Girl in Between Page 6

  ‘No, I’m right, thanks.’ He smiles curiously at the remnants of the bucket before picking up the TV guide. ‘Tiffany Bloxsom is pretty hot,’ he observes.

  Surprisingly, I rejoice at his comment. I have zero interest in anyone who finds Tiffany attractive, and I can now happily hang out with Oscar as a friend, secure in the knowledge that our relationship will never be anything but platonic.

  ‘Do you want to come fishing too?’ he asks Rosie.

  ‘No, I’ve got to go home and watch One Day.’

  Oscar nods as if he understands.

  ‘It’s the ritual whenever I go through a breakup: KFC bucket and One Day.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about your breakup. You must be feeling pretty ordinary.’

  ‘I was, but now I’m over it,’ she says, standing up. ‘Basically I just love the occasional fucking piece of fried chicken and One Day is a top flick. Anyway, you’ll love reeling in Lucy.’

  Oscar looks confused. I stare hard at Rosie.

  ‘Reeling them in with Lucy … with Lucy,’ she mutters, picking up her bike helmet.

  ‘Oh, mate,’ she says, turning around as she walks to the front door, ‘can you make a note of the time I was here?’

  ‘Why?’ I ask.

  ‘I’ve been watching that series Making a Murderer and I’m terrified I’m going to get framed for a crime I didn’t commit. So I’m just trying to make sure I always have an airtight alibi.’

  I walk over and wrap my arms around her. ‘I will always swear you were with me.’

  ‘Thanks, Luce,’ she says, stepping out the door. ‘Appreciate it.’

  Oscar and I drive along Emu Park Road, the windows down, the sun on our arms, Nick Murphy’s album playing, the conversation easy.

  ‘So, what else is there to do around Rocky?’ he asks.

  ‘Well, you can go abseiling at the caves, diving over at Great Keppel, swimming at the Byfield waterholes, walk up Mount Archer, go to the Wild West Saloon for a steak and see the rodeo built inside the pub …’

  ‘I’ve heard about that rodeo in the pub.’ He smiles. ‘Sounds like I’ve still got a bit to see.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I nod. ‘It’s got a lot to offer, this region. People talk it down, but look, here we are, driving past these beautiful valleys and kilometres of eucalypts, and there’s no-one else on the road.’

  ‘It’s great,’ he agrees, looking out the window. ‘I think I’d miss the energy and action of a city, though. I don’t know how I’d go in a country town.’

  ‘I know what you’re saying. I mean, I don’t see myself here forever, but I could potentially have kids here, if I come back.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  I suddenly feel foolish. ‘I don’t know.’

  He laughs. ‘You sound a bit like Ben. He’s been all at sea since Dad died, not sure whether he’s coming or going. Doesn’t think real estate’s too crash hot anymore.’

  ‘Does he know what he’d like to do instead?’

  ‘He talks about architecture, and I think he’d be great at it, but he talks about a lot of things. He just needs to make the leap.’

  I nod. ‘Making leaps is hard. There’s too much that screams, “Don’t do it!” as you get older. Or maybe that’s just inside my head. It sounds like your business is pretty full-on, though. Your mobile doesn’t stop.’

  ‘I know—it gets a bit much, doesn’t it?’ He smiles across at me. ‘But while I’m expanding the franchise that’s just the way it’s got to be.’

  ‘Oh well,’ I say, ‘lucky for you we just went out of range.’

  ‘Nice. Anyway, Bev’s Buffet can’t compare to your high-flying TV adventures.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know if you’d call them that,’ I say. ‘These days my adventures are to Woolies and the dog park. I’d be lost without Glenda. She’s my best friend.’

  ‘What about Rosie?’

  ‘She’s my best human friend.’

  We laugh and I reluctantly admire his good looks. That curly brown hair, gentle gaze and ready smile would win over many women. But not me, I tell myself, remembering that he thinks Tiffany Bloxsom is hot.

  Our vehicle traverses the sand dunes until we eventually reach the gate that leads onto the beach.

  ‘It really is incredible here,’ says Oscar, looking from one end of the deserted beach to the other. ‘You’d never find a spot like this in Sydney.’

