A Deer in Headlights

Paul Holiday lives in a small sea-side town called Nichols Bay; there isn’t much there, a post-office, a general store, a cafe, a hotel, a bait and tackle store and a few other stores and restaurants. Not to mention houses on the top of the hill next to the chapel and school.

Come to think of it, I’m not even sure if Nichols Bay is actually the name of the town. I haven’t lived there since I was three years old; I have to remember to visit there sometime.

Paul was fifteen years of age, and the year was one where nothing significant happened. He was always good at English, because of the reason he liked stories, and he liked History for the same reason. Julius Caesar, Battle of Normandy, King Alexander, Rameses the Second, they were all stories.

He needed all the help he could get in Science and Math however, constantly asking why algebra, trigonometry or Pythagoras mattered in a world as simple as his own.

If you asked me if his family was religious, his mother did go to church every Sunday, and as Paul told it, she mostly prayed about his father and his drinking habit. His father on the other hand well, he did yell “Jesus Christ!” and “Mary, Mother of God!” quite a lot. Paul just left it all to his parents, he wasn’t religious, he didn’t the find the bible as his sort of story.

Paul was one of 12 kids in his class; he referred to himself as number 13 though. He didn’t feel he belonged, we all feel like that sometimes, alienated, Paul desired to be part of the crowd, or more appropriately, find a crowd to be part of. He found friends, and he lost friends, mainly because he grew tired of their shenanigans. So he dumped them like a bad habit, but it’s not as horrible as it sounds, they hardly noticed him leave.

There was one person who wouldn’t seem to just jump-ship from his mind, like the rest always would, oh no, she was different. Her name was Carla Flynn, and she was his lab partner in Biology. Not like their school was very big and really had a lab, they mostly just went looking in Rock-pools down the coast or up to the creeks looking for frogs up north.

‘Aren’t they fascinating Paul?’ she would say peering into the rock-pools looking for the crab that just scuttled away from sight.

‘Yeah, sure...’ he’d say, trying to feign interest, concentrated on sea monsters, tidal waves and Carla’s figure more than anything else.

Even though he couldn’t stand the subject, Paul would wait eagerly for the next Biology lesson, so he could be paired with Carla. He didn’t stay around her for recess or lunch times, not because of other boys “Fuck them!” he would think, he didn’t care what they thought, it was her girl-friends.

Katherine, Fiona, Harri and Georgia were Carla’s friends. A blonde, a red-head, a brunette and another, all pretty, all part of the in-crowd, and all down-right intimidating to Paul. He walks up to Carla when they are all sitting down at recess, he tries to talk to her and they all stop talking. Absolute silence falls like a great fog, and a cold shiver runs straight up Paul’s spine as the glare of Carla’s friends destroy all of his well-built defences like laser beams. And so Paul is left there, standing in front of five pretty young teenage girls, who were busy talking about their novels and chick-flicks and the hot guy that stars in it, who is “like totally dreamy”, and he’s just interrupted them, and now is left in a wordless “uuuuuuuhhhhh...”. And then he walks away, and he doesn’t talk next biology lesson... it’s all over.

But he didn’t let that happen, he just waited patiently for the next biology lesson. In the mean time he would spend his time reading King Lear, American Gods or The Art of War, anything that the school library wouldn’t stock, he’d read. That went for music too, what other people listened to by choice, he listened to because other people listened to it and he couldn’t see the point in raising a music war against the rest of the school.

***********************

Paul was born on April 1st, and each birthday he got more April Fool’s jokes than Happy Birthdays. He didn’t mind, he knew when he got home he’d be welcomed to a nice birthday-cake which his mother had baked earlier that day. Sometimes, even his father would be there, and the three of them would be happy, not this year, he didn’t mind really, most years it was like this.

He came home late, nothing right was happening, He had missed the bus home from school (he lived a little bit out of the way of town), so he had to walk home... in the rain. And things only got worse, he did return to a cake, and a nice one, he did return to only his mum, but that was fine. Come 6:30 there was a heavy knock at the door, but it wasn’t his father that knocked, Paul could tell. But his father’s voice was on the other side, as were two other men, they knocked again.

‘Honey-‘ said Paul’s Mother, she could sense something was wrong ‘-how about you go watch telly in your room while I deal with the men at the door okay?’ she said in a voice that make the 15 year old Paul feel 10 years younger. But he knew she was only doing what she thought was right.

