Page 49 of Summer, in Between
‘What?’
‘Yeah, I knew that was coming out wrong even as I said it.Anyway, this is the most ridiculous conversation in the history of ridiculous conversations.I have so much more I need to think about.I can’t be distracted, not now.I’ve worked too hard.And anyway, I told you, we’re just friends.’
‘Stop overthinking everything, Cat.’
‘Weird.Paul said the same thing, about me thinking too much.’
‘He’s right.You’re giving me anxiety, and I’m the parent here, not you.I order you to calm down before you give yourself and me ulcers.Meanwhile, have a look at this creep.’She juts her chin over my shoulder.A toddler sits scooping sand in front of a man sprawled in the shade of a sun tent, openly ogling me while the kid fills a bucket.
‘You all right there?’Mum shouts and eyeballs him until he looks away, but not before he metaphorically strips the meat from my bones.
I can’t put a name to this.I’m not uncomfortable, that’s not the right word, even though that’s what’s used in every freakin’ self-defense workshop we do at school, and I’m not really scared either.What is it?Why does a sleaze like Creepy Dad over there make me wish I was invisible?It’s like that bus driver we had, he’d be a stone statue for everyone except the Year Nine girls.He was all happy and cheery for them, until a parent complained that he made their daughter feel uncomfortable.There’s that word again.Good on her for sticking up for herself.When I told Mum about it, she went off, and believe it or not was angry at me for not saying anything about it when it was my turn to be the focus of his attention.Then she and Nonna had a massive fight because Nonna said it was a woman’s lot in life and to just look down and ignore it.Mum wasn’t on board with that, at all.
‘Thanks, Mum.’
22
I’M in the bathroominspecting my sunburn when Mum screams.I pull a towel around me and race to the laundry door to see Mum running across the grass, Tommy chasing her with the hose.
‘What is it with this family?’I yell, and then Tommy turns the hose on me.I clasp the towel tight against me.‘Dipshit!I’m naked!’
‘Well, that’s just gross.’He squirts me again.
I scream, my hand shielding my face as Mum sneaks behind him.She pounces.As he falls to the ground she wrestles the hose off him, drowning me in the process.Nonna has come out onto the balcony and sees me in the backyard wearing only a towel.I swear her hackles rise.
‘Catarina!’she yells in Italian, ‘yourragazzois here.Get inside and put some clothes on!’
I look at Mum, my eyebrows raised.She lets go of Tommy, squirting his back.‘He’s downstairs with Dad getting organised for tomorrow,’ she says.‘Nonna’s right.You’re too old for running around in the nudie.’
‘Why’d you scream like that?I thought you were being attacked!’
‘Why are you still standing here in a towel?Go inside before Nonna collapses from shame.’
I scuttle inside, leaving a trail of wet footprints, and back into the bathroom to grab some moisturiser.As I bolt between the bathroom and my bedroom, I hear Dad, Matty and Paul on the stairs.I close my bedroom door behind me and dive for my wardrobe.I pull on some underwear and the elastic’s abrasive.I slather myself in moisturiser, my skin drinking it like water.I don’t even remember the last time I burned like this.I consider my failure to burn as one of my lifetime achievements and wear it as a badge of honour.My skin feels too tight for my body, but as I slap the cool cream across my skin, I feel it relaxing into itself, the lobster-vibe decreasing.
I find a black singlet dress in my cupboard.It’s a little short, covering the bare minimum, which will send Nonna into a tailspin, but it’s the only piece of clothing I have that won’t feel like sandpaper against my skin.I run a brush through my hair, and it falls down my back in a chocolate river, as Mum used to say when I was little.The hair against my sunburn feels like razor wire, so I scoop it up into a ponytail high on my head.
