They both escort me.
We talk loud on the street, our hearing slowly recovering from the banging music in the bar.
‘Fancy the gay club?’ Aaron asks. ‘It’ll stay open for hours yet.’
‘I need to go to bed,’ I say.
‘Jakey?’ Aaron says, and gives him a serious look.
Jake coughs. ‘No. What?’ He puffs his chest out. ‘No fucking way. I’m going to Maccy-Ds.’
He ducks into the chipper.
‘Later,’ Aaron says in a catty way. He cuddles me as we walk.
‘Been so good to meet you, Nat,’ he says. ‘You feel like a sister.’
He drops me to the door of the hostel.
‘Are you not coming in?’ I ask.
‘No, going on the cruise, my darling. See you tomorrow.’
The Tongan security guy gives me a brief nod. I take the lift up to our floor and change into my fleece-lined pyjamas.
My hangover cuts. I rub my head and open the window to let some of the alcohol-breath air out of the room. The two boys and Darina are asleep. I haul myself off to the gym mainly to weigh myself after the drink but I also want to shake the overwhelming self-pity I feel.
I swim and cry underwater, accidentally swallowing some. I hope no kids pissed in the pool.
The sadness fades by the time I hit the showers. I structure the rest of my day off, which is mostly a plan of what to eat and prepare for dinner and tomorrow’s lunch.
When I return to the hostel, lots of people are around for lunch so I go down to the common room. I half-watch a Kiwi soap opera about doctors enmeshed with each other and their patients.
Lawrence vacuums around us making a big deal about how serious he is about his job. He turns the hoover off and lands beside me on the pleather two-seater couch with the hard seats. The side of his bony ass digs into my hips. He wriggles and gets cosy.
‘I should be paid for this job, I should be promoted even. Head hoover guy.’
I laugh.
‘How was the night out? You were swimming again?’ He sniffs at the air.
‘The night was weird,’ I say.
‘Why?’
‘I went out with two from the fuck-bus.’
‘Were they okay?’
‘Yep, they were sweethearts, well, one of them was. The other one is a bit, whatever. But I met this girl I work with, Kelly, and her friends, at the bar. One of her friends, Sol, approached me. He seemed grand and we were having a laugh. Ended up kissing.’
Lawrence nudges me gently. ‘Get you, girlfriend.’
‘No, wait. I’m not finished. He goes, “So this wouldn’t even be much of a sympathy shag, you’re pretty nice and funny.”’
Lawrence closes his mouth tight. ‘He said what?’
I repeat it.
‘Jesus, Nat, I’m sorry.’
‘Why are you sorry?’
‘People can be shits.’
‘Why do you think he said that?’
‘I don’t know him; my first reaction, though, is to punch him.’ He balls his fist. ‘Maybe he was immature. Insecure. Blind.’ He pulls me in for a hug; his jumper smells of cigarettes. ‘You know you’re lovely, right? Don’t let anyone talk to you like that.’
‘It’s true though – look at the size of me.’
‘You talk about yourself like that, you give others permission to do it.’
‘What?’
‘The things you say to yourself get matched up externally. It’s neuroscience. The brain doesn’t like to be wrong. It’ll scan the world for confirmation of this truth you’re feeding it.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I used to see a sports psychologist as part of my training. When I didn’t make Beijing, I told myself repeatedly what a fucking loser I was. Now I get it affirmed from the outside world all the time.’
‘Why not say something nicer to yourself so?’
‘Exactly. I tell myself I’m an incredibly handsome loser now. Look, I’m still licking my wounds, catching up on that misspent youth I didn’t get to have when I was training every fucking minute of the day. This lifestyle is only temporary for me right now.’ He points at the ground as he speaks.
His supervisor, a Polynesian woman, comes into the common room and scolds him.
He gets up from the couch, grimacing. ‘Only temporary,’ he says, dragging the vacuum cleaner out to the corridor.
The boys are still in their underwear in the dorm at 4 p.m. I unpack my gym bag. Darina is at work. Aaron pours a vodka for himself and Jake. He offers me one. I mime barfing. He tells a debauched story of a man he met in an alleyway.
Jake exhales noisily and announces he’s going out for beers and sandwiches. He comes back with a small bar of white chocolate for me.
I thank him profusely.
‘Okay, calm down, it’s hardly twelve red roses,’ he says. He’s quiet for a moment and then asks, ‘Why does this town smell of burnt toast?’
‘It’s from all the coffee roasters,’ I volunteer.
He rakes his hair. ‘Thank fuck for that. I thought I was having a stroke.’
Aaron giggles. Jake watches him and smiles.
They offer me a drink again but I’m working in the morning. I’ve no interest in going out two nights in a row.
Some other fuck-bus people come knocking for them and the lads leave.
I prepare enough dinner that some can be leftover for lunch, then I go to the common room. Lawrence is baked, along with everyone else in there watching TV. It’s another horror movie, this time about a couple who are stalked by masked people while on holiday in a remote plantation house.
‘Are you not scared watching this shit?’
‘Nope.’
‘Do you want to swim with me tomorrow when I finish work?’
‘Do you want to have a joint with me?’
‘I’ll have a joint with you when you swim with me. Deal?’
He smirks and goes for a cigarette.
I drift upstairs and get my work outfit ready for the morning. I cleanse and moisturize my face and go to bed early.
The boys crash into the room near 11. They startle me awake. Jake precariously clambers up the bunk’s ladder. They whisper loudly, initially trying to keep it down, but then forget. Jake invites Aaron to his bed. Aaron declines so Jake gets off his bunk more awkwardly than he’d climbed it.
He bounds in beside Aaron in the bottom bunk.
‘No. Stop. Get out.’
Aaron tells him again to go. But he doesn’t. I try to drown out everything with my earphones but the energy shifts in the room and I feel uncomfortable. I take them out and catch more of the conversation. Jake is trying. Aaron begs him not to. They kiss briefly.
I cough loudly to remind them I’m there.
They ignore me.
‘Lads,’ I say, ‘other people are in the room.’
‘Please,’ Jake says. ‘Please.’
Oh Jesus.
Aaron sounds like he’s crying. ‘You don’t want this. Really you don’t.’
‘I do. I’m in love with you.’
‘Your girlfriend?’
‘She’s not my girlfriend, you know. It’s a holiday thing. Me and you. We get on so well. You understand me like nobody I’ve ever met before.’
‘But we’re too drunk, we’re both too drunk, please.’
‘Lads,’ I say loudly, ‘please. I’m in here.’
‘I love you,’ Jake says.
‘You don’t, please stop this, I can’t. You know I’ve feelings for you.’
‘You’re hard for me.’
‘Don’t. Don’t touch me.’
‘You want me too. I know you love me too.’
‘Jake, you’re not gay.’
‘I love you. Do you not love me, Aaron? Do you not feel the same way?’
‘I do,’ Aaron says, sniffling. ‘You know I do.’
There’s a yearning silence. Then the sounds of furious, wet kissing. They maul each other, grappling flesh; their bunk shakes as they toss around in it.