The Boys of Summer (31 page)

I gave her my best ‘not happy’ look.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be here,” Ellie
reassured me.

And the Onslow Boys did rock up. At least
Stan and Sean did. No Toby, though. Ellie gave me a worried look,
and I went back to the kitchen. Obviously, ‘absence makes the heart
grow fonder’ was more like, ‘out of sight, out of mind’. As I
dumped dirty dishes in the sink, I vowed never to take Ellie’s
advice again.

“What’s your problem?” Amy glared as dirty
dishwater splashed her in my dumping fury. I stormed out the back
to kick a milk crate across the cement and slumped on to the back
step to take a few breaths. I was angry at the world, at Toby, but
mostly at myself.

Maybe I
was
the rebound girl.

At Sunday dinner service, when Toby was a no
show again, doubt rose in me. Apparently the Onslow Boys had gone
fishing, which was just Jim-dandy, but a whole week had gone by and
the buzz from last weekend was quickly wearing off.

“You stress too much, I haven’t exactly seen
a heap of Stan this weekend either,” Ellie said.

“You mean aside from your mid-week catch ups
and yesterday and today? That’s not classified as ‘a heap’?”

“Not for our standards.”

I really didn’t give a crap about what their
standards were, I was too busy feeling sorry for myself as I sipped
on my Sunday night after-work staff drink. I hit the heavy stuff
tonight. Double shot raspberry lemonade; yeah, I was depressed.

“You may not think it now, but in time you’ll
thank me for this.”

I just grunted into my syrupy lemonade. The
weekend was over. I felt like a little lap dog waiting for the door
to open, waiting for the boys to come waltzing in. Ellie had tried
to find out more info from Stan about their whereabouts and if they
were coming in, but they must have been out of range. We couldn’t
even grill Chris, who was absent from his usual weekend shift. He
wasn’t out bonding with the boys; instead, he had taken a break to
go to the city and stay with his nan and Adam.

Adam. I wished Adam were here. Ellie was
sapping my energy with an entire summer devoted to her. I needed a
buffer.

I nearly knocked my drink over at the sound
of the door; I whipped my head around so fast it threatened to snap
off my neck. A lone figure walked through. Stan. My shoulders
slumped as Ellie brightened.

“Hey, you!” She beamed, swiveling in his
direction.

His smile was warm and authentic, his eyes
lit up when he saw her and there was no doubt how he felt about
Ellie. There was no guarded, unreadable, broody expression on
Stan’s face. He was an open book; they both were.

Ellie flung her arms around his neck and
kissed him. He held her, causing Ellie’s feet to hover off the
ground.

Stan winced. “Ah, Ellie watch my
sunburn.”

He was noticeably flushed, and Ellie pulled
back his collar with a gasp.

“Stanley Remington, you deserve a right arse
kicking.”

I shook my head. “Boys and their inability to
rub sun screen on each other.”

“Believe me, it’s not worth the hassle.” He
cringed as he sat down.

“I can see that.” I eyed him skeptically.

“So where is everyone?” Ellie asked
innocently.

“Home, I guess, big day.”

Stan looked beat. A combination of drinking
and sunstroke was nasty indeed. I wondered if Toby had suffered the
same fate? He wouldn’t burn like Stan because of his beautiful
olive complexion, but I was appeased by the fact that they had had
a big day and that was the reason they didn’t come in tonight. But
still. Stan had; he would have walked on fire to get to Ellie. My
heart spiked with jealousy at how their relationship had
developed.

Stan and Ellie dropped me off at home, early
even for a Sunday night, on what had to have been the most
anti-climactic weekend of the summer. With no Onslow Boys and no
Chris to hold a lock-in, the bar had closed an hour early and so
there I was, sitting in my room all before midnight. My dad had
even stirred to get a drink and seemed utterly amazed I was home
already. At least that would make me look good, I thought.

I checked my emails knowing there would be
nothing from Ellie. Her emails became less and less frequent these
days. Plus, she was no doubt in Stan’s bungalow right now sponging
him down with aloe vera cream.

Old faithful Adam, however, sat in my inbox,
which made me smile no matter what my mood.

