46
T HE ocean is cold to the point of painful.
I float on my back, staring up and through the blue of the sky.
There’s too much depth of colour; it hurts my eyes.
I deep dive to the bottom, kicking hard to grasp a handful of sand.
As I resurface, I let it trickle through my fingers until all that’s left is a layer of grit in the webs of my fingers.
How am I so naive? It’s no secret that Paul has the sexual history of a freakin’ rockstar, but even so, would he have actually been with Isabel freakin’ Dillon?
That morning that I saw her, shivering in the toilets, she said she’d had the best night of her life.
I didn’t believe her. I didn’t know what to make of what she was saying.
I didn’t want to know. She’d entered a territory that felt dangerous, that we were too young for, that there was too much we didn’t know.
I’d heard rumours of what happens at Gap parties when there’s only the Neanderthals left.
But Isabel had scratches all over her legs, she was shaking, hugging herself.
When I asked her if she was really okay, like really okay, she just yelled at me.
Did Paul know about Isabel on the beach that night with his friends? Oh my god, was he there?
I can’t even think about that. But what about Isabel knowing all about us at Rip Bay?
How could Paul be with me, kiss me goodnight at my house, tell me he loves me and then tell his mates the second after he took me home?
Paul my boyfriend, Paul who played with my hair, Paul who sat at our family dining table, who freakin’ drove my Nonna home.
My Paul. The hottest of the hot. The beautiful, walking surfer god.
King of the Neanderthals. I know these guys.
He’s just as much a misogynistic, lying, dipshit Neanderthal as the rest of them.
I let the waves push me towards the shore.
I lie down on my stomach where the water barely ripples as it meets the sand.
My body feels cold, but the sun is aggressive, its rays pulsing against my skin as if testing for pressure points.
I rest my head on my folded arms. Up and down the beach, families are settling their belongings, erecting sun protection tents, shaking out beach towels, issuing instructions to their children.
Above them at the lookout, the Neanderthals are gathered, looking out to the bombora where the surf is building.
Right in the middle is my Neanderthal. I roll over and stand.
I run to where the ocean is deep enough to dive and I throw myself through a wave, washing all the sand from my body.
As I leave the water, I pull the elastic off my wrist. A deep, red imprint remains where it sank into my skin.
I twist my hair into a top knot and secure it with two loops of the elastic.
I pull my dress over my head. The fabric clings to my body as I gather up my stuff and head for the stairs.
As I climb, Paul spots me, his face lighting up and showcasing his perfect, straight teeth.
I lift my hand, my middle finger extended. His smile drops.
I move past the lookout at the top of the stairs, my legs pumping with every intention of walking past them, avoiding eye contact, going straight home. Paul’s coming towards me through the lookout. I push past him, but he grabs my arm and halts my escape.
‘What’s wrong?’ he says. I shake my arm free.
‘So much for sacred.’ I push my finger into his breastbone, my voice low and quivering, my teeth clenched. ‘You repulse me.’
‘Trouble in paradise, Paulie?’ smirks Tom.
‘Oh, fuck off, Tom,’ I say.
He backs away, his hands up in mock surrender. ‘What have I done?’
‘Not just you. All of you. You’re all scum. And you?’ I turn to Paul. ‘You’re the worst. You’re just as vile as the rest of them. More so, because you pretend that you’re not. Or was that just so you could hook up with the Stuck-Up Bitch?’
‘What are you on about?’ Paul’s face is red, brows furrowed. He tries to take my arm and I back away.
‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Cat, I have no idea what you are talking about.’
‘Ask your fuckwit friends. They know everything, apparently.’ I turn and run through the lookout, down the track, taking the shortcut to the road.
Tears threaten to overflow. There are footsteps behind me, Paul’s calling my name, but I don’t stop running.
He catches me at the roadside, encasing me in his arms.
‘Babe, what’s wrong? What’s happened?’
I wriggle out of his hold and shove him away from me. ‘Last night? Being with me is sacred? So sacred that you tell your friends?’
‘Are you kidding? It was the best night of my life. It was sacred.’
‘I don’t think you actually know what sacred means, because if you did, every one of your Neanderthal friends and half of Batter’s Cove wouldn’t know about it.’
‘What?’
‘Cavey told Isabel about our “sacred” night, and she was so thrilled to tell me she knew all about it. How’d she know that exact word to use, Paul?’
‘Of course I told my best mate about us. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Are you telling me you haven’t told your friends?’
‘No, I haven’t. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.
And even if I did, they wouldn’t have spread it around and shared all the dirty details.
Your mates are pigs. And me? I’m the most ignorant fuckwit in the world for not realising sooner that you are too.
’ I push the tears away from my eyes, my hands in fists.
I’m yelling now and a family ushers their kids to the other side of the road.
‘It’s not even bad enough that everyone knows because you couldn’t wait to tell them about hooking up with the Stuck-Up Bitch.
What about the way you think it’s okay to treat women like meat, Isabel Dillon and God knows who else? ’
‘Cat, I’ve had nothing to do with Isabel since I don’t even know when.
I think I kissed her at a party one time, years ago, but that’s it.
Nothing happened. It meant absolutely nothing.
I know she’s hooked up with Cavey and maybe Tom but what they do has nothing to do with me.
’ His jaw is working, his teeth clenched.
‘The idea of it makes me want to vomit. I told you this, babe. There’s crap that I’d never want you to know about, not in a million years.
Because it’s from a lifetime ago, and because it’s not me. ’
‘A lifetime ago? Not last summer? Not even last year? Who even are you when I’m not around? It doesn’t matter because now I know. Every disgusting, misogynistic detail. Let me guess, Isabel asked for it, am I right?’
‘Cat, this is bullshit. I’m in love with you. You, Cat.’
‘You think I can even look at you, knowing what you’re a part of?’
‘I’m not part of anything,’
‘You really don’t get it, do you Paul?’ My heart is racing, and it feels like it’s going to snap my ribs with its force.
‘Okay, so what you’re saying is that you don’t treat people like human garbage, good for you.
But what about your mates? I see the way Cavey talks about girls.
He makes my skin crawl. You’re so obviously okay with that. ’
‘I’m not okay with it Cat, but what do you want me to do? He’s my best mate. He was the only one who was there after Pete.’ He tugs my wrist and I pull it behind my back like a child holding out. ‘Cat, please, none of that has anything to do with us.’
‘You think there’s an us? There is no us. There’s just me and there’s you, and a dirty hookup that all your friends know about.’
‘Cat, stop. Don’t say that. I’m sorry I told Cavey, I never in a million years thought it’d go past him, and I’m going to fucking kill him, but we can sort this out.’
‘I don’t even want to look at you. Go hang with your a-hole friends and leave me alone.’
I run and don’t look back. I run all the way home. My lungs are heaving out of my chest, my toes are bleeding, but I keep going until I get to the familiar balcony stairs, then I go into the shower, and I cry.