  We stand in the waves and bait our lines as the seagulls squawk and dive for baitfish. It’s so peaceful, I wonder why I don’t come down with Dad more often, and as I’m pondering this, my rod bends dramatically.

  ‘Wow! Impressive!’ says Oscar, as I wheel in a twenty-five-centimetre whiting.

  ‘Yep, your turn now.’

  ‘The pressure’s on.’ He casts out again. ‘Do you have a secret?’

  ‘Not telling.’

  His line quivers slightly at first, then becomes taut. ‘I think I’ve got one,’ he says, grinning at me like a six-year-old boy with a new Xbox game. He reels in a large whiting and dangles it in front of my nose.

  ‘Good one!’ I say. ‘Whose is bigger?’

  We move closer together to measure our fish.

  I win by half a centimetre.

  ‘Best of five,’ he challenges me. ‘Come on, best of five!’

  We fish for another hour, and wind up with nine whiting.

  ‘That was awesome,’ he says on the return journey. ‘It’s a shame I’m leaving soon. I’d love to hang out there and go fishing every day.’

  ‘Oh well, it’s not going anywhere,’ I say with a smile.

  ‘I’m less convinced that you aren’t.’ He glances at me. ‘You want to leave Rocky?’

  ‘Yeah, I do. I’m in the process of elimination now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, after our conversation yesterday about careers, I went and did work experience this morning at the vet’s.’

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘You want to be a vet?’

  ‘No, I don’t want to be a vet, so now I can rule it out. But I know I want to have a change. It’s just where to go next and what to do that I struggle with.’

  ‘What about writing your book?’

  ‘I’m enjoying the writing, I just don’t know if I’m using it to avoid figuring out what I should actually do with my life.’

  ‘Would you go back to Melbourne and work on The Headline Act again? From the clips I saw, you’re a natural!’

  ‘Thanks. It was a great experience, but I don’t really see myself having a family in a big city, and now that I’m thirty-two, I suppose I’m considering that side of things more.’

  ‘But you’ve got ages yet. You’re still young, Lucy. Man, I’m thirty-six and I consider myself young. You’re talking as if you’re about ninety-five and nearing the end of your life.’

  I grin. ‘I know. My problem is that I feel I’ve been out of the TV loop for a while now, and so my perception of what it was actually like is a little hazy. And I think my confidence was a bit shot from the last relationship not working out.’

  He nods, and then I remember one of those ‘Body and Soul’ experts advising that you should never bring up past relationships when you’re hanging out with new people; apparently it puts a dampener on things.

  ‘But that was over a year ago now,’ I add quickly, ‘and I am feeling a lot better.’

  He looks at me sympathetically. ‘Relationship breakups are the worst. Just so hard. So much of your identity and your plans and your dreams can be tied up with one person, and when all of a sudden it ends, it can be shattering. It’s a real grieving process. You can’t rush it.’

  I nod, recognising the truth of what he’s saying. ‘I seem to have developed this bad habit of second-guessing myself, and when it comes to making big decisions, I’m almost paralysed by indecision. I find that hard.’

  ‘What do you think you’re scared of?’

  ‘Making the wrong choice.’

  ‘Regret,’ h
e says.

  ‘Yeah. I know it’s silly, but what if you choose to herd camels in the Sahara because it’s adventurous and pays the bills, and then on your deathbed realise all along you should have been a diesel fitter?’

  He laughs. ‘Give me another example.’

  ‘Alright; well, what if you choose to live in Melbourne because you can go to the theatre and the big comedy shows and the fancy cafés, and then one weekend when you’re in your eighties you visit Port Douglas and are forced to acknowledge that really your bliss lies with the sun and the tropical downpours? What then? At least I suppose you haven’t got long to live with your decision. You just die and regret that you got something so fundamental so wrong.’

  ‘Wow.’ He smiles and shakes his head. ‘Your mind sounds exhausting.’

  ‘It is,’ I concede.

  ‘That last example was more about you, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘This guy that broke up with you, he lives in Port Douglas, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes—Jeremy.’

  ‘Do you think, subconsciously, you want to move up there? Just in case there’s hope?’

