CHAPTER ONE

The beginning...

... I was sitting on the pier, lost in the latest thriller in my hands. Eyes lifted only when a different, yet all too familiar sound invaded the fantasy I was living in those pages.

"Mum, look! I can dive now!"

I dragged my mind away from the car chase and the suspense of being pursued by three black SUVs, and focused it on where my oldest boy stood.

"Watch this!"

He performed an almost perfect dive, only his feet causing a small plume of water as they bent at the very end. He surfaced with a grin, his bronzed body soon reaching for the ladder again, and another try.

I'd been reading for two hours now, the book almost finished. I'd missed most of his earlier attempts. Part of me longed to enter the chase again, deal with the pesky foreign agents and rescue the woman I had fallen in love with during my mission.

I fought it, though. Real life was taking place right here, on this pier; my sons, their friends, the girls - especially the one with long dark hair who'd taken an interest in my oldest boy and stood shyly observing him... and of course, the family of stingrays slowly meandering along the bottom.

Tourists feared our stingrays. Local kids made a game of it. Every time one wandered close to the pier, they'd yell, "Stingray! Stingray!" Out-of-towners would panic, screaming for their kids to: "Get out of the water now! Hurry!"

There'd be a mad rush for the two ladders, kids of all ages scrambling over each other to climb to safety. My two and their friends would stay put, floating on the surface as the giant rays passed harmlessly below.

"Dylan."

"Yeah mum?"

"Go talk to her."

"Which one?"

"White bikini, long brown hair and - look at those eyes!" She did have incredible blue eyes, set off further by her summer tan.

"That's Casey. Don't really know her."

"She likes you."

"Maybe later," he said, drifting away to the edge again and another dive. Casey moved a little closer, leaning on a bollard...

..."She likes you," I heard the woman say, her face pointing to a young girl with long dark hair.

She was below me, standing on the lower level, several metres away and talking to a teenage boy. Her son?

I watched him shrug his shoulders. "Maybe later," he said, walking away and diving neatly into the deep water. The girl had moved closer, leaning on a bollard. Good call - she was definitely interested in the young man...

... I noticed the border-collie first; the sight capturing my attention, for it was black where it should have been white and white where it should have been black.

"How odd," I thought. "An inverted dog!"

I'd been sitting on the lower level, this affording some partial shade from the midday sun. The collie sniffed at my towel and water bottle, placed on the edge of the main pier above.

A man leaned against the rail further along. Short blond hair blended with a little grey. A tee-shirt and brown cargo shorts, a lead in his right hand. His feet were bare. I liked that. No wedding ring on the tanned left hand. Blue (?) eyes staring out at the water. He hadn't shaved that day, maybe the previous days too - Hell he caught me looking!

"You look familiar. Do I know you?"

… I watched her. I don't usually come up here. The odd walk on the pier was an impulse. Mostly I wade in the shallows with Bacon, watching as he darts around the exposed sand islands, chasing seagulls. He never catches any but he’s determined.

Bacon was sniffing at her towel. It was either going to be Bacon or Bailey but I won, since the mere smell of my wife cooking it the morning we'd first brought him home from the pound caused a frenzied chasing-his-tail excitement. So Bacon it was. Baileys Martini was Ann's favourite cocktail, the rich Irish cream blended with Vodka and ice. I was more the beer type; a cold bottle of Two Dogs, from the local brewery.

She spotted me!

"You're staring at me like you know me. Have we met?"

"I don't think we've met. But there's something..."

"I know. Have we done this before?"

"I would have noticed."

"Are you married? There's no ring..."

"Are you married?"

"I don't wear a ring but yes, I am.

Damn! I sat back down and used the book for cover. I was instantly driving through the narrow streets of inner Rome. People were scattering, a few fell over as I swerved sharply to avoid two boys on scooters. The SUV's were gaining distance, one only a few metres behind me. My eyes were darting from the rear-view mirror to the street ahead. A cross-street coming up, fifty metres away. I gripped the wheel, ready for yet another sharp turn. From memory, there was a bridge on the left, leading away from the congested streets. I needed room to...

"Why do your eyes keep coming back to me?"

"I don't know. I don't mean to stare."

I felt his glance on me, off me. Like the sweeping light placed on the pole further out from the pier. That's where the shipping lane was, the pole marking its closest point to the shore. Great hulking container ships made their way to and from the distant port, following the marked and deep-dredged channel, leaving great wakes in their passing; these creating a series of waves pounding the usually serene shoreline.

"Who are you? You're not a local; I would have spotted you before."

"Why have I not seen you before?"

Who was he? I knew most of the locals, this being our fourth year living on the Southern Peninsula. Had I seen him before and not taken notice?

"You look like a local though."

"You obviously live down here..."

He appeared too at ease to be a tourist; most of those wore sandals or Havaiana thongs, averse to the seagull droppings and the odd chuck-up from a too-drunk teen the night before.

I did the light-sweep too, alternating from appraising him to staring at the group of stingrays approaching from the left and the two fishermen who'd so far caught only seaweed, on my right.

… I looked away but then found my gaze drifting back. Something about her. What was she? Late thirties maybe? Slim, still able to carry off the black bikini without the constant need to adjust the bottom as was usual when too broad butts were squeezed into too tight bikini bottoms.