‘Baby that you?’ said Paul’s father. He was drunk, really drunk.

‘You haven’t called me “baby” in years-‘said Mother ‘-you must be really drunk.’

‘Yeah!’ he said with a wide smile. ‘Now where’s the birthday boy eh? I wanna give him a mighty big hug!’

Paul’s mother hesitated to let his father near him. ‘He’s not here sweetie, he’s over at a friend’s house.’

‘What?’ said Paul’s father, who was quite confused. ‘Friends? Paul’s never over at a friend’s place... he never talks about friends.’

Paul saw the whole thing from his bedroom; he had the light off so no one could see him. ‘He’s right.’ Paul thought to himself. ‘I have no friends... no real ones.’ His head fell into his hands and he let out a long sigh, if it weren’t for the kettle boiling his cover would have been blown for sure.

Paul’s mother saw a distraction in the making. ‘Honey-‘ she said ‘-mind taking care of that?’ she said to Paul’s father.

‘Yes ma’am!’ he said gleefully.

As Paul’s father wondered off into the Kitchen, his mother turned to one of the men who had brought him back to the house. ‘He’s in his bedroom, take him out the back, he can stay at your house tonight.’ she said to one of the two men, who was elderly and grey.

‘Of course.’ the man replied. The man walked towards Paul’s room, whistling a familiar tune. Paul recognised the man, but he couldn’t put a name to a face. Paul was never good with names. The man walked into Paul’s room. ‘Hey buddy-‘ he whispered ‘-long time no see. You’ll be staying with us tonight, okay?’

‘I know I will-‘said Paul ‘-I have ears y’know.’

‘You okay with that?’ asked the man

‘It’s my dad, and he’s off his head. On my birthday, it’s not like you can pretend I have a choice in the matter.’ explained Paul

‘Fair enough grab your things and then we’ll skedaddle.’ said the man. Paul grabbed all he required for the next day and the two snuck out the back.

‘You really don’t talk do you, Paul?’ said the man as they drove towards his house in an old Ute.

‘I never have much to say,’ said Paul.

‘Bullshit!’ said the man. ‘Mind my French, but I’ve known you since you were a little boy. You’ve always been one to have something to say.’

‘Alright then, no one to tell it to, how about that?’ asked Paul. ‘I have something to say, just no one to say it to. Nobody to listen to me.’

‘That was deep.’ said the man.

‘Come to think of it, I haven’t talked to you in seven years, I can’t remember your name.’ said Paul

‘It’s Foster, like the beer.’ said the man. ‘One day that’s how you’ll remember me.’

‘More like the surrogate grandfather with no name.’ said Paul with a smile.

‘Well we’re almost here friend-o.’ said Foster. He drove the truck down a bumpy dirt road and into the bushlands; Paul was air-born for a fraction of a nanosecond as the truck came over a large bump as it went through an old gate. As they continued down the dirt road they eventually came to a small little cottage amongst the trees.

They walked inside, it was a little cottage, a small cosy getaway and all his childhood memories of the place spontaneously returned to memory. The small ornaments from summer holidays in Athens, Madrid and Istanbul, aging Babushka Dolls on the mantel piece next to family photographs.

‘Where are you dear?’ asked Foster.

‘In the Kitchen!’ said a woman’s voice from behind a wall. The two walked in the Kitchen to the sight of a woman of her sixties busy up to her head with cooking. ‘Well hello, Paul. Haven’t seen you in years!’ said the woman wiping the sweat from her brow.

‘Yeah,’ replied Paul.

‘He has had a bad day,’ said Foster. Foster took Paul into the small spare room where he struggled to open a large closet. Once he did he pulled out an old creaky portable spring bed, and he whacked a small mattress on the top. And Paul was left alone, in the room, with a lamp on he lay on the bed, his hands behind his head he looked up at the glowing star stickers a child and their parent had placed on there in years past. Up on the wall was a child’s drawing, from a niece, dated not too long ago “Happy Birthday Aunt Mary” was written on it in a child’s handwriting. That’s when he remembered the woman’s name, Marilyn, but everyone called her Mary.

He lay there and thought, he didn’t miss the cake, or the Happy Birthday, or his father being sober, he could only think of one thing, one person, Carla. He imagined what her touch felt like, what her lips tasted like, what her breasts felt like, what it meant to be loved back.

