followed you over here because I was worried about you and somehow it’s ended up with you telling me why I’m the one who’s a mess.”
Ruby looks confused as if she’s lost her train of thought and it’s like I’ve pulled a plug – I can actually
see
the fight draining out of her.
RUBY
I try to backtrack through the words that brought us here, but when I look for them, they’re jumbled and nonsensical and I realize that all the beer and tequila haven’t so much caught up with me as overtaken me.
Kaz doesn’t drink. Ever. And when she looks at me, it’s no longer with guilt, but with disapproval. Just like that, the conversation pivots under me and I find I’m the one holding the shitty end of the stick.
“I know you’re not OK, Ruby. But I don’t know why.” Her voice is bordering on kind, but her expression is hard, patience stretched thin. “Shout all you like about Tom – or maybe wait until you’re sober and use your indoor voice. But that’s not why you bolted from the campsite. What’s going on with you and Stu?”
Kaz plants her hands firmly on my shoulders, holding me steady. She’s so close I can’t really see anything else.
“Ruby.” Kaz looks at me. “Tell me.”
But what am I supposed to say other than the truth?
“There’s nothing going on with me and Stu. I couldn’t kiss him, that’s all.”
I don’t tell her that the reason is because I wanted to.
KAZ
Ruby says nothing more, just starts walking back to camp, and since I don’t seem to have any other option, I walk with her. When Ruby clams up, there’s no point trying to prise her open and even if we’re not walking arm in arm, at least we’re not walking alone. Camp is deserted when we get there, tents zipped shut like mouths keeping secrets, and someone’s stamped down on the ashes of Owen’s fire. Ruby looks like the (barely) walking dead as she struggles to pull off her vest. It’s not unusual for her to hit a wall after a night out and usually I’d be tutting at her, untangling her hair when it gets caught in a zip or reminding her to remove her make-up.
Not tonight.
We brush our teeth, taking turns to spit from our tent into the ashes and listening for a hiss of success. Ruby’s more accurate than me, but then, as she says, Naomi and I didn’t engage in spitting contests as often as Ruby and her brothers.
“Callum always won.”
“Really?” Our conversation is paper-thin over the fissures of our argument.
“Don’t let his pretentions towards being an intellectual fool you. Callum is a champion Spit Meister.” It’s a weak attempt at humour and so is the smile she gets for it.
By the time I’ve finished brushing my teeth and cleaning my face, Ruby’s already down and out on her back, arms folded above her head, breathing with the kind of depth that comes with too much alcohol. The eyeliner she slicked on so thick this morning has held fast, but it looks wrong on her sleeping face, like graffiti on a statue.
When she’s awake, Ruby is as big as her personality, but sleeping she looks as small as she really is. Her arms look snappable and I feel a prick of dismay at how thin she is at the moment. Without the smiles and the energy, the enthusiasm and the passion, Ruby looks … vulnerable.
As I unlock my phone to set an alarm for the morning, it buzzes in my hand.
Tom
.
11 • IT’S BEEN A WHILE
RUBY
There’s a rustle somewhere near by. A swoosh of the zip, a whiff of cool night air. By the time my beer-befuddled consciousness claws its way out of oblivion the tent is still. I roll over and see that Kaz’s sleeping bag is open, slipper socks and pyjamas flopping out like entrails. Her shoes are gone when I pull open the front flap. Toilet trip, I guess.
Until I hear a familiar laugh.
Just outside of our camp, silhouetted against the glow of the fires beyond, I see Kaz. And Tom.
I yank the zip shut as if not-seeing can turn into not-believing.
But who am I kidding? Everything Kaz
Ruby looks confused as if she’s lost her train of thought and it’s like I’ve pulled a plug – I can actually
see
the fight draining out of her.
RUBY
I try to backtrack through the words that brought us here, but when I look for them, they’re jumbled and nonsensical and I realize that all the beer and tequila haven’t so much caught up with me as overtaken me.
Kaz doesn’t drink. Ever. And when she looks at me, it’s no longer with guilt, but with disapproval. Just like that, the conversation pivots under me and I find I’m the one holding the shitty end of the stick.
“I know you’re not OK, Ruby. But I don’t know why.” Her voice is bordering on kind, but her expression is hard, patience stretched thin. “Shout all you like about Tom – or maybe wait until you’re sober and use your indoor voice. But that’s not why you bolted from the campsite. What’s going on with you and Stu?”
Kaz plants her hands firmly on my shoulders, holding me steady. She’s so close I can’t really see anything else.
“Ruby.” Kaz looks at me. “Tell me.”
But what am I supposed to say other than the truth?
“There’s nothing going on with me and Stu. I couldn’t kiss him, that’s all.”
I don’t tell her that the reason is because I wanted to.
KAZ
Ruby says nothing more, just starts walking back to camp, and since I don’t seem to have any other option, I walk with her. When Ruby clams up, there’s no point trying to prise her open and even if we’re not walking arm in arm, at least we’re not walking alone. Camp is deserted when we get there, tents zipped shut like mouths keeping secrets, and someone’s stamped down on the ashes of Owen’s fire. Ruby looks like the (barely) walking dead as she struggles to pull off her vest. It’s not unusual for her to hit a wall after a night out and usually I’d be tutting at her, untangling her hair when it gets caught in a zip or reminding her to remove her make-up.
Not tonight.
We brush our teeth, taking turns to spit from our tent into the ashes and listening for a hiss of success. Ruby’s more accurate than me, but then, as she says, Naomi and I didn’t engage in spitting contests as often as Ruby and her brothers.
“Callum always won.”
“Really?” Our conversation is paper-thin over the fissures of our argument.
“Don’t let his pretentions towards being an intellectual fool you. Callum is a champion Spit Meister.” It’s a weak attempt at humour and so is the smile she gets for it.
By the time I’ve finished brushing my teeth and cleaning my face, Ruby’s already down and out on her back, arms folded above her head, breathing with the kind of depth that comes with too much alcohol. The eyeliner she slicked on so thick this morning has held fast, but it looks wrong on her sleeping face, like graffiti on a statue.
When she’s awake, Ruby is as big as her personality, but sleeping she looks as small as she really is. Her arms look snappable and I feel a prick of dismay at how thin she is at the moment. Without the smiles and the energy, the enthusiasm and the passion, Ruby looks … vulnerable.
As I unlock my phone to set an alarm for the morning, it buzzes in my hand.
Tom
.
11 • IT’S BEEN A WHILE
RUBY
There’s a rustle somewhere near by. A swoosh of the zip, a whiff of cool night air. By the time my beer-befuddled consciousness claws its way out of oblivion the tent is still. I roll over and see that Kaz’s sleeping bag is open, slipper socks and pyjamas flopping out like entrails. Her shoes are gone when I pull open the front flap. Toilet trip, I guess.
Until I hear a familiar laugh.
Just outside of our camp, silhouetted against the glow of the fires beyond, I see Kaz. And Tom.
I yank the zip shut as if not-seeing can turn into not-believing.
But who am I kidding? Everything Kaz
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