1514642093 (R) (13 page)

I stopped, leaning back against the side of the building and drawing in deep breaths. A couple of people gave me strange looks as they passed me, but I didn’t care. I had to get a handle on this. I had to decide. Either I was doing this, or I wasn’t. Which was it to be?

I thought about the way she looked in that red swimsuit. Or the way her lips were perpetually rose-bud red and leaned toward the glossy side. Or the way she had let me hold her hand in the car earlier.

Jesus Christ, this wasn’t helping.

Or maybe it was.

I pushed myself away from the side of the building. It was fear, that’s all it was. It’d been a while, and I was scared of making a fool of myself. Perfectly normal behaviour. Except that none of this felt normal.

From out of nowhere, a conversation Em and I had years before came flooding back.

I’d told her I was sick of worrying about stuff that no one else seemed to care about. I just wanted to be normal.

“Normal is over-rated,”
she’d said.
“You need to aim higher.”

And then she’d kissed me.

Maybe she was right. Maia was probably as nervous as I was. She’d said it had been a while since she’d done this, too. One of us had to take the lead here, and by rights, it should be me. I was the one who asked her, after all.

I made my way past the refurbished boat shed, now home to a pottery shop, shoe shop and second-hand furniture shop, along with the Wharf Shed restaurant itself. The salty scent of the harbour wafted in on the breeze, and out on the water, boats were coming and going, in all shapes and sizes.

Dinner was ready and waiting, and I collected it from the pick-up window and made my way back to the car park. As I rounded the corner and saw her sitting there, in my truck, an unsettling sense of déjà vu settled over me. It was almost like I’d lived this moment before.

I shook it off, climbing back into the truck beside her with our dinner inside two large, horizontal cardboard trays in brown paper bags.

“Can you do me a favour?” I asked, piling the two paper bags on top of each other. “Can you open the cooler bag for me? There’s an empty one inside there I’ll put this stuff into. Don’t want the hot stuff getting cool or the cool stuff warming up.”

She unzipped the bag and handed the empty one folded up inside over to me. “You really have thought of everything haven’t you?”

“I’ve tried to,” I said, as I carefully laid the paper bags of food on top of each other inside the empty bag.

I handed the bag back to her and she put it in the foot well.

“Food: check. Ready for the venue?”

She smiled, complete with dimples, and nodded.

We pulled out of the car park and made our way back along the waterfront and through town. Conversation came easier, and the truck’s cab filled with the delicious aroma of freshly cooked seafood. She didn’t ask me what it was, and I got the feeling it didn’t matter. Whereas just minutes ago I had been scared out of my wits, now it felt more like anticipation. And it wasn’t so bad. I found myself cocooned inside a natural high I couldn’t remember feeling for a very long time.

Ten minutes later, we turned off the main road and down a gravel one, winding down the side of the hill towards a place that held special memories for me. I hoped she’d like it as much as I did. I pulled into the gravel parking bay in a tiny cove that overlooked the beach and one of the most amazing views in the area.

I led the way down the path threaded along the shore, through shrubs and bushes, until we came to a small inlet and a grassy flat area, just above the shoreline. The ocean spread out before us, waves lapping gently on the beach just a few metres away.

“So beautiful,” she murmured, taking in the view.

I ignored the view in favour of her. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, with sunset at least a couple of hours away. It cast a golden glow over her face, igniting a fire deep within her eyes that turned them greener and lighter. I don’t know that I’d ever seen anything more incredible.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I murmured.

She turned to me and our eyes locked. A thrill buzzed through me as we stood there, standing close enough to touch. I fought the urge to kiss her, as my heart pounded inside my chest like a jackhammer. This had been one of our favourite picnic spots, Em’s and mine, and I was starting to see now that it might’ve been a mistake to bring her here. It was like the place had magical powers. Or maybe it was just the memories of what we used to do here that seemed to merge the past with the present.