He dreamt of her that night, what else was there to dream of. He wished he could skip forward a day, a week, a month or a year, however long it took for them to be together. He wanted to skip the question and dreaded answer; he just wanted to be with her. He dreamt of saving her from a tidal wave at the rock-pools next Biology class, and her hailing him as her hero. He dreamt of spending the night with her, and her yelling his name to the full moon, saying she needed him.

He awoke from the dream, a sliver of light burst through the curtains piercing through his eyes which were closed as tightly as possible, Paul didn’t want to wake up, he didn’t want to leave the dream, but it was too late.

Realising his defeat he opened his eyes and got out of bed, this whole scenario was all too familiar to Paul; he had been there many years before, night after night, back when he used to stay over on weekends.

Walking out into the kitchen, there was Marilyn cooking just as she was when he went to bed. ‘I’m cooking crepes, Paul.’ she said with a kind smile. ‘Foster is in the lounge, he’d like to speak with you.’

Paul continued to the Lounge Room, soccer was playing on the telly, and a large sofa was situated right in front of it. Paul could only see Foster’s hand which was holding a remote as he walked towards the sofa. ‘Foster.’ said Paul trying to get his attention. ‘You wanted to talk?’ he continued, there was no answer. He walked up and looked at Foster who was glued to the Soccer. ‘You wanted to talk?’ Paul said repeating himself.

‘Oh. Good morning, Paul.’ Foster said turning towards Paul. ‘Must’ve forgot to put in my hearing aid, sorry, my hearing isn’t as good as it used to be.’

‘That’s okay. Mary said you wanted to talk.’

‘Yes.’ said Foster moving up from the chair. ‘Do you like fishing, Paul?’

‘I guess...’ shrugged Paul. ‘Don’t do it much.’

‘How about you come out on the bay with me today, you’ve clearly got something on your mind.’

‘Am I sensing a double life as a psychic?’

‘Oh no,’ Foster laughed ‘I’ve known you since you were born, I can tell something’s troubling you.’

‘And you know it’s not my father?’ asked Paul raising an eyebrow.

‘Well,’ said Foster ‘Not for certain, but you’ve known your father and his ways for many years, and yet I haven’t seen you like this before.’

‘Why fishing?’

‘Fishing clears the head.’

‘Breakfast is served.’ said Mary placing down two plates on the small dining table.

Paul walked over to the table and sat down, grabbing the strawberry jam and spreading it onto the crepe, and then taking the apricot jam and mixing it. He folded it and began to eat.

‘I see you haven’t changed one bit, Paul.’ said Mary with a wide smile. Paul could not reply, he just nodded nervously as the crepe almost broke in his hands.

Foster sat down and ate his sugar and lemon crepes. ‘Divinity in pancake form!’ exclaimed Foster with an even larger grin than Mary.

‘So, Paul, how have you been keeping?’ asked Mary

‘Alright I guess.’ replied Paul, who was continuing eating his pancakes.

‘What about school, how’s that going?’

‘Yeah, it’s going steady, I guess.’ said Paul, honestly.

‘Fair enough.’ said Foster.

‘Got yourself a girlfriend, Paul?’ asked Mary.

‘No...’ said Paul.

‘Oh,’ replied Mary ‘okay, sorry, that might have been rude.’ she apologised.

‘That’s fine.’ said Paul, there was an uncomfortable silence.

‘Well then!’ said Foster sitting back in his chair and patting his belly. ‘That’ll be me finished m’dear.’ he said with a jolly grin. ‘Well Paul, how about we go fishing then?’ asked Foster, Paul nodded.

Paul got up and went back into the spare room, and got dressed. As he walked out Foster threw him a bright yellow rain-coat. ‘You’ll be needing this.’ he said. Paul was embarrassed to have to wear it, but he didn’t want to cause a fuss, so he sucked down his pride and wore it.

As Paul got into the car, Foster threw the fishing rods into the back and got in. They drove back into town, it was a dull day, overcast and no sunlight coming through, everything was grey. As they drove up to the pier where Foster’s old blue and white boat was docked.

‘Here we are,’ said Foster ‘It could use with a paint job I know.’ The paint of the boat was cracking and chipping, but it was still a good boat nevertheless.