To: tessmcgee

Guess who can finger knit? Jealous much? Yeah
you should be!

Hey I will finger knit you a scarf, I think
if I start now it should be ready for winter in about 4 years’
time…. Watch this space!

So what’s happening McGee?? Chris is here but
he won’t dish the dirt, he is such a killjoy. I wonder when Mum and
Dad are going to tell him he’s adopted?

Maybe this Christmas?? Hand over his Bruce
Springsteen’s Greatest hits CD with a P.S…You’re adopted!

Live to hope.

Sender: Adam I can jump puddles
Henderson

To: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson

Sorry dude! There is no mistaking your family
resemblance. Brothers to the bone! If anything, I suspect you were
cloned from the same petri dish, aside from the whole serious
broody thing (Don’t tell him I said that).

If you can’t manage the adopted angle how
about dropped on his head as a baby? That might explain a few
things. But then again you might have been dropped on your head as
a baby too? Which in any case would also explain a few things.

Like ah Finger knitting??? What the?

Sender: tessmcgee

To: tessmcgee

People are afraid of what they don’t
understand Tess. Finger knitters everywhere have been suffering
from the prejudice for centuries. I have to say I am a little
disappointed in you.

Considering I fell off a billiard table
recently I think I will avoid the whole dropped on head topic, it
might back fire.

What are you doing home from work?

Sender: Adam I can jump puddles
Henderson

I hit reply. I wanted to tell him about my
horrid weekend, about Ellie’s boy theory which I was seriously
starting to doubt. I wanted to tell him each scenario and every
painstaking analysis I had all week. But in order to do that, first
I would have to tell him about the boy. Something I had been
avoiding and something I couldn’t do via email.

Screw it, I thought, and picked up the
phone.

My fingers threaded nervously through the
curve of the phone cord as it rang. Then he answered. Much like
Ellie, there was surprised silence after I told him a (sugarcoated)
version of events. He didn’t need to know about the dry humping.
But if he was about to echo the same spiel as Ellie, for one, I
didn’t think I could stand it and two, maybe they couldn’t be all
wrong?

Adam blew out a breath. “You’ve been
busy.”

“Oh, you know, just the typical summer
drama.” I winced.

“Tess. I have been finger knitting. A typical
summer is not in my existence.”

“I guess you’ll have to live vicariously
through us, then.”

“I’ll say. Toby Morrison, huh?” He sounded as
if he needed it to sink in, as the phone line fell into more
silence.

“So do you think I’m the rebound girl?” I
asked, afraid of the answer.

“Possibly. But aren’t we all on the rebound
from someone? I mean, no matter how much time goes by, the next
person will always be the rebound person. Was Stan the rebound guy
for the tourist sleaze bag? Or was the tourist sleaze the rebound
from Stan?”

I sat up straighter now. “I guess.”

“Do you want some advice?”

I nodded, which in hindsight was pretty dumb
on the phone but he continued anyway.

“Don’t over-think it. Trust me, blokes aren’t
complicated creatures.”

“So do you think I should hold back?”

“What for? If you like him – I can’t believe
I am having such a chick conversation with you – but if you like
him, let him know. Not in a stalkerish ‘I want to have your babies’
way, but if you wanna hang with him, do it. If he’s keen, he’ll
appreciate your honesty more than playing stupid games with him.
Good God, woman, you’re taking boy advice from Ellie?
Seriously?”

“You weren’t around, Adam! Besides, it’s not
exactly like I talk to you about this stuff.”

“Yeah, well, this is the one and only time I
like not having a vagina.”

“Gross.”

“Like I said,” Adam continued, “the male
species isn’t as complicated as you think, so just go with it and
do your own thing.”

I felt a wave of relief pass over me at
Adam’s no-nonsense, honest words. Maybe it was because it was what
I wanted to hear, but it was also good to get a guy’s point of
view. Adam was my last point of call before I picked up my mum’s
copy of
Men are from Mars, Woman are from Venus.

“Thanks, Adam.”

“No sweat. I better go, this scarf won’t knit
itself, you know.”

“You sure you don’t have a vagina?”

“Whatever, Toby lover!”

