Page 28 of The Fire Walker
“I don’t know anyothers.”
“No, sounds fun, actually. I’m sure there’s lots todo.”
Because I didn’t have a car and didn’t want to subject Jessie to public transport, the doorman hailed a taxi for us out the front of the hotel. We slid into the back seat, and the driver took off at breakneck speed. Jessie didn’t bat an eyelid, so I assumed this was normal for a cabbie in theseparts.
“How was work today?” I asked to break thesilence.
“Oh, it was okay. Pretty boring,actually.”
“What do you doexactly?”
“Well, being the intern, I get to do all the exciting stuff. Like, take minutes, get coffee. You know, all the important decisions fall on myshoulders.”
“Without you, the entire label wouldcrumble.”
“Something likethat.”
Before long, the taxi pulled up at the beach, and we wandered straight down to the sand. Jessie bent over and pulled off her boots. Sinking her bare feet into the sand, she curled hertoes.
“Oh, man,” she said with a sigh. “This feelsnice.”
I followed suit and yanked off my own boots, letting the warm sand trickle between my toes. “Let’s go down to thewater.”
Walking along the beach with Jessie was nice. It felt right being here withher.
“It reminds me a little of the beaches in Queensland,” I said. “Wide, long, white sand. If you can ignore the city at your back, thatis.”
“Do you surf?” she asked, and I made a face, my toes curling in thesand.
“Not everyone from Australiasurfs.”
“Whynot?”
“Firstly, it’s a stereotype, and secondly, I live in Melbourne. It’s not really the center for seasideliving.”
“What’s it like in Melbourne?” I loved the way she said Melbourne. Sounding out all the letters. Mel-bourne.
“Well, to be a Melbourneite, you need to say it the right way. It’s Mel-bin.”
“But it’s not spelled that way,” she complained, putting her hands on herhips.
“To be an Aussie, you need to drop eighty percent of your letters, and make up therest.”
“You do say some strange things.” She tiptoed out into the water, her boots in herarms.
“Like what? Give me anexample.”
“Arvo. What’s an arvo? I gather you mean theafternoon.”
I laughed, following her to the edge of the water, the tips of the waves running up the shoreline covering our feet. Every time it receded, it would drag the sand out from underneath me, my feet sinking further and furtherunder.
“And sunnies,” she went on. “Everything seems to end in anieor ano—like you can’t be bothered saying the entireword.”
“It’s not that I can’t be bothered. It’s a laid-back thing.” I kicked some water, and it splashed against herlegs.
“Hey.” She kicked back, splattering water and sand all over my legs and rolled-upjeans.
“Hey, these are my last clean pair of jeans,” I exclaimed and ran forward, picking her up around the waist and spinning her around. “I’ll dump youin!”
