Forgotten (4 page)

Mel pulled a droll face. “Cute.”

“
I
thought so.”

Mel dumped the red tub beside her and placed
her hands on her hips. “I know what you’d rather do,” she declared.
“Go home and stare out into the waters like one of those stupid
zombies from one of your stupid zombie movies and….”

The constant
rumble of a car’s engine caught my attention, briefly muffling out
Mel’s voice. A standard white Holden stood stationed in an
undesignated area at the other end of the car park.

I don’t know
why, but I found it curiously odd. Perhaps it was the
unconventional way it was angled, across the painted parking lines
rather than within them. Perhaps it was the way its sun-stripped
bonnet was arrowed directly towards the opened gate.

I took note
of the driver’s window. It was wound down. Only one person sat in
it, wearing a black leather-like jacket with a matching hood. A
branch of a nearby wattle tree, thickly covered with green and gold
foliage, threw a slight shadow against the figure, just enough to
give it a less than friendly impression.

“…
But I’ve
decided… not today.” Mel’s banter cut through my
thoughts.

I tried to
refocus on what she was saying but I found it difficult. For
whatever reason, the whole Holden scenario made my skin burst into
uncomfortable bumps. I interrupted her, calling her name
twice.

She glared at me. I hooked a sneaky glance
in the vehicle’s direction. “Do you know that car?”

An
exaggerated huff followed. She scrutinized the vehicle and then
dismissed it with a rapid flick of her hand. “It’s a car, Claudia,
like many others that travel our roads.”

I didn’t
much care for her patronizing tone. “Have you seen it
before?”

She narrowed
her eyes. “You’re not doing that whole ‘someone is stalking me
crap’ are you?”

That stung.
Since childhood, I often had the peculiar sense of being watched
from a distance.

Just your imagination,
I could
hear my mother saying.

Exactly,
my father’s typical
response.

But
Mel had always believed me.

As if just
realizing it, Mel’s face softened. “I’m sorry.”

I returned
my attention to the driver. There was something weirdly familiar
about him. But be damned if I could place what that something
was.

In that
instance, he faced the exit. The engine revved loudly. Tires
howled. And just like that, the car disappeared leaving behind the
distinct smell of burning rubber and a wisp of smoke.

“That was odd.” Mel sounded unusually
subdued.

I almost
choked.
Odd
didn’t remotely cover it. I turned to Mel. Her
expression appeared quite puzzled, her normally ruddy skin pale as
she stared into the smoldering vapors of a now long departed
car.

I
gripped her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Her bright
pea green eyes blinked back to life. “Of course I am. It’s just a
fricking car, with some jerk of a driver.”

“You think that’s all it was?”

“
There could
be a zillion reasons why he was here, like casing the school to
break into over the holidays.”

I wanted to
believe her but couldn’t. The whole incident had remarkably
unsettled her. As for me, I couldn’t shake off the
familiar
thing.

“
I’ll let
security know before I leave, just in case,” Mel added.

I hugged
myself, ran my palms over my cool skin. All of a sudden, the
thought of being alone wasn’t so appealing. “Drinks sound good,” I
murmured.

Mel tried to appear delighted but it was
forced. “You won’t regret it.”

For a moment, she studied me, then shook her
head, collected her tub and began marching in the direction of the
office.

“
Go do
whatever it is you have to do,” she called out, “then get that
skinny little arse of yours down to
The
Local. And don’t forget to brush your hair; it looks like a family
of scavenging birds has nested in it.”

Original Mel was back.

***

Find
ing a parking spot outside
The Local
Watering Hole
was a near impossibility. I lost count at the
times I swore. I finally found one between a contemporary white
motorhome and a rusty old Commodore. After three attempts, I
eventually squeezed into it.

As I made my
way to
the pub’s entrance, I absorbed the
extraordinary views. Elevated high on Nankari’s southern headland,
I could see most of the jagged coastline and the exquisitely smooth
waters of the bay. On such a muggy afternoon, the steady sea
breezes made The Local a perfect drinking spot.

I took a
deep breath, then entered the place. When I did, I felt as always,
like I was suddenly transported back to 19th century Australia. And
as a history enthusiast, I loved it. Loved the large, rustic
barrels that served as tables, the black wrought iron stools, with
worn out cushions, as seats. Loved the honey-colored paneled walls
decorated with original leather saddles and semi-rusted farming
equipment.

And most of
all, the oil paintings, fertile with red, oranges and yellows that
perfectly captured an environment
too
harsh to survive in, the freedom the land offered, too seductive
not to try.

The smell of
beer was as always, fresh, pungent and enticing, and the buzz of
patrons’ voices loud but homey. I swung my newly brushed hair to
one side, straightened out imaginary creases from the bright green
dress hugging my body and headed towards the bar intending on
arming myself with the largest drink I could.

Outdoors was busier still. Sets of
oiled-timbered picnic tables lay scattered on the wide panoramic
deck along with more rustic barrels. Each carried the weight of
jovial customers.

I found Mel
at one of the tables. A bottle of champagne sat in an iced-filled
bucket; a generous serving of hot potato wedges spread before
her.

Champagne
I loved. I parked
myself across from her, downed my own glass and made for a rapid
refill. “It’s just magical here, isn’t it?” I said, soaking in the
sun-kissed sky.

“
Mmmm,” Mel
mumbled between mouthfuls of chili-covered potato. “And so are
these wedges.” She scoffed a few more. “So what’re we doing with
you these holidays?”

