All At Sea (8 page)

Don’t EVER call me that again! It’s belittling and trashy. And since I’m on the subject, so is “dibs.” It implies ownership over someone who has no say in the matter. Seriously, you’re freaking me out, Kody. You’re passing the point of no return with me. Think about what you’re doing and saying here. Is this what you really want?

Saturday 8th March 11.28pm

—Private Residence, Honolulu, Oahu—

Who called dibs, Amelia? It wasn’t me, it was your mate.

Saturday 8th March 11.29pm

—Private Residence, Honolulu, Oahu—

My mistake. It’s ‘Millsy’ now, isn’t it? He gets to name you too. Like a pooch.

Saturday 8th March 11.37pm

—Private Residence, Honolulu, Oahu—

Last time I checked, Fifi is what you’d name a poodle.

You think you know me but you don’t know shit. You’re a hypocrite and a dick. A drunk dick. You’ve been up to the keg six times in the last hour at least. Seriously, there’s an AA support group somewhere on this island, find it. But since you’re apparently on a bender, let’s have a goodbye drink together. There’s a bottle of Jack on the table next to you. Cheers, fucker. *Millsy*

Saturday 8th March 11.40pm

—Private Residence, Honolulu, Oahu—

Now she’s had one night on the turps and she’s an expert on drinking. Jack and I are leaving now. Might find the other Jac. She’ll be up for it. Byeeeee!

Saturday 8th March 11.41pm

—Private Residence, Honolulu, Oahu—

I’m coming down. Don’t you dare leave.

Saturday 8th March 11.42pm

—Private Residence, Honolulu, Oahu—

You know what? We passed the point of no return ages ago.

You can have this. I don’t want it any more.

Catch!

Saturday 8th March 11.58pm

I was about to write “What the hell was that?” Then I realized I’m the one with your phone so I’d only be sending it to myself. I AM sending it to myself. I’m totally drunk. On the turps or whatever you called it. *Google on the teups.* “Drunk, inebriated, from “on the turpentine” Urban Dictionary.com. You’re lucky I’m a good catch. it almost went inthe pool. Im going home too. I hate you.

Saturday 8th March 11.59pm

—Private Residence, Honolulu, Oahu—

Your phone just go tthe message I sent.. the Wipeout Song is my text tone? Really? Nothing from the playlist at least? Thanksalot.

Sunday 9th March 7.16am

—Waikiki Yacht Club—

Sun’s up. My first hangover. If you could see me you would point your finger and laugh and laugh.  Lachie had to carry me onto the boat and to my room. I’m lucky my mom and Paul were sleeping and Cristina was able to distract the crew or I’d have been in deep shit. Lachie was sweet, he didn’t want to leave me but I started crying and acting super foolish so Cristina made him leave so he would no longer have to witness the spectacle that was Amelia June’s first night on the turps. At least I was able to keep a lid on the reason I was crying. If I’d blurted out your name, he’d probably think I was the dumbest bitch of all time. Then after he left, you’re pretty much all I babbled about. Cristina spent most of the night holding my hair while I puked and cried about the mean things you said to me. She said you’re a walking stereotype. An Aussie surf rat transplant who wants his cake and wants to eat it, too. She said you don’t know anything about the spirit of Aloha. She told me all the things I wanted to hear about you.

She’s gone now, off to work the reservation desk at the Hyatt.  I’m sending her flowers later. Or chocolates. Or maybe I’ll pop open this ridiculous jewelry kit and make her a bead bracelet. I know it’s only been a few weeks but she’s the best friend I’ve ever had.

Sunday 9th March 9.02am

—Waikiki Yacht Club—

The boat is rocking because we’re moving again. Taking Delilah Rose out for a zip around the harbor. Blowing out the engines. Letting her rip.

My head hurts so bad. How do you do this all the time? Drink like this? Ugh.  Your phone is making it worse. It keeps popping off with calls from whoever and I can’t figure out how to turn it off.

Sunday 9th March 10.10am

—near Oahu, HI—

Fiona’s text tone: The Kookaburra Song. How sweet.

I didn’t answer it. I may be a pooch but, unlike you, I’m not an asshole.

Sunday 9th March 11.10am

—near Oahu, HI—

I’m going to smash this thing with a hammer and throw it into the sea. Do you have internet, a laptop? Are you getting these messages? Where the hell are you?

Sunday 9th March 11.30pm

—near Oahu, HI—

Your mother called.

Sunday 9th March 12.02pm

—near Oahu, HI—

So, you’re not going to reach out, huh? I didn’t do anything to you. You’re still engaged and I was having fun. Like people my age are supposed to do. I wasn’t up on a table with my top off. I wasn’t driving a car into a telephone pole. I was standing on a balcony laughing with some fun people and having drinks and listening to music. I was talking to someone you said might really like me. Someone who’s completely available and wants to spend time with me and make me laugh in real life. Someone who’s interested in what I have to say. Who doesn’t look away and clear his throat and sigh and rub his chin when I speak.

Sunday 9th March 2.05pm

—near Oahu, HI—

My mom knows about last night’s turps.  After promising not to, Yoshi the shuttle driver ratted me out. Plus, there’s was a mess in my room like whoa. Like a Hawaiian Punch vomit volcano eruption.

We’re in the galley now, mom and me. She’s not thrilled with me but she isn’t too-too mad. She made me a Bloody Mary and sent out for a Big Mac and fries. In her experience, hair of the dog and saturated fats do the trick. 

