Tigers on the Beach (10 page)

Sam looks at me with real admiration.

‘That was brave.'

‘Not really. Grandpa taught me how to do it,' I say.

Sam moves forward and reaches out, like she wants to hold me. Two seconds later we are kissing. Seriously kissing. It's the best feeling in the world. I slide one hand under the back of Sam's shirt and enjoy the smoothness of her warm skin. She doesn't explore under my shirt, but she holds me tighter. We are holding each other as close as possible without morphing. I love the way Sam smells, a mix of home-made chocolate biscuit and cherry lip-balm. It's like pashing a Cherry Ripe. I'm intoxicated. I wonder what it would be like if we both collapsed into the long grass, out of view. Now seems a good time, provided we don't collapse onto a blue-tongue.

Just as I'm holding and kissing and trying to collapse with Sam, I hear a car pulling up. Sam and I rapidly let each other go. I recognise the red car immediately. It's Stanley Krongold, who has interrupted this incredible, unexpected, Cherry-Ripe–infused moment. He steps out of the car and pats down his slicked black hair. What the hell does he want? He's a real-estate agent. What right does he have to stand in the way of our teenage urges? He's got three sons of his own. They are all stupid and one is a bully. Why can't he go and stand in the way of
their
teenage urges?

‘Adam, I was just speaking to a customer,' he calls, striding towards us and pretending he hasn't seen anything. Sam and I do our best to look calm and collected, not that we should feel otherwise. Then I realise my fly is undone and I rapidly zip it closed. I figure I need to offer some kind of explanation for why we are standing in the long grass on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, pulling our shirts down.

‘I was just saving a blue-tongue lizard,' I say.

‘It's lucky he did,' says Sam. ‘Otherwise you might have run over it, you were driving so fast.'

Sam doesn't disguise her dislike of the newcomer.

‘Oh, I don't think that would have happened,' says Mr Krongold, smiling in a way that is meant to be friendly but isn't, especially with his orange head. ‘I'm very observant when I drive.'

This seems to be a reference to our roadside interlude. He steps around our abandoned bikes and soon he is so close that I can smell the acrid aftershave he wears.

‘This is quite a coincidence,' he says, holding up his mobile phone. ‘I was just speaking to my client in Dubai.'

‘You mean Macau,' I say.

‘He moves around a lot.'

Mr Krongold continues, undaunted. ‘He's just made the most extraordinary offer for The Ponderosa. Your parents would be mad not to take it. Will you get them to contact me?'

‘Why don't you ring them yourself?'

It sounds rude but it washes over Mr Krongold.

‘Your parents are busy people, Adam. I don't want to ring them at the wrong time. I'm sure I can trust you to raise the matter with them at an appropriate moment.'

‘I'll tell them,' I say, without enthusiasm.

‘How's your grandmother?' he asks, in a way I don't like.

‘Good,' I say.

‘Not being too much of a bother?'

‘No.'

‘I suppose she must be causing some arguments between your parents.'

‘No, my mum and dad are getting along better than ever.'

‘I'm glad your grandma is staying with you,' says Mr Krongold. ‘It's probably the best thing. Well, I won't take any more of your time.'

He struts off and climbs into the car. He revs it and hits the road as though he is needed elsewhere, for an emergency property valuation.

‘We should probably head for home,' says Sam.

‘Sure,' I say.

We pick up the bikes.

‘I like how you saved the lizard,' says Sam.

‘I'm good with lizards,' I say.

‘What about snakes?'

‘They don't frighten me,' I say.

Of course, I want us to collapse into the long grass again, but Stanley Krongold spoiled the moment and now Sam has other things on her mind.

‘I have to go home. You know how Mum gets when I'm late.'

‘Sam, can we talk about what just happened?'

‘I don't think I'm ready for that,' says Sam.

‘Not ready to talk about it or –'

‘I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't mean for us to go as far as we did.'

‘But we didn't go anywhere. We didn't even go into the grass. We just had this really amazing, fantastic kiss.'

‘It seems too soon. I
like
you, but –'

I don't want Sam to finish this question. ‘But you do admit that the kiss was amazing?' I say.

‘Sure. It was good.'

My heart sinks. ‘If Mr Krongold hadn't turned up, do you think we would have gone any further?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘Is it because I'm ugly?'

‘Of course not. I think you're handsome.'

‘Even without a sixpack?'

‘Even without a sixpack.'

‘Are you sure you don't want to lie down in the grass again?'

‘I have allergies,' says Sam.

‘Seriously?'

‘Joke,' she says.

But I'm not so sure. I want to know exactly what I mean to Sam.

