Precise (7 page)

“N
o way!” Katie squeals. “You’re kidding, right? Dina, Dina Hemmingway?”

The woman’s face squeezes into an astonished delight. They jump up in excitement and launch into each other’s arms. Although Dina is the sister of a school friend of Katie’s, she went to their house often enough to get to know Dina almost as well.

There are a few friends next to her, but they’re only part of the background as Katie takes in this new Dina. She’s wearing a short, purple dress. Daring still suits her well. The skirt fluffs out, the waist ties with a matching belt. It complements her red bob.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here. Gee, Kates, I haven’t seen you in years!”

“I know. I can’t believe it,” she says. “You see, I spotted this redhead earlier snobbing me off on the other side of the—”

“So it was you who was ogling me off.” Dina clenches her hips, turning into the light. Her mustard-brown eyes shine as they always have, the light pronouncing each of her freckles. She sticks her left hand out. “I’ll have you know I have a fiancé these days.”

Katie clears her throat. “Congrats! What have you been up to since high school?”

“Studied accounting at RMIT and now I’m an accountant for a firm in the city. It’s all pretty hectic with work and moving into the house.” She fluffs her hand in front of her. “Not to mention organizing this party, but I love it. How have you been?”

Katie feels the seconds slow. She can only hope it’s just a short linger. She’s had many situations like these, whether with a distant relative or another old friend of whom she hasn’t spoken to in a while. With practice, she grins, as if she were only caught off guard.

“Not bad. I have a daughter, Ella, who started primary school this year.”

“Wow. Cool!” Dina says, smiling.

“Kates?” a woman says, poking her head over Dina’s shoulder. “You look amazing. You probably get that a lot. Nothing like a ‘Mom’.” The lady gestures when she speaks the emphasized word with quotation marks.

“Agreed,” Dina adds. “No momma legs or tummy, there. Nope.”

Katie rolls her eyes and relaxes into a circle amongst the ladies.

Soon after, that woman is first to begin gossiping. Dina, the other ladies and Katie laugh. For half an hour they gossip. Katie shares some gossip too. It’s actually fun.

But then it happens.

Katie knew it: Dina couldn’t help it. The stories started off about school, careers, family. Once one of her friends mentions a wedding she’s attended, Dina takes over before the poor lady can finish. She talks on through her friend slumping in disappointment and inadvertently over another friend, too, unless one of them speaks in a loud voice or taps her shoulder.

Katie asks about the builder for her and Tim’s house but that only leads to Dina crying over how happy she is that she has a partner as amazing as Tim to share her life with, and, and, and. Katie goes on laughing and smiling but she soon loses track of when to make noises.

She turns away. From the garage roller door, Brent emerges out of the shadow with a drink in his hand. His arms swing a little too much with his stride. He takes a few more steps before he staggers off to one side then repositions himself after the wobbly moment.

In that moment, seeing Brent so defenesless, she feels like rushing to him and mumbling one thousand things all at the same time. And, being the type of guy he is, he’d only say thanks and move on.

His brother, though? Liam’s never taken something for face value. There’s always a message. Always something to make out of anything.

Not Brent.

When Katie’s a few meters away, he beckons a finger to her.

“Girlies, it’s been nice knowing you.”

Brent stumbles and she thinks he’s close enough to tumble onto her. She flings her hands in front of her face.

He tightens his lips to stifle a laugh. “How about yourself, Kates? Had a bit too much?”

Her response is too quick. “No.”

“Those bottles over there.” He points down, near where Dina is. A gathering of bottles topples over each other. “You’re it.”

“I’m who?”

“The Drink Stealer.”

Katie releases her breath. “Oh, yeah. Guess that’s me.”

“Remember my promise?” Brent asks.

“The one . . . ”

“This.” He takes Katie’s hand and waves to the girls with the other. He leans toward Katie’s ear. “The one where I promised not to leave you.”

Katie is silent.

As if to confirm her thoughts about the squealing group beside her, Brent says, “The guys and I
will be better company than . . .
this
.”

