Page 13 of The Story of Me

“Yeah, why?”

“You do realise that’s the first time I’ve heard you describe another bloke as hot since… Well, you know, in a while.” I think about what she’s said for a few seconds.

“Yeah, you’re probably right; what d’ya think that means?”

“I think it means that my beautiful best friend’s made a massive leap forward. How hot are they exactly, on a scale of one to Maca, I mean?”

I laugh before I answer, “Some are one, some are eight and some are ‘oh, my fucking God, bend me over and fuck me right now’.”

“Georgia!” she shrieks “Oh, my fucking God, babe, you’re back. Georgia’s back! Fuck you, you’ve made me cry.” I hear her sob into the phone and I hear Len say something in the background. “I love ya, George. I’m so proud of ya, so fucking proud, babe. I wish I was there to witness this, but I’m so glad you’ve got there.” I wish she was here, too, but I’m not going to tell her that; otherwise, she’ll be on the next flight down here.

“Jim?”

“What, babe?”

“I don’t know if I want to be back. I don’t know how I feel about it. It’s not even been a year, I feel bad. It feels wrong.”

“No, no, no, George; if you’re feeling it, then it’s right. Do not do this to yourself, George.”

“Have you and Jackson been reading the same grief and bereavement manual? Coz I swear to God, you just quoted him word for word.”

“Well, I read some leaflets when you were in the hospital, but I didn’t know there was a manual.”

“I’m joking, Jim. I’m joking.”

“I know you are, George. I know you are.” The line goes quiet for a while.

“I love you, Georgia Rae.”

“I love you too, Jamie Louise.”

“I’ll call you in a coupla days.”

“Kiss all of them babies for me, and tell my brother I love him, even though he is a pervi car wanker.” We both scream with laughter as we say our goodbyes.

I shower and head down to the bar with the biggest smile on my face, a tingle in my belly and the sensation that my heart’s not being squeezedquite so tightly in my chest.

* * *

The morning is bright, sunny but really windy; the surf is up and the bodies are out in force. I don’t perv over all of them, but some of them I do, just a few, and the morning flies by.

I’ve noticed a change in myself today and I can’t put a finger on what it is exactly, but I just feel a little different, not so weighed down by life. Just as I say goodbye to John and the girls I’ve been working with, Jackson turns up.

“Can we talk?” He gestures upstairs so I silently lead him up to the apartment. He follows me into the kitchen and sits himself down at a stool.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“What happened last night?” His eyes meet mine.

“When last night?” I’m not sure at this moment how much I want to tell him.

“When you left the bar and when Roman came up here?” I wasn’t going to tell him that Roman came up here, but if he knows, I might as well be honest. I get us both a beer from the fridge and pass one to Jax. I lean on the bench top opposite him and take a swig.

“When I came up here, I lost it. I completely lost it, like, to the point where I wanted to break things. I just had this uncontrollable anger; the only time I’ve ever felt anything like that is when I bumped into Whorely that night.” I let out a deep breath, my heart rate accelerating just thinking about that conniving cow.

“What were you angry about?”

I walk around the bench and sit on a stool and turn to face him. “I was angry at Roman. I was…” I try to find a word that would fit the level of anger that I felt last night, but I can’t. “I think… I think I might actually have been capable of murder last night. I was angry with Roman for being alive. I was angry at Sean for being dead, and I was angry at myself for not being able to do a fucking thing to change it.” Despite the beer I’m drinking, my mouth is really dry. I take another swig, and I’m actually feeling amazed at myself for not crying.