‘Sam, is there a possibility that some time in the near future we might lie in the grass, which is kind of where I

thought we were headed anyway?'

‘You're very cute,' she says.

Cute is a terrible word. Toy tigers are cute. Troll dolls are cute. I hate cute.

‘And thanks for coming to the concert,' she says.

‘I probably looked stupid dancing with that lady.'

‘I liked it when you did that. I think she did too.'

If I don't say something now, I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life.

‘Do you reckon we should go around together? I could be your exclusive boyfriend and you could be my exclusive girlfriend. Wouldn't that be great?'

But Sam goes enigmatic on me.

‘Let me think about it,' she says.

‘Okay.' I'm completely deflated. ‘How much time do you need?'

‘You're cute.'

‘You said that.'

‘Handsome, even.'

‘And you are so gorgeous that I can't stop thinking about you.' The words tumble out. ‘I know that some people think redheads are unattractive, but they are so wrong.'

‘But I'm worried that you might be a bit . . . immature,' says Sam.

‘How do you mean?'

Sam looks awkward, as though she doesn't want to have this conversation but feels she must.

‘That movie we saw. You thought it was hilarious.'

‘No, I didn't.'

‘You were laughing your head off.'

‘Only because everyone else was.'

‘Then there was the email about the exploding toilet. It was a bit . . . juvenile.'

‘Yeah. It was. Sorry.'

‘Adam, you don't need to apologise.'

‘What sort of jokes do you like?' I say. ‘I'll learn to like them too.'

I'm relieved when Sam chuckles at this.

‘I'm serious,' I say. ‘What makes you laugh?'

‘Well . . . I like cartoons from
The New Yorker
,' says Sam.

‘What's
The New Yorker
?'

‘A magazine. My dad subscribes to it.'

‘Is it like
Mad
?'

‘Sort of. Only for adults.'

‘Oh.' I never realised
Mad
was for kids only, especially as Dad and I both went through a stage of loving the magazine.

‘Do you remember that tiger cartoon I sent?'

‘The two tigers on the beach?'

‘That's from
The New Yorker
.'

‘Right.'

‘You don't think it's funny, do you?'

‘I'm sure it's really hilarious. I probably need to look at it again and get back to you.'

‘And I'll get back to you,' says Sam. ‘When I've thought things over.'

Sam kisses me goodbye. It's . . . nice. That's all. It's not a proper deeply-in-love kiss. Not yet. I wonder if Sam and I really
are
right for each other.

Mum and Dad seem solemn when I return. I notice that the poster of the laughing chimpanzees has been taken down. Dad smiles at me, but it's one of his
hospitality
smiles and not genuine.

‘How was the concert?' he asks.

‘Okay,' I say.

‘I'm looking forward to meeting Sam,' says Mum.

‘You're not worried about bringing her to The Ponderosa, are you?' Dad asks.

‘Why should I be worried?' I say.

‘Well, things have been a bit tense lately,' Mum says.

‘We'd hate for you to feel that you can't bring your girlfriend home,' Dad says.

‘Sam isn't really my girlfriend,' I say. ‘But if a miracle happens and she starts loving me, I'll bring her round. Although it would help . . .'

Mum and Dad are hanging on my words, so I might as well come out and say it.

‘I need my own bedroom. I've earned it. It's criminal that I don't have my own bedroom.'

Mum hugs me. ‘Yes darling. We've been selfish. We're so sorry, Adam.'

Mum is being far too intense for four o'clock in the afternoon. I back away.

‘Why are you guys behaving like this? Has something else gone wrong?'

‘We spoke with your grandmother this afternoon,' says Dad.

‘What about?'

‘Tomorrow we are going to scatter your grandfather's ashes,' Dad says.

‘It's time he was let go,' says Mum.

‘It's the right thing,' says Dad. ‘Your grandmother wants to do it. And we must all be there for her.'

Even though it's a sad moment, I feel relieved, as though letting Grandpa out of the cremation urn will somehow make everything better. It's important that the ashes of a dead person are sprinkled in the right place. Grandma has chosen The Escarpment with its perfect view of the bay and Herring Island.

Tomorrow at noon we will properly farewell Grandpa. I notice that Dad has trimmed his bushy eyebrows, so that they no longer point in different directions.

‘Your mother thought it was a good idea,' Dad says.

‘But your eyebrows were great,' I say.

‘They were unprofessional,' says Mum.

That night I lie in bed thinking of tights and how I might be going off them. Xander is asleep. Even his beetles are asleep. All is quiet and dark.

