SIGMUND FREUD
‘Her name was Caroline.’ Jay strums a chord or two and hums a tune I recognise as that old one, ‘Sweet Caroline’. ‘She auditioned to be the singer in our band. She got the gig.’
I wait. Wanting to hear. Wanting not to hear. My stomach doing strange things at the thought of what he might say next.
‘You know how some people seem to have the knack of seeing into you straightaway? She was like that. She saw me. She wanted me. She made me feel I was like no one else she’d ever met before. When I was with her I was smarter, funnier, wittier.’
‘I know what you mean. I was like that with Daniel at first. I became someone else.’
‘I was obsessed with her. Could think of nothing else.’ He glances at me, stops plucking his guitar. ‘You want to hear this?’
I nod. It’s hard to listen to, but I want to know.
‘Then I found out it wasn’t just me. She was with…the drummer too. Same deal with him. He thought he’d found his soul mate.’ Jay plays a few chords.
I listen, enjoying the melody, the sense that this is him talking too.
‘When I think about her now, I think she was a chameleon. She changed her colour to reflect the person she was with. I thought I was getting her, but I was getting a reflection of myself. I don’t know what it says about me that I fell in love with my own reflection.’
I think about that. ‘Maybe that’s what we all do. Look for someone who mirrors us, so we don’t feel alone.’
‘She was an unusual person,’ says Jay. ‘I think using her sexual power was what gave her life meaning.’
I bite my lip. ‘She would have made a good lead singer then.’ I hope Jay doesn’t notice the twinge of jealous pique I am unable to keep out of my voice.
‘The band broke up, but Caroline and I…I couldn’t give her up, even though there was nothing positive left. It was sucking me up, but I was addicted to her. I felt like losing her would be losing myself, losing the person I was when I was with her. Seems strange now, but that’s how it was.’ His guitar stops. ‘It hurt.’
‘I know.’ I wait. The sea roars louder in the silence.
Jay coughs. ‘She was killed in a car crash. Six months ago.’ His voice is so soft I have to strain to hear him. ‘The drummer was driving. He survived. He’s in a wheelchair now.’
There is something about the way he says the drummer that makes me ask. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Ben.’ His voice is flat.
‘Ben who you met in Year Eleven?’
‘Yeah. We don’t see each other anymore.’
I want to ask more, but his voice warns me off.
‘She was supposed to be with me that night; I’d been waiting for her. Everything kind of spiralled out of control. It was too intense — her… Ben — I needed to escape.’ He touches his wrist. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’ He pauses. ‘It was the only idea I had at the time.’
‘Do you still feel like that?’
‘I don’t at the moment. Not while I’m talking to you.’ And there is just enough light to see him smile.
‘So, after, when you realised you weren’t dead, did that feel like…’
‘A resurrection?’
I nod.
‘No. I felt tired. I had to face all that hard work I thought I’d got out of. I was still down there in the underworld, trying to find a way out. I never decided to live; it was more that it was too much trouble to try again. It seemed easier to let myself be rescued.’
‘So, you didn’t care either way?’
‘I thought I may as well go with the flow, for now.’
‘And then?’
‘I found someone who made me feel less alone.’
I wait.
‘You were so kooky and yet, at the same time…honest. I thought maybe, maybe you’d be someone I could talk to.’
‘I thought that too.’
He meets my eyes and I am suddenly shy.
‘Do you feel weird that you’re going to be answering questions about those scars all your life?’
‘I’m working on a bear mauling story.’ Jay fingers his scars. ‘In a way, I don’t mind them. They’re kind of like a souvenir.’
‘From the edge.’
‘Souvenir from the edge. Good name for a song.’
‘Tangled web’s a good name too. That song’s about you and Caroline, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. I guess the Caroline thing is why I acted like a dickhead with you, Edie, after that laboratory hoe-down. It’s no excuse, but it’s a reason. It brought back feelings I didn’t want to feel. I’m sorry.’
‘I was only helping Professor Brownlow with his typing.’
‘I believe you. And even if I didn’t, well, maybe it’s none of my business.’
‘No, it is your business. I want it to be your business.’
Jay is quiet after I say this. I wish I could see his face, get a clue of what he is thinking. Maybe I have said too much again, presumed too much. Turned holding hands on the couch into something it was not and never will be.
The silence goes on, but it doesn’t feel like a strained silence. I know this from the way the air is calm between us. I sense it in my bones. Not all words are spoken. So when I do speak, it is not from awkwardness, but to extend the conversation already running between us.
