Boxing Day - by Fiona Robertson
ISLAND | ONLINE ONLY
Nadine placed a hand on Herc’s chest. Above the bed, the fan stirred tropical air. ‘We should have sex,’ she said, ‘since we didn’t for Christmas.’
Herc raised his eyebrows. ‘Wow, what an offer.’ He began to lift her fingers one by one, flexing them back a little too far, so that she pulled her hand away.
‘Herc, don’t.’
They lay in the clear morning light, a fine sweat beading their bodies. They’d turned off the air conditioner the first day here, to soak up the balmy weather.
Herc closed his eyes and his breathing deepened. Below their room, someone swept the path – a rhythmic swish, swish, swish.
Nadine touched his shoulder. ‘I’m going to breakfast. Maybe a swim after that. You coming?’ She slid off the bed and dressed quickly in her swimsuit, dress and sandals.
Herc yawned, starfished on the sheets. ‘Might sleep a bit.’
Nadine picked up her towel and beach bag. She paused. ‘See you soon?’
‘Sure.’ Herc’s voice faded into the pillow.
*
The Patong Beach Glorious Hotel was four-star and fancy, but Thailand was cheap and Nadine had found a bargain. The hotel was opposite the water, with private balconies and ocean views.
Nadine sipped her coffee in the open-air dining. All around her, couples talked and played with each other’s hands. At the end of the verandah, one pair leant to kiss across the table. Most were younger – on honeymoon, she supposed. Not like her and Herc, together eight years and still in limbo.
‘More coffee, madam?’ The waiter held up the pot.
‘Thank you.’ She lifted the cup to her lips, gazing out to the blue of Patong Bay. This place was idyllic. She should be happy. But soon the year would be over, another one slipped through her fingers.
“This place was idyllic. She should be happy. But soon the year would be over, another one slipped through her fingers.”
She pulled her bag onto her shoulder as she stood.
‘Have a nice day, madam.’ The waiter was the same young man she’d seen every day so far – same starched white jacket, the same polite face. She wondered what he thought of her, beneath his good manners. Did he find her ridiculous, with her crumpled dress and pale-as-dough limbs? Was he disgusted by her eating, swimming and dozing while he worked?
‘Thank you—’ she paused to read his name badge, ‘Kiet.’ Why hadn’t she used his name before? She hurried out before she could see his expression, crossed the road and followed the path through the trees. On the beach, warm sand spilled into her sandals.
The sign near the lifeguard chair was the same as the day before: Fine, good swimming. Be careful to wear sunscreen. The tall chair was unoccupied. She’d never seen a lifeguard, didn’t know why the chair was there. Perhaps it featured on the website—a comfort for nervous swimmers—she couldn’t remember. She’d booked this trip in a last-minute rush, hoping a holiday would help.
Christmas was her least favourite time of year, family all asking when she and Herc would marry, when they’d have children. At the start, she’d been excited by the questions, but now they made her uneasy. Was this what couples did? Stayed together long enough that marriage was next? Had kids, because that seemed to follow?
“Was this what couples did? Stayed together long enough that marriage was next? Had kids, because that seemed to follow?”
The beach was scattered with people, most in pairs. She squinted behind her sunglasses, wishing she’d worn a hat. One umbrella-topped beach chair was still free. She made a beeline for it, head down, but as she reached the chair, a leopard-print towel landed on the seat.
A thin woman in a black bikini smiled widely. ‘Gotta be quick around here.’ She slipped into the chair and eased back, closing her eyes.
Nadine sighed and moved down the shore, spreading her towel in the shade of a clump of trees. She kicked off her sandals and sat propped on her hands, legs extended. There were plenty of people, but hardly anyone was moving. Just a few children laughed and dug with spades.
The heat was stifling, even beneath the trees. Waves of warmth swelled from the sand. Back in Hobart, she’d longed for hot weather, for perspiration and relaxed, loose muscles, but now she suddenly wished herself home. The thought of cool air on her skin brought tears to her eyes.
This was crazy. She was supposed to be happy – no work for an entire week, and time with Herc. They were supposed to be unwinding. Reconnecting.
A seagull landed just in front of her, pecking at something half-buried in the sand. Between bites, it stood with one foot lifted. The foot was deformed, just a stump with one claw.
‘What happened?’ Nadine asked. ‘Are you alright, bird?’ The gull cocked its head and returned to tearing at the food.
She shaded her eyes, looking past the bird to the ocean. The water appeared unusually far away, the beach wider than she’d seen it. The three longboats anchored in a row sat high and dry, their ropes limp. All along the beach, driftwood and clumps of seaweed dotted the shoreline, extending to the sea.
