Ora's Gold Page 11

  ‘A dragon,’ I say quickly, and wonder where the dragon is now.

  He’s looking at me strangely, possibly like I’m some kind of psycho driving him home to kill him.

  ‘Can we not talk about this?’ I say.

  ‘Sure.’

  A full five seconds pass before I can’t bear it any longer.

  ‘It’s never happened before and I know it sounds really weird but it doesn’t mean that I’m weird. Just that weird things happen to me.’ I’m digging myself into a hole.

  He’s gone very quiet, like he’s slipping into some internal landscape. Minutes drag by. I need to think of something else to talk about, to shine the spotlight on him.

  ‘When I was in the cell at the SIF,’ I say, breaking the film of ice between us, ‘I thought about you. When I wasn’t worrying about your legs or your head, that is.’

  He smiles.

  ‘And I tried to guess things about you, like I was colouring in a picture. Because I had the outline and the feeling of you but none of the details or the facts.’

  I feel totally vulnerable telling him how much he’s been in my head. Living with Dione must have rubbed off on me; she’s not one for many words but when she does speak, it’s never small talk.

  ‘You want me to talk about myself?’ He is actually squirming. I can feel it.

  I nod, wanting to stare at him but keeping my eyes straight ahead.

  ‘Well, I’m not a big talker,’ he says, shifting slightly in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

  A happy little surge of realisation rushes through me…He is human after all!

  ‘I’ll have a go though,’ he says, sighing. ‘You already know about my sisters … Erm … I was born in Adelaide.’ He stops abruptly.

  ‘Did you have a happy childhood?’ I turn my head briefly and he’s looking at me like I’m asking too many questions.

  ‘I love knowing this stuff,’ I say, looking back at the road.

  He sighs again. ‘Mum did a good job of bringing us up on her own.’

  The silence is awkward, but I hold my tongue.

  ‘I was ten when Dad left. He was a bastard with a drinking problem. That was around the time I got serious about swimming.’ His words come out in a rush.

  I wish I could see his eyes properly. I can’t read what he’s feeling, but I can hear the emotion under the flatness of his voice. I’m about to ask another question, but he cuts me short.

  ‘That’s it.’ He shrugs.

  ‘What about girlfriends?’ I ask.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ He sounds really guarded now.

  ‘Well, how many have you had?’ I ask, surprising myself.

  ‘What kind of a question’s that?’

  ‘A blunt one?’ We look at each other briefly. He has a hunted look in his eyes. ‘Sorry, I’m just curious, that’s all.’ I smile, wanting to make light of it. ‘I’m trying to figure you out.’

  ‘You’re meant to ask me about music, films.’ He’s lightening up now. ‘Not about how many girls I’ve been with!’

  ‘Come on, you can tell me …’

  A flirty kind of silence falls between us. It’s true—I do want to know about the girls he’s been with. Why is that so wrong? Indignation starts brewing in my belly and I blurt out, ‘I’m bringing you back to my house. I’ve invited you into my bed, which I’m still in shock about, by the way, and you think it’s rude that I want to know more about you? You’re the first boy I’ve ever wanted to do this with and I’m meant to feel bad about asking personal questions?’

  ‘Hey,’ he says, as I pause to take a breath. ‘I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but I’ve never been grilled about my private life by someone I hardly know.’

  ‘And I’ve never shared my body with someone I hardly know!’ I say in a rush, raising my voice, calling my fear to the surface.

  There’s a horrible silence. The city lights shine into the car, making us both too visible. I drive faster, longing to get out the other side, into more darkness. But that means we’re getting closer to Dione’s. What have I done, inviting this stranger back to my house?

  ‘Would you like me to get out?’ Jake asks in his uncanny way, echoing my thoughts. ‘There’s a bus stop not far from here.’ He sounds far away, and maybe a little sad.

  ‘I don’t know, I …’ I open my mouth and close it again, pulling over to the kerb. I need to see his eyes. He puts his hand on the door, ready to get out. This is all wrong.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, touching his arm. ‘I just don’t know how to do this. I …’ The thought of going home on my own makes my insides feel dense. How can emptiness be so heavy?

