Tigers on the Beach Page 6

  ‘Please put it away, Grandma.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Possum traps are illegal.’

  ‘How can they be illegal? They sell them at the general store. Victor Burns says there’s quite a demand for possum traps.’

  ‘Nathan told me they’re against the law.’

  ‘How can a shop sell things that aren’t legal?’

  ‘Well, there’s a shop in Flanders that sells bongs, and they’re not legal. Sorry, I can’t set the trap for you.’

  ‘Have you been buying bongs?’

  ‘No, it’s just an example.’

  Grandma sighs. ‘Never mind. Is the cabin clean?’

  ‘Marika and I just finished.’

  ‘My memory stick has gone missing.’

  ‘Sorry, we didn’t find it.’

  ‘You don’t think Marika might have taken it, do you?’

  ‘Of course not. She isn’t a thief. Why would you think that?’

  ‘Well, because when I asked her if she’d seen it she gave me a very peculiar answer.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She told me that she was thinking of dyeing her eyelashes.’

  ‘Don’t worry, she always does that. She’s self-obsessed. But she’s definitely not a thief.’

  ‘Off you go, then. I know you’re busy. Obviously too busy to get a haircut.’

  Grandma makes so many criticisms that I’ve learned to ignore them.

  ‘I think there’s something you should know,’ I say.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Marika picked up Grandpa.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘She picked up Grandpa’s urn. Sorry, she did it before I could stop her.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Grandma, do you think, maybe, we should sprinkle Grandpa’s ashes somewhere?’

  ‘I’ve been giving it some thought, Adam. Are you sure you won’t set the trap?’

  I’m confused. ‘I thought you and Grandpa liked animals.’

  ‘Very much.’

  ‘Then why do you hate the possums?’

  ‘I’ll tell you if you set the trap for me.’

  ‘Sorry, Grandma, I can’t do that.’

  ‘Then you’ll never know, will you?’

  My morning chores complete, I collect some money from Dad and head off on my bike. I am the assistant manager of The Ponderosa but I have the rest of the day off. I hope that things don’t collapse in a heap when I’m gone. They probably won’t.

  Sam lives in Port Argus, ten kilometres north-east of Samsara. I’m wearing my good jeans and a green, orange and yellow striped shirt. I have new trainers that I bought on sale at the Carlington Mall. My boxer shorts are also brand new and free of tractor beetles. I wonder what sort of tights Sam will wear. I imagine purple ones and almost fall off my bike.

  When I arrive at Sam’s house, Nurse Rose welcomes me in.

  ‘Well, it’s the young man who survived an explosion,’ she says. ‘Are you feeling better?’

  ‘Much better,’ I say.

  ‘Let me see your face.’

  I let Rose inspect my face.

  ‘You should use moisturiser. But it’s not so bad.’

  Sam walks into the living room. She isn’t wearing tights. Instead she has tight blue jeans and a red top, accessorised with red socks, red belt and red hair. Maybe she has red briefs? I stop thinking about this, in case I turn into Ben Beacham, the sex maniac of Samsara High.

  ‘Let me get you something,’ says Rose, leaving the room.

  I tell Sam about Grandma and the possum trap. Sam doesn’t approve because she thinks that possums are cute and part of nature. Mind you, Sam doesn’t have to sweep up two kilos of their crap every morning. Eternal Winter starts at Flanders in half an hour, so we need to leave. Rose returns and hands me a zip-lock bag full of home-made chocolate biscuits in case we starve during the movie.

  ‘Mum, you shouldn’t use zip-lock bags,’ says Sam. ‘They’re bad for the environment.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ says Rose. ‘You can use them again and again.’ Sam says that somewhere in the world there is probably a huge island made from zip-lock bags and it will be there forever. Rose waves aside such environmental concerns. She wants to drive us to the cinema. Sam says it’ll be more eco-friendly for us to ride our bikes. Rose says she saw a story on the news about train surfing.

  ‘Kids climb onto the tops of trains then stand upright and surf them from station to station,’ says Rose. ‘What is wrong with kids today?’

  ‘I blame video games,’ I say.

  ‘How very true,’ says Rose.

