21
‘Y OU’RE a vision.’ I sink down beside her on her beach towel. ‘Tommy, I left my stuff at Miller, can you please run and grab it for me? My striped towel and black dress? They’re just at the bottom of the dune.’
‘I’m not your slave.’ He flicks sand over his shoulder.
‘I’ll give you ten bucks,’ I say, and he’s off like a shot, racing around the point.
‘You look like a Roman goddess,’ says Mum, ‘but one of the tragic ones. What’s wrong? Have you been crying?’ She strokes my cheek, her eyebrows sinking together.
‘I just had a fight with Dad’s shithead tradie and your shithead son.’
I tell her about seeing the surfer’s nose splattered all over his face, about Matty nearly drowning on a monster wave, the fight, about Paul speaking to me like a toddler.
Mum lets me speak without interrupting, which must be causing her physical discomfort.
‘And that’s my suck-hole life,’ I finish.
‘You like him.’ It’s not a question.
‘Seriously, Mother, that’s all you took from that whole thing?’
‘It’s pretty obvious, Cat.’
‘It is not!’ I bury my toes into the sand.
‘What’s not?’
‘This isn’t a TV show, Mum,’ I say. ‘My problems aren’t going to be all sorted within thirty minutes.
And anyway, he doesn’t like me like that.
We’ve talked about it. We’re mates. That’s it.
And even if I did. Which I categorically don’t, even if he’s not completely the airhead deadshit I thought he was.
’ I’m rambling and shake my head as if that will help me clear my thoughts.
‘Anyway, he’s a grown man nearly twice my age.
Would you and Dad really be that comfortable with him being Dad’s minion and my boyfriend? ’
‘Didn’t he say he’s not yet 21? You’re 18 next month. You’re not that bad at maths, Cat. Anyway, you just said you’re friends. You’re not planning on marrying the guy any time soon, are you?’
‘Funny.’ I’m borderline spluttering. ‘Did you miss the part where I said he doesn’t like me like that?’
‘Cat, he likes you, that’s a given. He wouldn’t have driven you around the countryside for four hours to pick up your books if he didn’t. He wasn’t doing that as a favour.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe.’ I flip over onto my front and bury my face in my crossed arms. ‘But that was before I called him a fuckwit.’
‘So, apologise when you see him next, no big deal.’
‘You didn’t see his face.’ A hot flush of shame crosses me. ‘Maybe I went a little overboard.’
‘I know you love your brothers, it’s beautiful that you’re such a good sister but it’s not your job to mother your brothers; it’s mine. You’re 17-turning-18. It’s your job to have a wonderful summer with a super-hot surfer boy.’
‘Mum!’ I jerk my head up and stare daggers at her.
‘What? I might be ancient, but I’m not dead. He is gorgeous with a capital G. Those shoulders...’ She pretends to fan herself down.
‘Yeah, well, as fun as this conversation is, it’s all pretty much theoretical now anyway.’
‘Oh, Cat, the way he looks at you? Your little beach tantrum won’t put him off. But what do you want? You’re the one in control here. Do you want more than friendship with this kid?’
‘I don’t know. I mean, clearly, he’s a walking god.
He’s more than that though, Mum. He’s smart, he’s funny.
He’s sweet. He can use chopsticks. He freakin’ quoted Shakespeare at me!
’ Mum raises an eyebrow. ‘If my friends were here, they’d be telling me to go for it.
But doesn’t that make me shallow and unfocused? ’
‘I know you don’t want to hear this from me, but two things, Cat. Number one – it’s perfectly okay for you to fall in love. Some might say mandatory, in fact, and number two, it’s okay to fall in love and be sexually active. As long as you’re smart.’ She gives me a pointed look.
‘Mum! That’s not what I’m talking about at all! Why do you have to turn everything into a sex-fest?’
‘Curiosity about sex is natural at your age,’ says Mum. ‘Add in someone like Paul? Curious wouldn’t even come close.’
I shake my head and hide my face in my hands, wishing the tide would come and wash me away. I want to hide my entire body.
‘If sex is something you feel ready to experience, and you have a partner who is respectful, kind, and you trust, then sex can be wonderful. Transformational even. But honestly, at your age it can also be awful, humiliating, and uncomfortable. I don’t want that for you.
If Paul’s the right guy, then make sure you are in the context of a consensual relationship and use protection, protection, protection.
Be crystal clear with each other about what you want, and what you don’t. ’
‘Please stop talking, Mum. I’ll join a convent if you keep talking. I’m not sexually active. We’ve barely even been orally active.’ The humiliation of Paul pulling away from that incredible kiss at the Gap lookout stabs me right in my chest.
‘What?’
‘Yeah, I knew that was coming out wrong even as I said it. Anyway, this is the most ridiculous conversation in the history of ridiculous conversations. I have so much more I need to think about. I can’t be distracted, not now. I’ve worked too hard. And anyway, I told you, we’re just friends.’
‘Stop overthinking everything, Cat.’
‘Weird. Paul said the same thing, about me thinking too much.’
‘He’s right. You’re giving me anxiety, and I’m the parent here, not you.
I order you to calm down before you give yourself and me ulcers.
Meanwhile, have a look at this creep.’ She juts her chin over my shoulder.
A toddler sits scooping sand in front of a man sprawled in the shade of a sun tent, openly ogling me while the kid fills a bucket.
‘You all right there?’ Mum shouts and eyeballs him until he looks away, but not before he metaphorically strips the meat from my bones.
I can’t put a name to this. I’m not uncomfortable, that’s not the right word, even though that’s what’s used in every freakin’ self-defense workshop we do at school, and I’m not really scared either.
What is it? Why does a sleaze like Creepy Dad over there make me wish I was invisible?
It’s like that bus driver we had, he’d be a stone statue for everyone except the Year Nine girls.
He was all happy and cheery for them, until a parent complained that he made their daughter feel uncomfortable.
There’s that word again. Good on her for sticking up for herself.
When I told Mum about it, she went off, and believe it or not was angry at me for not saying anything about it when it was my turn to be the focus of his attention.
Then she and Nonna had a massive fight because Nonna said it was a woman’s lot in life and to just look down and ignore it. Mum wasn’t on board with that, at all.
‘Thanks, Mum.’