I wanted to kiss her. Those rose-red lips taunted me. I fought the urge, but only because it seemed like the right thing to do. Or maybe that was just fear talking, because when I went to take the cooler bag out of her hand, her eyes widened slightly. As if she knew what I was thinking and she wouldn’t have minded.

I had never been what you’d call smooth. Most of the time, I felt like I was in over my head. It took Em to approach me one night, at a party on the beach with some friends. If she hadn’t, I don’t know that I’d ever have drummed up the necessary courage to ask her out.

But now, with Maia, things felt very different. Her lack of confidence gave mine a boost. The little signs were definitely there – the smiles, the looks, the way she both shied away from me yet sought me out at the same time.

I was sure now that I wasn’t alone in this. She felt it too, I’d put money on it. The realisation gave my flagging self-esteem a giant boost.

I set both cooler bags down on the ground and reached into one for a blanket, spreading it out on the grass. Thank God, because suddenly my knees felt like they were going to give way on me.

“Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold. I brought wine, beer and Coke. What would you like?”

She sank down onto the blanket opposite me and peered into the bag. “What kind of wine? I’ll drink anything except chardonnay.”

Okay. Another thing she and Em had in common. I never bought chardonnay anymore, out of habit. I hadn’t even realised it until that exact moment. Funny how habits just form without you even realising it. It was a little unnerving, these similarities. Little reminders, as if I needed any.

“It’s a sauvignon blanc. Is that okay?”

“That’s great,” she said, reaching for the bottle and the plastic wine glasses from the bag. “I’ll pour. What about you?”

“I think I’ll have a beer.”

She didn’t stand on ceremony, pulling out a beer for me then opening the wine and pouring herself a glass. I pulled out the paper bags containing our dinner, ripping them open to expose the shallow cardboard trays groaning with a selection of crisply battered seafood and chips.

“That looks delicious,” she said.

In complete agreement, I laid the two trays down on the blanket between us and picked up my beer.

“Cheers,” I said, holding it up and clinking it to her wine glass. “Here’s to me not killing you today at the beach, so we get to enjoy this evening together.”

She smiled shyly as we both drank.

“I keep telling you, it wasn’t your fault,” she said.

“I know, but it really freaked you out, and I’m sorry for that. Kind of ruined the mood, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did.”

She rested her wine glass on the blanket beside her, and the vibe noticeably changed.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked, looking up at me sombrely.

“Go for it.”

“You said before that you’ve been dumped by a few waves yourself.”

“Kinda par for the course when you’ve been surfing as long as I have.”

“So, have you ever had a… moment, like a… I don’t know,” she shook her head, giving up. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, go on – I’m intrigued now. What kind of moment?”

She sighed, picking up a battered mussel and nibbling on it half-heartedly. “I don’t really know how to explain it. I just felt like, when I was down there, under the water, it was like I was seeing things… or something. I don’t know.”

“What kind of things?” I frowned, not really grasping the concept, although the look on her face was making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“I’m not sure,” she said quietly, staring at the mussel in her hand, turning it over and over, as if trying to decide whether to eat it or not. “I could’ve sworn that I saw faces, but I don’t know. It was weird.”

The air seemed to hush around us. Even the waves seemed to quieten down.

“So that’s why you were so freaked out when I pulled you out?”

She nodded, her cheeks tinged pink.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was crazy,” she shrugged. “And because I don’t really know what happened. It was almost like some kind of out-of-body experience or something.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. It made it sound like I’d come close to losing her.

“I know I thought I was going to die,” she said. “Maybe I was closer than I realised.”

I felt a chill suddenly, like a cold hand reaching in through my ribcage from behind and squeezing my heart.

“God, don’t say that,” I shuddered. “It’s giving me the heebies.”

She looked over at me, the sun lighting up her eyelashes as though they were blonde, not brown. Her eyes themselves seemed to glow.

“Maybe you saved my life,” she said. Then she smiled tentatively. “Maybe I should’ve bought you dinner, not the other way around.”

Jesus, when she smiled like that, I just wanted the world to disappear and leave us here, like this, together. With the light just like this, the breeze keeping us warm, the ocean lapping not far from us.