• • •

W
hen Brent arrives with Katie, Tim, Cooper and Marco are lazing around in canvas chairs. Cooper winks at her and drags another chair forward. He lines it up next to his one and holds an open palm above his act of kindness.

Katie chuckles but Brent sees how she’s already turning away from Cooper. “Er, thanks. I might just grab something to drink before I sit down, though,” she says.

After she’s out of earshot, Cooper asks, “Hmm, what’s that all about, Brenny?” He still sounds upbeat, regardless of being turned down.

Brent rolls his eyes. “She isn’t into you.”

Marco smirks and tips his head in Tim’s direction, as if meaning “told you so”.

Cooper jabs Brent’s shoulder and scoffs. As if it is preposterous that Katie could be repulsed by his physique or his smooth persona. “No.
Really
.”

Brent swallows. Of course they’ve noticed something’s up. “I should have warned you.” He fingers his thigh through the hole in his jeans. When he speaks, his voice sounds hard. “She isn’t herself these days. It’s complicated.”

Cooper looks at him expectantly. He’s tipping his chair toward Brent. Tim and Marco are much the same.

Brent envisions Paul with his waxy complexion. When he touched him at the viewing, his skin was cool and suctioned to his finger like frog’s skin. As Brent watches Katie rummaging through glass bottles, he remembers the last thing he saw of Paul: the
Good cleaners make good wives
t-shirt that he was buried in. Liam had seen that he wore it, even when Katie had no clue, and his mother, Pam Anselin, was too crumbled to think.

Brent opens his mouth and forces the words out. “Paul, her husband . . . recently died.”

“Oh, fuck,” Cooper mutters. It doesn’t matter that the song playing through the speakers is about to climax. As the bass kicks in, Cooper’s voice sounds like a mouse squeak, yet Brent hears it clearly. And it seems the others do, too.

Paul’s death feels wrong to talk about, like discussing cheating on final school exams. This is still all a horrible dream. They say people never die in their dreams, but this feels like an exception where Brent’s dreaming and dreaming . . . What healthy twenty-nine-year-old just drops dead? No warning. Just gone.

Brent doesn’t realize the silence until Tim stumbles on his words, then speaks up. “How long?”

He pauses a beat to count. “About four months ago.”

“How?”

Brent’s eyelids close, Paul’s waxy, cool skin the only image he sees. Paul felt so soft and cool. So unlike normal. He looked like you could say, “Wake up, idiot,” and the guy would roar with laughter. But he’s a doll, painted in colors that are artificial with a body that seems to be merely sleeping.

Brent dreads Tim’s question. “Aneurysm . . . ” and now the part he almost can’t mutter, “I think.”

Katie won’t talk about it, not even to her dad, Logan, or Liam, so his brother tells him. The less he thinks about why, the easier it is for Brent. Now he’s started talking, the conversation is itching to be spoken of.

“She can’t say the name. He was a top bloke. One of the best.” He half-smiles to himself. “She might seem to be doing okay. You know, no water works or anything, but my brother has gone from worried to convinced that something isn’t right with her. I don’t know any more than she lets on. And she’s like family, so,” he looks directly at Cooper, then addresses the others, “no more.”

Tim and Marco nod.

“You wouldn’t guess, ‘ey,” Cooper says, oblivious to Brent’s warning. “She’s such a stunner. Mm.”

Katie crouches down beside the cooler. It isn’t more than five meters away but she seems somewhere worlds farther. Then that whirlwind of guilt hits Brent in the chest and he’s burst and spilling more than he should. He can’t help it. “Sometimes, I don’t believe Paul could just pass and Kates not appear to miss him. I loved the guy, but she
just goes on so . . . so, unemotionally, that she makes people feel like everything is fine. That maybe Paul is just hung up at work. Not in the sky.”

The three men could be mistaken for kindergarten children, scooted forward in their flimsy fold up chairs, back legs lifted off the ground.

