Tall, Dark & Distant (24 page)

‘I know all about it,’ Nik said. He led her across a neat lawn to a vegetable garden – the one he’d been working in when he’d sent the photo. ‘The police contacted me. Well, my lawyer, actually. I heard about it before I went out of town.’

Georgia frowned. ‘And you’re still smiling? My sister and her stupid friends tried to blackmail you, and you can still smile?’

‘They weren’t the first,’ Nik said, looking surprisingly calm about the whole thing. He inspected a tomato. ‘And they won’t be the last.’

Nik left the tomato on the vine and looked into Georgia’s eyes. ‘You’re even more beautiful than I remember,’ he whispered.

Georgia shook her head, embarrassed by what a mess she was. ‘I think your eyesight has deteriorated since I last saw you.’

Nik smiled. ‘No, it’s better. And I can thank you for that.’

‘Are you insane?’ Georgia said.

Nik slipped his arms around Georgia’s waist. He sighed deeply, studying her face. ‘You opened my eyes, Georgia.’

Georgia shook her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. ‘I let you down. I found out what happened in Georgia. I’m sorry. ’

Nik looked startled for a moment at the mention of Georgia
,
then his face softened again. He brushed the tear from her cheek, then ran a finger across her brow to smooth it out, letting it drift down her nose to her lips. He leant forward and kissed her.

‘I was lost, Georgia,’ he whispered. ‘You helped me find my way. And look what I found my way to.’ He gestured to the city. ‘I can’t wait to show you around. There are hippos in the lake!’

Georgia smiled. ‘As long as there are no black mambas under the bed.’

Nik shook his head. ‘I can’t guarantee that. But I’ll check, just in case.’ He took her hand. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the hospital.’

‘I thought I was the one with all the worthy causes,’ she teased.

‘Plenty to go around,’ he said, leading her through the garden.

Georgia smiled. ‘I’m so proud of you. I don’t know how I ever doubted you.’

Nik kissed her gently. ‘I doubted myself. But I’m not going anywhere without you again. When we’re finished here, we can explore the country together – I’d love to see the Maasai Mara, wouldn’t you?’

Georgia nodded as she looked into Nik’s green eyes, still as seductive as the sea on a hot day. She could see the undertow, too, which had almost sucked her under. But as Nik’s lips moved to hers she could feel him kissing away the betrayal, the confusion, the pain, until all that was left were Nik and Georgia, finally together. And it felt like this time, it would be forever.

Lyssa had always received attention for her looks – she was often called ‘exotic’ or ‘striking’. And yet in her own neighbourhood, people muttered about her not being black enough.

This always struck Lyssa as odd since her suburb was like a United Nations theme park. You could get a steaming bowl of pho in one shop or jollof chicken just next door, and there was a 7-Eleven on every corner. But whenever she walked through the streets near her house, she saw the odd looks and heard the older women whispering. She didn’t fit in – even in her own community.

A tall, thin, coffee-coloured girl with blue eyes and tight dark curls that sprang from her head at odd angles, Lyssa looked
different,
but she’d never considered this an advantage. Her ankles were too thin, her legs too long, she was much too tall and, on top of that, had almost no boobs. At least she had a butt – or, as her best friend Emily called it, a ‘ghetto booty’.

Shifting the backpack on her shoulder, Lyssa checked the time as she stepped into the fresh morning air. Spring was here, and with it came the beginning of the end of high school.

Thank god
, she thought, as she walked to the bus stop in her too-tight school shoes. She was more than ready to finish year twelve. She knew the work, perhaps even better than some of her teachers. All she ever did was study.

Waiting at the bus stop, Lyssa nodded at the boys across the road – Saïd and his mates, all standing in a circle, talking shit, trying to rap, aiming karate kicks at each other every now and again.

In this neighbourhood, everyone wanted to be someone. There was more ambition in Flemington than at her fancy private school: the Muslim boys in their snapback hats and Nikes channelling Jay-Z, the African boys in their rip-off NBA basketball tops looking for hoop dreams in the migrant Aussie suburbs.

Lyssa had read somewhere that the second generation of migrants and refugees was always the most successful. The first generation did their time in refugee centres or camps, waiting for visas and dealing with the awfulness of leaving behind everything they knew. They put up with crap jobs so their kids could have the opportunity to make something of themselves. Yet she doubted whether some kids, like Saïd, who thought just being in the country was enough to be successful, would do better than their parents. They didn’t understand or appreciate the sacrifices their parents had made for them by starting again in a new country. But Lyssa knew what it was to work hard.

In primary school, Lyssa and the local boys used to play together – sports, running, crazy made-up games. She could outrun them all and she was taller and smarter than any of them.

Perhaps it was because of this that the boys never mentioned the colour of her skin. It was the girls at primary school who were the worst, teasing Lyssa, telling her to have a bath and wash the dirt off. It wasn’t as though she was the only African girl at school, but she was the one they picked on.

Saïd waved at Lyssa from the bus stop and she waved back to him with a smile. He had always looked out for her and Andre, and she’d never forgotten his clumsy kindness. She and Saïd were still friendly, but they didn’t really hang out anymore; her parents didn’t really like her spending time with boys.

The boys’ bus arrived and they got on, leaving Lyssa alone in the morning sunshine until her own bus came. It pulled into the kerb and she got on, heading in the opposite direction to the boys. The local kids went one way and she went the other – she’d always known it would be like this if she worked hard enough.

