Page 35 of Only One Bed: Anthology Vol. 1
“I know, it tastes like shit, but it works.” Shazza sprayed herself. “Damned bugs.”
“Ruining all this good nature with their presence!” Anvita pushed away Shazza’s care with a joke. After their discussion over Shazza’s name, Anvita needed to apologise again. She’d obviously hurt Shazza with her assumptions, but they didn’t have the kind of relationship where she could ask about it. Shazza had already opened up about her husband’s death and her obviously unloving mother, and Anvita admired that courage to keep throwing herself at life.
“Thank you for doing this. It’s a lot more comfortable than I was imagining.” As far as apologies went, it only hinted at what Anvita wanted to say. The awareness she sought felt vague, like a butterfly, flitting away, impossible to catch.
Shazza rolled her head on her shoulders. “I grabbed a couple of yoga mats when I was at the shops. I figured you wouldn’t want to try and sleep on the ute deck.”
“Do you think I’m a princess or something?”
The corner of Shazza’s mouth curled up in a half-smile. “Nah, just a city girl.”
“Isn’t that the same thing? Too precious for a little discomfort.”
Shazza shrugged one shoulder. “I wouldn’t wish discomfort on anyone.”
“I appreciate that. The idea of sleeping outdoors doesn’t align with my need for creature comforts. As you say, a city girl.” Anvita’s stomach twisted. She could just push this away and pretend there wasn’t a growing sexual awareness between them. Think about family, work, anything that wasn’t the way Shazza’s fantastic tits strained against her shirt as she leaned back against the ute. “My grandfather came here looking for a better life than back in India when my dad was ten, and we’ve always been taught to work hard to create comfort and health for ourselves and our family.” Anvita didn’t usually open up so readily. What was it about Shazza that made her want to chat about herself?
“Is that why you’ve never been camping?”
“No. That’s not it. My parents wanted us to assimilate and do all the Aussie things, but I was so busy at school, and they were working, so we never had the time. If camping is living with bugs, then I don’t think I’ve missed out on too much.”
“Nah, yeah. Couple of beers on the back of a ute, That’s all you need, mate.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
Shazza laughed. “And of me. Look, heaps of what being Aussie is about isn’t great. Yeah, camping is fun, and drinking beers with mates is good, but this country was built on the White Australia policy and our history isn’t the greatest.” Shazza frowned. “And don’t look at me like that. I might be poor and white, but I can read.”
“Fair enough. Every country has their bad history.”
“Yeah, but what are we doing about it? Fucking nothing.”
Anvita nodded, also unsure about Australia’s weighty history. “But you are thinking about it.”
“Sure. Fat lot of good that does anyone.”
Anvita reached out and touched Shazza’s hand. “Listening to people who are hurt matters more than you think it does. It might not change things on a big scale immediately, but It’s not nothing.”
Shazza stared down at the way Anvita’s hand covered hers. Their hands were so different. Anvita’s brown smooth skin was beautifully moisturised, her nails clean and painted with a rich dark red, while her own stubby hands were rough from work, tanned white skin wrinkled with sun damage from working outside, and her fingernails were clipped short. Functional. She wanted to snatch her hand away because they were so different. It would never work. But she couldn’t because a gentle soothing warmth travelled up her arm and into her chest and she wanted to hold onto it tight.
“Anvita?” Her voice cracked a little.
“Yes.”
“Want a beer?” Shazza pulled her hand away and tugged at her ear lobe. “Or something to eat. I got lamb cutlets for the BBQ, and salad, and stuff.”
“Thanks. That all sounds amazing. Do you want me to help?”
Shazza stood up and jumped off the back of the ute. “Nah, It’s cool. Just relax and watch.”
“I can’t let you do all the work.”
“Yeah, you can. You have to work tomorrow. Let me look after you.” Shazza liked cooking for people. It was the best part of being a mum, feeding her kids and all their friends; no one ever went hungry on her watch. She’d always been plump, and pregnancy hadn’t helped, but cooking and feeding people was one of her great pleasures. In another life—one where her family had encouraged her rather than push her away from a career in food—she might’ve been a chef.
Anvita rolled over onto her stomach, propped her chin on her elbows, bracketing her pretty face with her slender hands and stared over at Shazza. “If you think That’s best.”
“Like you said, I’m the practical one.”
“Hey. I can be practical too. Just not with this outdoorsy stuff!” Anvita’s relaxed laugh sent a shiver through her torso and Shazza wanted to make her laugh over and over again. She grabbed a couple of beers from the esky and cracked one for Anvita.
