The Edge of Everything

21

‘THE FIRST THING you have to realise about Passiona,’ I tell Ben as I pull two ice-cold cans of the drink from the fridge at the Franklin chicken shop, ‘is it’s not just about the delicious flavour. It’s about how it sings in your mouth in combination with the salty deliciousness of fried chips—it’s the ephemeral magic of summer.’

Ben picks up our paper-wrapped order from the counter and we exit together through the shop’s plastic strips into a storm-threatening afternoon.

‘Okay, how did you just make me feel big feelings about a fruit?’ he asks as we walk towards the picnic table on the tiny scrap of browning grass that Franklin Council calls City Park.

‘It’s a gift,’ I say.

‘Clearly. Also, I’m seeing now that this is less of a fruit education and more of a passionfruit education.’

‘It’s the only fruit. Trust me. I’ve done the research.’

Ben laughs, a warm, bright sound. ‘Oh, I do trust you. You basically have a PhD in passionfruit.’

‘Correct,’ I say. ‘And I’m saving the best until last. Cold Rock passionfruit smash.’

We try to avoid splinters and bird shit as we slide onto the wooden bench seat at a table, rip into the parcel of chips and click our cans of drink open. I’m in a short denim skirt and our legs are almost touching. I can feel the heat from Ben’s skin. He’s wearing shorts and his Basketball South Africa T-shirt again, which has a yellow stain from the real passionfruit we ate in his ute when we parked. His hands were shaking a tiny bit when he lifted the teaspoon I’d brought from home to his lips. He’s not the only nervous one. I feel like I’m made from a million tiny shooting stars. But there’s also a lightness between us, an easiness, like we’ve known each other for much longer than a few weeks.

‘Okay, this is a delicious combo,’ says Ben, words muffled through a mouthful of steaming potato and cold Passiona. He takes big gulps of the drink, like he can’t get enough. ‘Life-changingly good.’

‘Told you.’ I sip, swallow and smile. ‘Ahhh. Nectar of the gods.’

Thunder rumbles nearby.

‘Did you know cats can’t taste sugar?’ he asks in what might be the most random, goofy-cute way ever.

‘I did not know that,’ I say, laughing. ‘Sucks to be a cat.’

‘Totally. Hey, look,’ Ben says, pointing with a chip to a patch of dirt on the ground about a metre away, on the other side of the table. ‘Fox prints.’

I can make out the faint paw prints leading away from us. ‘Are you serious?’ I say, laughing in a mixture of disbelief and pure joy. I know foxes are technically pests, but that’s not their fault so I still love them. ‘How did you just make Franklin City Park, the most depressing patch of nature on the planet, a place of wonder?’

Ben smiles. ‘It’s a gift.’

‘Clearly , ’ I say.

I keep eating, but after a few seconds I notice Ben’s playing with a chip, pulling it apart with his fingers. I glance at him and he seems nervous, but not the are-we-going-to-kiss kind of nervous. More like he’s got something to say.

‘What?’ I ask warily, as the first fat drop of rain lands on my hand. I ignore it. ‘What’s your face doing right now?’

Ben looks uncomfortable. Crap. I was right. There is something.

‘Uh,’ he says, putting his chip remnants down and wiping his hands on his shorts. ‘So, I kind of have a confession to make. Like, way too late.’

All the air leaves me. This can’t be good. I lean back a little, trying not to sound anxious. ‘Okay.’

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before the words finally tumble out. ‘I, ah. I know about the flashing.’

I blink at him. My heart has stopped. I can already feel my cheeks blossoming red. ‘You what ?’

Ben wrinkles his nose like an apology. ‘My dad told me about it the day he banned you. I just…I didn’t know if I should tell you I knew. But I also didn’t want you to find out I knew and didn’t tell you. Know what I mean?’

‘Sure,’ is all I can manage to say, but I must look horrified because Ben reaches out and puts a hand on my forearm.

Two more raindrops fall, in the chips this time.

‘Hey,’ Ben says, all serious. ‘Just to be clear: no judgment.’

