is this it? really? this? is death?
He shades his eyes. Very bright.
Ali Smith
Death is this huge, bright thing, and the bigger and brighter it is, the more we have to drive ourselves crazy thinking about things.
Haruki Marukami
These are the paths, the bright and dark,
Deemed as eternal in this world;
By the one he goes and ne’er returns,
By the other he comes back again.
The Bhagavadgita
//
I’m flying down the private access road. Feathers ruffling in the wind; a bullet in boardshorts. These two wheels, rusty chain and matte black frame have taken me everywhere I’ve ever needed to go. With sleep in my eye, the sun is just beginning to climb its way up the sky. Cicadas chirp as the bush goes by - a green and brown blur.
I’m trying to remember the dream I had this morning. I’d forgotten to write it down in my rush to get out the door, grabbing my bike before I could think of an excuse to stay in bed.
In my dream I was sitting around a campfire, on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Hands was there, drinking water from an old plastic bottle and eating an orange. He was my footy coach in juniors and taught me more about the world than anyone else.
Hands died a year ago.
There was a girl by the campfire, too. I didn’t recognise her, but she was beautiful. She had big brown eyes and hair tied hastily in a high ponytail. No one said a word. The three of us just sat there, looking out from our eyrie into the night.
When I woke up in my room, it took a while to find my bearings. It felt like everything had slightly shifted.
//
In these early morning moments, the sky a milky blue speckled with the last remaining stars, I imagine the sun and moon as shift workers. The sun is fresh, ready to start another big day; the moon in a jovial mood having knocked off and keen to hang around for a chat. They go through this routine every morning; the moon launching into tedious stories about the tides, the sun wanting to punch the clock and get on with the day. The changing of the guard of the night.
The moon is rambling about the Big Dipper when I hit the pothole. My front tyre catches in the cavity, making a right angle against the frame and sending me flying over the handlebars. It happens too quickly to shut my eyes. The coarse gravel road below is cold and grey. Cicada song grows louder in my head, a crescendo of intensity as I tumble through the thin morning air. Isn’t it too early for them to be singing? I realise I’ve never thought about how cicadas make their sound. They’re so ingrained in my world I’ve never questioned it. Right now, their chirps are tiny pins pricking my brain.
It only takes a few seconds to realise I haven’t hit the ground yet. In fact, I’m higher up than when I began to fall. The road below me is a small snake, slithering its way towards the ocean. I’m not falling anymore. I’m soaring.
Suspended over the water, I see schools of colourful fish. Pods of dolphins surfing and wrestling like puppy dogs. Coal ships making their way along the horizon. Impressed on the ocean below is a shadow. I see two huge wings and a tail. It mirrors my every move, effortlessly gliding over the water. I can’t tell if it’s following me or if I’m following it.
The day’s first surfers are paddling out at the main beach. Lights in kitchens are flicking on. The town is slowly waking up. I wonder if anyone sees me up here, hovering in my boardshorts. It’s not cold, but not warm either. I don’t feel good or bad; worried or excited. I’m suspended between two worlds. Precariously perched between night and day. The sun and the moon. And then I fall.
//
I wake up in long, dewy grass. My boardies slightly damp, hair on my arms standing on end. The sun is lifting itself over the ocean and into the cloudless sky. There’s a gentle breeze. Its warmth tells me it’s a westerly. It’s going to be one of those stinking hot days, but the surf should be good. I remember another morning like this one a few years back, running into Hands at the beach when I should have been studying. He told me: You can’t waste days like these.
On the walk home, utes and wanky cars speed past. Commercial radio blares from windows. Bougie cafes buzz while real estate agents talk into AirPods. Feral kids push and shove each other at bus stops, their backpacks twice their size. I'm an alien plodding through the streets.
When I make it back home, it feels like I couldn’t have gone a step further. Trudging up the driveway, I notice for the first time the symmetry of the three windows lining the side of our little unit. Evenly spaced and perfectly aligned; one for the bedroom, one for the study, one for the kitchen. I get a warm and fuzzy feeling. Adrianne sits on the sill of the window closest to the door and licks her paw.
Rummaging in my pocket, I’m surprised to find my housekeys still there. I fumble for the lock, jiggle the key and step inside.
//
It’s dark and cool in here. With the blinds drawn, I’m safe from the world in my nest. Dark green plants line the walls. Books and records spill from the shelves and onto the floor. I’ve never been compelled to arrange them in any particular order. Adrianne jumps down from the window and stretches on the floor. She dodges my attempt at a pat, running down the hall and under the bed. She won’t be back out until the sun goes down.
There’s a dirty bowl and coffee cup in the sink. Priscilla’s breakfast before she rushed off for work this morning. She was fast asleep when I kissed her goodbye in the dark and whispered that I was going for a swim. It feels like a long time ago.
