Floundering Read online

  I look at Nev. He has his head in his hands. I get the vision of him and Jordy come into my head bright as a television screen. I try to shake it out.

  Just go, says Nev.

  Jordy and I stand there with empty cups.

  Get, he says.

  But we need some water, Jordy says.

  He looks up at us and says, Get. He stands up, flexing his old man muscles.

  I drop my cup and run. I stumble and bang against the side of the caravan. It sounds hollow as a drum. I can hear the slap of Jordy’s thongs as he walks behind me. My stomach feels gross and strange with the drink in it. I imagine it in there, black. At the road I stop. The woman is there, at the front of our caravan, with a man. She’s got the baby on her hip. Jordy bumps into the back of me.

  The woman jumps a little when she hears us. Her face looks guilty, like we’ve caught her at something. She has her hair up in a ponytail like how a little girl would wear it. A blush colours her face all the way down to her chest and shoulders. The man puts his hand on her arm. He looks like all the other men here. A floppy hat over his eyes, and skin made hard and brown by the sun.

  Oh hi, she says and changes her face into a happy one, puts on a smile.

  Hi, I say – with the gravel road between us. Jordy steps around me. His giant singlet slips off his shoulder and I see the burn the sun has made there. The man is wearing a faded T-shirt. I can make out a date on it, from ten years ago. He lets go of his wife. Holds his hands in front of him, like he’s just discovered them and doesn’t know what to do.

  Hello, he says. His voice is low and slow as a brown river.

  I just came to say hi, she says. The little girl on her hip starts to cry. The inside of her mouth is the brightest red.

  Loretta’s not here, says Jordy.

  The woman looks at the man, as if to say, See. I just wanted to – she says and doesn’t seem to be able to finish it off. She adjusts her baby, wipes the little girl’s sweaty hair from her forehead. Gives her a quick kiss. You know, if you kids need anything, you just gotta ask. I could call someone. We’re in the big blue tent, just down there. Her baby takes a giant breath then wails. Sweetie, come on, she says and bounces the baby on her hip. She looks at her husband and he shakes his head.

  Nah, we don’t need anything, says Jordy but it’s hidden under the crying.

  Okay, okay, sweetie, she says. She wipes damp hair from her own forehead with the back of her hand. I think she looks really young then, younger than Loretta. She doesn’t have much wrinkles in her face when she smiles, not like Gran whose face cracks when she’s happy.

  The man looks at us, and leans in, says something I can’t hear to the woman’s ear. She looks angry, cuts him off with a hissed whisper. The baby wails. Okay, I’ll see ya later then, she says to us in a too-cheery voice.

  The lady finds her husband’s hand. They walk away together. She looks back once. Jordy and I are still standing in the sun in the middle of the road.

  I can hear a car coming, but it sounds nothing like Bert, it growls loud. I smell the dirt before the car gets there.

  Jordy pulls me by the arm, Get off of the road, dumb-ass, he says.

  The back of a truck swings out as it turns the corner down to the beachfront. It’s got beady bug eye spotties on the roof. As they pass us they slow down and I can see there’s two men in the front. The driver leans out his window and yells at us, Happy New Year, throws a can of bourbon. It’s badly aimed and lands metres away from us, fizzing. Flies land on the spilled drink straight away. Gravel peppers us as they drive further into the camp and I flinch.

  I hope the mum and baby are off the road, I say.

  Jordy stoops in under our awning. He sits in the small section of shade. I follow him.

  You want to sit a bit closer to me? he says.

  I shift further away. A marchfly buzzes with its too-heavy body. I feel the marchy give up and land on my leg. I know if I move now it’ll fly away and be back in a minute to get me again. Got to let the marchy bite. I let it bite. Jordy seeing it there leans over and slaps my leg. The marchy falls to the ground and I watch the ants find it in one second.

  Don’t tell Loretta, he says.

  Don’t tell Loretta what? I say.

  If we find her, don’t tell her what happened.

  I dig into the sand at my feet. I hear a crow caw. The metallic sound of its claws on the roof of the caravan. It’s so quiet I hear its wings settle into place.