Lyssa took the bus into town and then waited for Emily at the bridge, watching the river flow beneath her. This had been their routine since they became friends. Meet at the bridge, get a coffee, then catch the tram to school.

To the world, Emily looked like a supernerd. Half Vietnamese and half Australian, she wore glasses, captained the debating team and had incredible computer-programming skills. But Emily had a secret side. On weekends she played drums for an all-girl metal band. She was also the most gifted liar Lyssa had ever known. Her lies were perfect: specific, detailed, and always containing a grain of truth so they sounded convincing.

Lyssa didn’t need to lie, because she didn’t have a life. Every waking moment was put into studying and looking after Andre.
There’ll be time for a life later
, she told herself whenever she heard the girls at school talking about parties and boys. None of them had a clue about what it was like to worry.

Sometimes it seemed like all Lyssa did was worry and stress.

‘Hey,’ Emily said as she walked up behind Lyssa.

Lyssa noticed Emily’s uniform was too short for her. She bet Emily had persuaded her mum not to buy a new one so close to the end of school. Money was better spent elsewhere in both their houses. Even so, Lyssa knew her own parents would never let her get away with a uniform that short. Despite her long legs, Lyssa’s uniform sat at a very modest knee level.

‘Hi,’ said Lyssa, hugging Emily. ‘How were your holidays?’

‘Oh, you know.’ Emily kept one headphone in her ear, and Lyssa could hear punk music blaring out. ‘Served endless spring rolls and
san choy bow
. Studied. Drummed a little. Repeated it all over again. How was yours?’

‘How come you’re serving
san choy bow
in a Vietnamese restaurant? Isn’t that Chinese food?’ asked Lyssa.

‘Yep, but now we do Asian fusion. You know, part Malay, Chinese, Vietnamese. We even do sushi, like all of Asia has the same cuisine. It upsets my grandma no end, trust me.’

Lyssa laughed as they walked towards the cart that served coffee by the tram stop. ‘My holidays were the same, but without the drumming or the Asian fusion. Looked after Andre. Studied. Delivered catalogues. Andre. Catalogues. Studied some more.’

They ordered their coffee and stood in the sun on the footpath, people-watching. Lyssa liked being in the city. She liked the bustle and sense of purpose that people had as they set off to do important things.

She checked the timetable on her phone. ‘I can’t wait for this year to be over.’

‘I know. I hate Henslow now,’ said Emily, nodding fiercely. ‘Just putting the uniform on today made me feel sick.’

Taking their coffee, they rushed to the tram that was heading towards the stop.

‘Excuse me,’ Emily said as she pushed her way on board. Lyssa followed behind her.

They dropped their bags at their feet. Lyssa grabbed the strap above her head, swaying as the tram took off. Emily held on to the pole next to her, talking nonstop about her nemesis: her younger sister.

‘I was so angry. I mean, who even does that? She’s a total spoiled bitch, she
knew
I wanted that dress.’

Lyssa nodded and wondered if Andre had eaten all his breakfast. She had left him alone at the kitchen table while her mother was still in bed. He’d eat a bite of toast but would have to be coaxed to finish. If no-one was in the kitchen, he’d scull all the milk from the carton, leaving the fridge door open and the empty carton on the floor. And if the front door wasn’t locked –

‘I seriously think I’m going to commit sororicide,’ Emily said. She waited for Lyssa’s response. ‘Are you listening to me?’ Emily leaned in and poked Lyssa in the stomach with her finger.

‘Oww! Yes, you want to murder your sister. But it’s not worth the effort, or the years in jail. She takes your stuff because you’re smart and she isn’t, that’s all.’

‘She is smart. Just not as dorkalicious as me,’ replied Emily, batting her eyelids.

‘Does she know you think that about her?’ asked Lyssa as the tram came to a halt and they picked up their schoolbags.

‘Nah, I’d never tell her that. She’d be more insufferable than ever.’ They swung down from the tram steps. ‘I don’t tell people the good shit about themselves,’ added Emily, ‘just the stuff they need to improve.’

Lyssa laughed as they ran across the busy road and walked through the elaborate iron gates of Henslow Grammar.

‘And back to Hogwarts we go. Except, instead of witches, we have bitches!’ Emily said, her eyes falling on the blonde princess of their year level, Bella Conyers.

They’d gone to school with Bella for six years – and yet she’d never had a proper conversation with either of them. If you weren’t a part of Bella’s crew, then your existence wasn’t acknowledged – unless it was to be mocked whenever you walked past them.

Lyssa could hear Bella’s nasally voice in the distance. ‘I mean, I told Mum and Dad, and they totally didn’t get it,’ Bella said to her adoring fans. ‘I said, no-one, I mean,
no-one
, goes to Vail anymore. It’s all about skiing in Japan – even though it’s, like, full of Asians.’

Lyssa looked at Emily, who was nodding her head, mock-agreeing with Bella. Lyssa stifled a laugh.

‘And then I just
refused
to go. I was like a protester, you know, like those Occupy people in New York. It was really powerful.’

Her fans nodded and Lyssa rolled her eyes at Emily, who was now pretending to gag.

‘So, they totally got it after that and we went to Hakuba. It was awesome,’ Bella added, with a toss of her highlighted hair.

Lyssa watched as Bella’s hair rippled down her back.
What would it be like to have hair like that?
she wondered.

Lyssa had been saving for a treatment to have her own hair relaxed, which cost over three hundred dollars. With her paltry wage from delivering catalogues for the chemist and the small amount she sometimes got for helping out her mum and dad, she’d be able to afford it … in about seven years.