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274 pages, Paperback
First published June 28, 2009
"Shame isn't a quiet grey cloud, shame is a drowning man who claws his way on top of you, scratching and tearing your skin, pushing you under the surface."
I wonder if that's true, if he'd still want me knowing who'd been there before him and what they did.
I think that the person who was raped should own the copyright on what happened to them.
I can't watch these shows. The way they treat it, as thought it was nothing, just a thing, a fact. Rape for entertainment value.
I rode the foam all the way in. Even now I can remember the magic of it : the sensation of movement, the way time slowed, and that one moment lasted forever. As I'd expected the feat had gone ignored, but it didn't matter. The gift was mine. I didn't need them any more. I had that.
It's a glitter skin day. The ocean is a vivid emerald colour and the wind ruffles the waves so that they shatter the sunlightt like glass. Seeing the glittering skin always tightens my thorat with joy. it's stupid, but that's how I feel: joyous.
"If I was a sheep, I’d be black."
"My father’s eyes can be the coldest place on earth."
‘You can’t just lay down and die'
"What did he say? You can't always pick your friends. Well, he's damn right there. I have two friends here: a fifteen year old who sees people in colors and a salsa-mad Dutch woman. I didn't pick them, they just turned up in my life, and I'm really glad."
We're still sitting there when my mobile starts ringing an hour later. I decide to leave it, thinking it must be Emilio.
'But Cookie, your phone is ringing.'
So I get up and run inside--leaving a phone ringing is the sort of thing that messes with Hannah's mind.
The phone dies as I pick it up and I check the menu for missed calls. It wasn't Emilio who called, it was Ryan.
I wait to see if the message icon comes up, but it doesn't.
What to do? Maybe my board's ready. Maybe he wants Hard Cut back. Maybe curiosity is killing me.
He answers on the first ring, which sort of jolts me.
'Ryan?'
'Carly, how're you going, mate? Mark's rung to say the boards are done.'
'Oh, okay. Thanks.'
There's a pause long enough to be filled in with static.
'Been getting out much?' he asks.
I clear my throat. 'Yeah, a bit.'
'Haven't seen you down there for awhile.'
'Um, I've been going different times. Because of work. Different shifts and stuff.'
'Yeah? What do you do?'
'I'm a chef. Sort of.'
'Like a cook?'
'Yep.'
'Right.'
Another long pause. The air feels heavy.
I make myself say it. 'I'm sorry for being rude to you the other day.'
'No biggie, mate.'
'And thanks for getting me a board to use.'
'How is it, all right?'
'Yeah. Bit harder to duck dive through, and turn.'
'Don't tell Mark that. He fancies himself a gun shaper.'
I laugh.
'So anyway, when you're ready to pick it up they're down in Harbord Road,' he says, sounding like he wants to wind this up. 'You know it? I've forgotten what number, but just drive along slow and you can't miss it.'
'I can find it.'
'Big Hard Cut sign out the front. I've told Mark if you try and give him money not to take it. He did it as a favour.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yeah, no worries. All right then, catch you later.'
I put the mobile down and rub my face. I feel like my stomach's dropping away. And that's that, then, I think, walking towards the deck. Before I get there my mobile rings again.
'So, it's me again--Ryan.' His voice is different this time, not as brisk.
'Hi.'
'So, ah, there's supposed to be a big swell building for the weekend, from the south. They reckon it's going to hit Sydney on Sunday. Biggest swell in twenty years or something. Hear about it?'
'Um, yeah.' Coastalwatch has been going on about nothing else all week, sounding like the voice of doom: If you want to live, do not venture out on Sunday.
'So I'll be down at the break, 'bout eight or so. They'll be towing in for sure. And probably off the Long Reef Bombie, too. Be worth a look if you're interested.'
He stops talking as though he's waiting for something. I'm quiet because I'm not sure if he means I should go with him. I'm not sure what he means at all.
'That's if you wanted to--ah shit, this is hard.' He blows out some air. 'I've been thinking about you, Carly. If you want to come down, come down. And if you don't want to come down, don't come down. It's up to you.'
'Okay.' I would like to ask for some clarification, but I don't have the guts.
'So--yeah. I'll leave it there. All right?'
'Okay.'
'Might see you Sunday.'
He hangs up before I can say okay again.
Hannah doesn't look up when I come back outside, and she doesn't ask me who called either. But when I'm sitting down, flexing my feet and pointing them, eyes shut and face raised up to the sun, she says, 'But you're happy, eh?'
I blink at her, surprised. She's right.
My happiness is crunchy. Snapping, crackling and popping in the sun.