Swimming at Night: A Novel (35 page)

Then she felt cool air reach her lips as he lowered his chin and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do this.”

She pulled away, covering her face with her hands.

“It’s not the right time. There’s too much—”

“Please. Don’t explain.” She couldn’t bear to discuss it. She stood abruptly. “I’d like to take a shower and go to bed.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t make things awkward between us. Christ, Katie, we’ve been through so much. I’m not prepared to kiss you when neither of us really knows what we’re feeling.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“Okay, then. Good. Let’s just—”

“No, I mean I know what I’m feeling. I’ve always known.” There was nothing to stop her from being honest. To mask how she felt seemed pathetic after everything else they’d said. “I love you.”

His eyes widened: he’d had no idea. “But you broke up—”

“With you. Yes.”

“Why?”

“Mia.”

He frowned.

“She needed you more than I did.”

“But I thought . . . you said it was just a bit of fun.”

“I had to tell you something.” She smoothed her hair back behind her ears, then looked Finn in the eye. “I was in love with you. I still am.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

She felt the dull blow to her stomach because, didn’t that say it all? “I’d like to be alone now.”

“Let’s not—”

“Please.”

Finn was quiet for a moment, considering her request. “If that’s what you need. We can talk more in the morning.”

“Yes.” They both moved through the room towards the door. She opened it and he stepped into the corridor.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast?”

“Yes,” she said, with a smile designed to reassure him. But she had no intention of being there.

(Bali, March)

M
ia ground the base of the vodka bottle into the sand, then inched closer to the fire. Red and orange tongues of flame licked at the wood, breathing drifts of sweet, charred smoke skyward. Her shins and cheeks burnt from the heat.

Someone was playing the bongos and the slap and bounce of their hands was like an itch in her head. Most of the people gathered around the fire were travelers from the hostel who would be drinking hard until dawn.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand; she hadn’t slept in 36 hours. When she’d finished writing in her journal last night, she’d stepped out of the hostel, surprised to find dawn breaking. She’d begun walking, comforted to see other faces emerging into the new day: three men carrying fishing rods, a woman weaving bamboo leaves on her doorstep with the weak dawn light on her lined face. Mia had walked for hours, until the soles of her feet were dirt black and chafed. When she’d returned to the hostel, Noah’s room was bare and his rental car gone.

She imagined him on a plane, hunched forward so the seat didn’t aggravate the wound on his upper back. Was he flying home to Australia? Or to a country he’d never visited, one that held no memories? She felt his absence like a hollowness in her chest.

Now evening had swung around once again and she sat with her legs crossed, her hair loose around her shoulders. She grasped the neck of the vodka bottle and swirled the remaining dregs, which sloshed against the glass. She lifted it to her lips, letting the bitter liquid slide down her throat.

She became aware of a shadow by her shoulder and glanced up. Jez was standing beside her, his hands slung deep in his pockets. Firelight danced across his face, illuminating his dark eyes. He said nothing, but she rose, dusted the sand from the back of her shorts, and followed him towards the shore.

Away from the fire, darkness swallowed them. She hugged her arms over her chest and waited for her eyes to adjust to the moonlight.

Jez pulled her passport from his pocket. “I guess you’ll be wanting this back, now Noah’s gone.” He tapped it absently with his thumb.

“I still can’t repay you. I’ve got nothing.”

She watched his face, waiting for some internal switch to flick from impatience to anger. But Jez looked as though he hadn’t heard her. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He left. Today of all fucking days!”

She instantly remembered the date woven into Noah’s tattoo. Today was the anniversary of their brother’s death. That’s why he needed to leave.

“He doesn’t give a shit.”

“That’s not it. He just isn’t coping,” she said, picking her words carefully and wishing the vodka wasn’t burning so fiercely in her throat. “He needs time.”

“Time? Time on his own? He’s had that. Noah’s like a fucking one-man crew!”

His anger jarred a fragment from her phone argument with her sister. Katie had been talking about the day their mother died, telling Mia how she’d called again and again to ask Mia to come to the house. Mia realized that it wasn’t just because Katie thought she should be there, but because Katie needed her.