  ‘No. I know it’s over. But I think Far North Queensland is so beautiful. Those cloud-covered mountains falling into the sea and the lush green of the rainforest. It takes your breath away.’

  We drive along in silence for a while.

  ‘I just don’t think I can rule out an entire region because of one person,’ I say eventually.

  ‘No, you can’t. But you also don’t want to go backwards—if you’re moving forward with everything, I mean. You can’t fool yourself if you still care a bit about that guy.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude.’

  I turn up Triple J and we continue along the deserted coastal road without speaking until the first set of traffic lights on the edge of town signals our arrival back into Rocky.

  ‘So, have you and Kate been together long?’ I ask.

  ‘About six months.’ He smiles. ‘She’s really nice. Full of energy and fun. Gets into everything, open to new experiences. We get along well.’

  I nod. ‘That’s good, that’s what you want.’

  ‘Yeah, it started out as a really casual thing but it’s sort of grown from there, and I think it could have potential. We’ll see, it’s early days yet. We’re still getting to know each other.’

  ‘That’s the fun part, though,’ I reply.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says, looking across at me, ‘that’s the fun part.’

  As we cross over the Fitzroy River, the sun glinting off the masts of sailboats moored in the muddy water, I find myself yearning for cattle trucks and trains, anything that might allow us to continue hanging out a little longer.

  ‘Tea in a cup,’ I say awkwardly as we near my street. ‘Would you like some?’

  He grins. ‘You mean a cup of tea?’

  ‘That’s right. Sometimes I can’t talk properly.’

  ‘Same here,’ he says. ‘Particularly after a few wines.’

  At home, I lead Oscar into our quiet lounge room and flick on the lights. ‘Mum and Dad must be out,’ I say, hardly able to believe my luck. ‘Would you like to see the rest of the place?’

  ‘Sure,’ he replies, and I guide him into the kitchen and out onto the back deck, then inside and down the hallway to my bedroom.

  Bloody hell, I think, turning crimson as he scans the books along my shelf. I hadn’t thought this through!

  ‘You can tell you’re a writer because you’re obviously a great reader,’ he says warmly.

  ‘Couple of self-helps up there,’ I say, figuring that it’s better I beat him to it.

  ‘Ha!’ he says, looking at me. ‘I did notice that but I didn’t want to say anything.’

  I laugh with him. ‘Oh dear,’ I say, and glance at my feet.

  ‘Wow, look at you,’ he says, picking up a framed picture of me from my uni graduation. He smiles down at the photo for a few moments and I’m wondering what he’s thinking when he suddenly turns to me and says, ‘I know you’re a bit between worlds at the moment, Lucy, but from an outsider’s point of view, I don’t know why you’d lack confidence.’ He glances at the photo again. ‘There’s nothing at all for you to be insecure about.’

  Holy shit Luce, I think, looking at him, maybe you should just treat your bedroom like a crab pot and lock the door and he won’t be able to escape? No, no you can’t! Come on, get a grip. Repeat after me, he finds Tiffany Bloxsom hot, he finds Tiffany Bloxsom hot, he finds—

  My mental incantation works a charm because Oscar’s mobile starts ringing, slicing like a knife through any tension between us. He takes the phone from his pocket, looks down at the screen, then smiles at me.

  ‘Thanks for a great arvy, Luce,’ he says, and I slightly raise my hand to wave goodbye as he leaves the room. I hear his phone continue to ring as he walks along the hallway before I faintly perceive him say, ‘Hello! Did you get your group assignment in?’

  The next week passes pretty uneventfully, for which I’m grateful. I’d been feeling restless with all the recent interruptions to my writing routine, and I happily chip away at my novel every morning, and spend a couple of afternoons composing my article on country vets and another piece on what it’s like to do work experience in your thirties. Glenda and I catch up with our old gang at the dog park, and I go with Rosie to the markets while she does her weekly shop. By Sunday night I feel like I’m on top of things again, and on Monday I awake refreshed and resolved with two intentions: to buy a coffee and to write the next chapter of Diamonds in the Dust.

  With not a skerrick of shrapnel in my wallet, I creep into Mum and Dad’s bedroom, where they are still sleeping, and head directly to Dad’s bedside table. Spotting a bounty of gold coins lying atop his latest Queensland Country Life newspaper, I quietly scoop it up; there must be about six dollars’ worth.