  ‘Adam is an assistant manager,’ says Sam, to reassure her mother than I am too burdened with responsibility to be a train surfer. Rose looks impressed.

  ‘Please be home in three hours,’ Rose says. ‘You’ll look after Sam, won’t you?’

  ‘With my life,’ I say.

  Rose smiles. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Adam. I’m glad your face is better. You’re almost handsome.’

  Is it good for the mother of your girlfriend to describe you as ‘almost handsome’? I really wish that Grandpa was still around because he was the one who always answered questions like this.

  When we get to Flanders we lock up our bikes, even though it’s a low-crime area and thefts are rare. The only thief I know is Tony Palin, a kid from school who is so notorious that even Cash Converters has stopped buying stuff from him. The police haven’t arrested him yet, even though his parents keep reporting him.

  The two movies playing are Eternal Winter and a comedy called Up the Duff. I’ve heard that Up the Duff is funny and I wouldn’t mind seeing it myself. Eternal Winter is playing in the smaller cinema. This is fine by me. We’ll probably be the only two people in the audience. We decide to eat Rose’s home-made biscuits, rather than buy overpriced popcorn. Sam’s mother, I learn, is an amazing cook as well as a nurse.

  I hear someone call out. It’s Ben Beacham. He’s with Michaela Debeljak, a girl he fancies. She’s fairly pretty, with dyed blonde hair, but not my type. I prefer girls who look intelligent. Michaela looks as though she’d have difficulty finishing a quiz in OK! magazine. For example:

  Please write the next two numbers in this sequence:

  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, _ , _.

  Which of these characters is not one of Snow White’s seven dwarfs?

  1. Doc 3. Dopey

  2. Sleepy 4. Scooby-Doo

  I introduce Sam to Ben and Michaela.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ says Sam.

  Ben Beacham is already perving at the top that Sam is wearing. Michaela Debeljak is also wearing a tight red top. She’s very proud of her boobs. She thinks it’s hilarious that she and Sam are wearing the same colour.

  ‘This movie is supposed to be pretty funny,’ says Ben.

  ‘We’re seeing Eternal Winter,’ I say.

  ‘It’s meant to be good,’ Sam says. ‘Two guys in my wind ensemble have seen it twice.’

  Ben gets an idea, and it’s a terrible one. He suggests a double-date.

  ‘Would you like to see Eternal Winter instead of Up the Duff?’ he suggests to Michaela.

  ‘No, I want to see something funny,’ says Michaela.

  ‘There are probably some jokes in Eternal Winter,’ says Ben.

  ‘There aren’t,’ I say, too forcefully. ‘There isn’t a single joke in the whole movie. It’ll depress you so much your boobs will fall off.’

  Michaela looks horrified.

  ‘Can I have a biscuit?’ asks Ben.

  I hold out the bag and am immediately bailed up by a stern man in a dark-blue coat. He tells me that I can’t take food into the cinema. If I want to eat during the movie, I have to buy the overpriced popcorn. So we decide to finish the biscuits in the foyer.

  ‘I’ll get the tickets,’ I say.

  I walk over to the box office, where a girl wearing the same colour coat as the stern man tells me that Eternal Winter is sold out. She says there are still plenty of tickets left for Up the Duff.r />
  I return and explain about the ticket situation.

  ‘Great,’ says Ben. ‘We can all see Up the Duff.’

  There are no biscuits left and Michaela complains that we have made her break her diet.

  Sam and I sit in the back row with Ben and Michaela. Michaela makes an ugly snorting noise when she laughs. Unfortunately, she thinks that Up the Duff is hilarious. The American comedian Rob Ryder plays a pregnant man. He has morning sickness, cravings for weird food, bladder problems, all the stuff that pregnant women go through, only it’s funny because it’s happening to a man. I think the film’s okay, though Sam isn’t laughing much. In front of me are two middle-aged women who can’t stop cackling. But the weird thing is, one woman keeps explaining to the other what is happening.

  ‘He’s in the supermarket now,’ the explaining woman says. ‘He’s picking out containers of ice-cream from the freezer and putting them in his trolley. He’s obviously got pregnancy cravings. Now he’s in the delicatessen and he’s buying pickled cucumbers. At least that’s what they look like. I can’t be sure. No, they aren’t cucumbers, but they’re like cucumbers. I can’t think of the word . . .’