Her hair was shoulder length; what could be seen below the cap she wore low on her face was blond with streaks of ash. She wore no jewellery.

"What's going on? Why are we sneaking peeks?"

"I have no idea. My eyes keep drifting back to you."

Something was being exchanged, despite his face remaining expressionless; no hint of a smile, no visible sign of interest. I wandered if my own eyes mirrored his or if he saw "

"Mum!" This from Marcus, my younger son.

"Hey!" He was in the water. "Look under!"

Three of the stingrays were slowly drifting along the bottom. I recognised one of them, its tail much shorter, several large white lines etched on its expansive black back; a mishap with a jet-ski perhaps.

"The middle one is huge!"

"I know, right!" My son ducked his head below the water for a better view. I heard several gasps from a group of tourist-parents nearby. Some murmured words and frowning looks cast my way.

"They're harmless." I heard myself say.

"Oh yeah? What about Steve Irwin then?" This from a rather large gentleman, a streak of white zinc over his broad nose; an arm draped around each of the two small girls in front of him.

"Not the same. These rays are regulars here; they're used to the kids."

Why was I bothering? The sunscreen lathered group guarding an assortment of kids would never understand. You had to be living here, to have swum these waters years on end... Their week-long vacation between Christmas and New Year left them with some pink skin and stories to tell back home about their close brush with danger.

… I heard her trying to reason with an obnoxious tourist. Her voice was interesting, she spoke English fluently but there was a hint of an accent... maybe southern European... her easy tan - no not Italian - maybe Greek? Maltese?

Shoot, the time! I had to get Mandy to work. Wife was at the gym as usual.

"Come Bacon, Time to go mate."

"Hey, stop! Why are you walking away?"

"Darn it, I have to leave. Wish I could stay..."

"Don't leave! Not yet. Not till I've figured out why-"

… He walked away, the inverted collie at his heels. Damn. Or nor damn. Maybe-

"Boys! Gotta go!"  

"Did you hear me?"

"Another two jumps!" Dylan said, ready to dive off again.

"Last two okay?" I watched Casey walk back towards a group of girls. Dylan had totally ignored her. Was he interested in someone else? I realised I hadn't asked him in a while.

Minutes later, towels and water-bottles shoved in backpacks, we started the walk back to shore. It was a long pier; the water being shallow in this part of the bay, the receding tide exposing large stretches of sand where people propped up beach chairs and umbrellas, sometimes the odd gazebo and volleyball net.

We lived almost opposite the pier, a street just to the left of it, across the main road. As we neared the traffic lights, I saw him, sitting in a car, a surfboard on its roof.

… I heard her call the boys, as I reluctantly walked away. She was leaving too! I slowed my steps, thinking of the hot car I'd be sitting in till she passed by. Once inside, windows all wound down, I focused my eyes on the rear-view mirror, waiting. Several minutes later, I spotted her, behind a group of Japanese tourists, cameras and mobile phones clutched in hands. They were gesticulating excitedly, I wondered if they'd seen the stingrays and-

"You've been waiting!"

"I hoped you'd follow."

"I live just over the road..."

We crossed at the lights. He had driven up while we'd waited for them to turn green, and turned left. I followed his car as we walked past the Kebab place and the Laundromat.

The Kebab shop was yet another local joke. It had won Best Kebab place in the Herald Sun several years ago; the article enlarged and proudly displayed on the front window since. Its façade had the word 'kebab' sign-written fifteen times, from the roof to the partition blocking the three plastic tables from the road. We often counted, seeing if any more kebabs had snuck in...

"I don't know why and my daughter will kill me for being late but I am going to drive slow, see where you're walking to."

We turned right, into our street. Several backward glances, a beeping horn but I saw no sign of his blue car.

"Why didn't you slow down? You would have seen me enter the street; my house is only two in from the corner!"

     

"Did you see me? The damned woman behind me beeped her horn and I had to speed up. Did you see me?"

Reviews

[. serah .]

-- i don't know if it's just me but they seem very oppressed by the situation they're in... in their respective lives... and it seems like silent conversations are the only escape and the only relief they can afford... -- it also seems like what connects them is the feeling of being trapped in their respective lives... -- metaphorically speaking, these two characters represent (for me) a disconnect from life... and hence the absence of happiness... -- but i realize that this could be my interpretation and not what you wished to convey...

[Elise Anton]

Spot on Serah. This first part is real life. At least what I experienced and interpreted from my end... Parts of the entire story are true, parts obviously fictional. I actually had a note book along on the pier as I usually did, and wrote about the tourists and stingrays as it was happening that day. Good call, as I was at the time - despite my surroundings, 'trapped'.

[. serah .]

-- oh... am so glad i didn't misunderstand/misinterpret... -- thank you for letting me know the background...

[Chris]

" Or nor damn. " - "nor"?

The difference 'tween thoughts and dialogue is cruel and unusual punishment. Chuckling here

[Elise Anton]

Who knows? I wrote darn also which we never say. Don't know where that came from. Maybe he's not an Aussie???

[Chris]

If he isn't perhaps you need define the char via some sort of aside otherwise it still comes across as a stumble...

[Elise Anton]

Got it. Oh I pressed enter but apparently I had to add more characters. Now I can press enter. Why don't it like two words only?

[Chris]

responses to a comment require a minimum of ten chars now...
original comments require a minimum of 25 chars.