to be seen, and the Kidds don’t even look at me as they pass, so bleak is their mood. I want to chase after them, but I suddenly feel exhausted. My eyes are sluggish, as if I’m trying to open them under water. I should go home.
I look back into the graveyard. The headstones and obelisks and crypts make an irregular city skyline in miniature. An empty city for the dead, with me the only living person in it. I’m sick of being on my own.
The very act of pulling my phone out of my pocket makes my heart pump so hard I’m surprised Gram’s lighter doesn’t jump off my chest. My fingers call up her number easily. I’ve had enough practice.
I let my finger hover above the green call button. This is usually where I chicken out. My finger drops.
The phone rings for a long time with no answer. I’m about to hang up when voicemail clicks on, and the sound of Wildgirl’s recorded voice fills my ear.
8
I wake up with a sandpit
mouth, in the wedge of sunlight piercing my bedroom window. My skin is hot and baked dry. A book slides off my chest and onto the bed. Urgh. I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
‘Mum?’ I yell out, but I know it’s futile. She’ll be out on a regular job, cleaning an office building. She gets paid good rates on a weekend.
There are two missed calls and two voicemails on my phone. The first call is from Helen and the other is from an unknown number.
‘Nia, darling, just letting you know I’ve rejigged the rosters so you’re only working Saturdays. School starts thisweek, doesn’t it? I’ve given you the longest shift I can. You can pick up some extra hours in the holidays, okay? And don’t forget Shopping Night. Look sharp. You’re an asset to the business , honey.’
I smile at those last very unHelenlike words. That’s one less thing I have to worry about. I’m filled with an unexpected whooshy, sunshine feeling, until the next message starts. The voice is so quiet I have to bring the phone close to my ear.
‘Nia…this is Jethro. Please don’t hang up. Hear me out…’
There’s no danger that I’ll hang up. I’m so busy listening to the low rumble of his voice and picturing his blue, blue eyes, that I don’t really listen to what he’s saying. He talks to the end of the message, cut off by the beep midsentence.
Hating myself already, I hit repeat. The whooshy sunshine feeling turns feral. I don’t know whether to be pleased or mad.
‘…hear me out. I know it’s been a long time. There’s a lot to tell you. Lupe’s left Shyness, that’s one thing. It seems like the right time to call. I…I hope you’ve been well…I’m worried about Paul…’
Okay, make that mad. I choose to be mad. His voice is echoey and whistling, as if he’s calling from an open space.
‘…I have a gig on tomorrow night. I know it’s shortnotice, but you’ve never seen us play, and I really want to see you in person to tell you that—’
And this is where the line beeps and cuts him off. Message over.
My bedroom suddenly feels the size of a shoebox. I kick my doona to the floor. Who does he think he is? He ignores me for six months and thirteen days and then calls expecting me to come hear his stupid band? I want to call back and say exactly this. I’d scream except if you scream in the Commons, it’s inevitable someone will call the police.
I can’t stay here or I’ll go crazy.
Plexus teems with the usual Saturday crowds. Normally the influx of tourists annoys me, but today I don’t mind getting lost among people. I don’t want to spoil the last weekend before school starts with a bad mood. As if I’d call him.
I join the power walkers, sun junkies and pram pushers on the beachside path, where it juts into the sea. The sun still pelts down but the wind carries away its heat. I lean out over the sea wall. My arms get all goosebumpy with the wind’s kiss. Ahead of me is the unknowable ocean, stretching further than I can see.
Tomorrow I go back to school and
I look back into the graveyard. The headstones and obelisks and crypts make an irregular city skyline in miniature. An empty city for the dead, with me the only living person in it. I’m sick of being on my own.
The very act of pulling my phone out of my pocket makes my heart pump so hard I’m surprised Gram’s lighter doesn’t jump off my chest. My fingers call up her number easily. I’ve had enough practice.
I let my finger hover above the green call button. This is usually where I chicken out. My finger drops.
The phone rings for a long time with no answer. I’m about to hang up when voicemail clicks on, and the sound of Wildgirl’s recorded voice fills my ear.
8
I wake up with a sandpit
mouth, in the wedge of sunlight piercing my bedroom window. My skin is hot and baked dry. A book slides off my chest and onto the bed. Urgh. I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
‘Mum?’ I yell out, but I know it’s futile. She’ll be out on a regular job, cleaning an office building. She gets paid good rates on a weekend.
There are two missed calls and two voicemails on my phone. The first call is from Helen and the other is from an unknown number.
‘Nia, darling, just letting you know I’ve rejigged the rosters so you’re only working Saturdays. School starts thisweek, doesn’t it? I’ve given you the longest shift I can. You can pick up some extra hours in the holidays, okay? And don’t forget Shopping Night. Look sharp. You’re an asset to the business , honey.’
I smile at those last very unHelenlike words. That’s one less thing I have to worry about. I’m filled with an unexpected whooshy, sunshine feeling, until the next message starts. The voice is so quiet I have to bring the phone close to my ear.
‘Nia…this is Jethro. Please don’t hang up. Hear me out…’
There’s no danger that I’ll hang up. I’m so busy listening to the low rumble of his voice and picturing his blue, blue eyes, that I don’t really listen to what he’s saying. He talks to the end of the message, cut off by the beep midsentence.
Hating myself already, I hit repeat. The whooshy sunshine feeling turns feral. I don’t know whether to be pleased or mad.
‘…hear me out. I know it’s been a long time. There’s a lot to tell you. Lupe’s left Shyness, that’s one thing. It seems like the right time to call. I…I hope you’ve been well…I’m worried about Paul…’
Okay, make that mad. I choose to be mad. His voice is echoey and whistling, as if he’s calling from an open space.
‘…I have a gig on tomorrow night. I know it’s shortnotice, but you’ve never seen us play, and I really want to see you in person to tell you that—’
And this is where the line beeps and cuts him off. Message over.
My bedroom suddenly feels the size of a shoebox. I kick my doona to the floor. Who does he think he is? He ignores me for six months and thirteen days and then calls expecting me to come hear his stupid band? I want to call back and say exactly this. I’d scream except if you scream in the Commons, it’s inevitable someone will call the police.
I can’t stay here or I’ll go crazy.
Plexus teems with the usual Saturday crowds. Normally the influx of tourists annoys me, but today I don’t mind getting lost among people. I don’t want to spoil the last weekend before school starts with a bad mood. As if I’d call him.
I join the power walkers, sun junkies and pram pushers on the beachside path, where it juts into the sea. The sun still pelts down but the wind carries away its heat. I lean out over the sea wall. My arms get all goosebumpy with the wind’s kiss. Ahead of me is the unknowable ocean, stretching further than I can see.
Tomorrow I go back to school and
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