I take a cold shower and put on a pair of clean boxers. The Sunbeam Mini Barista is already on. I don’t question why. I cut an orange into quarters and make two pieces of vegemite toast, washing it down with a cold coffee. Outside, the garbage truck rumbles down the street. It must be Monday. Flipping half-heartedly through The Surfer’s Journal, I remember my bike. I hadn’t had time to make sense of the morning’s events, let alone contemplate the whereabouts of my beloved Norco Indie 2. I stumble outside to check the shed we share with our neighbour. Maybe it was just a weird, visceral dream and my bike will be sitting right where it always is. Shielding my eyes, I step outside and dart across the scorching concrete.
The shed feels damp. Small and cramped. Two washing machines, a Big Daddy Double Deluxe swag and a bag of deflated footballs suffocate the cramped den. In the corner stands Priscilla’s shiny new cruiser. I spent most of my savings on it for her birthday last year. It was better than mine and I knew she would only ride it every now and then, but I wanted her to have it. It’s been worth it for those sunny Saturday morning rides to the coffee shop together. Mine isn’t there though. Despite the poky space, the spot where my pushy should be is a cavernous gorge.
//
Back inside, I put on a shirt, sunscreen and a wide-brimmed hat. I check Adrianne is still under the bed, telling her I’ll be back soon. I slip on my thongs and head out the door.
The sun stands a little higher now. It’s proud and regal. I can feel it looking straight through me. The streets are quiet with the morning sadsack rush over. They’ll be sitting in offices, quietly filling their keep cups with tears.
Trying to retrace my ride this morning, I walk past old ladies with shopping trolleys. Teenagers whopping school are loitering outside the IGA. Young women push empty prams along pedestrian crossings. On telegraph poles I notice the same poster on nearly every street. It catches my eye after the third or fourth one I pass. It’s a notice for a missing person. Her name is Maggie and she’s been gone for nearly a week. From the photo on the poster, she looks to be about my age. I feel a pang in my chest looking into her eyes. Then I realise: it’s the girl from my dream last night. Exact same hairdo and everything. Just as pretty.
I’m lost in my thoughts when I hear a shout across the street: Joey!
Not many people call me Joey. An eclectic mix of friends, family and acquaintances who feel like they either do or don’t know me well enough to not use my full name.
I turn around to see Charlie. Like always, he wears a huge grin on his freckled face. It almost reaches his ears. He’s just been to the bakery for a salad sandwich. Waving a tightly-packed white package from the window of his car, he calls me over.
As I cross the road, he’s unwrapping the sandwich, insisting I take half. I acquiesce; partly because I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and partly because I’m suddenly ravenous. Didn’t I just eat breakfast?
I hop in the passenger seat of his white Nissan X-Trail. We sit in silence as we devour our halves. He gets as much joy gifting me the sandwich as I do in eating it. He’s like that in the surf too, directing traffic as the sets roll in: Here’s one Joey!
When we finish eating, Charlie says the waves are firing. I tell him I need to go find my pushy, but we’re already driving to my place to get my board. The bike will have to wait.
//
Charlie’s right about the surf. It’s three to four foot and offshore. On days like these, the main beach is so crowded you can’t get a park. We head a little further north to a secret spot.
The sun is right in the middle of the sky now. It’s a thick and sticky heat.
We park under towering eucalypts where the road ends and the bush begins. Charlie tells me to put on some of his specially-formulated zinc. It's a custom order from the pharmacy. With a twinkle in his eye, he hands me a small plastic tub. I’m sceptical, but it’s better than getting burnt. I feel like I’m wearing a full face of makeup.
We wade through the heat, boards under our arms until we reach the ocean.
//
We’re out in the surf and all our friends are here. Long and clean right handers are peeling off the point and we’re the only ones in the lineup. In this moment forever.
The sun is just beginning to drop. In the water, the heat has lost some of its sting. We’re all wearing boardies and swimmers except Charlie, who’s in full steamer, booties and gloves to cover his ginger skin. On the walk to the beach he said he felt like he was in India.
There are plenty of waves to go around. Everyone taking their turn, laughing and telling stories between sets. I jag a few nice ones, drawing long lines on my 5’8” twinny finny. It feels effortless as I glide along the water, as though I might lift off the wave into the air at any moment. Sets continue to pulse through with a familiar face on each.
//
I’m paddling back out through the channel after a pretty nice one. Past the point, I see a monster set coming. The horizon lifts as it edges towards me. Clouds roll in, obscuring the sun, and I can’t see any of my friends. They’ve all gone in and forgotten about me. It’s dark and cold but I put my head down and paddle. My arms burn as white foam forms on the lip of the colossal wave, bearing over me. I push my board underwater as hard as I can and dig my knee into the tail. The wave breaks on the back of my legs just as I scurry under the explosion. Resurfacing, I keep my head down and paddle on, knowing there’s another one coming. I’m trying to slow my breath as my whole body tightens. Muscles constricting. Arms and legs on fire.
