Page 12 of Summer, in Between
‘You didn’t tell me your new chippie is a model,’ says Mum.
‘Funny,’ says Dad.‘He’s not just a pretty face, so I hear.Good guy.Smart.Truckloads of initiative.Works for Jaz Smith.’
‘Wow, what a looker,’ says Mum.‘And Cat?A chippy, just like your old Dad.’
‘Who’s old?’says Dad.‘And here’s me thinking I’d have to watch Cat with the hired help.’He pulls Mum down onto his lap.‘So, the ladies still love the tradies, hey?’
‘We sure do, don’t we, Cat?’She snuggles him.
I roll my eyes and leave them to it.Apparently, I have a party to go to tonight, and a demon in the form of a pimple to exorcise.
7
THE sun belts throughmy blinds.It’s still ridiculously hot outside, and the heat of the day is fighting hard against my AC.I’ve slept for hours, my face heavy and bloated, my head thumping with a dehydration headache.My book is on the ground beside my bed, spine cracked.It’s going to look a lot worse in a few more months once school is really humming with exams and assessments and all that – dog-eared, scribbled all over, assaulted with sticky notes, streaked with highlights.I pick it up and take it downstairs to the kitchen where I stick my head under the tap to guzzle water.I could drink the entire ocean and still be thirsty.Although, given its salt content, I’d still be thirsty.And dead, but whatever.Mum is rustling in the pantry behind me, peering into the depths of its corners.
She turns and spots me.‘Seriously, Cat?You can’t stretch your arm just a tiny bit to pick up a glass?’
‘It’s all good.’I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, more to annoy her than anything.
‘Lovely,’ she says.By the look of her hair, she’s had a nanna nap too.
Just to emphasise the point, Nonna lets rip with one of her famous snores from the living room below us, waking herself momentarily.She looks around, dazed and wild-eyed, then her eyes droop, and her chin drops back down onto her chest.Startled, Matty and Tommy look up from their video game and then crack up laughing.
‘For such a tiny thing she has a shocker snore,’ I tell Mum.‘When did she get here?’
‘About an hour ago,’ she answers.‘We could hear you snoring from outside.’
‘Funny.’I reach behind her for one of Nonna’s home-made lemon cookies.‘Man, how hot is it?Is the air con even on?’I lift my ponytail off the back of my neck.A little river of sweat channels down my spine.If I think about it, the metaphor would probably be a creek.Or do I mean analogy?I’m already sick of searching for metaphors.
I look down towards the beach.The ocean’s like a millpond, and hello, there’s another analogy.Ugh.Even from here I can see the tide’s edge a long way out, without a hint of waves.Well, that explains why Paul was here, wanting to work.The Neanderthals always seem at a loss when there are no waves, unsettled, like the entire purpose of their being has been swept away with the tide.
‘How weird are time zones?’I wave my phone at Mum, notifications empty.‘It’s the middle of the night in London.Em will wake up to messages from me and when she answers I’ll be asleep.’
‘Hmph,’ says Mum.‘Well, that’s good timing with Paul, isn’t it?’
‘What “with Paul”?What are you implying, mother?’