Sunday 9th March 3.06pm

—near Oahu, HI—

I’m back in bed. She’s tucked me in and set out a pail in case the Big Mac comes up. She asked who the boy was. Me: What boy? Her: That mascara didn’t streak itself. I told her it was from throwing up. That I’m hungover. She shook her head. I know that look, she said. That look has boy on it.

Sunday 9th March 4.10 pm

—near Oahu, HI—

Up from my nap and growing more pissed by the minute. You have no cause to give me the silent treatment. Are you kidding me, Kody?

Sunday 9th March 4.42 pm

—near Oahu, HI—

We were both drunk. I’ll let it go if you will.

P.S. Sasha called.

Twice.

Sunday 9th March 6.03pm

—near Oahu, HI—

It’s been almost a whole day. Should I give your phone to Lachie when I see him tonight or what? Where are you? What the hell should I do with it? I left him a message and asked him what to do but he’s not called back. My moral compass is getting fuzzy at this point. I broke down and looked at one of your texts. Sasha keeps calling. I got curious. (Plus, what if it’s an emergency!?)

Sasha says: “I need you, K.”

We really need to discuss everything and make nice or whatever. We’ll have to see each other from time to time whether we like it or not.

It’s beeping again. Olaf says “Vot do yoo know aboot dat Cristina?” only spelled right.

You better call me or I swear to God, your phone is shark food.

Sunday 9th March 8.49 pm

—Waikiki Yacht Club—

Well...a new development. How do I say this...just say it I guess. Here goes. (You might want to sit down for this.)

So I just talked to Lachie and he said he dropped you off at the airport earlier today. That you’re flying back to Sydney to visit Fiona. Then he told me how he and Fiona have been planning something big. Something EPIC. He said we stopped at the florist the other day to place an order for Fiona. He said he had me wait outside the shop, not just because he wanted to pick my flower out himself, but because he was afraid if you saw me, you’d be able to read my face and know something was up.
You’re face is an open book, Dorothy. As precious as they come.
Anyhow, he said you’re flying to Sydney only to find out that Fiona’s flown to Hawaii. You two will have criss-crossed the Pacific and how funny is
that
?! Sooo…when you get back you’re scheduled to get hitched.

A surprise wedding.

Surpriiiiise.

She’s leaving from her aunt’s house in Brisbane on a red-eye. She’s there right now having a secret hen do with her favorite cousins. (“Hen do”…Aussie bachelorette party!) One last night out with the girls. She’ll be here tomorrow night.

Somehow it felt wrong not to warn you since you are having cold feet about the whole thing. I assume you’re not reading these messages but I thought that maybe if you broke down and did, then you could have the information. Not get ambushed. I would want to know something like this. Lachie thinks it’s a real hoot, you flying from Honolulu to Sydney only to turn around and have to come back.

I’m assuming you’re flying back to break it off with her? Or maybe you’ve decided she’s the one for you after all. She may be familiar and feel boring to you but familiar in and of itself is not a bad thing. My mom feels that familiar type of love toward my step-dad and she’s still happy. Not everyone gets the fireworks deal in life. If we all held out for fireworks there’d be a lot of miserable single people I suspect.

But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’ve not gone back to do either of these things. You could be going anywhere for all I know. Going to find some dive bar back home to pick up ten different versions of Jac. Or maybe you’re going to stalk off into the Outback to do that thing Aussies do when they want to soul search. *Googling Aussie Outback Soul Search* A walkabout into the Never Never. I imagine you covered in dust and carving things out of bones and staring intently into a fire.

But the last you told me about it, you were breaking it off. “Putting the old dog down.” (Not that she’s a dog, that was your analogy, not mine...) Anyhow, Lachie sent me an old picture of the two of you from his phone. It was from a trip you guys took to Fiji. A bunch of you rented a cottage.  Fiona’s really pretty. You said she was the prettiest girl in school and there is no doubt she was. It kind of doesn’t get much prettier, really. She looks happy in the picture and so do you. I figured she’d be blonde. I bet she surfs like a champ.

Sunday 9th March 11.56 pm

—Waikiki Yacht Club—

Your battery is at one quarter. Only a little juice left in this conversation. I’m taking a picture of me so you can remember Amelia Beauchamp, that cool chick from Kansas City. It was a fun time we had together. I’m sorry it ended badly. I’ll smile in the picture so you can remember the good parts. Bye, Kody.

Tuesday 11
th
March 1.03am

—Imbibe Bar at Sydney Airport—

I’m at an internet booth in Sydney Airport. I haven’t read any of your messages. I think we’ve established that I’m a coward at facing stuff I don’t want to.

I just wanted to say that I left you that pale blue-coloured board. It’s a better size and weight for you than the one you’ve been using. I messaged Olaf, he’s holding it at the surf shop.    Kx

Tuesday 11
th
March 1.10am

—Waikiki Yacht Club—

Wait! Are you still there? Why did you go back to Sydney? I need to know the exact reason why. Is it to break it off with her? Are you coming back?? 

Tuesday 11
th
March 3.12pm

—Hawaiian Graphix—

I’m in the checkout line at the art supply store. Out of cobalt blue PB28 again. Can’t paint the sea without it. Also, I just sunk my hands into a barrel of acrylic beads, all the way to the elbows, and got a stern look from the manager. If you’ve never sunk your hands into a barrel of acrylic beads, I highly recommend it. Your toes will curl, I swear.

Anyhow. I got the board. Lachie and I went out on the water with it. The beach down from the hostel? The board’s a better fit for me like you said. I caught two waves. Tiny pathetic ones, but still. Thanks.