Air (15 page)

In our hotel room, Zeke switched on the enormous TV and flaked out on the bed. I sat beside him and tried to feign interest as he flicked through the news channels.

All the way back in the car, I'd tried to get him to talk, and even though he'd made it very clear he didn't want to, I felt like I had to give it one last shot.

“So, you really have no idea why they were asking you those questions?” I said.

He gritted his teeth and said, “Leave it. I told you already.”

“It's in the past though, yeah, the drugs?”

“How can you even ask me that? You're with me every damn day. What, am I shooting up every time you go to the bathroom?”

“No, it's just . . . I don't know what you're thinking anymore.”

He shook his head and flicked the channel to CNN.

The more I tried to break through to him, the more he pulled away. Eventually, when words had failed us, and both of us were exhausted with the effort of trying, we turned to our bodies.

Afterward, in the stillness, sweat-cooled sheets beneath me, I realized that it had passed midnight. It was technically my birthday. I thought of home, the year before, on the day of my sixteenth birthday. Everything was so different then. Being with Zeke and winning the surf competition had changed my life so much I didn't even recognize it.

We fell asleep entwined in each other and I slept soundly, with no nightmares of a lifeless Zeke pinned down in black water.

thursday

In the morning I threw back the covers and noticed blood dotted around the bedding.

My period. My implant meant they were totally irregular, but I could have really done without a period two days before surfing New Smyrna, which had the unfortunate title of “Shark Bite Capital of the World,” with more recorded attacks than any other beach on the planet.

When I stood up, I saw blood smeared on the armchair, a finger-sized splotch of blood on the pillow and a few drops on the floor.

Zeke had never once asked me about my periods since an excruciatingly awkward conversation, which included, “The blob? What the heck does that even mean? Oh . . .” and me burning with embarrassment.

Ever since then, I had maintained silence on the subject, the sudden appearance of tampons on the toilet cistern being
the sole communication to Zeke that I was in fact shedding innards.

I couldn't see that tacit silence continuing, now that I'd bled all over hotel property.

I moved the duvet to cover the mess in the bed and went to the bathroom, cupping my nether regions with as much dignity as possible.

The door was locked, and I could hear the shower running.

Zeke never locked the door when he was showering, and it occurred to me that I'd probably bled on him.

I felt a splotch of something on my cupped hand, and I rummaged through my bags.

No tampons, no sanitary towels, and the toilet roll and hotel tissues were both in the bathroom with Zeke. I briefly considered using an old vest as a sanitary towel, but it seemed a bit gross. Desperate, I searched through the wastepaper basket, past the litter of Coke cans, Hershey bars and condom wrappers and found a used serviette.

Twenty minutes passed, with me clamped around that scrunched-up tissue, until finally Zeke emerged.

“Happy birthday! Why are you on the floor? You OK?” he said, coming out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his hair hanging wet on his shoulders.

“Not really,” I said, pushing past him. “You took long enough.”

“Hey, what's up? Are you sick or something?”

I locked the door behind me, just as he had done, and tried to calm myself down as I sat on the toilet and had the heaviest period of my life.

Ten minutes later, I still sat there, turning the toilet bowl crimson, when Zeke knocked on the door, and shouted, “I'm stepping out for a minute. You need anything?”

“Yeah. Wait for me. I'll be two seconds.”

I made myself a makeshift sanitary towel from a bundle of bog roll, flushed the crime scene, washed my hands and opened the door.

Zeke stood at the window, looking to the blue line of the sea. He wasn't usually one for gazing at seascapes, unless he was sizing up the surf, trying to work out how the tides, sandbanks and rips were working.

We'd once had an actual row about going for lunch in a room with a sea view. I wanted to go to the Headland Hotel, which had a gorgeous view of Fistral and Towan Head, but he kept suggesting inland places. Eventually he admitted he couldn't stand to look at the ocean, because one glimpse and he'd need to go surfing that second, and if he couldn't do that, he'd be in agony.

I waited for him to allude to menstruation, and when he didn't, I nodded at the sea and said, “Charts make it even flatter today. What is it you call it tarmac?”

“Asphalt.”

“It's doing my head right in. You must be gagging for some decent waves.”

“It's kinda nice to have some time off.”

Nice to have some time off?

“Who are you, and where is my boyfriend?” I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“It's been a real long year.”

“We're only in April.”

Zeke moved away from the window and began searching for something in his rucksack. When he couldn't find it, he looked in mine. I'd never seen him do that before. One thing I'd learned about traveling with my boyfriend is that there seemed to be weird unspoken rules about touching each other's belongings. So much of our privacy had gone, but our baggage was ours alone.