  What even happened?

  Nothing, he says and gives me a look that’s hate right the way from his head to his toes.

  How are we going to find her?

  I’m going to ask him to take us to look for her.

  No, I say quietly. I don’t want to go with him.

  I’m going on my own.

  No.

  The ants are trying to drag the marchy, but they only manage to pull it a little way. Flies crawl onto me. I swat them away. They can smell the gummy. I taste the sugar in my mouth.

  The gummy smells bad, Jordy, I say. I look at him.

  I know.

  He told us to go away.

  Yeah, I know, Tom. But he’ll take me.

  The wind blows and snaps the awning. For a moment it’s cooler than before. I look at him and he looks away. The sun climbs a little bit higher.

  What are we going to do?

  I’m going to think for a bit, he says.

  A while later I see the husband drive past us on the way into town. He raises a finger in greeting. We stare back.

  Nosey parker, says Jordy, how Loretta would say it. The car’s dust settles on us.

  Tom, wake up, Jordy says.

  With my eyes closed the world is soft and pink. Jordy shakes me hard. I open my eyes and I can’t see anything. It’s so bright. My head feels heavy. I close my eyes again. I reach out. Jordy pulls me to my feet.

  Get up, he says.

  I open my eyes again. He’s right there close to my face.

  Do what I say, he says and pulls me towards the dunes. Run, he says. Run.

  His hand on my arm hurts, but I’m too asleep to tell him to stop. My thongs throw sand up the back of my legs and make a snap, snap sound. I try say something but my mouth is so dry it only comes out a croak. I lick my cracked lips and taste blood. He pushes me over the hump of the first dune and pulls me to the sand.

  What? I say.

  Shut up, he says.

  I close my eyes and feel the thump thump of the headache that’s there all the time now. It feels just like the beating of my heart, like if it stopped I’d die. I go to speak again, with my eyes closed still, but he squeezes my arm hard to stop me. I open my eyes and swallow. The sand is burning hot. Jordy commandos up to the top of the dune, flat on his belly. I slither up next to him until we can just see over the top, between the waving grass. Up close the blades of grass have a soft grey fur. I try dig my body into the sand to where it’s cool, like I seen a kangaroo do.

  Jor– I say but he cuts me off with a low Shhhhh.

  A police car stops in front of the caravan and idles, shudders off. A young cop doubles in size when he unfolds himself out of the passenger side. He’s long and skinny. His gun belt looks too heavy and hangs off his waist. His eyes hidden behind wraparound sunnies. He leans back in the window and says something I can’t hear. The other cop gets out too. He’s older, with grey hair wisping out from beneath his hat. His gut hangs over his belt, his shirt holding it like a pouch.

  Take a look then, eh, says the older one who speaks without opening his mouth. The lines on his face are deep enough to rest a cigarette.

  Sure thing, boss, says the tall one. He walks to our caravan, leans in under the awning. He has to stoop. I hold my breath.

  It doesn’t smell good, he yells back. The other cop lights up, drags on his cigarette and leans back on the car.

  Well, take a look, he says.

  I hear the screen door open.

  Oh Jesus Christ, I hear from the caravan. F
ucken hell. Fuck. He laughs nervously. Holy shit, he says.

  The other cop takes a long drag on his cigarette before dropping it onto the gravel road. The tall one comes back out from under the awning, shaking his head. He takes his sunnies off, wipes the sweat from his face on his shirtsleeve. They’ve both got new moons of sweat at their armpits.

  So? says the older one. Body?

  There’s a big dead fish in there.

  The old one raises his eyebrows. Really?

  Yep.

  Well, I’ll be damned. He goes has a look for himself.

  What are they going to do to it? I whisper.

  Shut up.

  But what if they take her?

  Shhh. He punches me in the arm, but he can’t get a good angle lying on the ground, so it just feels lame.

  I hear the cop cough as he comes back out.

  It’s a shark, he says, not a fish.

  I thought it was going to be my first body, the younger one says.

