Happy New Year.
Last year, she and Ash had seen the year out together, had woken up next to each other the following morning. By the time they’d had breakfast, it was mid-afternoon. The whole twelve months stretched out ahead of them.
On your own in 2010.
I miss you, Ash.
I’ll always be missing.
No matter how bad 2010 turned out to be, 2009 would always be her worst year ever.
Before New Year’s Eve, Jo had kept her distance from the other staff, making excuses not to join them for after-work drinks or excursions to Geelong on nights off to see a movie or go to a club. Partly it was to avoid the inevitable questions, partly to avoid the alcohol. She hadn’t had a drink since the accident. Some nights the smell — of the beer especially — or the sight of a group of drunk young women made her nauseous. But in the first weeks of 2010, The George continued to be busy and, exhausted at the end of her shifts, Jo could not face going back to the dorm alone, to Ash’s taunting voice, to the relentless memories of her life before the accident. So she gathered with the others in the courtyard after they closed. She drank Coke or lemonade and didn’t say much. She let the talkers talk, she laughed at their jokes and deflected the occasional questions, but otherwise she was invisible, the quiet child in a big, boisterous family.
So she was surprised when one night Margaret, the other regular waitress, whispered in her ear, ‘Justin has the hots for you.’
After that night, Jo became wary around Justin, more conscious of the way he sought her out, and of the way she anticipated her time with him. When she was with Justin, she forgot about Ash, about the accident, about the future. When she was with him, she was calmer. But if Justin did like her, who exactly did he like? A girl called Ashleigh he knew nothing about?
She didn’t want to start a relationship with him, with anyone. She tried to avoid him after that. Took her breaks when he was out or busy. Found a new grassy spot to sit, away from the restaurant, so he wouldn’t find her. But in the quiet times — at night in bed, on her long walks — she thought about him, she daydreamed a romance she knew was impossible, could only happen in a parallel universe where Ash was alive.
Justin wasn’t at all like the boys she went to school with. Or like Ian, or Craig, the first guy she’d slept with, what seemed like centuries ago but was less than twelve months. Justin worked, he fished, he spent time doing odd jobs for his father, volunteering with the SES. He wasn’t ambitious; he had no plans to study or travel. It was this quiet contentedness, plus his kindness and care, that drew her to him. This idea that life could be lived day by day, in a series of small movements, without climax or crescendo, without taking things too seriously.
One afternoon, Justin called the staff together between the lunch and dinner shift to discuss changes to the menu. Afterwards, they all sat at an outdoor table having a drink. The conversation turned to fishing, and one of the other waiters asked Jo if she liked it. ‘I’ve only been fishing once,’ she said. ‘Down there, actually.’ She pointed to the pier. ‘I was little, and I came here with my grandfather. I think to give my mother a break. We spent most of the week on the pier fishing.’
‘Did you catch anything?’
‘I can’t remember. I think a catfish, or something that we had to throw back. I remember it was fun, but maybe it was hanging out with my grandfather.’
‘It was the fishing too,’ Justin said, and the others laughed.
‘According to Justin,’ Margaret said, ‘fishing is the cure for everything. He’s worse than those religious fanatics. Come to Jesus, no, come to fishing.’ Margaret was in her late twenties with two children, a ten-year-old and an eight-year-old. According to the others, her partner was a ‘wanker who doesn’t deserve her’. She was tall and skinny, with short blonde hair, and from a distance she could be mistaken for an adolescent boy. People gravitated to her, and she was often at the centre of their after-work gatherings.
Justin hit Margaret playfully on the shoulder and she called out, ‘Harassment, did you guys see that? The boss is hitting me!’
‘You wish,’ Rob, the chef, said, laughing.
‘You can make fun of it, Mags,’ Justin said, ‘but when life gives me the shits, I get in the boat and head into the middle of the bay and forget everything.’
‘As long as you don’t forget how to swim,’ Margaret said. The others laughed.
Justin ignored her. ‘I find it hard to imagine life without fishing.’
‘That would be great,’ Jo said. ‘To have something that lets you forget everything else.’
‘Come fishing with me. I’m going out tomorrow arvo, around four-thirty.’ The invitation caught her by surprise.
‘You should go,’ Margaret said, giving Jo a kick under the table. ‘I’ll do your shift. Mum’s visiting so she’ll look after the kids.’
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to spoil your fishing.’
‘You won’t. Come on, I’d love the company.’ Justin smiled.
Jo wanted to go. She wanted to spend the afternoon on the bay, in a boat with Justin. What harm could it do?
The small aluminum boat was just big enough for the two of them, the fishing basket, and the rods. Justin gave her a life jacket and put one on too. When he started the motor, they flew out into the bay. It was too noisy to talk. Jo sat holding onto the sides, enjoying the sea spray and the wind, while Justin steered the boat into the middle of the bay.
It was her first time on a boat. Once, she’d been on the Blackbird ferry down the Maribyrnong River on a school excursion; it came with a history lesson and a quiz. On that trip, she, Ash, Laura, and Mani had talked about going on a cruise. One of those ten-day cruises to the Caribbean. What were Laura and Mani doing? She supposed they had finished their VCE and were now on summer holidays, waiting to hear about university and beauty school. In another world, their lives were moving on, gaining momentum, forging forward.
Finally, Justin stopped the boat, turned off the engine, and threw the anchor into the water. ‘This is my favourite spot,’ he said.
They were surrounded by water, and Portarlington was a speck in the distance. Melbourne, a faint outline dominated by skyscrapers, was a ghost city. The water swirled around them, grey-blue and then green-blue, as the setting sun appeared and disappeared behind the clouds.
‘Does each fisherman have his own favourite spot or do you fight over the best ones?’
Justin laughed. ‘The bay is big enough for all of us. Are you ready?’
‘Sure.’
He picked up a fishing line and lifted the lid on bait bucket. Once he had threaded a small prawn onto the hook, he reeled the line and sent it flying through the air and into the water. It was impossible to see the line’s point of entry.
He gave Jo the second rod and then the bait. A fleshy prawn. Helping her hook it, he explained the process step by step. Jo made several attempts to throw the line. She struggled to get it out as far as Justin’s.
‘No matter,’ he said after her fifth go, ‘it’s far enough.’
With the rods slotted into the small holds on the side of the boat, they sat back and waited.
‘When I was a kid my dad took me fishing every day during summer. The first time, I was only two years old. I can’t remember, of course, but that’s what I’m told. After the first time, I was hooked — excuse the pun — and he couldn’t get rid of me.’
‘Is your whole family into it?’
‘No. Mum hated fishing. My brothers both fish occasionally, but they get bored. My sister used to like fishing, but we had an accident one day when she and Dad and I were all out together. The weather was bad. The boat overturned. And I nearly drowned — we all nearly drowned, in fact, but I was in the worst shape. She saved me actually, but it put her off going out in the boat.’