My eyes widen, a mild panic shooting through me. ‘No judgment? That’s what they said to the girl at our school who joined some of the guys for a nudie run after we won the footy final! But they did judge, Ben. They judged so hard she was shamed into friendlessness!’

I can see he’s trying not to laugh, but I’m not finding the humour in this situation. ‘No, it’s true!’ Ben says, then tilts his head slightly. ‘I mean, okay, I don’t love the fact that my dad’s seen more of your body than I have.’

I slap my hand to my face as lightning forks overhead and thunder cracks. ‘Okay, it was stupid. And we were drunk. We were doing a life bomb and—’

Ben grabs my wrist, cutting me off. ‘Any guy who judges a girl for doing whatever she feels like with her body is either controlling or some purity-seeking creep. And actually? I think it’s kind of hot.’

I peek through my fingers to see he looks embarrassed, like those words slipped out involuntarily, which makes me feel slightly better. Ben’s still holding my wrist with one hand and I don’t want him to let go, but then a cloud above us breaks, and thick raindrops fall on our skin, hair, face, lips.

We both jump up, gathering our food and drinks, and run through the park towards his ute just as it really starts pouring. We race across the road, dodging cars, and reach the ute at the moment of another thunder crack. We clamber in, slam the doors shut, and crack up laughing in the small, steamy space.

Ben and I look at each other, and the next second his hand is on my cheek and we’ve both leaned in and we’re kissing, urgently, surrounded by the smells of summer rain and skin and salty chips and Passiona.

This is happening. I’m alive.

Ben leans in closer, his hand moving to the back of my head, fingers entwined in my hair, his tongue slipping inside my mouth so velvety and warm. I feel like I could conduct my own electricity, control the weather, sprout wings and fly. I let out a barely there moan and I’m melting further into him, feeling a pulsing glow between my legs.

Suddenly there’s a sound of knuckles rapping on the bonnet. We pull apart to see a woman standing under the shelter of a shopfront with two little kids. The kids are gawking at us and she’s frowning in a disapproving way. Somehow we’d completely forgotten we were parked in the middle of Franklin’s main street.

I groan and stare down at my lap. Ben raises his hand to the woman like an apology.

Finally the disapproving mother moves on, and Ben sits back in his seat.

‘Okay. Wow.’ He’s breathless.

My lips are tingling. I glance at him, willing my cheeks to cool down. ‘Yeah.’ I shove my can of Passiona in the cupholder opposite Ben’s and shift the still-warm parcel of chips to the dashboard.

‘So, ah,’ Ben says, rubbing a hand across his raindrop-splashed T-shirt. ‘No offence to passionfruit. But I don’t really feel like Cold Rock ice cream anymore.’

I laugh. ‘Me neither.’

He hesitates before speaking again. ‘Want to…want to go for a drive somewhere?’

I chew my cheek for a second. ‘Okay.’

We grin shyly at each other, but then Ben groans. ‘Okay. Just, ah. Just give me a minute or I might crash.’

‘Okay,’ I say again, because it might be the only word I know now. I try not to watch as he subtly shifts his shorts around.

‘Hey,’ he says after a second of slightly awkward silence. ‘What’s a life bomb anyway?’ He sounds curious and kind of amused. ‘And how scared should I be of you? Because I feel like Jacinta’s the type to know her way around an explosive.’

I let out a little self-conscious laugh. I wish I hadn’t mentioned doing a life bomb. ‘Oh, ah. Nothing. It’s kind of dumb.’

‘Come on,’ Ben says, nudging me with his elbow. ‘I love dumb stuff. I am a huge fan of dumb stuff.’

I push a wet strand of hair out of my face. ‘Okay. So…’ I tell Ben about Bella Darling and her theory, about how a life bomb is meant to make you feel. The rain continues to hammer down, and the windscreen and the windows fog up.

‘It’s just like…’ I hesitate, wondering how much I should say. Ben probably already thinks I’m weird. But, then, he understood the dingo thing. And he’s listening pretty intently. And I’m getting kind of tired of holding so much in.