“What are you after?”

“Razor. I need to shave. Look at you. You have beard-burn.”

I touched my chin, felt the soreness and got up to check it in the mirror. My chin and upper lip were pink and chafed.

“Don't worry. It'll calm down in a bit.”

“Fricking stubble. I hate that I hurt you.”

“It's fine. Honestly.”

Suddenly Zeke laughed. “Um, you wanna talk about this?” he said, holding up the teddy he'd found in my bag.

“I don't know how that got in there,” I said, trying to look unconcerned that Zeke had found something so deeply personal and mortifying.

“You don't need to feel bad about it,” he said. “We've all been there.”

I shoved it back in and moved a jumper to cover it. I could feel my cheeks burning up.

“I didn't bring it. It must have got in there by mistake.”

“Don't sweat it. It's no big deal.”

“My mum probably put it in there, for a joke.”

Zeke fished it out of my rucksack again.

“Uh-huh. Your mom. Does it have a name?”

I coughed. Tried to buy myself some time, but my mind was coming up with nothing. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“It so has a name. Let me guess. Er, Maverick? No? Fistral? Something watery for sure.”

He was holding it between his thumb and forefinger, like it was toxic. I had to admit it looked quite gross and battered, but still. I snatched it away from him and held it behind my back.

“Come on, tell me already.”

“No way am I telling you that.”

“It's Teddy, right?”

The jig was up.

I walked my tiny stuffed bear over to the bed and placed him on my pillow.

“Teddy says get stuffed.”

Zeke started laughing so hard that his knees went weak and he fell back on to an armchair, eyes streaming. At last I started laughing too.

“So I really have to run out now,” Zeke said, opening the glass doors to the balcony.

“All right.” I waited for him to tell me where he was going, but he said nothing.

“I won't be long.”

“Are you going to see Chase?”

“No, he has to work. He's helping his dad with the sale of some sky-loft condos. We probably won't see him until your contest.”

“Did your mum ring yet?”

“Yeah, her flight was on time and she made the train from Paddington. She says hi. So, I'm gonna go grab us some breakfast. You have any requests?”

“Anything that looks good. I honestly don't mind. If you're going past CVS, can you get me some, um . . . Actually I'll come with you.”

“I can pick up whatever you need.”

“No, it's fine. I need . . . girl stuff.”

“Like tampons or something?”

“Honestly, don't worry.”

“Well, I can buy that. I mean, it's clear they're not for me, so—”

“Zeke, I can buy my own tampons. I'll come with you. When are you leaving?”

“Now. Don't sweat it. I'll get your tampons. Here,” he said, turning the TV on again, “chill.”

And with that, he practically ran out of the room, only pausing to grab his wallet from a side table.

When Zeke got back, he was grinning from ear to ear. The walk and fresh air had obviously done him good.

“Damn, I love this place.”

“What happened?”

“Miami happened.”

He handed me a carrier bag that contained three boxes of tampons in “Lite,” “Regular” and “Super” and four packs of sanitary towels, two with wings, and two without.

“Wow, err, thanks,” I said. “That should keep me going for a while. Probably until Christmas.”

“I didn't know how many you needed. Don't girls bleed a lot?”

“Not quite that much.”

“It's not like I had sisters growing up. I just guessed.”

“Well, thank you. Weren't you embarrassed buying all of that?”

“No. I just told the chick on the register I manage a strip club.”

“Zeke!”

“I'm kidding. I said nothing. She said nothing. It was fine.”

“Did you do what you needed to do?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn't run into any aggro reporters?” This was a weak joke, admittedly, and he didn't even acknowledge it.

“I might need to run out again later. I forgot to buy a razor.”

“You were literally just in CVS.”

“I got distracted by absorbencies and flow charts.”

Zeke's iPad started playing the familiar Skype ringtone.

“It's for you,” he said.

When I accepted the call, I saw my mum's face, huge, right in near the webcam.

“HELLO, MIAMI!”

“Hi, Mum.”

Before I could say anything else, the sound from the iPad speakers started to distort, due to various unseen people belting out:

“
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU SQUASHED TOMATOES AND STEW,

BREAD AND BUTTER IN THE GUTTER HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.
”

Zeke looked over at me, one eyebrow raised.

“Don't ask,” I said.

My mum moved her head out of the way, and I saw her hand come down to pick up the webcam, which panned around the room.

Squeezed into my living room were Aunt Zoe, Cara, Uncle Keith, Wes, Elijah, Garrett, Kelly, Zeke's stepdad Dave, my mum's elderly aunt and uncles, plus a few of my neighbors. And
standing right at the back of them all, in a room he hadn't been allowed into for a decade, was my dad.