  Jake leans over and kisses me lightly, fleetingly, on the lips. He draws back and looks at me. ‘You’re a swimmer, Ora. And a dancer. You know how to listen to your body. Sometimes thoughts just get in the way. So do words.’

  He opens the door and I feel my energy being sucked out with him.

  ‘Wait.’ I want to get our closeness back. How have I pushed him away? The glow and excitement from earlier have vanished. I can’t let him go. His foot is on the pavement.

  ‘Can we exchange numbers?’ I try to sound cooler than I feel. I know I should let him go but there’s this huge tidal wave of hollowness threatening to wash over me. The longer we stay talking, the longer I can keep it at bay.

  A smile brightens his face. ‘You know where to find me.’

  Both his feet are on the pavement now. I can hear the roar of the wave crashing towards me, rendering me mute.

  He leans in. ‘Come swimming soon.’ He closes the door gently.

  Everything is still and soundless. My eyes are dry. I see my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly but I don’t feel them. Something inside me has clicked off. Not thinking, not feeling, not seeing. I’ve fallen asleep, sitting up, with my eyes open.

  19

  Another invitation

  My senses return along with the early morning light. I straighten up and stretch, feeling stiff. On the way home, thoughts of the SIF briefly stop me from thinking about Jake. How dumb could I be—sitting there all night like a mad woman!

  I go back to thinking about Jake. I can’t get him out of my head.

  What if I’ve chased him away with my questions? Maybe he’s decided I’m not worth the hassle. What if he isn’t interested at all? This thought visits often, but I push it away.

  I replay our kisses and time in the tent and then start having these wild fantasies about him doing all sorts of things with me, to me, under me, over me … This guy has really gotten under my skin, literally.

  His advice was to trust my body, but it’s my mind that keeps concocting wild scenarios. And because I’ve been ‘listening’ to my body, I find myself swimming in full-on desire, filled with lust. But every now and then, sensible thoughts find their way in. I hardly know anything about him.

  Mostly though, my fantasies win.

  Never before have I pleasured myself with a particular person in mind. Usually I have some vague scenario going on, but always with someone unknown and faceless. Now, Jake is with me; in my touch, in my mind. As I caress my own body, his energy comes through. I wonder if I’ll be disappointed if we ever get it together in real life, and not just in my messed-up imaginings.

  I need to swim.

  How can he be so sure I’ll come and find him? What if I don’t? If I was a complete flake and stayed at home, would he get my number from Melissa, or my address from Tom? I don’t think I can wait to find out. I call Melissa but she doesn’t pick up.

  Part of me is furious that he’s so laid back. He’s acting like he knows I’ll come running. How can he be so sure? Maybe he’s got heaps of girlfriends and hasn’t given me a second thought. Maybe he’s just really full of himself.

  I have to find out, one way or the other.

  I spend the longest time getting ready for the beach. Thankfully, I only have two sets of bathers to choose between. It’s what to wear over them that’s the problem.<
br />
  The sky is grey and there’s a slight wind bringing an early autumn chill to the morning. In the end I decide on my favourite cotton pants, kind of combat style. They’re green and if you look closely are patterned like a spring meadow. My faded pink T-shirt, grey hoodie and sneakers finish the look. Strong and relaxed. When I see my reflection, I imagine Mum nodding her approval. I don’t want to look like I’m trying, even though I am.

  When I’m finally ready, I pack a basic lunch and my sketchbook. I’ve only done two sketches since the party, both of the dragon. One shows her flying, wings outstretched, gliding. The other is of her face. Her eyes are dark round wells that I lose myself in. They hold so much love and wisdom. I know dragons are mythological and are meant to be fierce and wild, but all I see is compassion.

  The bus is almost empty. There are a couple of kids at the back, wagging school, laughing and gossiping, and a man at the front, reading his paper. It’s just before lunchtime and my stomach rumbles. Maybe it’s nerves.

  The ocean glistens in the sunlight. Patches of blue sky are winning out over the clouds. I inhale the fresh sea air and am tingling with excitement at being back at my beach, where I might finally spend time with Jake.

