The board was sound, though, when he got to it. Foot strap tightly velcroed. No bite-marks, no blood stains. What was that guy’s name, anyway? Steve, that was it - his board, for sure. Simon hadn’t really known him but they’d shared the odd 6am conversation, several of the last sunset waves, a few spliffs at one of Stacey’s parties. A quiet guy, as Simon remembered him, but a nice one. So where was he?
He’s gone, Simon thought. Another one. He thought back to the headlines. Missing Teens. Where Have Our Young People Gone? Mother’s Anguish as Daughter Vanishes. How many had gone he couldn’t remember but it was a lot for a small town on the coast of South Australia and for those with short or long memories there were words like Truro and Snowtown to stir up fear for the safety of those who’d disappeared. Not yet really believing it, he tucked the board under his free arm and set off towards the police station. Behind him, in the sighing waves, a dolphin leapt and splashed.
“It’s getting weird now.”
Stacey lifted her head from his chest. Simon could see the dark roots in her hair smudging the blonde halo of curls. Her eyes looked black in the dim light of the candle.
“Matt asked me where Tim was the other day.”
“Who’s Tim?”
“That tall guy, you know. I used to go out with him.”
Simon frowned, shifting his arms beneath his head. ‘Go out’ was Stacey speak for ‘used to root’. As if sensing his mood, she bent her head and began licking the salt off his stomach. He gripped her chin, lifting her face to his.
“That pink-haired guy’s gone too – that Steve. I found his board on the beach this morning.”
She looked impossibly young in the candlelight. Momentarily it flickered and she was almost lost in the dark. He felt a clutch of panic that this was how it happened, this was when people just got lost, in the dark. But the flame strengthened and she was back in the light, hands moving lightly on him.
“Where’s everyone going, Si?”
He hesitated. What were the explanations? Killings, driftings, drugs, debt…all of these seemed like a whisper of a reason. To paddle out to sea, he thought dreamily, that’s where I’d disappear to; swim out into that endless blue, rolling ceaselessly under the mirroring sky. There would never be a last wave, ever; just the surf, eternally unfolding under the hot gaze of the southern sun.
“Simon?”
She looked at him, a small crease appearing on her young forehead. He pulled her down onto him, wanting to forget the vision of that endless wave that, even now, echoed on the inside of his skull. She sighed and in the hiss of her breath he heard the swell breaking again on the glittering sand.
Back on the hot beach again, walking into the water, heading for the white horses on the horizon. Simon felt the tug of the undertow against his calves as he straddled his board. The shore seemed so far away out here, a distant smudge of golden sand and the hot glitter of sun on metal as the cars inched their way across the promenade.
He felt rather than saw the shadow rise beside him. The tall fin sliced through the wave and in an instant of melting panic he thought he saw the gaping jaws parting the waves in a frenzy of teeth and foam. But as his heart made a stuttering leap for his throat he realised the shape beside him was a dolphin, smiling through the water at him, its all too human eye fixed upon him, unblinking. Its rubbery side brushed against his leg and he looked down at those appendages, which suddenly seemed so out of place in this flawless element.
The dolphin looked at him, holding its place in the water.
“It’s your wave,” Simon said.
As his mouth closed over the sentence he looked back at the shore. Behind him the sea called, rolling endlessly. In front, the town looked like nothing but a mirage, shimmering on the horizon. He understood then, why the choices were made.
He reached out to the grey shadow beside him, knowing whom it was. All that he’d left behind on shore seemed as grey now, distant in the way that faded memories were. Time to choose now, to stay or go? The sun cast its golden glance over the scene, omnipotent, oblivious.
~~~
Strapping Lass
It was about six months after Moira had left him that he saw the girl. It was funny because only that morning as he’d got ready for work, he’d been thinking whether it was time to try again, move on, make a fresh start He’d come to the conclusion that perhaps it was a little premature. He was still vulnerable, after all. But then he saw her, and all his doubts fled in an instant. She was perfect.
It was in the canteen at work that she’d caught his eye. He wondered that he’d not noticed her before. He’d found his usual table was taken up with a gaggle of nurses and so he’d moved to another, further away from the door. Thus he’d seen her, sitting alone, and looking out of the window at the hospital grounds.
It was her manner with food that attracted his attention. Unlike most chubby girls, she was unapologetic. She ate proudly, head high, obviously relishing what was on her plate. Like most chubby girls, she had a lovely mouth; the lips full and curvaceous, and at this moment, glistening with the oil from her chips. She didn’t have that furtive, almost sly method of eating, tucking the food away as quickly as possible, hunching her shoulders as if to keep people from seeing what she was doing. She chewed and swallowed and wiped her mouth with every sign of complete enjoyment.
He made up his mind in the decisive way that he had.
“Hello, I’m Barry,” he said, standing by her table. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
For all her confidence with food, she was shy; he could see that by the faint start that she gave, the slight rise of colour in her cushiony cheeks. But she didn’t say no, just nodded and gestured at the seat opposite her. He smiled into her beautiful blue eyes.
Her name was Daphne. She wasn’t a nurse – he’d assumed that by the lack of uniform – but worked in the administration department, dealing with patient files. Up close, he could see the pillowy swell of her bosom, the slight double chin. She wasn’t yet fat, not as such, but oh, such potential she had!
By the end of the meal, he’d obtained her telephone number and a date for dinner for Friday. As he said goodbye, and walked towards the kitchens to start his shift, he felt as if he were floating on air. What a project, what a thing to look forward to…he could scarcely wait to begin. Take it slowly, he warned himself. He’d rushed things with Moira and look where that had got him. Slow and steady wins the race.
After a month, Daphne and Barry were officially a couple. He’d asked her not to say anything to people at work but she didn’t have many friends there anyway, and no close ones. Dazzled by his generosity, the four course meals that he took her for, the presents he bought her, she would do anything for him.
“Here you are,” he said, presenting her with a set of satin lingerie.
She blushed with pleasure, took it and stroked it.
“You’re too good to me Barry, you really are.”
“Try it on.”
She did, giggling. He made her pose for him.
“It’s a bit big,” she said, twisting around to look at her rear view.
“Never mind,” he said. You’ll grow into it, he added mentally.
After three months, he asked her to move in with him. She gave up her little studio flat gladly and gave up her job, too, at his request.