‘Do you mind if I sit on the verandah with you?' asks Grandpa.

‘Of course not,' I say.

‘Samantha is a beautiful name,' says Grandpa. ‘Why do you call her Sam?'

‘She prefers it,' I say.

‘Doris will call her Samantha. She likes to call people by their whole names.'

‘I know. Xander hates it.'

‘He'll probably get used to it.'

‘Not Xander.'

‘I got used to being called Reginald.'

‘We miss you like crazy,' I say. ‘Everyone does. Did you see how many people came to your funeral?'

‘Xander peed on the memorial lawn.' Grandpa chuckles. ‘That was pretty funny, wasn't it? Why aren't you laughing?'

‘You know why.'

‘So let's talk about Sam.'

‘She thinks I'm juvenile.'

‘You probably are, having silly dreams like this.'

‘Why am I in love with her? Is it just because of how she looks?'

‘Think hard and tell me what else you like about her.'

‘She's a good flute player. She likes animals. Just like you. She knows heaps of stuff. I really enjoy talking with her. Except . . .'

‘Except what?'

‘Sometimes I think she doesn't admire me that much.'

‘And you want to be admired?'

‘Well, I'd like her to think I am a pretty good guy. Not just handsome. She thinks I'm handsome, by the way. Isn't that crazy?'

‘Unbelievable.'

I smile. ‘It's good to talk to you. Even if it's only a dream.'

‘Thank you.'

‘You're mostly welcome,' I say.

Grandpa smiles. ‘Your grandma always groaned when I said that.'

‘I bet she dreams about you all the time.'

‘She does. It's good that you're scattering my ashes tomorrow.'

‘That won't stop her dreaming about you. It won't stop any of us. And it doesn't solve my problem about Sam.'

‘I've been thinking about that. That was quite some kiss she gave you.'

‘Till Stanley Krongold arrived.'

‘Why do you think she kissed you like that?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Did you do anything special, before you kissed?'

‘I saved a lizard from being run over, the way you taught me.'

‘Anything else?'

‘I went to a concert and I danced with an old lady. I think most girls would have thought I was stupid, but Sam said she liked that.'

‘So she
does
admire you.'

‘I guess maybe she does.'

‘And she was giving a concert at a nursing home. So that makes her kind. Like you were, when you saved the lizard and danced with the lady.'

‘I didn't think of that.'

‘Of course you did. This is your dream. I'm just helping you see the obvious.'

‘So I
do
love Sam. I mean, I
really
love her.'

‘Yes. And not just for her tights. Although the tights are excellent.'

‘But what if she doesn't love me back? She said she's only
thinking
about having a relationship with me.'

Our conversation is suddenly blocked out by the sound of a helicopter landing.

I wake up to my clock radio blaring. I turn it off when I'm sure that Xander is also awake. I decide not to tell him how I dreamed about Grandpa. If Xander starts describing
his
dreams he'll become even more unbearable. Nathan and I attend to possum duty again. The possums have become builders. Each morning there is a whole township of little poo buildings in the driveway. Nathan is reluctant to sweep the buildings away because as a naturalist he thinks the phenomenon is fascinating. Dad tells Nathan that none of our guests are naturalists and they'll probably think it's disgusting. I squat next to Nathan, and help him to remove the possums' architecture.

‘Have you told Marika that you fancy her yet?' I ask.

‘No.'

‘Come on, Nathan. What have you got to lose?'

‘Please, Adam. I don't like taking advice from juveniles.'

I shrink when Adam says
juveniles.

‘I'm probably quite mature for someone who's thirteen years, ten months, four weeks and one hour old,' I say.

‘Mature boys don't run around in their underpants waving towels.'

This disturbs me. Has Nathan been peeping into windows?

‘Xander told me,' Nathan says. ‘He also told me you have a girlfriend with red hair who has seen your posterior.'

‘Xander's an idiot. And I don't have a girlfriend. I'm definitely in love with her, but she hasn't worked out if she's in love with me.'

‘I crave for Marika to be my girlfriend,' says Nathan. ‘I wish I were better looking.'

‘You're not so bad, Nathan.'

‘Have a closer look,' he says.

Nathan's hair is dark blond, thinning, wavy and far too long. He has a small goatee. He wears the same checked shirt all the time, as well as khaki shorts that are hitched too high. It's not a good look.

‘It doesn't matter what I think,' I say. ‘I'm not Marika.
She
might reckon you're Christmas on a stick.'

Nathan throws down the little tower. Possum architecture no longer interests him.

‘I shouldn't be doing this for a living,' he complains. ‘I have three university degrees. I probably know more about monotremes than anyone on the planet. I shouldn't be wasting my life here.'

