back. For a quarter of a second they were so close it was like they were embracing; she could feel his breath, smell his smell. He jerked his hand away.
“Sorry!”
He looked awkwardly at the floor, his face colouring. She realized suddenly she was basically naked and gave a little shriek of laughter as she ran into Lizzie’s room. Pulling off her bikini, she left it a wet green lump on the carpet and put her work uniform on. It stank of deep-fryer oil and stuck to her wet skin. She wished she’d given herself time to have a shower and wash her hair. Bec would usually never go anywhere without straightening it. Grabbing her makeup bag, she smudged on her concealer, smeared on the thick foundation, blush on top, then mascara. She liked to wear liquid eyeliner these days, too, but it was too easy to muck up if she was in a hurry. She’d gone to school looking like a panda once and never wanted to repeat the experience. Pulling on her ballet flats as she walked, she grabbed her bag and took the stairs down two at a time.
“See ya, bitch!” she called to Lizzie, who stuck her middle finger up from the swimming pool.
The gate banged shut behind her as she rushed down the street. It was now 2:43 p.m. She should make it. Her pace slowed. It was too hot to run. The air felt heavy, pushing her down into the road. This was a stinker of a summer. Day after day of over forty degrees. She ran her fingers through her hair; it was almost dry already. Hopefully it wouldn’t frizz.
Sunday was his day off. She wished he was going to be there anyway. They could compare hangovers, rehash the events of last night and laugh. Her thumbs flashed across the keypad: On my way to work now. Boo, wish you were there :). Reading over it again and again, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to be too obvious, although she’d read in a magazine once that obvious was good. You have to give them the confidence to make a move. The smiley face had to go, she decided; it was too childish. Her finger hesitated over the send button, her heart racing. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to push it. The private little smile crept over her face again and Bec wondered if Lizzie had any idea. She liked having this secret. It felt dangerous, like playing with fire.
For a moment the other secret leapt into her mind. The memory of it was like red-hot metal, searing and violent. She tried to push it back down; she shouldn’t be thinking about that.
Gum leaves crunched under her feet as she turned the corner onto the main road. The smell of baking eucalypt was pungent. It made her eyes water. The leaves were crisp and black around the edges, like the heat in the air had burnt them. For a second she wondered if she might vomit, if last night’s beer was going to make a reappearance after all. She stopped walking and held on to a branch to steady herself, squeezing her eyes shut.
Last night had been fun; it was worth feeling a bit sick today. The best nights out always happened by surprise. She’d been closing up. Mopping the floors and washing out the deep fryer with two fingers pinching her nose. Matty was doing the grill. His thick fingers were black from the grease. She didn’t understand why he never wore gloves. She used to be a bit scared of Matty, with his hulking frame and tattooed arms, but then she realized he was one of the sweetest men she’d ever met. More like a teddy bear than a biker.
“I’m meeting Ellen and Luke at the pub after this. Do you want to come?”
“Do you reckon we can sneak Lizzie in, too?” He’d said yes, but she would have gone even if he hadn’t.
The five of them played pool, Matty and Luke taking it in turns and buying her pots of beer. She hated beer, but didn’t want to ask for cider; she loved feeling like one of the boys. The pub was dark and smelt musky. When she’d opened the doors to the toilets, she saw her own dilated pupils in the mirror, before they responded to the bright fluorescents. She’d smeared on a bit more makeup, wishing she’d brought something to change into. But she hadn’t let that spoil the night.
Bec had tried not to stare at Luke. But she was willing him to come over, to get closer. Eventually she sat a game out and so did he.
“How are you going, mate?” She loved it when he called her that, as if they were complete equals. She hated nothing more than being treated like a little girl.
When he sat next to her, she could feel the radiating heat of his body. They made smutty jokes as they watched the others play; she lit up when she managed to make him laugh. He told her secrets. She listened. She wished he would kiss her. He didn’t. But he took her hand once and squeezed it, his eyes staring at her intensely. He didn’t have to say anything; she could guess what he was thinking. She was too young. When they were working late one night he’d told her that a friend of his had a rule. You could date someone half your age, plus seven years. Any younger than that was wrong.
“So, when do you turn seventeen?” he’d said, like it was a joke. It had been three months away then. Only one now. She would just have to be patient.
Bec’s foundation was starting to melt off. She pushed herself to walk a little faster. McDonald’s had air conditioning. Not that it helped much in the drive-through. Fingers crossed she was just at the main counter today. Then she felt it again, that prickling feeling. She turned. There was no one behind her. The street was strangely empty. Everyone was locked away in air conditioning. She quickened her pace, the back of her neck still prickling.
When she got off the bus after work the sky was black. The air was still heavy and hot. Her suburb was always silent when she came home late. When she walked around Lizzie’s street at night, it felt like it breathed—lights on, windows open, people laughing, music playing. There was the welcome smell of hot dinners wafting out of the screen doors.
In Bec’s suburb, everyone shut their curtains tight, so you could just see the blue glow of televisions around the edges.
She couldn’t wait to get home, to open her front door to a cool house. Her family sitting in front of the television, laughing along to some dumb sitcom. To feel the relief of being comfortable, included and safe. Of being home.
At least, she wished that’s what it would be like. But that was someone else’s family. Not hers.
Her limbs were starting to ache as she walked up the hill to her street. It had been a long shift. Ellen was angry with her; she’d been ten minutes late after all. When she’d seen her reflection in the stainless steel, she saw her running makeup and frizzy hair. There was nothing she could do about it either. Sitting in the drive-through window, she could feel her forearms starting to burn; she hadn’t even put sunscreen on.
That doomsday feeling started to creep up on her. That feeling when she was so tired that everything started to feel wrong. She tried not to think about Luke. If she did, she would start to pick it apart; to worry. To realize he didn’t like her at all, that she was being an idiot and everyone was laughing at her.
She approached her house slowly. It was dark. Every window pitch-black.
2014
A tube of white light surfaces in the thick black. I close my eyes again. It’s too bright. My throat is dry and my head throbs. Groaning, I rub my eyes. Something catches on my cheek. Blinking the blurriness away, I look at my wrist. Around it loops a plastic hospital band, with the words Winter, Rebecca in bold type. Looking around groggily, I see the officer from last night asleep in a chair at the foot of the bed.
Oh, God. This is going to be so much more difficult than I’d thought.
Standing in that dark toilet block, the cold and fear and exhaustion had seemed like the bigger of two evils. But now, waking up in this hospital bed with a sleeping detective blocking the door, I realize that maybe I’d made a mistake. I’d been so stupid to think that I could just start a brand-new life, that it would be that easy.
The room is quiet. There is only the sound of the cop’s sleeping breath and the muff led chatter from a few rooms away. There’s a window to my right. Maybe I could make it.
As quietly as I can, I push myself up to sitting. My arm is bandaged and stinks of antiseptic,