  This goes on and on. It’s as if we’re watching a DVD and this is a commentary track for idiots. I try to ignore it.

  The bit that makes nearly everyone crack up is when Rob Ryder uses a breast-pump on himself. The suction is on too high, so it’s stuck to him and won’t come off. The woman in front can’t explain the scene to her friend because she is laughing so much. I’m glad. Then Rob Ryder’s parents pay a surprise visit. They don’t know their son is pregnant. They see him trying to pull off the monster breast pump. The looks on their faces are hilarious. I laugh loudly.

  ‘He’s got a breast pump,’ the lady in front tells her friend, now that she has managed to control her laughter. ‘It’s stuck to him. His parents have walked in.’

  I can’t take any more and tap the explaining lady on the shoulder. She turns around. I ask her if she could stop describing to her friend every single thing that happens in the movie. My voice is louder than I expected and I sound angry. The explaining lady apologises for bothering me. She tells me that the reason she’s explaining everything is that her friend is only partially sighted. While her friend can hear a few things, she can’t see much. The explaining lady promises she’ll lower her voice if it’s too distracting for me.

  I feel terrible.

  It’s as if I have been mean to a blind person. But how was I to know? And why is a blind person seeing a film like Up the Duff? For the dialogue? Michaela stops snorting for long enough to give me a dark look, as if I hate blind people.

  As soon as the film is over, Michaela and Sam go off to the toilet together.

  ‘That sure was bad of you to beat up on deaf people,’ Ben tells me.

  ‘Blind. She wasn’t deaf, she was blind.’

  ‘That’s still no excuse.’

  ‘I didn’t beat up on her,’ I protest. ‘I didn’t know she was blind. I didn’t think that blind people went to movies like this.’

  ‘That proves how prejudiced you are.’

  This is too much, coming from Ben Beacham who uses the word ‘spastic’ to describe anyone who doesn’t conform to his narrow idea of what is normal.

  Our conversation takes a major change of direction. ‘I saw Michaela naked,’ Ben says, proudly.

  I don’t make a big deal of it, which annoys Ben.

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  ‘Half the people in this building did.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know how?’

  ‘You took her bushwalking and you went skinny-dipping,’ I say.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because that’s what you always do.’

  The girls return and ask Ben what he is grinning about. He says he just thought of something funny from The Simpsons, but he forgets what. We all agree that The Simpsons is a great show. Michaela says that even her deaf uncle likes it because you can get episodes that are captioned. She says she is proud to have a deaf uncle because she is not prejudiced, like some people.

  ‘Michaela, I’m not prejudiced,’ I say.

  ‘It would be terrible to be blind,’ says Michaela.

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘One day, you might go blind yourself and then you’ll see,’ she says, unable to leave the topic alone and confused by her sentence. I don’t even attempt to sort it out for her.

  Ben says we should go out and get pancakes. I know that Sam likes blintz pancakes and I’m terrified she’ll agree. I’m not crazy about the idea of watching Ben Beacham re-enact every scene from Up the Duff.

  ‘Sorry, I have to go home,’ says Sam.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I want to hold Sam’s hand but she isn’t keen because the blow-drier in the bathroom wasn’t working and her hands are still wet.

  ‘I don’t mind wet hands,’ I say. ‘Especially if they’re yours.’

  But Sam is embarrassed about having toilet hands, and I respect that. When her back is turned, Ben whispers to me, ‘Your girlfriend doesn’t have much of a sense of humour. She’s hardly even got boobs. Did she get depressed?’

  ‘Go surf a train,’ I tell him.

  Rose is waiting for Sam and me when we get back to Port Argus. She looks flustered, but relieved that we haven’t run off and joined a train-surfing cult.

  ‘Adam. Sam. You’re late. I was worried.’

  ‘We saw a different movie,’ says Sam. ‘It ended later.’

  ‘You didn’t see Eternal Winter?’

  ‘We couldn’t get in.’

  ‘You should have rung.’

  ‘We’re not that late,’ says Sam.

  ‘Nearly a whole hour. It’s impolite not to ring.’ I apologise to Rose.