The next wave breaks within an arm’s reach of me. A deafening crack as the falling slab pounds the surface of the ocean. I’m near enough to slip under the maelstrom, just escaping the wrath.
Coming up, I’m spent. My limbs feel like overcooked asparagus spears. I’m coughing up water and wiping salt from my eyes when I see one more wave powering towards me. It’s twice as big as the last two. Scrambling towards it, I feel like I’m on a treadmill. White lines streak the face as the chunderous slab rears itself on top of me. We are the only two in the world right now. I’m an insignificant crumb in the infinite sea.
Just as the lip begins to drop, I ditch my board and dive as deep as I can. There’s a moment of tranquillity as I’m immersed in this blue world. Schools of fish pass. A cast of crabs scurries across the seabed. I feel whole, like a longing I didn’t know was there has suddenly evaporated. The gurgling of the fridge only noticed in its own absence. And then the wave breaks. It reaches down with a firm grip, pulling me from my reverie into its fury.
//
When I wake up, I’m lying on the sand. It’s a dark and grey afternoon. The wind has turned onshore, making a washing machine of the surf. There’s seaweed in my hair and rocks in my ears. Tiny grains of sand between my teeth.
I’m completely naked. There’s no one else on the beach. A confused anxiety takes hold of me. It feels like those waves washed the whole world away. I’m here all alone.
But if everyone else left together, and have all gone to the same place, did they really leave? Or did I just disappear? Maybe they’re sitting on a sunlit veranda somewhere, waiting for me to come through the door. They’ve got bags of salt and vinegar chips and an Eski full of cold beers. How long will they wait before they forget about me? I want to be there to tell them I miss them and love them. But I can’t. I didn’t choose to get left behind, but here I am. It feels worse being the one who deserted them.
//
I pull a piece of kelp from my chest and head off down the beach. Something’s drawing me along the sand into the deep bushland up ahead. Magnolia Electric Co. is stuck in my head. I’m not worried about being naked anymore. I don’t feel like I’ve got anything left to hide. Or at least, nothing worth hiding. I’d rather let someone see all of me than cover the parts I’m ashamed of.
The sun is trying to poke its way through the clouds. I’m egging it on, willing it to burst through the afternoon. A sudden calmness washes over me. My heart beats strongly. Whether the sun shines or not, it’s still there.
A white-bellied sea eagle passes above me, circling overhead before plunging into the ocean. It beats its wings on the water, resurfacing with a fish in its talons and heading south. I eventually see it land on an eyrie where rugged cliffs meet the water. With the bird guiding me, I continue on down the beach.
//
I follow the eagle’s path as trees cast shadows along the shore. Up ahead, I spot a figure. It almost looks to be an illusion. I can nearly see through it. It's trying to stand still, but I feel short and shallow breaths penetrate the air. A darkness surrounds it.
As I get closer, I can see it’s a man. He’s going bald, though the hair around his ears is wild and unkept. We make eye contact but he doesn’t look away. I sheepishly avert my gaze towards my feet, suddenly feeling exposed. He doesn’t smile or frown. Just a blank look as if there’s nothing behind his eyes. I make an arc in my path. He’s not going to make way for me.
He’s wearing a light blue suit, like kids wear to taekwondo classes after school. A sash is draped over his left shoulder, looping down and around his right hip. Skull patches and other insignia sewn crudely on.
I feel his eyes on me as I walk past. I’m too scared to look up and my neck is starting to hurt. When I think I’ve created a safe distance, I take a quick glance over my shoulder. He’s gone, like he was never there at all.
Now I’m questioning my sanity. A tear appears on my cheek. It slides past my lips, off my chin and onto the sand. Before long, thousands of tiny droplets are beginning to fall. I can’t tell whether they are coming from my eyes or the sky. It’s pouring now and I can hardly make out what lays ahead of me.
//
There’s movement in the trees to my right. First a light rustling in the leaves, then the padding of footsteps. The man in the light blue suit bursts out from the bush and is charging towards me. In his right hand, a long blade glistens in the rain. He wears the same blank stare as he bears down on me.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m sprinting along the sand with the man in the light blue suit in tow. Running as fast as my legs will let me, it’s not long before we reach the end of the beach. The man’s pace has not let up; he’s quicker than his rounded figure suggests.
When we reach the cliff face, I take a sharp turn into the bushland.
//
Dodging rocks and tree branches, the man in the blue suit doesn’t miss a step. I feel myself slowing, but when I look back the man is no closer or further than he was before. He’s waving his machete in the air.
After a while, I lose any trace of a path to follow. We’re so deep that I have to beat my own trail through the thicket as I go. I look down at my bare feet to see blood seeping between my toes. Tree branches whip and lash my back. I can’t go on much further.