They got out the car and grabbed a rod each from the back and then started walking down the creaky old pier. There were fishers sitting on the edge idling beside their rods waiting for something to bite.

They walked up to the boat, the deck was a metre down. Foster got himself down, Paul was nervous, he didn’t like situations where he couldn’t be perfectly sure what was going to happen. Foster helped him down onto the boat. ‘There, much better once you get your footing isn’t it?’ said Foster.

‘Uh, yeah, sure.’ replied Paul looking down at his feet.

‘You’ll get used it. You’re still a landlubber. Now sit down, we’ll get going. Foster powered up the engines and they made their way out into the bay.

Paul never really went out on the bay, except for the ferry every once in a while to get to the city. Taking the ferry was much faster than having to drive. He grew to like it out on the bay, faster than he expected.

‘This spot looks good.’ said Foster as he powered down the engines. Foster picked up the rod and hooked up a piece of bait and then flung the line out into the bay. ‘Your turn.’ he said turning to Paul.

‘I don’t know how.’ replied Paul. Foster picked up the rod and put the bait on for him, so he didn’t cut himself. Foster showed him how to do it and Paul flung the line straight out into the bay.

‘And now all we do, is sit and wait.’ said Foster placing his rod into a small hole and sitting down. ‘You’re not an idiot, I’m sure you’ve figured out why I brought you out here.’

‘You mean you didn’t bring me out here to catch lunch?’ said Paul sarcastically.

‘No,’ said Foster laughing. ‘I want to know what’s troubling you. Is it a girl?’

There was a long pause, Paul looked out at the rocky shores, the waves violently crashing against the rocks. He took a deep breath, until his chest had fully expanded. ‘...yes...’ said Paul. ‘It’s a girl.’

‘Well what about her then?’ asked Foster. ‘You in love?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Well then what’s the matter, take her out on a date!’

‘Things don’t work like that anymore.’ said Paul. ‘And she’ll say no anyway.’

‘And what do you know about my time?’ asked Foster. ‘I met Marilyn at a carnival, decades ago. My oldest friend introduced us, he died a few years back in a car crash. I can’t say I really miss him, all our best memories are gone, we hadn’t spoken in years, I remember him most fondly now for Marilyn. Without him we may have never met.’

‘Yeah, well that doesn’t help me.’

‘I had no idea how to handle women, unlike my friend who had kissed several of his sister’s friends. First when he was 13 years old, he was the Fonz through and through to me. I didn’t know how to talk to women, luckily, Marilyn did all the talking. I fell in love immediately, her beauty blew me away, she was funny, smart, my dream girl. I took her out to dinner the next night, I probably should have waited... but I bought her a necklace for that first date. I married her that summer, nothing big and fancy, but we didn’t care. But what I’m trying to say is, don’t waste time worrying, doubting and second-guessing yourself, take the opportunity with both hands.’

‘But I’m scared she’ll say no.’ said Paul

‘I’m scared of Bees.’ replied Foster.

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Well I eat a lot of Honey,’ said Foster ‘I guess it’s just my way of getting back at them.’ he laughed. ‘Look, I was afraid when I asked her out on a date for the first time, but I did.’

‘...Marilyn. She has cancer doesn’t she.’ said Paul

‘Yes,’ said Foster ‘but we don’t pay attention to that.’

‘I’ve never met anyone with cancer before.’ said Paul. ‘She seems to lively.’

‘The only time you shouldn’t be lively is when you’re dead Paul, don’t forget that.’

They didn’t catch anything that day, fish anyway.

*************************

Every year on the second Saturday and Sunday of April and September is the Nichol’s Bay market. Paul would go down there to pass the time, there wasn’t much else to do, and the food was nice. He’d buy a small bag of miniature donuts. This time he spared some money for something else.

He walked over to one of the other stalls, there were necklaces, rings, bracelets and bangles abound. There was everything from edgy surf styles, to gothic designs to artsy types.

Paul picked up a necklace, made of silver, with two opals in it. He bought it and put it in his jacket pocket so there wasn’t a chance of it magically falling out of his pocket.

The next day he was back at school, this time with the necklace carefully held in his shirt pocket under his jumper. He saw Carla at lunch times, he wanted so much to go up and just give it to her but he couldn’t, and he didn’t have Biology class either, it had to be after school.