“My brother was best mates with him. We were all in a dazed state for a while. It took me days to be able to think straight. It hit us all hard—not just her. I haven’t seen her in a while, to be honest.” Brent takes a moment before he says, “I wasn’t sure till I saw her tonight, but now I’m not sure if reality ever hit her.”

“I couldn’t even imagine dealing with that. You know?” Marco says, his voice shaky.

“She didn’t cry at the memorial. Or the funeral. No sign of red eyes.”

Katie gulps down a bottle with bright red liquid, her fingers clamped tight to its sides. It’s probably a pre-mixed vodka, and it looks as if she feels the death-like grip will prevent anyone from prying it off her. Brent knows he should take it off her but he can’t risk annoying her or making her leave to somewhere he can’t keep an eye out. He needs to be able to look out for her.

Katie swaggers to the bowls of chips and candy. She picks up a set of gummy teeth, examines it like a dentist would, then throws it back in the bowl.

“She hits the bottle hard . . . ” Cooper says. He tilts his head, winking at Brent. “Would it be insensitive to see if she’s interested in me?”

“Fuck you,” Brent and Marco say at the same time.

Cooper claps his hand on his knee as if to say “damn”.

Brent kicks his chair out from under him and stomps over to Katie. He points to the kitchen, asking if she wants a drink of water, and some space. She cackles loud enough for the others to hear, then trots back to a chair next to Cooper.

C
ooper begins to tell one-on-one jokes to Katie and doesn’t leave his seat, even when his other mates get up and down for drinks, food, or a bathroom run. Katie tells some old jokes she remembers, all slurred, so they laugh more so
at
her than with her. Cooper takes to slapping Katie’s knee with jolly delight, then wrapping an arm around her to share the amusement, finally deciding it’s easiest to have her propped up on his knee.

Brent taps Cooper’s shoulder. “So how’s Tiffany going?”

“Tiff?” Coop seems to consider the question as Katie chats to Tim. “Oh, her. She’s good.”

“You’re not seeing her anymore?”

“Course I am.”

Brent knots his hands together, unconsciously shifting further off the edge of his chair, closer to Cooper and Katie.

“And . . . ” Brent says, then flicks his gaze to the back of Katie’s head.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Brenny.”

Brent’s shoulders are rigid as he half-hangs off the chair, still knotting his hands in a bundle. He laughs randomly, and it takes him a moment to see that Cooper’s chatting to the rest of the group already.

“Have a fight with Tiff, did ya?” Brent says, nudging Cooper.

Still facing Tim and Marco, Cooper says, “What? Oh, yeah.” He points at Tim, as if he was never speaking to Brent at all. “But her dress was still tucked in her G!”

“Oh, crap,” Marco mumbles randomly, ending their joke.

“Huh?” Tim says.

Marco shuffles his feet and hangs his head down. Talking into his shoulder, he says, “Twelve o’clock,” then takes a gulp of his bottle discreetly.

Two rowdy men stumble toward the group. The first has a thick mane hugging his jawline, and it matches his equally scruffy mop of hair. He lets out a roar of a laugh, and his beer belly slips over his pants. He doesn’t bother to adjust them.

The guy trailing on his heels is more distinguishable. His face only sprouts a tuft of hair under his lower lip.

“Ghhh-dayy . . . mate!” Thick-mane grunts.

Tim and the group look from Thick-mane to his equally douche-bag looking friend in confusion.

“Maaate,” Thick-mane repeats.

It’s clear that the group, including a bewildered Tim, have no clue who this guy, or his friend, is.

The one with the goatie steps in. “He dovven’t remember us,” he slurs, slapping Thick-mane on the shoulder. “Do ya?” Goatie’s golden eyes share an unwavering connection to Cooper, despite the fact that every other part of Cooper’s body trembles. “Coop?”

Tim stands up, clearing his throat. “Look, boys: I think you have the wrong group. We’re just off anyway.” He scans his posse. “Weren’t we?”

They nod stiffly, as if they’re students, and the Headmaster has threatened a tough punishment otherwise.