‘Sometimes I need something to pull me out of…out of some of the thoughts I have. About my brother and, like, everything, I guess. Something to distract me when it’s too much to contemplate, you know? Like the flashing. Or…or like this.’ I tuck my hair back behind my right ear to show him the feather helix piercing, careful not to bump it because it’s still sore. ‘It’s a feather,’ I say, somewhat redundantly. ‘For Ninja.’

Ben stares at my earring for a long moment before speaking. Then he opens his mouth again and hesitates. I wonder if he’ll tell me I’m way too attached to her, even though she’s apparently doing heaps better than she was. She’s even put on three grams, which sounds like nothing but is kind of a lot for a sixty-gram fluff of feathers. Then I think Ben’s going to ask what kind of thoughts I mean, and I mentally kick myself—I don’t know how to explain the black hole, or the aching, longing, wanting. But he doesn’t.

‘That’s really cute,’ is all he says, about the earring instead. He sounds a little odd, though, and I can’t read his expression.

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I got it on New Year’s Eve. Just randomly. A distraction, like I said. Just for fun, kind of. It made me feel better for a bit.’ I know I’m rambling, so I shut up.

‘Right. Just for fun.’ Ben’s frowning slightly.

‘Um, yeah,’ I say, even though that’s not exactly it. I’m really self-conscious now and I’m kind of freaking out that I’ve said too much. I wipe some drops of water from my forearm. ‘Anyway. It’s all kind of stupid. Maybe forget I told you about it.’

‘No,’ Ben says, shaking his head. ‘No. I get it. Trust me. I do.’ He pauses then, like he’s unsure if he should go on. ‘But I’m just wondering though…like…what about me?’

It’s my turn to frown in the silence that follows. ‘What do you mean?’

He tips his head to the side with a slight smile. ‘Like…am I a life bomb?’ He puts the last two words in finger air quotes. I can’t decide if he’s joking around or not.

‘Um.’ I think about the way he grounded me at the sanctuary. How even just the idea of Ben makes me feel better, just the thought of kissing him, and actually kissing him, and I decide to tell him the truth. ‘Honestly, yeah.’

Ben laughs and slumps back in the driver’s seat. There’s an expression on his face like he’s been slapped. ‘Okay. Cool.’

And all of a sudden, I understand how this sounds. ‘Wait. That’s not—’

But he cuts me off. ‘All good. I get it. A distraction. Just for fun. To make you feel better for a bit.’ He turns to stare out the window. The rain is easing up. ‘I’m glad you told me. That’s good to know, like, now. Before—whatever.’

‘No.’ I shake my head, slightly dizzy from this U-turn in the conversation. ‘That totally came out wrong.’ Before what?

‘Sure it did.’ He runs a hand through his hair, gripping the ends of it in a tight fist. A muscle in his jaw leaps from him clenching it. He whispers the word ‘stupid’ in a harsh tone, but I know it’s directed at himself, not me.

I try to catch his eye again. ‘Ben, that’s really not what I meant.’

I go to say more but I’m not sure how to explain it. I’d meant it as a compliment, but it’s complicated. Because he does distract me, make me feel better, but not like the other things. And that’s not bad anyway, is it? I just want to feel okay again. My eyes start stinging and I couldn’t talk now even if I wanted to because if I do, I might cry. Please, Lucy. Don’t. The car is getting stuffier and I feel a little sick.

Then I remember that I’ve never been good at making new friends, or whatever this is, and I’ve probably made a mistake letting myself think I wouldn’t stuff it up. That it would be easy.

Ben is silent. I try to find some words, any words, but when he finally turns to meet my gaze his expression is closed off. ‘You know, you could have killed my dad that night,’ he says in a tone I haven’t heard before. ‘I would have been an orphan. Would that have been a bit of fun ? Made you feel better ?’

I blink at him, shocked. It’s like a dog I thought was friendly just bared its teeth at me.

‘What?’ I say. Because, I mean, he’s not wrong. I just can’t believe he’s said it. ‘Of course that wouldn’t have made me feel better !’