I gave myself a mental shake, glancing down at our dinner, getting cold between us. “Next time. In the meantime, we better eat this, don’t you think?”

She took another bite of the mussel in her hand and I picked up a piece of battered fish.

“Thank you for this,” she said. “It’s just what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” I smiled.

It’d been a while since I felt this lucky. Lucky to be here, with her. Lucky that the evening was so pleasant. Lucky that we got the chance to do this. Life seemed to be more and more about chances lately. Seeing them, missing them, making the most of them.

I found myself doing most of the talking, but she seemed interested enough, laughing in all the right places. I loved her laugh. It was quiet, melodic, understated. The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to hear it. She was very adept at dodging questions about herself. She asked more than she answered, sitting back and letting me do the talking. That was going to have to change pretty soon. My curiosity was building.

I came to the end of my story and she smiled at me. It was that smile that was unhinging me. It was an odd mix of familiar and challenging at the same time. As if she was inviting me to do something, say something, feel something. Every time she smiled, I could feel myself letting go of the past, little by little. She was taking me outside of myself, outside of my life, or at least the one I was living until she came along.

“It really is a beautiful spot,” she said, watching a small boat crawling past silently, so far away the engine noise was lost in the waves. “It feels like we’re alone in the universe, doesn’t it? So quiet, peaceful.”

It was almost as if she had read my mind.

“Sometimes, all you need is a little bit of peace and quiet and suddenly you feel like you can face the world again,” I said, speaking from experience. “I know a few places like this, where you can go to get away from everything for a while.”

She turned back to me. “Do you surf, out here?”

“Here? Sometimes, not often. It’s more for swimming.”

“How do you know when it’s a good surf beach?” she asked.

“Experience, I suppose. I don’t know. My dad was the one who taught us. We surf where he used to surf. He taught me pretty much everything I needed to know, including the best spots.”

“Ah yes, your Dad. What’s he like? Obviously a good surfer, I know that much.”

I took a sip of beer. It was still hard, talking about him in the past tense. Like any kid who loses a parent young, I had also lost my innocence. It gets stolen from you the moment you realise how fragile life is.

“He was great,” I said. “A lot of fun. A lot like Vinnie, actually. The older Vin gets, the more like Dad he is.”

Her eyes levelled on mine, and I saw within them that she knew what I was saying even if I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “How old were you?”

Far too young.

“Eleven. He died of a heart attack. It was really sudden. He wasn’t even sick, it just happened one day at work, completely out of the blue.”

There was crying, lots of crying that day, and the days that followed. I crawled under my bed and hid. I didn’t want to come out. I just wanted everyone to get out of our house. There were too many of them. Vinnie crawled under there with me and we just lay there, side by side, waiting, hiding.

“So, tell me more about yourself,” she said.

Relieved at the change of subject, I smiled at her, shrugging. “What else do you want to know? There’s not much else to tell, really.”

“Come on, I’m sure there is. So far, I know that you like to surf, your middle name is Gerald, you have a brother, you’re a landscape gardener –“

“Uh – I mow lawns, and weed gardens. That’s it. Bridget was exaggerating when she said that – she does that a lot.”

“She’s proud of you,” she smiled. “That’s really nice. You’re lucky. I like her, she’s very intuitive.”

“Intuitive. Yep, that’s pretty accurate. She’s kind of a hippy at heart.”

“Nothing wrong with that is there?”

“No, definitely not. She’s fiercely loyal, too. If you’re in trouble, you want her in your corner because she will fight for you till the bitter end. I’ve seen her do it – it’s like a scary ‘mama bear’ type of deal.”

“Were she and Emily close?”

I could see them together, the way they used to be. Having coffee, laughing, surfing. “Yeah, they were. Very close.”

“You must miss her,” she said.

It was a statement, not a question. As if she could see inside my heart and knew the truth. Yes, I miss her. I missed her. I have been missing her. I will always miss her
.