“But we came to—”

“Sorry, guys. Good luck finding your, er,
mates
.” Cooper pushes past the duo, clearing the way for the others to follow.

“What was that all about?” Tim asks, shouldering Cooper.

“No idea. A pair of lost drunks is my bet.”

“It’s my party and I have no idea who they are. They know you.”

“You really believe that?” Cooper halts his pace. Behind, Marco almost dominoes over him.

Brent is now in-line with the two of them, arching around to peer into their conversation. “You invite those idiots?”

Cooper makes a disgusted sound and claps his hands—one on Brent’s shoulder, the other on Marco’s. “I’ve got an idea, let’s get out of here. My head is pounding and I don’t want those two getting comfy around us.” Then, quickly, he adds, “Whoever they are.”

Marco puts a fist to his forehead. “Me too. Let’s go.”

“Boys, it sounds great, but I know Dina wouldn’t be keen on me ditching my own party. She’ll lose her shit.”

“I know somewhere. Follow me,” Cooper says, pointing to the gate in front of him.

Brent shoots a warning glare at Tim. But Tim is jogging in the other direction, already calling something out that includes, “Coming, babe”. Marco and Cooper are a few strides in front when he turns back, and Katie is tugging on his arm.

“You know, I’m a little tired. Do you really want to go, too?” Brent says, stifling a yawn.

Katie scrunches her eyes along Tim’s trail and sighs. “Definitely. Why not?”

Then she’s running off, too fast.

Brent jogs to catch up. Guess his choice is made.

• • •

A
fter a few blocks, Cooper stops the group and claims a wooden table and swing in a nearby park. He pulls out a brown paper bag and jostles the contents inside.

“Here.” Coop elbows Marco with a joint in his fingers, which Marco takes off him without delay.

Marco ignites his lighter and cups the end of the joint while he holds it to the tip so the wind doesn’t blow out the flame. His chest expands, giving his height another inch and then he blows a plume of smoke in the shape of an “O”.

“That’s cool!” Katie says, giggling. She stumbles, her heel losing grip in the soft grass.

“’Ey,” Brent says, as he catches her arm.

She acknowledges him with a smile, then says, “What other shapes can you do, Marco?”

“None,” Cooper says.

What a dick! Marco thinks she’ll like him? Yeah, the ladies go for those reserved, uninterested types all the time. Coop scoffs. He knows from plenty of experience that isn’t the case. He taps Katie’s thigh for attention though she slides away. Coop sucks in the joint and makes a shape with his mouth. The smoke comes without form.

“Impressive,” Brent mumbles, as he leans his head on the pole behind the wooden park bench, eyes shut.

Marco snorts as Cooper says, “Shut up. I don’t bloody smoke as a circus act. I’m pretty sure this shit is illegal in circuses anyway, Hulk.”

“Illegal?” Katie says under her breath, biting her lip. The woman has no idea this isn’t nicotine. “And who’s ‘Hulk’?” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m so confused.”

“Well.” Coop steals a look at Brent whose mouth is gaping, snores rumbling in his throat already, then drapes an arm over Katie’s shoulders. “We called Marco’s expeditions ‘green nights’ because his skin looked green. Then he threw up green stuff. I reckon under that mushy teddy-bear image he has an inner Hulk.”

Coop should feel bad. He rolls his joint in his fingers, wondering, but in the end he can’t regret making Marco look bad. It doesn’t matter that he’s quiet. Coop can’t risk losing a shot with Katie on the off chance that she is attracted to Marco.

Katie wrinkles her nose. “Hm.”

Marco cuts in before Cooper can say anything else. “I just couldn’t handle it well, never have really, no matter how many times I tried.” He grins at Cooper, with a look that says
like you
.

“So . . . you still smoke cigarettes?”

Cooper turns so Katie can’t see him. He pulls an imaginary zip across his mouth, glaring at Marco. Marco looks at Katie and nods back to Cooper after some thought.