Just as Jez needed Noah.

She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry, Jez. I’m so sorry,” she told him—for her, and for Noah.

He glared at her hand and for a moment she wondered if he was going to push her away. Then suddenly he was leaning towards her, placing his hands on her waist, his lips pressing clumsily against hers. She balked. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“What d’you think I’m fuckin’ doing?” he said, his voice raised a notch.

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she turned from him.

There was a sharp pain in her wrist as Jez seized her and swung her around. She cried out, shocked by the sudden force. He pushed his face right up to hers. His eyes were narrowed and when he spoke his words were hard and sharp. “I’m not good enough—but Noah is? Is that it?”

“This has nothing to do with Noah.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“What?”

“In Lancelin, Australia. You were with Noah.”

She forced herself to think back. He was talking about the day she and Finn stumbled across the beach party where she ran into Noah.

“You were walking on the shore. It must have been real romantic—empty beach, moonlight, waves lapping at your feet, all that crap.” He paused. “And then you saw me.”

She remembered. She’d thought it was odd the way he stood on the shoreline, staring at them.

He leaned towards her. “You gave me this real fuckin’ haughty look, like I was a piece of shit interrupting your night. Do you remember what you thought?” he asked, his face pressed so close to hers that she could feel his breath against her skin. “You thought,
They’re brothers?
”

She said nothing.

“Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered, because it was true.

“You judge me when you don’t know shit all about me!” His anger seemed disproportionate, something unhinged about him. “And you don’t know shit all about Noah, either!”

“Let go of me, Jez,” she said firmly.

He glanced at her wrist as if he’d forgotten he was holding her by it. He released his grip and she stepped back, rubbing the spot. “You think he’s better than me, but I’m no fuckin’ deserter. I stuck by my family.”

Unexpectedly her eyes began to fill with tears. The rage, the bitterness in his voice: was this how Katie felt about her?

“Mia?”

She looked up. Noah was walking towards them, his gaze fixed on her face. “What’s going on?”

She shook her head, stunned to see him.

“What did you do?” he asked Jez.

“What have
I
done?” Jez laughed. “How about what
you’ve
done? Where’ve you been all day, Noah? We thought you’d fucked off. Left. You even know what day it is?”

“What do you think?”

They glared at each other. Jez said, “Why are you here?”

“I decided not to leave.”

Mia stared at him, trying to read his expression in the moonlight.

“That must be a first. ’Cause that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Leaving.”

“Let’s not do this.”

“Why? ’Cause you don’t want Mia to know what you’re really like?” He turned to her. “He’s the reason my neck is fucked. Our old man might have thrown the punch, but it was because he was fuckin’ furious at Noah. We all were. He just walked out on us. Left. Went to Bali.”

Noah was standing very still, his arms stiff at his sides.

“And while I was off the water for eighteen months, Noah was traveling and surfing and getting signed up by a big-ass sponsor and suddenly he was some fuckin’ hero.” He snorted and shifted to face Noah. “Johnny had a map on his bedroom wall and he’d put a pin in it wherever you were touring. Stuck on every fuckin’ postcard you ever sent. You wouldn’t know—you never came home to see us. Pa tore the whole thing down. Three times. But Johnny would always smooth out the creases and tape it back up. He wanted to be just like you. But you know what? It was
me
who stayed when you left. Me who made sure I was the one Pa came across first when he rolled in drunk. Me who told Johnny he shouldn’t go out on the water that day we met you on the Gold Coast.”

“I thought he could handle it. He said he wanted to do it,” Noah said quietly.

“He wanted to impress you. It was too big. He wasn’t ready.” Jez’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. “You said you’d have his back out there, but you were into your own rides.”

“I didn’t know he’d been smoking weed! That’s what you’d been teaching him while I’d been gone? If he hadn’t been high, maybe he’d have had his wits about him.”

Jez flew at Noah, launching his fist hard at his brother’s face. There was a loud smack and Noah staggered backwards, his hand clasped to his jaw.

