concentrate on the present. It’s not difficult when you have the view I have.
‘So, Lucy,’ Sam says, ‘are things all sorted with James now?’ Nothing like a mention of your delightful boyfriend to bring you back to your senses. Nathan looks over at me but doesn’t say anything.
‘Um, I’m not entirely sure, to be honest.’
Molly turns to Nathan. ‘Lucy had a bit of a rough journey over here. You don’t mind me telling him, do you, Lucy?’ I shake my head, and that recurring–if now much duller–feeling of nervousness wafts through me as she starts to tell a short version of my story. I try to laugh it off when she gets to the part about the air hostesses, but Nathan just listens and nods, taking it all in. His quietness unsettles me.
‘On that jolly note, I think I’ll hit the sack,’ Sam says.
‘We can’t go to bed now–Lucy won’t be able to fall asleep with all that on her mind,’ Molly counters.
‘Don’t be silly; I’m fine!’ I insist.
Nathan smiles. ‘I don’t know about you, Luce, but I could do with another drink.’
So we stay seated, Nathan and I, while Sam and Molly head upstairs. I finish the last mouthful of wine and place my empty glass on the coffee table.
‘Right, what are we having next?’ Nathan jumps up to go to the kitchen. A second later he stage-whispers, ‘Oi! Come here!’ so I get up and join him. He’s peering in the fridge. Wine, beer, soft drinks. ‘I’m bored with beer,’ he says, slamming the fridge door. ‘Why don’t we crack open the vodka?’
I groan. ‘That is a bad idea.’
‘Why, what are your plans for tomorrow?’
I picture another day sprawled out on a sunlounger. What the hell, I decide. By then he’s already got a couple of glasses out. They chink together noisily and I tell him to ‘ Shh ’. I feel like we’re two teenagers sneaking into Mum and Dad’s booze cabinet.
We carry glasses, a carton of cranberry juice and the bottle of vodka through to the next room and settle ourselves back into our comfy armchairs.
‘Why didn’t your boyfriend come here with you?’ Nathan asks. I tell him about James’s promotion, and can’t help comparing the two of them in my mind. Lawyer, surfer. Two years older, two years younger. Job, no job. London, Sydney.
I realise I don’t like this game very much.
‘So what’s it like being back? Does it still feel like home?’
I answer yes, and feel depressed all of a sudden. In ten days I’ll be leaving again.
‘It doesn’t seem like nine years ago that you left,’ he muses. ‘Even though a lot has changed since then. You do look different, but still the same.’ He pauses. ‘I like your hair long.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile. ‘You look completely different. Are you really only twenty-three?’
He chuckles and climbs to his feet. ‘I think I need a smoke.’ He goes outside, leaving me still smiling. A minute later he calls to me, so I head out onto the porch with the vodka and cranberry to find that he’s forgone the wrought-iron chairs and is instead sitting on the stone paving, leaning up against the wood-panelled house.
‘What’s up?’ I ask.
He silently motions at the sky with his cigarette. Above our heads the Milky Way shines coolly like billions of flecks of silver glitter.
‘Wow.’ I look up in awe for a few moments. ‘Where’s the southern cross?’
‘I wouldn’t have the foggiest,’ he responds, ‘but there’s the saucepan over there…’
I laugh and go to sit down. He moves his ashtray to his other side to make room for me.
We sit there in silence for a minute, looking up at the sky. ‘I’d forgotten how bright the southern hemisphere stars are,’ I finally say.
‘They’re even brighter from Manly beach.’
‘Is that where you surf?’ He nods. I like the thought of him surfing.
‘I was there only this afternoon,’ I tell him.
‘Were you?’ He glances sideways at me in the darkness. ‘You might’ve seen me; I was out for a couple of
‘So, Lucy,’ Sam says, ‘are things all sorted with James now?’ Nothing like a mention of your delightful boyfriend to bring you back to your senses. Nathan looks over at me but doesn’t say anything.
‘Um, I’m not entirely sure, to be honest.’
Molly turns to Nathan. ‘Lucy had a bit of a rough journey over here. You don’t mind me telling him, do you, Lucy?’ I shake my head, and that recurring–if now much duller–feeling of nervousness wafts through me as she starts to tell a short version of my story. I try to laugh it off when she gets to the part about the air hostesses, but Nathan just listens and nods, taking it all in. His quietness unsettles me.
‘On that jolly note, I think I’ll hit the sack,’ Sam says.
‘We can’t go to bed now–Lucy won’t be able to fall asleep with all that on her mind,’ Molly counters.
‘Don’t be silly; I’m fine!’ I insist.
Nathan smiles. ‘I don’t know about you, Luce, but I could do with another drink.’
So we stay seated, Nathan and I, while Sam and Molly head upstairs. I finish the last mouthful of wine and place my empty glass on the coffee table.
‘Right, what are we having next?’ Nathan jumps up to go to the kitchen. A second later he stage-whispers, ‘Oi! Come here!’ so I get up and join him. He’s peering in the fridge. Wine, beer, soft drinks. ‘I’m bored with beer,’ he says, slamming the fridge door. ‘Why don’t we crack open the vodka?’
I groan. ‘That is a bad idea.’
‘Why, what are your plans for tomorrow?’
I picture another day sprawled out on a sunlounger. What the hell, I decide. By then he’s already got a couple of glasses out. They chink together noisily and I tell him to ‘ Shh ’. I feel like we’re two teenagers sneaking into Mum and Dad’s booze cabinet.
We carry glasses, a carton of cranberry juice and the bottle of vodka through to the next room and settle ourselves back into our comfy armchairs.
‘Why didn’t your boyfriend come here with you?’ Nathan asks. I tell him about James’s promotion, and can’t help comparing the two of them in my mind. Lawyer, surfer. Two years older, two years younger. Job, no job. London, Sydney.
I realise I don’t like this game very much.
‘So what’s it like being back? Does it still feel like home?’
I answer yes, and feel depressed all of a sudden. In ten days I’ll be leaving again.
‘It doesn’t seem like nine years ago that you left,’ he muses. ‘Even though a lot has changed since then. You do look different, but still the same.’ He pauses. ‘I like your hair long.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile. ‘You look completely different. Are you really only twenty-three?’
He chuckles and climbs to his feet. ‘I think I need a smoke.’ He goes outside, leaving me still smiling. A minute later he calls to me, so I head out onto the porch with the vodka and cranberry to find that he’s forgone the wrought-iron chairs and is instead sitting on the stone paving, leaning up against the wood-panelled house.
‘What’s up?’ I ask.
He silently motions at the sky with his cigarette. Above our heads the Milky Way shines coolly like billions of flecks of silver glitter.
‘Wow.’ I look up in awe for a few moments. ‘Where’s the southern cross?’
‘I wouldn’t have the foggiest,’ he responds, ‘but there’s the saucepan over there…’
I laugh and go to sit down. He moves his ashtray to his other side to make room for me.
We sit there in silence for a minute, looking up at the sky. ‘I’d forgotten how bright the southern hemisphere stars are,’ I finally say.
‘They’re even brighter from Manly beach.’
‘Is that where you surf?’ He nods. I like the thought of him surfing.
‘I was there only this afternoon,’ I tell him.
‘Were you?’ He glances sideways at me in the darkness. ‘You might’ve seen me; I was out for a couple of
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