“Observant,” Cooper sneers, propping his head up on Katie’s shoulder.

“Am I missing something here?” Katie asks Cooper as she peels his hand from her waist.

She finds a seat next to him. She looks to her waist, squinting and concentrating. Looking back to Cooper, she says, “This stinks of one big fat elephant.”

“I don’t know what you mean?” Cooper inches closer to her.

A protruding splinter from the plank catches his pant leg and he has to release himself, leaving an opportunity for Katie to edge away.

• • •

K
atie considers the bottle next to her thigh.
How did it get there?

She doesn’t remember bringing this one along with them from the party. Really, she doesn’t remember finishing any of her last drinks. They flowed like a rainbow of alternating colors. And why is she
on
Cooper? Why is he touching her? She hates that.

Katie pushes herself off the table. “I’m just going to go for a walk.” She points, already stumbling off in the direction of her finger.

“Wait up!” Marco yells. He jumps off the table and starts to jog to catch up to her.

“Oh, thanks, Marco. You didn’t have to come.”

“No, it’s cool. I need to stretch my legs. Get some fresh air. Something.”

She crosses her arms because the wind is cooling her further.

“Leave her alone, Hulk,” Cooper calls from the background.

She feels a twinge of guilt and is quick to defend Marco. “I wanted some fresh air too,” she whispers to him.

They walk through the damp grass plain, away from the illuminating warmth of the nineteenth-century-style lamppost spilling over Brent and Cooper.

“It’s true what they were saying.”

She isn’t sure what he means so she just mumbles, “Mmm.” He isn’t bad company. He’s easy to be around.

“Cooper’s an asshole.”

Katie gulps, turns to Marco. “Whoa. You don’t say much but you make what you do clear.”

“Really. Brent has been friends with him since our uni days. I think he just feels bad if he ignores him. Plus, that’s just the guy Brent is. He does things to make people happy. Coop’s okay, but when he gets on—” Marco stops. “Nights like tonight make me want to punch him. You know?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck. I just wanted to talk to you, yeah?” He scratches his forehead. “I like you. Not like I want to be with you ‘like you’, but I, yeah. You’re . . . cool.”

The longer they walk in silence the harder it is for her to explain why she’s here.

“The truth is, nature is calling,” she mumbles, stealing a glance at his face.

Marco chuckles. “Oh, that’s embarrassing. I didn’t . . . ” Then he continues to walk, head bowed.

“Don’t worry. It’s funny. You can stand and keep guard outside the toilet block in case there’s a stranger waiting to trap me. I believe you’re meant to wait for the typical muffled scream.” She imitates a distressed victim with her hand suffocating her mouth.

He laughs uncontrollably. “You’re a great gal, Kates.”

“Don’t,” she tells him. “You don’t have to make up stuff like that.” They approach another lamppost and it shines over Marco’s unsatisfied expression. Concern tightens his eyebrows.

“Look at you,” he presents his palm to her. “You could pass for a movie star. Then you come across all selfless and caring about what other people think. You don’t even look like a Mom, whatever that—”

“Marco,” she cuts in, “I’m not what I look like. I’ve seen things. Done things. Terrible . . . ” Before he interjects, she tells him she’s going to the toilet and will be out in a moment.

Seconds later she emerges, brushing her hands against her dress. “Hope I didn’t keep you out here too long.”

He tells her not to worry and that the air has done him good, that he feels less queasy now, anyway.

They stroll further through the park, deeper, where eucalyptus trees line the grounds and bushland is speckled across underneath. Katie looks across the park and can see the silhouette of Cooper, madly hopping up and down on top of the monkey bars.

“What was that about before? Coop was strange.”

“It’s best if you don’t know what he’s into. If you get what I mean.”

“Oh.”

By now, the night is much cooler than when Katie first got here. She has to tuck the ends of her cardigan into her folded arms to prevent the wind feeling like it’s slamming at her chest. Not that her flimsy cardigan is doing much anyway. When she shivers, Marco notices.