  Dad opens one eye. ‘You can have whatever’s there, Lucy. That’s for you. Go on, you can have all that.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad—just want to get a coffee.’

  ‘You’re right, love,’ he says before rolling over.

  I walk back into the lounge room, grab my keys and head onto the verandah. I kick the door shut behind me, and when I look up, my heart drops and my hand falls open, unleashing a cascade of coins onto the ground. I can feel all the colour drain from my face as I look at him, this ghost from my past.

  ‘What?’ I shake my head in confusion. ‘What are you doing here, Jeremy?’

  He scuffles his feet. ‘Sorry, I just wanted to say hello and see that you’re going okay.’ He glances at the coins, then back at me. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have come.’

  My heart thuds ferociously, and I can feel myself getting sucked into a familiar storm of anxiety and hope. I’d imagined this scene a thousand times; I’d never thought it would happen.

  Glenda barks from inside, and glancing behind me I see the curtain slide across the window of Mum and Dad’s bedroom. Mum peers at us through the flyscreen.

  ‘Everything alright, love?’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Mum,’ I say impatiently.

  ‘Hi, Denise.’ Jeremy waves.

  ‘Is that you, Jeremy?’ asks Mum hesitantly. ‘Okay; well, I’ll leave you to it.’ She pulls the curtains closed and I know she’ll be standing with her ear to the window, straining to hear what we say.

  ‘Do you want to get a coffee at Bits ’n’ Pizzas?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ Then, as I scrabble around for the coins, he adds with a slight smile, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll shout you.’

  We get into my car and I lurch forward instead of reversing, then put on the windscreen wipers instead of the blinker. He looks amused and I briefly hate him for it.

  ‘I like this song,’ he says, turning up Vance Joy’s ‘Play With Fire’.

  ‘Me too.’

  We drive along listening to the music, like we used to, and for a moment it feels as if nothing’s h
appened, as if all the torture and sadness I’ve been going through for so long were pointless. In the next instant, I feel angry and upset, and want to turn off the radio, pull over, and tell him to go back to Port Douglas or wherever the hell he came from. But the part of me that likes him being beside me in the car again, that has so desperately missed his quiet company, that has longed to drive around with him just like this wins, and I arrive at Bits ’n’ Pizzas with tears in my eyes. As we walk inside, I tell myself to pull it together, that I know everyone in this town, and that it just wouldn’t do for them to see me crying into a coffee at Rocky’s most popular meeting spot.

  We sit down and order, and I look at him like you would an apparition that you dearly love, yet at the same time dread seeing.

  ‘So, how’s the fam?’ he asks.

  ‘Good,’ I reply. ‘Dad’s trying to keep the Jockey Club afloat, and Mum’s taken up African drumming.’

  ‘What?’ He laughs. ‘African drumming?! Ah, Denise … I don’t remember Brian being into horseracing, though.’

  ‘Yeah, who knew?’ I say with a smile. ‘Lenny and Max are going well; Max and the kids are coming up from Brissie for a visit soon. Jack and Isla are gorgeous … here, look at this picture.’

  ‘Oh, so cute,’ he agrees, smiling at the photo on my iPhone. ‘And Glenda?’

  ‘Glenda’s beautiful. How are your family?’ I ask.

  ‘Mum and Dad are good and Luke’s great—he’s engaged.’

  ‘Oh wow, Luke’s finally going to tie the knot!’

  I realise with another pang that I’m now so removed from these people that I wouldn’t know if their house was flattened in a cyclone. But isn’t that how it’s meant to be when you break up with someone? Aren’t you meant to act as if they and all their kin have suddenly died?

  ‘That’s great news. Your mum must be excited.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He shrugs. ‘I think she’d be more excited if I was getting married. She reckons I’m going to be an old man soon.’

  ‘Going to be?’ I jibe. ‘But what about Claire?’

  ‘Claire’s good,’ he replies, averting his eyes.

  I look at him, at that face, which has been at the forefront of so many of my thoughts, which has caused me so many sleepless nights. ‘Why are you here, Jeremy?’ I ask.