violence, child abuse.' I looked at Aunt Jean defiantly.

‘Oh Julie.'

‘It's okay.' I turned away, tears stinging my eyes. I took deep breaths, tried to think about nothing and not spin out. ‘It's not your fault.'

‘Remember, it's not yours either.'

I shook her hand off my arm. ‘I didn't say it was.'

‘Julie, a lot of children …'

‘I'm not a child!'

I was that close to just getting up and running down to my room and slamming the door, but something held me back. Maybe my age, I wasn't fourteen anymore. I felt my mother around me, calming me. I wanted Mum in person, not just this feeling. I wanted her to hug me, like she used to when I was upset. I'd never have my mother's hug again, ever. Its absence made me ache all over. I wanted to roll up into a little ball and roll away.

Aunt Jean's voice interrupted my impending despair.

‘Jules, I didn't mean to offend you and say you're a child. I was saying a lot of young people …'

I shot daggers and was about to say something angry.

Aunt Jean put her hand up. ‘Please don't interrupt. Children, young people, even adults feel responsible for their parents' or partner's bad behaviour.'

‘I've heard this a thousand times.' I crossed my arms.

If Aunt Jean was going to lecture me, I was going to jump off the roof. I could see the headline in the paper. ‘Potential World Champion Girl Curl Final Fall Total Wipe-out!' I almost smiled at the way my brain interrupted a dramatic moment with a stupid thought.

‘Julie, let's have a truce. It's too hot and airless to waste energy fighting. I know you know all about it.' Aunt Jean put her hand on my arm and I let her. ‘Tell me about this girl you've met.'

I was glad Aunt Jean had changed the subject. The unhappy part of me wanted to say she drinks and takes drugs.

‘She's cool.'

What's the point of me being angry with Aunt Jean? After all what's she ever done wrong to me?

‘What's her name?'

‘Kate.'

‘Does she live around here?'

‘No, up the coast. She's staying with her sister over there.' I pointed at the apartment block.

‘Whoa. Very nice. Very expensive.'

‘Her sister works for some politician. She's his personal assistant or something.'

‘Very stressful job, I'd imagine.'

‘Kate reckons her sister works eight days a week.'

‘You'll have to invite Kate over.'

‘I told her I'd ring her if the waves got up.'

‘There's a postcard from Toby, did you see it?'

‘Yeah, I read it before I went out.'

I was surprised that I got a lump in my throat. I missed my brother. It was the first time I realised it. When he was here he'd driven me mad with his attitude. I was glad he went to stay with Uncle Wayne for the holidays. They were building a house and Uncle Wayne had bought some sheep. Toby said Uncle Wayne was doing it all really differently. I didn't know what he meant. Toby also said he was glad he was away from the noise, smell and crowds, and that he'd hardly seen anyone. He didn't go anywhere, just stayed on the farm. I worried about that a bit. I'd ask my friend Ruby and some of her brothers to go see him and take him for a swim at the waterhole.

‘He sounds happy don't you think?'

‘He doesn't like the city much, but yeah he sounds good. I hope he doesn't get lonely.'

‘Do you miss him?'

‘Do you?' I shot back.

‘Yes and no,' Aunt Jean laughed. ‘I'm glad he sounds happier than he has for a long time.'

‘Yeah I sort of miss him, but I'm glad I don't have to hassle with him every day. You know all that stuff about us conspiring against him because of being what he called femobats, whatever that meant.'

‘I understand why he feels that sometimes, but it's tiring trying to convince him that he has to take responsibility for his attitude and lack of cooperation. Whatever we try and do it's in his best interests and I hope one day he'll realise that.' Aunt Jean sounded a bit edgy. ‘I'm glad he seems happier. It's all you can wish.'

For a moment I was taken back in time to when I'd heard my grandmother say those very same words. We clinked glasses.

‘To femobats!' I said and Aunt Jean laughed loudly.

The afternoon was fading fast. I finished my drink and could taste smoke in my mouth and in my nostrils. We sat in comfortable silence, staring out to sea. I liked that with Aunt Jean. If we had a disagreement it wouldn't go on and on, like it did with Mum. When it was over, it was truly over. I could sit comfortably without having to speak and Aunt Jean wouldn't assume something was up.

‘Kate drinks.' I broke the silence. ‘I hate how you're made to feel like a freak if you don't want to get wasted. It's stupid.'

‘It must be hard. I suppose it makes you feel different, not one of the crowd.'