  The old one shrugs his shoulders and they both look around. We flatten ourselves to the ground. I feel their eyes on us in the dunes, but time goes and they must pass over. When I look up again, Jordy has his face in the sand. He looks me in the eye and when he lifts his face, it is half-covered in white sand. The police are at Nev’s door. I hear the tinny knock, knock, knock.

  Nev walks around the side. He stops when he sees them. I can’t hear what they’re saying but he talks there with the cops, as if they all know each other. The cops stand in the neat sun. Nev hides in the darkness of the shade.

  What are they saying? I whisper to Jordy.

  Shh, he says, he won’t dob.

  Do you reckon they’ll take the gummy?

  Shut up.

  The cops point to our caravan and I see Nev shrug his shoulders. They scan the dunes again. I flatten myself against the sand. Put my face into the heat, scrunching my eyes shut. I realise I’m saying, Please, please, please, please, please over and over again in my head, but I don’t know what I’m asking please for.

  I hear their car start and it’s only when the sound disappears altogether that I dare to look up.

  They’re gone, stupid, says Jordy. He’s sitting up on the sand.

  I look at him, but I can’t see his expression ‘cos his face is deep in its own shadow.

  We gotta get the gummy outta there, he says.

  I can see Nev still standing in the doorway at the front of his caravan. I don’t want to move until he’s gone. He walks out into the sun, then changes his mind, goes back into his caravan, letting the screen door bang behind him. I sit up, sand all over me.

  Come on, Jordy says.

  He gets up and I follow him down the dune to the caravan. He opens the door. The stink is bad, it makes my lips curl into a snarl. I look under Jordy’s arm. The gummy is in there on the floor. It looks sad and out of place. The newspaper covering is off. There are so many flies.

  Jordy goes into our caravan and stands over the gummy.

  Help me, he says.

  I go in there, but with the three of us, the room is heaps too small. I get the gummy’s head in my hands. It slips out and slams on the lino. My hands are covered in sandy slime. Liquid oozes out of the head.

  Come on, useless, he says.

  I grab it again, holding tight this time. Jordy’s got the tail gripped in his hands. He backs out of the screen door. The flies crawl all over me and I can’t let go to shoo them off. I shake my head and try to shake them from my nose and around my eyes. We hold it with its belly sagging between us and stumble out the door into the sun.

  Where should we put her? I say.

  I don’t know, he says quietly.

  I hear another car. We look at each other, a little whimper escapes my mouth.

  Quick, says Jordy. He pulls away from me and I nearly lose grip on the gummy. My fingers dig into its mouth, touch its sharp little teeth.

  We cross the road towards Nev’s truck. It’s nudged in against his caravan, with the tray towards us. The glare off the white stings my eyes and I wonder where my sunglasses are, if Loretta took them with her in Bert.

  Here, says Jordy.

  He lifts the gummy up and over the edge of the truck, into the tray. It flops in there, stinking, with a bang.

  Shit, he says.

  We crouch down next to the wheel. My heart beating as fast as my headache. Nev doesn’t come, though, and the car passes. Not the police. We stand up. I look in the tray at the gummy. I see its cloudy eye looking back at me. A fly lands on its eyeball and I look away.

  We should have left it on the beach.

  It’s our shark, Jordy says.

  I lean as far as I can into the tray and grab a scungy towel that’s there. I throw it over the gummy. The towel’s got oil on it, and grot, but under the dirt is a faded pattern of sailboats. The gummy’s tail sticks out, but most of it is covered. The sun’s right full on the truck.

  Jordy runs his hand along the side of the truck, leaving a long clean line in the dirt. He goes to the side of the caravan and rests his hand there.

  I grab his shirt and say, Jordy. But he shrugs me off. He goes and peeks around the edge and I follow him because I’ve got no other choice.