“Don’t say anything to Chris, okay? It’s not
exactly common knowledge.”

“Ha! That’s what you think.”

I froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?

“Here’s another helpful insight into guys,
Tess: opposed to what girls think, mates talk. We are mostly apes
with our brains in our pants, but don’t underestimate the power of
the bro code.”

“The bloody bro code.”

“It is a strong, unbreakable bond.”

“Ellie broke it,” I laughed.

“I bet she freakin’ did.” He laughed,
too.

“Any last words of advice, oh wise
master?”

“If you take up finger knitting, make sure
you use talcum powder so the wool doesn’t rub on your fingers.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Stop playing games and go get him.”

As I hung up the phone, that was exactly what
I decided to do.

I had looked down this drive maybe a
thousand times before, but none of those numerous times held as
much weight as it did now.

I lowered my foot to balance my bike as I
came to a stop. A singular porch light shone like a beacon down the
long curving driveway, casting a shadow across Toby’s car.

Light on. Car in drive.

He was home. I supposed anyone would be at
2am on a Monday morning. I was in two minds, I was ready to turn
around and head for home; I paused, a murmur of music inside had my
heart thumping in a matching rhythm. He was definitely home, he was
awake and before nerves demanded I leave, I walked my bike down the
drive, towards the light, towards the music.

I propped it near the wall of the cabin,
moving through the darkness of the carport, skimming myself
sideways so as not to scratch Toby’s car. I placed a hand against
the bonnet. Cold, Toby must have been home all night. I realised
how creepy that was so quickly pulled my hand away.

Stop being such a stalker, Tess!

Before I could put too much thought into
where I was and what I was doing, I followed the ever-increasing
thud of music that led me around the back. Then I had a thought.
What if he wasn’t alone?
I faltered for a second, then
pushed forward. If I chickened out now I would never get any peace.
I wanted – needed – to do this so before any more self-doubt forced
itself into my mind, I turned the corner.

A dim single bulb lit the back deck that
housed a couch … in which Toby sat. And he was alone! Surprise lit
his face as he saw me. He paused mid-sip of his beer, and went to
speak then thought better of it.

As he sat there, all relaxed, nursing his
stubby, my heart leapt into my throat. He was so incredibly sexy in
low-rise jeans and a black Bonds singlet, he was barefoot with
bed-tousled hair and he was here, at his home, sitting and staring
at me.

All of a sudden I felt weird and out of
place.

An amused crease tilted his brow. “What are
you doing here?”

What
was
I doing
here?

When I didn’t answer, Toby melted further
into his couch, swigging on his beer, only momentarily taking his
eyes from me.

“You want one?” He held up the stubby.

“Sure.”

He stood, towering over me. Skimming past as
he walked towards a bar fridge on the back deck, I quickly
concentrated on trees that lay beyond Toby’s backyard, silhouetted
in the moonlight. Crossing my arms and staring into the nothing, it
took every ounce of my strength not to watch Toby bend to the bar
fridge, clinking the bottles as he rearranged the shelves. I didn’t
really want a beer, but I thought it would make me seem less
awkward, have more of a purpose, because that’s what friends do,
right? They hang out on back decks listening to music and downing a
few beers.

As I tried to justify my presence, something
blisteringly cold pressed against the back of my neck. I gasped and
stepped away, spinning around. Toby grinned wickedly as he held out
a beer.

“Cold enough?”

I rubbed the back of my neck and threw him my
best death stare. That only seemed to amuse him more. His gaze
dipped to my shoulders, then back up to my face again. He stepped
forward, all amusement suddenly sobering into that serious gaze I’d
seen so often.

“You caught a bit of sun today.” He ran the
back of his knuckles gently along my upper arm. His hands were both
full of our beers but that didn’t stop him from touching me. I
didn’t know if it was the shock of the ice-cold beer on my neck or
Toby’s touch that caused gooseflesh to form on such a warm
night.

The song ended, and Toby’s attention was
drawn away from me, snapping me out of my own daze as he placed my
beer into my hand.

He disappeared through the sliding glass
door; I could barely make him out in the dim interior. He restarted
his tape, the same melodious symphony I’d heard from the
driveway.