He had even less hair on his head than the last time I saw him, but had grown an alarming mustache to make up for it.

He gave me a little wave and I waved back at him, and was then hit by a wave of homesickness.

My mum's face filled the screen again.

“Aunt Zoe has something she wants to tell you.”

Aunt Zoe's face replaced my mum's, and she was beaming with excitement.

“Guess what?”

“Hi, Aunt Zoe!”

“Guess who has another cousin on the way?”

“Oh my God! You're expecting too?”

My mum's face shot into view again. “What do you mean, ‘too'?”

“Calm down, Mum I wasn't talking about me.”

“Phew. As you were.”

Aunt Zoe came back into view.

“Congratulations! You must be so excited!”

“I am! I'm only ten weeks, but I couldn't keep it a secret any longer. So who else is pregnant?”

“I don't know if I'm allowed to say . . .”

I heard Zeke's stepdad in the background cough and say, “Sephy is!”

The camera panned around them again, and I could see them all firing questions at Dave, except Garrett and Wes, who had evidently already had the news.

“Two babies coming into the family,” my mum said. “How wonderful. Iris, don't go making it three, and I'm talking to you too, Zeke.”

“Mum. Please.”

“Now we have that lovely bit of business out of the way, here's your real present.”

She picked up the webcam again and took it to the living room window.

On the drive was a yellow camper van.

“It's yours,” she said.

“Oh my God, really? I have my own van!”

I heard my dad's voice say, “Yeah, and it's not a shitheap either.”

“Wow, I love it. Thank you all so much. Woohoo!”

“Your dad's been working on it all year,” my mum said, with a slight grimace. “Now, when are you going to come home and learn how to drive it?”

I looked at Zeke, who said, “Your British contest?”

“Mum, it's the Billabong contest final at Fistral on the twenty-third of June.”

“That's the earliest you can come? Two months?” The disappointment was obvious in her voice.

I heard my great-uncle say, “If the maid's short of money, I'll pay for a plane ticket. Her chap can pay for himself. I hear he ain't short of a bob or two.”

“It's not the money, Uncle Keith. It's finding the time. This is the first break we've had in months, and even here we've had to do a little work.”

“Don't she sound American now?” he said, and I cringed. The accent thing was really starting to get to me. I sounded the same as always.

“It's her agent's doing,” my mum said. “He's always on her case. Won't let her have a minute's peace that one. If it's not contests or training, it's publicity stunts. Had her jumping from a helicopter into the sea last month. Holding her surfboard! Could've taken her eye out.”

“That was one time for a web series. And we jumped from about two meters. What was
that
?”

A blur of fur had raced past the webcam.

“Oh, that's just Leighton. He's all right.”

“What is it?”

“A cat. Honestly, Iris.”

“I couldn't see. When did you get a cat?”

“Let me see, maybe a month ago. He was found wandering on Fistral, living on crab legs and the garbage from the takeaway. Thin as a rake, poor thing, but quite the little character.”

“You never once mentioned
getting a cat
.”

“I'm sure I must have.”

“You didn't.”

Zeke tapped me on the arm. “Mum, can Zeke just talk to his family a minute?”

“Hi, Zeke!” said a dozen voices.

Wes, Garrett and Dave shuffled to the front of the group and crouched down.

“Hey, son,” Dave said. “How's it going?”

“Good. Hi, bros.”

“Nice shiner,” Wes said, looking concerned.

“Yeah. Iris threw a cellphone at me.”

The ease with which he delivered this blatant lie shocked me. And that he had blamed me shocked me even more.

“Erm, what?” I said, but he shook his head at me.

“It was an accident. I asked her to pass me my iPhone and I was expecting underarm, but she throws like a Yankees pitcher.”

“Zeke,” I hissed.

He held up his phone to me, where he'd tapped out a message.

Don't wanna mention fight.

“Garrett,” Zeke said, “can you call me back later? I need to talk to you about the apartment.”

“No problem.”

He passed the iPad over to me, and my mum appeared back on the screen.

“So what are you guys doing now?” I said.

“I booked us all into the Headland Hotel for a birthday meal in your honor. We can Skype you again when we're there, if you like. I'm sure one of these chaps has Skype on his phone.”

“It's all right,” I said. “But take lots of pictures for me though.”

“Will do.”

My heart ached so hard. I was missing my own birthday dinner.

Even if Zeke had a birthday surprise in store for me, how could it be better than being back in Newquay with my family and friends?