Page 53 of Summer, in Between
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‘TODAY has been oneof those super-awesome, perfect days of summer.’We walk along the dark beach.The tide is out and the water lapping sounds a long way away.It almost feels irreverent to speak in the perfection of the night.
‘Totally,’ says Paul.‘My favourite part was when you called me an ignorant fuckhead.’
‘I said no such thing.If you’re going to quote me, at least do it properly.And I do believe I apologised.Am I still not forgiven?’
‘I’d forgive you for anything in that dress.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing, and yes, I forgive you, I’m just playing with you.’
‘Hey, here’s a question for you,’ I say.‘I want a male opinion.’
‘This could be dangerous, but okay, hit me.’
‘Do you think girls ask for it?’
‘Ask for what?’he says.‘Is this about that school thing you were talking about with your mum?The patriarchy?’
‘Yep, that’s the one.’
‘You changed your mind on global warming or drowning kids?’
‘Not yet, I haven’t decided, but what do you think?As King of the Neanderthals?’
‘I’m still a Neanderthal?Seriously?’
‘Okay, sorry, as a walking surfer god, what do you think?Do girls ask for it?’
‘Do I think girls ask for it?Absolutely not.Any man who hurts a woman is the lowest of the low.It’s never a girl’s fault if she gets abused but I can’t say that I don’t think that girls can sometimes put themselves in positions where they are at risk.’He crosses his arms.‘That’s just the shitty world we live in.It’s fucked, but it just is.’
‘At risk?’
‘Yeah, like I think it’s shit that you can’t walk home through Batter’s without your parents worrying about your safety.Watch it.’A wave races up the sand, and we step quickly out of its path.‘That’s why I didn’t blame your dad for giving me a serve for not taking you home that night of the Gap party.Promise me you’ll never walk on this beach at night on your own.’
‘But if I do, if I wear this dress, you’ll forgive me?’I don’t know if it’s seeing how easy it was to hang with Paul, how he slotted in so effortlessly around our family dinner table, how he was so open, or how he seems to give a flying you-know-what about me, but my hands are shaking and I want to prod at him, at us, like a bruise.‘So, you like my dress?’
‘I do.I think so,’ he says.‘I can’t see shit, it’s so dark tonight.’
‘I have another question for you.’
‘Okay...’
‘What did you mean by “I’ve got you”?’I stop walking and let my feet sink into the sand.
‘What do you mean, what did I mean?’he says over his shoulder.
‘You know what I mean,’ I say, unmoving.
‘Did I mean what you know I mean?’He stops and turns to me.‘Will you say it on a beach or with a leech?’