‘Do you ever feel like you’re a child failure?’
‘Because my father is a big success and I’m not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? Is that the way you feel?’
‘Mmm, always have.’
‘Because your father’s a surfing legend and you don’t like swimming?’
I nod.
‘Yeah, I feel like that. Doesn’t everyone? Look at the Lion King. I’ll never be able to fill the paw prints of my father.’ He puts on a corny voice. ‘The spirit of Gary Jaworski lives on in me, but I’m not half the guitar legend he was.’
I laugh. This time I am grateful for the irony. It cuts through the seriousness like a puff of warm wind.
He smiles back at me. ‘I like it when I make you laugh.’
‘I like it when I make you laugh too.’
‘You know someone’s on the same wavelength as you if you can make them laugh.’
‘It’s funny, isn’t it, how we use humour,’ I say.
‘When we get too close to something sensitive, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘The comic mask,’ says Jay. ‘I do it too much, don’t I?’
‘Mmm, maybe. I do it too. It can be good, but sometimes you need to let people know how you feel. Otherwise they’re never going to know.’
Jay plucks at his guitar.
‘Have you ever heard of John Bradman?’ I ask.
‘No. Should I have?’
‘Son of Donald.’
‘Oh, The Greatest Australian Ever, right?’
‘Yes. He’s like you and me.’
‘You’ve been giving this some thought, haven’t you, Edie?’
‘What about Jesus’s daughter?’
‘I didn’t know Jesus had a daughter.’
‘Exactly.’
Jay laughs. ‘Go on. You’ve got more, haven’t you?’
A mischievous impulse seizes me. ‘Geena Khan?’
‘Let me guess. Daughter of Genghis?’
‘Great-, great-, great-granddaughter. She’s a timid, virgin, forty-year-old hairdresser in Ulaanbaatar.’
Jay laughs. ‘You made that one up.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t make up Blanket Jackson or Lisa-Marie Presley.’ I pause. ‘Or Peter Pan.’ As soon as I say this, I wish I hadn’t.
‘Peter Pan?’
There’s no going back now. ‘He threw himself under a train. The real life-Peter Pan, that is.’
The sea is black, but the moon casts a path across it to the horizon. The guitar stops.
‘Yeah. Well, I guess I can relate to that too. That “Jaybird” song. I had to fight my way through primary school because of it. They still introduce me that way half the time when I perform. I almost gave up playing again, I got so sick of it.’
‘What stopped you?’
‘Seems like I don’t have a choice. The thing is, with the music…it’s when I feel most like myself. That’s why I do it.’
‘That’s how writing poetry is for me.’
‘It’s the only way I can let people see what’s inside.’
‘Do you think everyone has something inside that they’re trying to get out?’ I ask.
‘Probably, but some of them don’t know it.’
‘So it never comes out?’
‘Or maybe it isn’t there in the first place.’
‘It’s scary letting your inside out.’
‘But exciting,’ says Jay.
‘But what if people don’t like it? What if you hadn’t liked my tuna story?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Sometimes. If you care for someone.’ I think of Daniel and the rain in Glenorchy. ‘It can make you feel like…’
‘You’ve been sucked into a black hole.’
Our eyes meet and I want to kick my legs in the air with delight. He completes my sentences. He gets me.
Jay smiles. ‘We’ve got something, haven’t we?’
This is now so obvious I don’t bother to reply. I let my breath out in a big sigh as I fling myself back on the sand. I run my arms up and down to make a sand angel. Gaze up at the stars.
Jay does the same. Our hands brush at the top of our wings.
‘Do you want to go swimming?’ Jay asks this as if he doesn’t care either way.
‘Now?’ My voice comes out in a half squeak.
‘Don’t you think you’ve waited long enough?’
‘What about…’ My mind searches for excuses. ‘Sharks?’
‘Well…’ Jay squeezes the top of my fingers. ‘We’ll have to fight them off, won’t we?’
‘Jellyfish?’
Jay links his fingers through mine. ‘I’ll eat any jellyfish that dares to touch you.’
‘Aggressive sea hares?’
Jay laughs. ‘You’re running out of excuses.’
I roll my head sideways. His eyes are sparkling with mischief. And I don’t feel safe with him, not safe at all. I think he could break my heart in a million ways, but I don’t have time to worry about endings.
I only want it to begin.