“The water appeared unusually far away, the beach wider than she’d seen it. The three longboats anchored in a row sat high and dry, their ropes limp. All along the beach, driftwood and clumps of seaweed dotted the shoreline, extending to the sea.”
Herc emerged from the tree-lined path, his hair still spiky at the crown. He marched toward her, ignoring a small boy who called to him, holding up some treasure – a stone, or a shell.
‘What’s the deal with the tide?’ Herc asked, glancing at the vast stretch of sand.
Nadine shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s a long way out.’ Her scalp itched with irritation. She made room on her towel and they sat shoulder to shoulder. The silence between them was as sticky as the air. Maybe she should try harder. Maybe they could revive this somehow.
‘I’m sorry about before, what I said.’ Nadine brushed sand from her shin. ‘I’m no good at being sexy.’
Herc leant into her. ‘It’s fine. I’m used to you.’
Anger flared in her cheeks and she considered saying he was no sex god himself, the way he cut his toenails on the couch and used the bathroom with the door open. She shifted so their bodies didn’t touch.
A breeze blew in from the water. Beside them the injured seagull hopped around, searching for tidbits. The feathers at its throat were stained yellow. Now and then it gave a plaintive squawk. Nadine felt tears well up again, and she wiped them as they slipped below her glasses.
Herc used the resigned tone he often took if she cried. ‘What’s up, Deens?’
His big handsome face blurred. She had loved him, in the beginning. ‘Can’t you tell things aren’t right?’
Herc’s jaw tightened. He stared out to sea.
The seagull yanked a crust from the sand and flapped away.
‘You’re comparing us, aren’t you – to those honeymoon couples.’ Herc shook his head. ‘We’ve been together seven years, what do you expect?’
‘Eight years.’
‘What?’
‘We’ve been together eight years.’ Nadine drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs.
Raised voices drifted down the beach, strident and harsh. She thought it must be the day for arguments.
‘Herc.’ Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. ‘I want to feel romantic after twenty, thirty years. Not all the time, but sometimes.’
Herc was focused on the horizon. He rose to his feet.
‘Herc?’
The clamour from the hotel was louder, and Nadine turned to see several people approaching. One was Kiet. His jacket flapped open at the neck as he waved his arms in the air.
‘Run!’ he yelled. ‘Run to hotel!’ He seemed flustered, but Nadine could see no reason for his distress. Other beachgoers were standing up, appearing as confused as she was.
Herc pointed to the ocean, his voice full of wonder. ‘Look.’
Nadine stood and at first saw nothing but the beautiful blue waters of Patong Bay, shining and serene. Then she noticed a long line of white – an incredible unbroken crest.
‘Run, run!’ Kiet was yelling at guests on sun loungers. ‘To hotel!’
Herc glanced at Nadine, and she saw her fear reflected in his eyes. She grabbed her bag and they rushed up the beach.
‘Where will we go? The hotel roof?’ Nadine panted, stumbling in the sand.
‘Anywhere high.’ Herc jogged easily beside her.
To one side, an old woman struggled up from her beach chair, grappling with a cane. Her hair hung in grey strands as she pushed herself straight. ‘Mais …?’ she asked the space around her. ‘Pourquoi?’
Nadine looked for Kiet, hoping he would help the woman, but she spotted him ahead with a mother and children, carrying a toddler in his arms.
Panic swamped her mind. She could pretend she hadn’t seen.
Nadine hurried to the old lady, and reached for her elbow.
‘Lean on us, we’ll take you.’ She glanced around for Herc. He wasn’t there.
Through the surging crowd, she glimpsed him at the path, head swivelled her way, mouth wide. She thought he shouted, ‘Leave her!’ but there was so much noise, she couldn’t be sure. He ran on.
There was a strange stillness in her chest. She took a sharp, painful breath. Wrapping an arm around the woman’s back, Nadine steered her towards the track. Sweat dripped into her eyes. The old lady moved quickly, despite her limp. She huffed as they walked. ‘Merci, merci.’
Nadine nodded. ‘That’s right, fast, fast.’ They turned onto the path, and people pushed past them, jostling and screaming.
There was a sound now, like the rumble of a plane. Nadine tilted her face to the empty sky and her skin grew cold.
She didn’t look back, just kept tugging the old lady. She pulled her along and told her, ‘Good, that’s good,’ as the roaring filled her ears. ▼
Photo by roman raizen on Unsplash
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