  He’s not here! Neither is his towel. I plonk my stuff in my usual spot and strip off to my bathers. I don’t care. I won’t. The ocean is enough, even if he doesn’t come all day. Why did I stay away so long?

  It feels glorious to be in the water again. My body delights in stretching out as I dive into the gentle waves over and again. Down to the sandy floor, then arching up and out towards the blue sky. I am lost in the meditation of movement when I hear a familiar deep voice.

  ‘So now you’re channelling a dolphin, right?’

  Jake is standing in the waves next to me, hands on hips, bare-chested with faded bathers. Clearly he’s gone for the relaxed look too.

  For a moment I’m tongue-tied. I want to say something funny about a cross between a dolphin and a dragon but the words won’t come. I smile and dive again to hide my red face. When I come up he’s gone. I turn a circle in the water but I can’t see him. Suddenly, he’s right in front of me, coming in on a wave.

  He lands a salty kiss on my lips and draws back before I have time to respond, smiling broadly.

  ‘Fancy seeing you here, Ora Dragon. You took your time.’

  ‘Well, Seaboy Jake,’ I smile, ‘it seems I couldn’t keep away.’

  He sits beside me in the shallows so we’re both looking out to sea. I am suddenly aware of my nipples, pert under my bikini top, as the cold water laps around our legs. I lean back on my elbows, hoping to conceal them under the water, but it’s a bad move. The water is going back out—now they’re on display even more! I’m totally out of my comfort zone, wishing for another wave to hurry up and come in.

  Suddenly the horizon is completely fascinating.

  Jake’s glance takes me in. He lies back beside me, then flips quickly onto his belly. I wonder if he has anything pert to cover up, too, and feel a smile twitch at my lips. I turn over, enjoying the feel of my upper arm sliding against his with the water between us as we both look back up the beach.

  ‘Ouch,’ he says, laying a finger gently over one of the scars on my shoulder.

  ‘The SIF,’ I say with a shrug, moving slightly. My skin has healed really well but there are still a few marks across my shoulders and back that will be there for longer. I don’t want to be reminded.

  ‘Are you going to swim across the bay today?’ I ask.

  ‘I was about to, but now I’m not so sure.’ I love the way he makes me feel welcome. ‘Hey,’ his whole face has lit up. ‘Can you horse ride?’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s been a long time. My best friend had a horse when we were growing up. I’ve got a funny habit of making them bolt.’

  He looks at me with a question in his eyes.

  ‘I don’t mean to. They just sense something in me.’ I smile, wanting to make light of my insecurities. ‘Probably my madness!’

  ‘Probably your dragon,’ he says, looking cheeky.

  ‘Shut up about my dragon.’

  ‘Just sayin’.’

  ‘It’s kind of new, so I’m feeling a bit sensitive about it.’

  ‘What, you mean there’re others?’ he jokes again.

  ‘There could be, just a couple.’

  ‘Seriously? Like what? Unicorns?’

  ‘No!’ I push him over, ducking the question. I won’t tell him about Lion and Snake. He pushes me back and we start wrestling.

  ‘What then? Phoenixes? Or … or Trolls?’ We’re laughing.

  ‘A lion and a snake actually!’ I sound kind of proud. So much for not telling him. He has a hold of my wrists but I’m putting up a good fight.

  ‘Are they like animal totems? Do you have indigenous blood in you?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘Half Koori, half Cherokee.’

  ‘Right.’ He thinks for a minute. ‘That’s an interesting combo. But shouldn’t you have some African in there too? I’ve never heard of a half Aussie, half American lion.’

  ‘Ha ha.’ He looks surprised at how strong I am as I free myself from his grip. It’s my turn to take his wrists and I kneel up to get more height. ‘You want to be careful, you might get eaten.’

  ‘So is it here now?’ he’s looking up and down the beach.

  ‘Not telling.’ I start pushing him backwards and before I know it, I’ve fallen on top of him, across his torso. I kneel in beside him and pin his arms into the seabed, laughing at my win. Then I realise I’m waving my breasts just above his face, so I let go and move down to kiss him instead, stretching my body alongside his, not quite touching.

