It was something they'd done a thousand times before. If Jamie went surfing with a mate and paddled in first, he always took time for that final wave. And there was something so familiar in the ritual that for a moment he felt like everything was right.
He felt forgiven.
They stared at each other for a long time. The rest of the world had gone somewhere else and everything that needed to be said was being said without talking. And Jamie knew how much he'd lost.
Kirsty EagarIf I was a sheep, I’d be black.
Kirsty EagarHe’s still singing to himself, eyes closed, pretending, I think, that I’m someone else.
I shout in his ear again. ‘So you can’t just lay down and die?’
He doesn’t open his eyes, but he nods. ‘You can’t just lay down and die
Have people been staring at you?’
He frowns. ‘I don’t know. I guess so. I forgot it was there. Can you really notice it?’
‘Well yeah, but … I think it’s great.’ To me, Danny rocking up to surf with graffiti all over his face is magic. I want to tell him that I think he’s precious, that the fact he talks to me is a gift. But of course you can’t say things like that to people
I stare at his forearms. I can make out a naked woman with a snake going up her vagina. She’s holding a knife, slitting her own throat. There are three playing cards on the back of his right hand: the Queen of Spades, the Jack of Hearts and the Joker. Red flames lick his elbow.
There’s a watch tattooed on his left wrist with ‘Fuck Time’ inscribed on its face. Fuck o’clock.
He’s not that tall, but his body is carefully cut. The lines of his face, his cheekbones and jaw, are sharp and precise. I can see the tufts of his blond underarm hairs and under them the ladder of his ribs. He’s beautiful, in the way that a knife is beautiful.
My father’s eyes can be the coldest place on earth.
Kirsty EagarBut you’re happy, eh?’
I blink at her, surprised. She’s right.
My happiness is crunchy. Snapping, crackling and popping in the sun.
Oi!’
I drop in on him the first chance I get.
Round three. There’s one coming on the inside and I start paddling for it. He starts for it too, telling me, ‘It’s mine, sunshine.’
‘Get stuffed.’
As I feel the surge take my board, he grins across at me. ‘Split it?’
So we split the peak, he goes left and I go right, and I know, like me, he’s thinking, How good is this?
I bury my face in my hands. And then Ryan does such a nice thing. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in against him. I can feel his body heat through his cotton T-shirt, and directly in front of me are the worn, faded knees of his jeans. But most of all, I can smell him. And he smells sandy-warm, like a beach. No one can see my face in there protected by his chest. Which is good because I can’t stop crying. I mean, I’m really going for the world record in terms of an inappropriate public breakdown. But it doesn’t matter, it just doesn’t matter. I’m sheltered.
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