He sat through his classes, ignoring all the other guys talking about their “girlfriends in the city” that Paul knew, didn’t exist.

Eventually though, the bell went. He knew the way Carla would walk home, so he decided to walk towards that way too. That’s when he saw her, surrounded by friends, with a boy looking deep into her eyes and playing with her hair. Paul couldn’t take it, he ran, as fast as he could down to the shore. It started to rain, the rain drops disguised his tears as he ran down to the shore distraught, he didn’t know whether to be angry or sad.

He threw off his jumper and grabbed the necklace from his pocket. He screamed something he couldn’t understand through the stress, and threw the necklace as far as he could out into the bay.

Paul collapsed in the sand, whimpering, he fell asleep.

******************

Paul was almost awake, he could here someone humming and walking through the sand.

‘Paul?’ said a girl’s soft young voice. He knew immediately who it was, he couldn’t stand the fact. He opened his eyes to see Clara looking straight into his eyes. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she said getting to her feet. ‘This is MY beach!’ she said laughing.

‘I’m sorry, I needed to get away ya’know?’ Paul said softly. He didn’t say much more.

‘You don’t talk much do you?’ said Carla sitting on a rock, Paul sat up in the sand. ‘Nice down here isn’t it. My friends don’t follow me here, it’s my “alone space”, a great place to get away.’ She said looking out onto the horizon. ‘Well, come on then, what’s ticking in that head of yours?’ Paul didn’t reply, he just took a big deep breath and looked out into the sea, looking at all the waves crashing against the shore.

‘Alright, I’ll say something-‘ said Paul looking at Carla ‘-I feel like a deer in headlights, I can’t see what’s coming, but I’m scared. A terrible blinding light is all I see, foreboding, awe-inspiring and down-right terrifying to behold. And I’m frightened, I’m really damn scared, but I don’t know what to do, where do I run?’ He looked out into the ocean, he couldn’t look at Carla, he couldn’t take it. ‘Infectious isn’t it?’ Paul left Carla quiet. ‘I say something like that and that’s all I can think about. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your day.’

‘Well, I don’t know how to come back to that. I don’t have anything to say.’ Carla said finally. ‘You know what, you’re different Paul, you’re not like the others, they’d call you “gay” for saying that.

‘Carla.’ said Paul, he’d had enough. ‘I love you, there I said it. You’re right, I’m not like the others, I don’t want you for your “tits” or “butt”, just you, I just want you for you.’

There was a long pause. ‘Oh...’ said Carla, Paul looked at her, her hair was falling over her eyes, she had her head down. She looked like she was trying to say something, but only choking on words.

‘I’m sorry.’ He still couldn’t tell her about the necklace.

‘You know Ben Harper?-’ She said looking up at the horizon again. ‘-He asked me out, the girls were there nagging “Say Yes! For Fuck’s Sake Say Yes!” I said no. That’s why I’m down here, I know what he’s like, he practically swallowed Harri’s tongue whole last Summer Party.’ said Carla, now Paul was speechless again. ‘So now, I’m free to do whatever I please. And I want to eat Fish and Chips, you want to each Fish and Chips?’

‘Yeah... yeah, Fish and Chips would be good.’ said Paul looking up at Carla and smiling.

‘Y’know, I’m suck at romance, or at least, speaking from my heart.’ Said Carla as they walked along the beach. ‘ You read Shakespeare right?’

‘I don’t think King Lear qualifies as “Romance”.’ said Paul with a smile.

‘Finally!’ said Carla.

‘What?’

‘I finally thought of something to say. Why do you always sit by yourself?’

‘I never have anything to say in a group, I never get any attention, so people don’t notice it when I leave. And I guess, when I sit alone, that is when I want attention, but I never get any.’ Said Paul.

‘Nobody realises that’s what you want. You always just sit there in your own little world, we all thought you liked it like that.’ Carla replied.

‘I do, but I’ve always wanted someone to share it with.’ said Paul looking at Carla. ‘I sit there, waiting for you to come walking over. But you never do, no one ever does.’

‘I’m sorry. Let’s just go get something to eat, everything changes today.’ Said Carla with a big wide smile.

Paul wanted to tell Carla about the necklace. He’d make her laugh and it would be their thing, maybe he’ll tell her after the chips. She was right though, everything was changing.