“It wasn’t the weed!” Jez yelled. “It was nothing to do with me! It was
you
, Noah!” He charged again with his head down.

She heard the forced exhale of air as Noah was shouldered in the chest, the dull thud of two bodies hitting the sand, the rip of a T-shirt, the blunted pounding of fists.

People from the fire began staggering over and a semicircle quickly formed around Noah and Jez, who were writhing on the ground in a tangle of limbs and fists. Their legs were thrashing, dragging their bodies across the sand like warriors in an awful dance.

Jez grabbed Noah by the neck of his T-shirt and hurled another punch. But Noah blocked it, catching Jez’s arm and yanking him off. Despite his injury, Noah was still stronger and managed to pin Jez down with one hand, restraining him.

Jez bucked and struggled beneath him like a crazed animal, his teeth flashing white. He managed to wrench a hand free and swing it at Noah’s upper back, precisely where the wound criss-crossed his skin.

Noah let out a guttural cry, arching backwards. Jez used the opportunity to slip from beneath him and stagger to his feet. He brushed himself off and as he passed Noah, who was still down on his knees, he bent to his ear and hissed, “He drowned because of you!”

In a sudden burst of movement, Noah lunged at Jez, pulling him to the ground in a great spray of sand. He brought his fist hammering down into Jez’s face. The crack was sickening. Jez’s cry was drowned out by the gasp of the crowd as Noah’s fist came down a second time.

Jez curled up on his side, a gurgle of blood seeping from his mouth. Noah raised his fist again.

“Enough!” someone shouted.

Mia could smell sweat, cigarettes, blood. Noah’s fist kept pounding down and she realized he wasn’t going to stop. Suddenly she was running forwards, grabbing his raised arm and, with all her force, dragging him off.

She saw the whites of his eyes, brilliant against the dark fury on his face, before he pushed her aside, knocking her to the ground.

She lay in the sand, winded.

Noah froze. Then he turned slowly, taking in the crowd of faces watching him. He dropped his gaze and disappeared up the beach.

She crawled over to Jez. “Are you okay?” she asked as she grabbed her passport off the sand, where it had fallen in the scuffle.

She didn’t wait for his reply. People were already crowding in to check that he was all right. She stood, dusted herself off, then walked away into the darkness.

(Bali, August)

T
he taxi bounced along the rough road, sending small stones flying. The driver knocked the car into a lower gear and the engine revved. Katie gripped the door handle, feeling each bump vibrate through her body.

There was a loud clunk as a rock hit the chassis. The driver cursed. “This is as far as I go.”

She paid him and stepped out. The night was warm, the air tasting faintly of earth.

“I wait for you?”

“No. Thank you.”

The driver shrugged and then reversed along the path, the beams of his headlights flashing up and down over the ruts like warning signal.

She took the map from her pocket and shone the flashlight on it to get her bearings. It wasn’t a long climb, but it would be made harder by the darkness. The cliff loomed above her and her heart thumped against her chest, but she would not give in to fear. At
least, she reassured herself as she struck out, it was a clear night and the moon was bright.

She followed the track until it narrowed into a footpath that wove up the base of the cliff. The ground was dry but uneven, and loose stones made her stumble. Her leather sandals pinched the sides of her feet, and she wished the soles had more grip. The foliage was gradually thickening, closing out much of the moonlight. She hoped the flashlight battery would last.

As she ascended the air grew cooler. Somewhere to the west of her she could hear waves breaking, and she caught the scent of salt blowing in on the breeze. With a few more paces the path delivered her to a lookout point over the ocean. She paused there to catch her breath, laying a hand on the wooden railings. The moon hung over the dark water, laying a stark silver trail.

You always loved the ocean. You told me once that it occupies 70 percent of the planet’s surface. You said you loved the way it constantly changes and shifts, one day mirror calm, the next a churning mess of swell. Perhaps that’s what scared me that day at Porthcray: I realized it couldn’t be contained. The sea is unpredictable, always moving, always changing—just like you.