Ben’s jaw works as he glares at me. Finally, it softens slightly. ‘Shit.’ He groans and rubs his face, then lets his hand fall in his lap. Stares at it for a bit before speaking again. ‘You know…I think…I think this was a bad idea.’

His words twist deep inside me. How did this all go wrong so quickly? And I want to make it better but at the same time something hardens in my chest, stopping me. I’m sorry. I can’t.

I cross my arms to shield my heart. ‘A bad idea ?’ I’m trying to sound offended, but my sugar and salt-slicked throat is gluey from almost-tears and I just sound hurt.

Something in Ben’s features catches then, and his eyes flick to the handbrake before he looks up, distant once more. ‘I dunno. Maybe. Yeah.’ He runs a hand through his hair again. ‘I should drive you home.’

I feel physically wounded and my eyes prickle again, but mostly I’m angry now. Because he’s being unfair. I glance outside to see the rain has stopped and suddenly the car is too hot and wet and claustrophobic. I want to run. I want to run so fast I break the sound barrier and escape my own skin. I reach for the door handle.

‘It’s fine,’ I say, desperately trying to keep my voice steady. ‘I’ll catch the bus.’

As I begin opening the ute door Ben sighs but he doesn’t say wait or I’ll drive you or Ninja wouldn’t want us to fight. He doesn’t say anything, so I swing the door fully open, step out, close it behind me and start walking towards the bus stop.

I’m stuffed up the back corner of the first bus that came along, leaning against the vibrating glass window. I didn’t look where it was going; I just needed to get away from there. Across the aisle and two up, an older woman with green Woolworths bags of groceries glances at me. But I can’t tell if she’s worried about me or wary of me.

I steady myself, wipe my face and pull out my phone. Jacinta picks up after four rings.

‘Are you working right now?’ I ask.

‘I’m on a break. It’s been torture. This old dude had a thing about the way I was packing his vegetab—Oh, I almost forgot! How was your more-than-friends thing with Zoo Boy?’

I take a shuddering breath. ‘Not good. Bad. He found out about the flashing. We had a fight.’

Jacinta gasps. ‘ Seriously ? That misogynist pri —’

‘No. It wasn’t like that. We just…’ But I can’t find the words to explain. ‘Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it.’ I press the phone closer to my ear. ‘I need a life bomb. Ditch the rest of your shift and come do something with me?’

Jacinta hesitates. ‘Like what?’

I let out an impatient noise, louder than I mean to. ‘I don’t know. Anything. Graffiti a train. BASE jump. Whatever. Just’—I look around to see where I am, but I don’t recognise the tree-lined streets—‘can you come pick me up if I send you a location?’ The older woman is looking at me again and this time her expression is definitely wary. I fold myself a little tighter. Jacinta’s end of the line is silent. ‘Hello?’

‘Yeah, the thing is L.’ I hear her sigh. ‘I’m really over life bombs.’

I frown at the seat in front of me. ‘You’re over them?’ I ask. ‘Since when?’

‘Since a while.’ Jacinta hesitates again, and I think I hear the slight screech of a closing IGA staffroom locker. ‘I mean, honestly…the stealing? The whole pressuring me to get a tattoo? That was kinda messed up. Really messed up, actually. I think you’re just…you’re taking them too far.’

I go to protest, to say we were just having some fun, but then I feel a mix of shame and defensiveness. What happened to friends helping friends on shitty days? ‘Well, you’re the one who came up with the flashing,’ I say. ‘ You started us doing them.’

‘Yeah, I know. But you’re the one who’s totally obsessed with them,’ Jacinta says. ‘I mean, you just asked me to ditch the rest of my shift for one! Like, did you think for a second why I work so much? That my family lost an entire income when my dad got sick?’

A moment passes in which I realise, no, I didn’t ever think about that.

‘And it’s not just the life bombs,’ Jacinta continues. ‘Sometimes you’re just not there .’

I can tell she’s been holding all this back for a while.

‘Like, I was trying to talk to you about some stuff on New Year’s Eve. But you were on another planet.’