The bush is so dense that if the man in the blue suit kills me here, no one will ever find my body. I wonder if anyone would notice I’m gone. There’ll be a me-shaped hole where I used to be, but something else will surely fill it.
Maybe this would be the best way to leave. Like a dream that comes deep in the night, slipping out the window without a trace before morning arrives. My body is about to give in when I hear a snap and a crash behind me.
//
I was flying with the sea eagles. Together we soared across the ocean, diving and weaving as one. Each a small part of a larger consciousness. Something we didn’t entirely understand, but knew we were a part of. We rode the wind like a wave. I let my toes dip and drag in the water as we swooped down low. A warmth emanated from inside my body. It grew in my chest, working along my arms and legs, into my fingers and toes. I was glowing. I felt my body and mind as two distinct entities but working in complete synergy. I wasn’t thinking about how to fly or where to turn next. Each zig and zag in harmony with the other birds.
I looked down below to the shore. Everyone I loved was standing on the sand. All at once, they looked up to me and smiled. They weren’t worried or concerned. From up in the sky, I knew I would never be able to join them again. My heart was heavy but full of love. I didn’t want them to miss me and knew they wouldn’t.
In the air, we made a long and smooth arc, passing over the bush towards the sun. I took one last look back and said goodbye.
//
I wake to the honking of a sea eagle. Far in the distance, I can’t tell which direction it’s coming from. My feet are blistered and I’m covered in cuts and bruises.
I remember the man in the blue suit and the frantic chase. He tripped on a tree root and fell on his long blade. I watched as his body went into violent spasms. Blood oozed from his mouth. Looking through me with that same blank stare, he didn’t scream or moan as he died. I turned and ran until I passed out.
//
It’s dark now. I can see the sky speckled with stars through the canopy of gum trees. Cicadas sing their song all around me. I sit up and feel something next to me. It’s hard and rigid, cool to touch. Running my hands along the steel frame, the bumps and scratches are distinctly familiar. My pushy. It’s casually propped against a tree, like it’s been waiting for me to arrive. My boardies are draped over the handlebars. Slipping them on, they feel brand-new.
The milky glow of the full moon radiates through the bush. Under the new light, a path appears. It looks like it was once well maintained, though doesn’t seem like anyone has been down this way in a long time.
I hop on my pushy and make my way down the track, hardly having to pedal as I’m guided along. The path snakes around boulders and tree roots. Bright purple agapanthus glow in the moonlight. A stream trickles somewhere below. The moon is growing bigger as I’m led along the path. I wouldn’t be able to resist the pull if I wanted to.
The bush begins to open up. The trees less dense, the path widening. The ocean lays itself out before me. It’s a deep navy blue. Still rising, the moon stands over the sea, watching over the night. The light glistens like angels dancing on the water.
//
Slowly rolling forward, I realise I’ve reached the end of the path. It’s led me to the edge of a cliff face. An eyrie overlooking the endless ocean. The sea eagle’s nest must be around here somewhere.
I lay my bike down and walk cautiously towards the edge. Hanging my toes off the precipice, tiny rocks crumble and fall into the deep water below.
My mind is empty as I take in the vast expanse before me. Something is making its way through my body. Slowly slipping out of me, it’s been waiting for this moment.
//
You hear about people who have died in places like this. Jumped off the edge, thinking they can fly. But is that really why they jump? Maybe they’ve seen a life where they soar through the air from morning to night. Roaming the skies with friends by their side. They come back to this flightless life with a piece of themselves missing. Maybe they die trying to get that piece back. Hovering over the edge, I’m not sure what would happen if I jumped. Would I take off like an eagle or fall like a stone? A life not knowing is not a life worth living.
I’m standing tall with my eyes closed. The wind ruffles my hair and presses against my bare chest. My toes grip the earth like talons. I spread my wings and give myself over to the night.
//
A warm hand grips my shoulder just as my feet are about to leave the ground.
The fuck are you doing, weirdo?
It’s Hands. He flashes a grin, bearing his yellowing, crooked teeth.
I see you found your pushy. Your board’s here too.
Sure enough, there it is. Laying peacefully next to a campfire. Hands gives me a light shove on the back towards his makeshift campsite.
Sit down you fucking weirdo. You met Mags?
He gestures towards the other side of the fire. A girl about my age sits cross legged on a patch of grass. The flames light her face, flickering in her eyes. She smiles at me.
I want to tell Hands how much I’ve missed him. Let Maggie know everyone is worried sick looking for her. But I know they don’t need to hear it. They’ve left that world behind.
I take a seat between them and listen to the fire crackle as waves lap against the cliff. Hands stares deep into the flames and hands me an orange.
Eat this, weirdo.
No comments:
Post a Comment