It was as if
she were ticking off an item from a ‘Things to Do’
list. “I’ll be fine.” I licked the chili sauce
off a wedge and decided it was too greasy.

“No you won’t.” That direct, that honest.
“Seven weeks? Too long for you doing nothing. Only make those
nightmares of yours worse.”

Mel was
referring to a set of dreams
I’ve had for
as long as I could remember, very alike to each other,
very frightening
. Sometimes, they occurred on consecutive nights. Other
times, days or even weeks would pass before I would have one
again.

We chatted for a while. Mel began listing a
number of possible holiday-occupying options, while we basked in
the glorious twilight, tasting champagne bubbles.

A roguish
sea breeze played with a wisp of my hair. I lazily fingered it
behind my ear. Mel was right about coming. I felt amazingly at
peace. Even the fading memories of the white
Holden now seemed inconsequential.

“
Hey,” Mel
whispered. “There’s a guy looking this way. And, yum, he’s simply
gorgeous.”

I
immediately recognized her impish grin and rolled my
eyes.

“
No really,
he’s soooo cute.” She tapped my arm. “Look now. He’s turned
away.”

I didn’t
know why I went along with those silly fantasies of hers, but I did
turn in that direction. On the other end of the deck was a man with
coal-colored hair leaning against the railing as if he owned them,
a beer glass cradled in his hand. Mel, as usual, was right. He was
good looking. Tall and powerfully built, he transmitted an air of
superiority and confidence. In that precise second, he turned and
caught my eye.

Ah, shit.

I hastily looked away. “Really, Mel, need I
remind you that you’re already married?”

She appeared gobsmacked. “Not for me,
Claudia. For you.”

“
What?” The
suggestion took me aback. I glanced at Muscle Man, unsure of how to
respond. This time he was smiling at me, quite
generously.

Shit, again.

I closed my eyes and swung back around. No
doubt about it, he was something else, but Mel knew it was the last
thing I wanted. I had another sip of champagne. My head began to
feel like the bubbles, light and frothy.

“Very nice!” Mel sighed, “But I’m not
surprised someone that delicious is eyeing you off.”

My eyebrows rose in question.

Her own rose
higher. “Don’t give me that ‘I don’t know what you’re talking
about’
face.”

I said nothing. It was safer.

The twinkle
in her eyes returned as she stole another peek over my shoulder.
“Someone like him could keep you entertained these
holidays.”

Was she for real?
“I don’t need a
man to entertain me.”

“
Well one
could argue that point.”

My eyes tapered.

“
But one
won’t,” Mel said. “He’s still impressive, though, very
impressive.”

Did Mel just
moan? I shook my head and stood, deciding we needed more ice and a
break in the conversation. I strolled towards the bar, aware of the
thickening crowds on a typically packed Friday.

Upon my
return, I glanced towards Muscle Man. Well, perhaps not so much
him, as his biceps, noticeably accentuated beneath the short
sleeves of his white polo shirt. Impressive, yes.

He
was looking straight back at me. I should’ve
blushed or something. But a visible change in his expression
troubled me instead. He was frowning, his interest redirected to
something inside the pub, to the right of where I was now standing.
When he looked back at me, his frown had creased further. He then
flicked his head to my right.

I instantly
checked the area, but only saw a raucous group of males larking
about. Looking back at Muscle Man, I noticed him repeating the
pattern, catching my eyes and flicking his head some
more.

For a blink, I had the impression he was
trying to tell me something.

For a blink, I was interested in what that
something was.

Was someone
watching me?

Yet
again?

Or
was I simply being paranoid after the Holden
incident? I spun around for a second time, searched with more care,
but still failed to spot anyone recognizable. What was going
on?

Always trust your instincts, Carino.

I can’t see anyone, Papa.

Doesn’t mean they are not there.

Damn it.

I side stepped a table of giggling girls
eyeing off the rowdy youths, gave the area beyond them one more
thorough search.

Nothing.

I began to
feel ridiculous. I turned to Muscle Man. He had his hands thrown to
either side of him, shrugging his broad shoulders. Then with an
apologetic expression, that seemed seriously exaggerated, he lifted
his beer as a gesture to join him for a drink.

Was that
what this entire performance had been about?

A
mere ploy to charm me?

I
instantly felt irritated. Not just from his
blasé reaction or his obvious brazenness but by my own gullible
readiness to go along with it all. I turned away, deciding I
wouldn’t glance his way again.

“Saw you looking at him,” Mel sang when I
returned.

“And won’t be looking again,” I sang back.
“The man has issues.”

“
What man
doesn’t, girl?” Mel laughed and sculled back the last of her
drink.

I laughed in
return. It felt so damn good. I freed the champagne bottle from the
mountainous chunks of ice and shook it from side to side, stressing
the dribble at its bottom. “I tell you what,” I said in a more
light-hearted tone. “It’s time for another bottle. So no more
serious stuff about guys and their whacky behaviors! You
in?”

“Hell, yeah.”

I leaned
back, grinned and felt more relaxed than I had in a long
time.

***

But what I
was yet to discover
.

Someone
had
been watching me that day at the pub.

Someone wearing a black leather jacket.

With a matching hood
.

December 3, 2010

9:15 pm

A FEW
HOURS
later, Mel’s ever-obliging husband,
Peter, dropped me home.

I slipped
out of their car and gazed up at the buildings towering over me.
The night hid the beauty of their earthy-colored exteriors, the
ivories and taupes and rich, deep reds. But it couldn’t mask the
lights randomly glimmering from identical rows of tinted glass and
partially curved balconies with white, metal
balustrades.