I pause, casting my mind back to the restaurant when things felt weird between us. Her saying something about her TAFE course. I can’t remember what it was, which makes me feel guilty and more defensive. ‘Okay, well, you didn’t say anything. We had the whole night at the sanctuary since then and you seemed fine.’

Jacinta sighs and I picture her cracked, sticker-covered phone fogging up. ‘Well, it’s kind of hard to tell someone they’re being a crap friend five seconds after they tell you their brother died. Or when you realise that’s actually why they’re being a crap friend.’

Okay. Ouch. Her words echo inside me, painful but also kind of satisfying. Because something’s clicked. I finally get Lockie. Why he pushed me away after Charlie. He understood something it took Ben and Jacinta way longer to understand. Something Rach still doesn’t. It sucks being close to a grieving girl.

In the silence between Jacinta and me, the bus keeps rumbling along.

‘Look,’ Jacinta says finally. ‘I know it’s not your fault. I’m sorry. But my break’s over, okay? I have to go.’

‘Right. Okay,’ I manage to mutter, and before I can add anything else or ask if I’ll speak to her later, she hangs up.

I press my forehead against the glass, but the heat and vibration only shakes me up further. I pull away and squeeze my eyes shut, tight.

I hit the bell and jump off the bus at some random corner shops. It’s late afternoon now and the sun is starting to sink towards the horizon. I look around. There’s a closed Vietnamese bakery and a laundromat. A discarded supermarket trolley and a boarded-up window. I pull up maps on my phone and see that I’m a million miles from home. I have no idea where I am and I’m too drained to start figuring out the no-doubt multiple buses it’s going to take me to get back. I could call Mum, but the thought of her seeing me tear-streaked and stuck in the middle of nowhere when she’s such a mess herself is too much to bear.

A car passes in front of me, a blur of blue, then it’s gone. I think I’ll live here, stay like this forever, standing here by the laundromat until it eventually closes down because a robot has invented odour-proof clothing and everyone’s jobs have been replaced by AI. Until I forget what it feels like to care about anyone.

I sit down on a wooden bench and stare at nothing until an idea finally occurs to me. The more I think about it, the more obvious it seems. Finally I pull out my phone, open my DMs, and start messaging.

Lockie’s car pulls up at the bus stop. I clench my hands a few times to stop them shaking, then open the door and slip into the passenger seat. Immediately I’m hit by the smell of aftershave and what I think is surfboard wax: sickly, fake coconut. Thankfully it took Lockie twenty minutes to get here after I messaged him, telling him I’d fallen asleep on the wrong bus and needed a lift home, so my eyes have had enough time to de-puff. I take in his blue board shorts, white singlet, tanned arms. I try not to think about the last time I was in his car.

‘So,’ he says with a smile, ‘Did you actually want to see me? Or am I just a last-resort cab service?’

I force a laugh. I’m determined to be happy and carefree right now, like I used to be. Because that’s what he wants. That’s why he wants me again. I’d said too much to Ben, been too honest hoping he would understand, but maybe Lockie is the person who can drag me out of this. Maybe this time the placebo will work.

‘I swear I was going to write back to you,’ I say. ‘The fact that my reply happened to coincide with being stranded in the suburban wilderness just really worked out for me.’

He laughs as he pulls away from the kerb. ‘That really didn’t answer my question, but I’ll take it. My cab meter’s broken anyway.’

A moment of silence as we both register the situation. We’re alone together, after so long. Lockie flicks on the aircon. Then the radio. Tips his head back and drinks from his bottle of blue Gatorade.

I don’t need to tell him the way to my house. As we drive, I listen to him talk about all things surf and off-season footy and the economics degree he’s starting in February. I don’t have much to add so I nod and smile. It quickly becomes clear we’re never going to talk about Charlie or what happened with us. We’re going to pretend everything is normal and we are fine fine fine. Which is perfect.

‘So, I have to help Dad with some house stuff this arvo,’ Lockie says. ‘But there’s a party tonight. I could come back and pick you up?’