  Our lips come together boisterously, playfully, but we soon slow down. His fingertips gently touch my cheek. I remember sliding on top of him in the tent but we had my sleeping bag between us then. That’d be way too confronting now.

  But I want to.

  Cautiously, I lift my leg onto his thigh, loving the feel of his muscles underneath my own.

  ‘I think we should go riding,’ he says.

  ‘Here?’ I say suggestively, raising my eyebrows. He laughs.

  ‘Horseback riding! There’s this beautiful track behind Tom and Sarah’s, and they’ve got a couple of horses we could ride. If the weather stays nice we could take some food and camp out.’

  I nod my agreement with a big smile, liking the sound of horses, camping …

  And Seaboy Jake.

  20

  The Shack

  ‘It’s like a French picnic,’ he says with a good French accent. I’m impressed by his imagination as I look at the block of yellow, processed cheese and plastic looking bread in our supermarket basket. At the last minute I agree to some red wine. I’m not sure I’ll drink it, but it fits in with the French theme.

  Jake has an electric moped that just makes it up to Tom’s—the tyres bulge underneath our weight, along with the added burden of sleeping bags, pillows and food.

  It’s clear he’s spent a lot of time around horses. I watch his easy grace as he leads them into the yard and starts preparing them for our trek. He’s gentle yet firm, a reassuring hand always on one of them, as he checks bridles and girths.

  By the time we’ve chatted to Tom and cooed over Little Tom, it’s well after three. I don’t know where Melissa is but I’m relieved she’s not around—this is all too new to be fielding any looks or questions.

  We pack our gear into old leather saddlebags that are soft and well used. Jake puts something extra into one of them, but I don’t see what. Excitement floats around inside me. One of the horses shifts and scrapes its hoof on the paving outside the stables. I study them closely, trying to sense which one is least likely to take off on me.

  Surprisingly, Jake hands me the reins of the bigger one, a dappled grey about eighteen hands. He is huge! ‘Don’t worry,’ Jake says. ‘Duke’s a gentleman.’

  I heave myself up onto the horse from some steps on wheels. My body’
s memory kicks in as soon as I’m in the saddle. This feels good!

  Jake’s mount is a black mare, more delicate and spirited than my gentle giant. She dances about in protest until she’s used to his weight. I am relieved to be riding Duke.

  Tom and Little Tom wave us off as we go through the gates. We start out along a track that winds around the mountain to the east of their property. It’s lined with lilly pillies and I can smell the zing of a lemon-scented gum. The afternoon sunlight filters through the trees and I hear the distant laugh of a kookaburra.

  We ride beside each other and Jake and I grin broadly. The wind has dropped and the rhythmic thud of the horses’ feet along the grassy path lulls me into dreaminess. It’s familiar, yet unbelievable, being here in the bush with him and two beautiful horses.

  I keep stealing glances at him, enjoying the way he looks in the saddle. The mare has been a bit skittish but he’s remained calm and centred with steady hands, and she’s relaxed a bit. He looks like he’s been riding all his life. He catches me watching him and I don’t hide my appreciation.

  ‘You ride well.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he smiles. ‘So do you.’ After a pause he says, ‘I’ve been thinking about your questions.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to remember that conversation.’

  ‘I was a bit defensive and … I’m kind of private but … I get where you were coming from.’

  The bridle clinks as Duke tosses his head. The flies are bothering him.

  ‘Thanks.’ I don’t know what else to say.

  ‘I haven’t had many relationships, a couple of girls at school—one in year ten who dumped me pretty quick. I was heartbroken but then I went out with a girl in the year above. She got way too serious, too fast, so I ended it. After that I just hung out with my mates and got through year twelve.

  ‘That summer I was volunteering as an assistant lifesaver and I fell for someone.’ He pauses, looking into the distance, eyes closing slightly against the sunlight. ‘An American, ten years older than me, here for a writing sabbatical.’

  ‘What was her name?’ I don’t really want to know, but I can’t help myself.