Driving back feels like flying, with the window down and warm air blowing in my face. The sky is still a deep aqua colour, so every black bush and tree looks like a shadow play.
Amie’s coming back to Mildura. She’s only a few hours behind me. The knowledge makes my brain hum. I don’t want her there: it’s too dangerous, too close. But I want her thereso bad. Just knowing she’s arriving later tonight fills my whole body with energy.
After she finished on the phone to her cousin, we sat on the dirt under the tree until our skin felt like liquid sunlight, and it was time for me to leave.
When I got up and dusted myself off, Amie stood up too.
‘This doesn’t have to be all your responsibility, Harris. You don’t have to keep going with it. Dad’s looking for your family. He said to remind you that you can pull out any time –’
I shook my head. ‘It’s nice he’s trying to track Mum and Kelly. I dunno how far he’ll get, but it’s nice. As for the rest… People are getting hurt. More people will cop it if we don’t shut it down.’ I scuffed the dirt with my boot, looked out to the sunset on the other side of the rez. ‘And I’m in it now. I’m gonna see it through to the end. I think I need to do that.’
Then something happened: Amie hugged me. Just grabbed me by the back of the neck and pressed herself in. I don’t know what surprised me more – the fact she did it, or the feel of her against me. All soft, and skinny arms, and her face in my neck, and plump breasts against my chest. The shock of it made me freeze in place for a second before I unfroze and wound an arm around her. Both arms.
She squeezed me hard enough to make me gasp, then she pulled away. ‘C’mon, I’ll walk you to the car.’
We didn’t really say much more before I left. She clasped my arm before I slid into the driver’s side. She was still standing there by the trees near the rez when I looked in the rear-view. Then I pulled out onto the dirt road to the turn off, and she was gone.
I keep going over and over it in my head: the things Amie said, the easy way we talked, the whiteness of her teeth when she laughed. That moment she asked me how you know when sex is good, I almost said,I could show you. It was right there on my tongue’s tip while I was looking into her eyes. But I wouldn’t have managed the proper jokey tone. And the conversation was already so loaded I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t go there.
This isn’t like the way I felt about Rachel. It’s different. Rachel made me feel as if I was worth something. But Amie makes me face myself, the whole unvarnished truth of me. And she accepts me. The bad shit as well as the good.
Even the sensations I have around her are different: clearer, sharper, hotter. Definitely hotter. Hot enough that my skin feels too thin to contain everything. It’s like I’ve been saving up the wanting inside myself, and it’s so close to the surface now that if I let it go, I’ll shatter.
I try to consider it in really concrete terms. I haven’t had sex for a long time. Girls’ bodies are nice: you can’t help but think about them. This feeling, like I’m barely stopping myself from reaching for Amie every time I see her, it’s just normal. I shouldn’t wind myself up about it.
And I can’t be a prick about this. If Amie and me… Well, let’s just say I’m not interested in having Sergeant Blunt chasing me around for the rest of my life.
But if Amie and me…
I let the thought carry on. I can’t touch, but I can fantasise, right? A guy can fantasise. Nothing wrong with that. Not a hanging offence, a bit of fantasy.
Christ.
*
Amblin Court is more of a disaster than usual when I rock back up. The kitchen is like a bloody bomb site and the couch is tipped over, lying on the living room floor like a giant brown cockroach on its back.
‘Reggie and Dil,’ Kevin says, shrugging. We right the couch together.
I clean up in the kitchen, then realise my own room is as much of a dump as the rest of the house. I shove all my dirty sheets and clothes – which is basically everything I own, except the stuff I’m wearing – into a bin bag, twist the top and take it out to the Pitbull. Food’s a priority, and I’m planning to cruise by the club and see Snowie, let him know the delivery went okay. May as well make a stop at the laundromat if I’m heading into town.
Being inside the club before opening time is weird: everything looks a lot more squalid under harsh fluoros. Bartenders are setting up and some bloke is giving the dance floor a sweep. Music is playing, stop-start and down low, as the DJ preps her set.
Snowie is standing by the bar, sucking back a cold one. He’s jittery. I’ve noticed he’s been drinking a lot more lately, and I wonder if he’s on the gear. It wouldn’t surprise me.
‘All good, mate, all good,’ he says, when I tell him the news. His head bobs as he talks, and he lights another cigarette off his last one. ‘Come back later and we’ll see what else the bossman wants done. Hey, you haven’t seen Ando about, have ya?’
‘Nah, mate, I just got in. Feet have hardly hit the ground, y’know?’ I wouldn’t be keen to lay eyes on Ando anyway, but I don’t need to mention that.
‘Awright, no worries.’ Snowie looks worried, though. ‘Guess I’ll catch up with him later.’
I get out of the club, pick up some takeaway and collect my laundry. Everyone is getting tight as delivery day for the big batch approaches. Tempers are starting to fray. It’s like when I’m driving from Mildura to Ouyen and back again: I’m always on the lookout, I’m always scanning from one side of the road to the other, checking for roos. Because you can’t predict when they’re gonna jump. They just come at you with no warning.
That’s how I feel now I’m back in the thick of things: like I’m always on the alert. I’m always scanning. It’s kind of exhausting, being so alert all the time.
Later that night, after I’ve got orders to report back to the club tomorrow, I lie on my bed with the window open. I check the texts on my phone, return again and again to the message I got from Amie just before eight p.m.
Test results have arrived all clear. Contact reception for apptmts as rqd.