  ‘What film did you see?’ she asks.

  ‘It was a comedy,’ I say.

  ‘Which one?’

  I doubt that Rose would be a huge fan of Up the Duff. ‘I forget the name,’ I say.

  ‘It was a Rob Ryder movie,’ says Sam.

  ‘Rob Ryder? Is he one of those smutty comedians? Always doing sex jokes?’

  ‘He’s matured,’ I say.

  ‘Did you like the biscuits?’ Rose asks.

  It’s such a rapid change of subject that it takes a second for me to catch up.

  ‘They were delicious,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll get you some more,’ says Rose. ‘As well as some moisturiser. You wait here.’

  Rose exits, leaving Sam and I to linger in the living room.

  Sam has been quiet. I know she hated the film.

  ‘I’m really sorry about the movie,’ I say.

  ‘That’s okay,’ says Sam. Her hair is pressed down from wearing a bike helmet. I think of what it would be like to run my hands through it.

  ‘I know you didn’t like it,’ I say. ‘I didn’t think it was that great either.’

  ‘You were laughing a lot,’ says Sam.

  ‘Not that much.’

  ‘Adam, it’s not a crime to like Rob Ryder.’

  ‘I don’t like him,’ I say. ‘I hate him. I wish he would die. Next time we’ll see the movie that you want to see. No matter what happens.’

  ‘Sure.’

  I want Sam to be more enthusiastic, but she remains calm and enigmatic. At least, I hope she’s being enigmatic, because if she isn’t, it probably means she doesn’t like me all that much.

  ‘Sam, we’ve gone out twice now and it really hasn’t worked out,’ I say, ‘but I have a very good feeling about us. Okay, we didn’t have such a good time in the general store because I started a mooning craze, and the movie was a disaster because it wasn’t funny –’

  Sam interrupts. ‘You thought it was funny.’

  ‘I didn’t. I really didn’t. And worse than that, I was rude about a handicapped person. Apparently I am a fascist.’

  ‘I don’t think that about you,’ says Sam.

  ‘Let me show you how m
uch I like handicapped people,’ I say. I hold out my hands and make three gestures, like this:

  ‘What does that mean?’ asks Sam.

  ‘That’s your name,’ I say. ‘I just spelt out your name in sign language.’

  Sam smiles. ‘Do the whole alphabet.’

  Happy to oblige, I do my hand gestures for all twenty-six letters of the alphabet. Sam looks impressed.

  ‘Did they teach you that at school?’ Sam asks.

  ‘No, I taught myself.’

  ‘Why? Do you know any deaf people?’

  I shake my head. ‘I work in the hospitality industry. I meet all kinds of people. One day I’m bound to meet a deaf person and I’ll know how to communicate with sign language. I can teach you, if you like.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Sam. ‘I’ll ring you.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And next time,’ I say, ‘we’ll do whatever you want. Your choice.’

  I smell Sam’s cherry chapstick and it drives me crazy, but I know she doesn’t want me to kiss her yet. Not properly. I tell myself that I’m okay with that. We don’t need to rush around like Ben and Michaela, taking off our clothes on bushwalks.

  Rose’s voice rings out. ‘I don’t have any biscuits left. Do you like macaroons?’

  ‘Sure, I like macaroons,’ I say, not sure what they are.

  ‘Take them home with you,’ Rose says, handing me a bag of little coconut cakes and some lotion. ‘Enjoy the moisturiser.’

  ‘Mum, you used another zip-lock bag,’ Sam complains.

  ‘You’ll use the bag again, won’t you, Adam?’ says Rose.

  ‘Cross my heart,’ I say.

  I guess Sam’s mother does like me. But I know that I’m pushing my luck if I bring Sam home late again.

  Mum and Dad are in the front office when I get home. Incredibly, they are arguing.

  ‘You need to have a word with your mother,’ Dad says. ‘There was another incident today. While you were out shopping, she climbed a ladder.’

  Mum is shocked. ‘Ken, you shouldn’t let her climb ladders. She’s old. Imagine if she fell.’

  ‘I didn’t find out about it until afterwards.’

  ‘What was she doing up a ladder?’

  Dad replies in disbelief, ‘She was hanging four teddy bears from a tree.’