I let Aunt Jean put her arm around me. ‘Yeah different, I'll always be different won't I? I'll never be the
same as them. I'll never really be one of the crowd.'

‘Others have been through what you have and I imagine they feel the same way you do.'

‘My counsellor told me last time that they were trying to get a group together, you know, other kids who have experienced familial murders, but I don't know. If they're anything like me, they won't want to talk about it with anybody.'

‘It would be a very quiet group.' Aunt Jean was trying to raise the heavy cloud descending around us.

‘Well I don't want to talk about it ever again.' I felt sad, that this probably couldn't happen. It would never go away.

‘I think the breeze is changing,' Aunt Jean sighed. I knew it hurt her as much as me, but sometimes I felt so terribly alone that it was beyond sharing words. Everything came out angry and disjointed.

I walked to the roof edge. There was a slight change, but not in the right direction for surfing.

‘I don't think there'll be waves. I'll give it another hour before I decide if it's worth taking a look.'

‘What about a swim if there's no surf? I'd like to cool off. I feel like I've got smoke all in my skin and hair.' Aunt Jean rubbed her graying hair.

‘Okay.'

‘Will you invite your new friend?'

‘Not today. I need some space.'

When we got back from the beach, Aunt Jean had the first shower. I rang Kate.

‘Hi, it's Jules.'

‘Hi, I'm glad you rang. I thought you'd forget.'

‘I went for a swim with my aunt. It was glassy, not even a wavelet.'

‘Wavelet?' Kate spluttered.

‘A baby wave,' I laughed. ‘Tomorrow the wind is meant to shift to the south west. Do you want to check it out first light?'

‘Wicked.'

‘If you walk up your street and take the first street left, I'll be outside a white building. You'll see me.'

‘I'll pray for the wind to change.'

‘Do you pray?'

‘Yeah to someone I believe in. Me, myself and I.'

I felt good at how Kate made me laugh, when I least expected it.

‘I better go and have a shower,' I said. ‘See you in the morning.'

‘Yep, see you at sparrow fart.'

‘Kate, that's revolting.'

‘What do you say?'

‘Light before the dawn.'

‘Jules, you're weird. Catch you tomorrow.'

I knew Kate meant I was weird in a nice way. I didn't feel offended. I grabbed my pyjamas and went
to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. I felt different than I had this morning but looked the same. I tried to see if any of the change I felt inside, showed on the outside. I couldn't see any difference so I turned the shower on, regulated to the right temperature and stepped under.

That night as I lay in my bed, I tried to count up the good and bad things that made up my day. Meeting Kate was a plus I think. I wondered if Phoebe and Jasmine would like her. My friendship with them had grown in the past year. It took a little while because I was so shy. I was also petrified that they'd find out about the court case and who my father was. It gave me nightmares trying to think how I'd tell them the truth. I'd decided I had to. I'd grown to trust they liked me and a secret like that between friends was a drag, I was always on my guard and pretty evasive when they asked me questions. I remember Phoebe saying to me over and over, to loosen up and not be so serious.

I eventually told them about my family. They were stunned and hugged me tight. I cried, they cried and then we all laughed. It felt so much better that I didn't have to carry that secret anymore. I knew they'd kept it completely confidential. If they hadn't I would've been able to tell by how other kids at school treated
me. I didn't detect any change in how others were. Phoebe and Jasmine didn't stop being my friends, or treat me like I had a murderer's gene or anything. They were totally cool. I loved them both for that. I felt lucky to have such good friends.

Toby had told me he hadn't told anyone at his new school about the murders. He didn't feel like he had to or even wanted to. Boys were different. Girls hug and swap hankies. Boys get embarrassed if you tell them something personal. His mates would only have made bad jokes and pretended Toby would murder them. He didn't want to bother with the crap that would follow telling about his past in the bush, is how he explained keeping such a huge secret.

When I'd asked Toby if he thought he'd ever tell anyone, he'd answered never. I said I thought it was unhealthy not to talk about it with someone. He'd responded with, ‘So's living.' What could I say? It was frustrating trying to have a grown-up conversation with Toby. It was like Toby's brain was an animal of a different species. I had to accept we had different tunings. It didn't mean he was an idiot. It meant we were different, that's all. Sounds simple but sometimes I couldn't help shaking my head at his apparent incomprehension of the basic facts of life.

I eventually got tired of thinking and dropped off
to sleep. My last sleepy thoughts were of surfing. Please bring us waves tomorrow, was my last conscious thought.