  Out the back I can see the dirt separated from the other dirt by the white border of rocks. Nev’s up on a wobbly plastic chair. He’s got one of the whirling glass globes in his hand. Cradled by rope, he unhooks it from the caravan roof. It hangs from his arm. He looks unsure of what to do next, leans down and gets off the chair. He sits on the chair and the globe rests in his lap like a cloudy crystal ball. The other buoys have been taken down too. They’re in the dirt. There’s a crate at his feet, full of fishing equipment, reels and a net poking out. In another crate there’s plates and mugs, kitchen things that he’s cleared out of the caravan. He’s packing everything up. He has a beer beside him. He takes a big gulp, crunches the can and throws it into the bush. The generator clicks on. The sound of it vibrates in my head. I lean on Jordy, pull on his singlet. He comes with me then. We’re standing out on the gravel road and I can’t do anything but lead him back to our caravan. Looking inside the caravan there is sand on the floor and the smell of the gummy lingers.

  I can’t do it, he says.

  What?

  I can’t just sit here.

  I don’t say nothing.

  You stay here, wait for me, says Jordy.

  No way.

  I’ll be back, I promise.

  Don’t leave me.

  But it’s safer.

  It’s not safer, Jordy. That’s bullshit.

  His face screws up.

  You can’t leave me here, I say.

  I’m not leaving you, I’m just going to go find her.

  I grab a hold of his singlet and twist it around my fingers. He pulls away and it makes a little ripping sound.

  Let go.

  No.

  Let go, Tom, he says and slaps me roughly but not hard on the side of my head.

  No.

  He tries to grab me, but the singlet rips a little more.

  Okay, he hisses, Jesus.

  I let go of the fabric. It’s pulled out of shape at one corner. He tries to even it up, pulls the other side.

  Well, come on then, he says. And walks back over the road and around to the back of the caravan. Nev is throwing another empty into the bushes at the back. He spins around when he hears us. All his belongings are messed around his feet, boxes with open tongues. There are tools laid out and looking sharp on the ground.

  So? he says.

  You have to help us, says Jordy.

  No, I don’t, he says.

  The police were here, says Jordy.

  I know they were bloody well here.

  We need to look for Loretta.

  Listen, son, he says.

  I’m not your son, says Jordy.

  He sighs and looks to the sky.

  I’m not taking you anywhere.

  You have to.

  Son,
no, I don’t. You got nothing to offer.

  I could tell them.

  I feel Jordy square his shoulders beside me. I want to cry.

  Tell them what, son? He picks a spade up off the ground and leans on it. I’m leaving anyway, he says. It don’t matter. You think she’s out there?

  She was last time, he says.

  You two are poor excuses, Nev says. But he looks away when he says this. He drags the spade behind him, and opens another beer from a sixpack that’s sweating on the table.

  Well, if it’ll get rid of you, I’ll take you, Nev says. He picks up the rest of the sixpack. He drags the spade with him, around the side. We follow quietly, unsure. He throws the spade in the back of the truck without looking.

  Get in the car. Before I change my mind, Nev says. Our shadows reach their long limbs towards him.

  Jordy, I don’t want to go with him, I whisper.

  Nev gets in the truck. He twirls his keys in his hands catching them at the end of each twirl, just like last time. But he looks shaky as he climbs into the cab, pulling himself up in there. I can see his face watching us in the mirror. A crow lands on the back of the truck. Nev turns the engine over and revs it.

  Stay here then, Jordy says.

  No, I say.

  I can see Nev’s arm hanging out of the cab, a cigarette burning at the end of it. I get up and cross the gravel. I go to open the passenger door. The handle burns me, it’s so hot from the sun. Nev puts those sunglasses on his face that have those side bits to keep out every bit of light. Looks at me with them black squares. I try the handle again and this time quickly click it open, so I don’t hold it long enough for it burn my palm. Nev’s got his ciggie hanging from his bottom lip. Jordy grabs my arm and goes, You should stay. I try pull my arm from his grip but it’s a vice.

  Get off me, I say.

  I’m pulling so hard I sprawl onto the floor of the truck. Empty beer cans clang together and I crunch down on them. Nev’s spotty leg is beside me, it’s almost hairless, like a lady’s. I get up onto the seat. He rips a beer out and cracks it open. He throws the others to the ground and they touch my legs. The cold makes me jump, but then I lean my leg back on them and let the cool get me.