‘But my parents depend on you,' I say. ‘They
need
you.'

‘They don't appreciate me.'

‘They
do
.'

Nathan shakes his head. ‘I should go to Indonesia to study the orangutans. Have you seen them? They have intelligent eyes and orange-brown coats and they live in the rainforests. They are the most beautiful of the great apes. Not as beautiful as Marika, of course. Nothing is as beautiful as Marika.'

‘Then
tell
her,' I say. ‘Only don't mention orangutans. Just tell her you like how she looks.'

‘She'd laugh in my face. I'll have to find another woman, someone who's not out of my league.'

‘Marika isn't out of your league.'

‘She's the goddess Aphrodite.'

‘That's better. Tell Marika she's Aphrodite. Don't mention monkeys or horses or any other animals. Tell her she's a Greek goddess, not a monkey.'

‘What do you think she'll say?'

‘Well, she'll probably say that she has an eye infection. But you never know. She might think that
you're
a Greek god.'

Nathan gives a snort of contempt.

‘Or maybe not,' I say. ‘Greek gods are mainly buff and like hanging around in the nude, and you're not like that. But maybe Marika doesn't
want
a boyfriend who's buff and nude. Maybe she wants
you
.'

Mum steps out of the office to tell me it's time to get ready for today's ceremony. I need to have a shower and put on a suit and tie.

‘We're spreading Grandpa's ashes today,' I tell Nathan.

‘Your father told me. I hope everything goes well.'

Nathan says this as if he believes it is unlikely.

After I've showered, I make a special effort with my boring brown hair. While it's still wet, I slick it back behind my ears.

‘You look like Dracula,' says Xander.

‘You look like Riff Raff,' I say.

‘Who's Riff Raff?'

‘The freak in
The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Dad showed me the DVD. Riff Raff has long yellow hair just like yours.'

‘What's
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
about?'

‘Transvestites from outer space.'

‘You're lying.'

‘Seriously. It's got this incredible song in it called “The Time Warp”.'

Unwisely, I sing and do the steps from ‘The Time Warp', as if this will somehow prove to Xander that the film exists. I am wearing nothing but a towel, which nearly drops off when I do the pelvic thrust that is supposed to drive you
insa-a-a-a-ane.

‘That is the gayest thing you have ever done,' says Xander.

‘You're probably right,' I say.

‘No wonder Sam won't be your girlfriend.'

I feel the blood rush to my face. ‘Don't make jokes about Sam. You can make jokes about any other subject, but not Sam. Understand?'

‘Yes.' Xander is cowed. And he doesn't cow easily.

Xander is in the shower, singing loudly and doing The Time Warp. I curse his photographic memory and close the bathroom door. I am trying to do up my tie when my phone rings. It's a ring tone I downloaded for when Sam calls me. It's Bach's ‘Coffee Cantata'. (Bach was clearly an expert at giving rotten names to his tunes.) I throw the tie away and lunge for the phone.

‘Hi,' says Sam.

‘Hi,' I say.

‘I've thought about it,' she says. ‘A lot.'

Sam's tone is more serious than ever. I figure I'm about to be dumped, so I brace myself.

‘I think you're right,' says Sam. ‘I think we should go around together.'

I nearly drop the phone. ‘Really?'

‘You're good and you're not sleazy and you might be a bit juvenile but we can work on that,' says Sam.

‘And I've thought about it too,' I say. ‘And I agree with you one hundred per cent. You're smart and beautiful and you're a bit serious, but we can work on that as well. We should definitely go around together.'

I overhear Mum and Dad getting ready in the room next door. They are arguing. I don't know what it's about, but it will be something minor, like whether it's okay to wear football socks to an ash-scattering.

‘Are you still there?' Sam asks. ‘Adam?'

‘Sorry,' I say. ‘I'm a little churned up.'

‘Have I caught you at a bad time?'

‘Things are a bit tense,' I say. ‘Xander won't stop doing The Time Warp, and we're going to The Escarpment to scatter my grandfather's ashes.'

‘When?'

‘At noon.'

‘Can I be there for you?'

It never occurred to me that Sam might want to come to such an intimate family gathering.

‘I'm not sure,' I say.

But Sam genuinely wants to be there. And since my parents are worried that I'm keeping Sam away from them, I figure that maybe it's not such a bad idea to involve her. I tell Sam that I'll check with my family then ring her back. I also ask if she has any black tights to wear. She says she does. Bliss!

‘And I'll try not to be too serious,' she adds.

‘You're allowed to be,' I say.