I ignore the memory of the last time he invited me to a party and try to channel the girl Lockie wants me to be. I think about the way the act of smiling can make you feel happier. I want to grin so hard my face breaks open with the effort.

‘Yeah! For sure. Sounds good,’ I say.

‘Cool.’ Out the corner of my eye I see him smile too.

Then Lockie starts recounting his Battle of the Bands performance I missed, pausing for my snarky mockery, and ten minutes later we turn into my street. He stops a few houses before mine. I pretend not to notice, not to understand why.

‘So,’ Lockie says. ‘It’s, ah, it’s really cool we can hang out again.’

I hesitate, wanting to remind him that it wasn’t me who couldn’t hang out. He was the one that blew everything up between us. But I guess he did sort of apologise for that in his message yesterday.

I decide to let it go. ‘Yeah,’ I say.

There’s a moment where we’re sort of staring at each other, a year’s worth of tension humming in the air and the vibrations from the idling engine buzzing through me. Then, suddenly, Lockie leans over like he’s about to hug me or kiss me and two things happen at once: I lean back, my body instinctively pulling away from something I could have sworn I wanted, and my phone buzzes in my lap.

‘Sorry,’ I mumble awkwardly as Lockie tries to hide the confused, hurt expression on his face. ‘Sorry. My phone. Let me just…’

Heart galloping I quickly look down at the screen, forcing myself to follow through with my excuse for pulling away, and see it’s a message from Rach. I don’t really want to read it right now but I can’t handle looking back up at Lockie either, so I slide it open.

Okay. I get it. You don’t want to talk to me anymore for some stupid reason. I insulted the crown by forgetting to bow down to you or I’ve had something in my teeth for an entire year you’re too awkward to tell me about or you heard a rumour I was actually four cats in a school dress. Whatever. Would have been good if you could just speak to me straight instead of being a complete bitch about it. Like I know you can be distant with the others but I never EVER thought you’d be like that with me. But I guess that’s just who you are. So I’m done. The Cloud Formation Loving Girlies Club is officially disbanded.

‘Ah, Lucy?’ Lockie says, sounding kind of pissed off.

‘Sorry,’ I say, trying to stop my lip from quivering. ‘One sec.’

I read Rach’s words three times over. The message cuts deep, because I realise then that I didn’t think Rach would totally give up on me. I thought I’d find the words to fix things before I completely destroyed our friendship. I thought she felt too bad for me to actually get mad at me. But, also, a tiny part of me wants to smile. Because this candidness, this sense of humour—it’s her . It’s us. We still exist somehow. Except now I’ve lost us at the same time I finally got a glimpse of us back.

‘ Lucy ,’ Lockie says, louder this time.

I snap out of it. I have to acknowledge Lockie and what just happened, but even though I lift my eyes from my phone I still can’t look at him. While I desperately try to figure out what to say, my eyes fix on Lockie’s car key. And that’s when I see it. The black perspex keyring Charlie made for him in year nine design and technology after they destroyed reigning champs Baker College in an incredible footy final. It’s engraved with the year, his jersey number and the number of goals he kicked. Lockie made one for Charlie, too. I mocked them both for doing something so egotistic, but I actually thought it was pretty cute. Charlie’s keyring was in his bedroom drawer when I went looking for his phone. And—obviously—that’s got to be his security code, right?

I finally look back up at Lockie, at the guy who wants and needs me to be over Charlie because he can’t talk about difficult stuff, who wants me to be okay and happy so he can be okay and happy. Lockie needs me to be a time machine, too. But I’m not. I’m not okay right now and ignoring that fact and hooking up with him isn’t going to take us back or make anything better. And, just like that, the piece of my heart I’d let him keep for so long releases.

‘Um, I’ve got to go,’ I say. ‘And I can’t go to the party tonight.’

Lockie frowns at me. ‘What the hell? Seriously? Why?’

‘I’m sorry. I just can’t,’ I say, wincing. I know I’m sort of doing to him what he did to me but I really don’t have the words or the energy to explain. ‘Thanks heaps for the lift though. I’m sorry. Bye.’

Then I open the car door without looking at him, slide out and shut it behind me.