And Had Nothing to Do with the Sea

Francis comes home from the bookshop. From the path he can hear that Cody is playing her Kurt Weill record. Again. Christ, he thinks, if I have to listen to ‘Surabaya Johnny’ one more time I’ll smash something.

—Hi, Cody calls from her room. She’s getting ready to go to work.

Francis goes into his room and shuts the door. He feels like slamming it but restrains himself. Control, he thinks, calm.

page 26

—I was young, God I’d just turned sixteen—

He can hear Cody singing along, loudly and not very well. He gets the shoe polish from under his bed and starts working on his shoes. He is rubbing furiously when Cody sticks her lipsticked face around the door. He starts, flushes, tries for some reason to cover the shoes with the rag. He feels as if he’s been caught masturbating.

—I’m off, Cody says. —Have a good night.

—Yeah, he says. —See you.

He sees her out his window walking down the path, still singing. She’s waving her arms in time.

—You said a lot, Johnny
All one big lie, Johnny
You cheated me blind, Johnny
From the minute we . . .

Her voice trails after her as she disappears around the corner. He should never have slept with her. He should never have moved in. What a stupid mistake. He doesn’t even know her. He hates this messy complication of his life. Bloody mess. At least she’s clean.

He goes to her room and stands outside the door. It would be easy to open it, walk in, look in drawers, the wardrobe, the desk. Under the bed. Get to know her that way. Cheat. This is ridiculous, he thinks, looking at himself in the hall mirror on his way back to his room. He looks tired. Older? Probably.

He falls onto his bed. The tin of shoe polish gets him directly between the shoulder blades. Twisting around, he knocks it upside down. There is a thick black streak on his blanket. He throws the shoe polish on the floor. It wheels around leaving fainter black traces before it settles. Francis gets under the blankets with his clothes still on. He counts to a hundred. His breathing slows.

When he wakes up it is dark and the room is cold. He feels a moment of lurching panic. He thinks about going into town. He could have a coffee at Cody’s cafe. Sit, talk, walk home together.

He has a bath.

He reads a book.

*

page 27

A painting of a bowl of fruit.

Dearest Code

Thea says she saw you in a jeweller’s shop with some weedy looking guy. Tell me she’s joking. I’m working for one of Sydney’s top production companies!—as a script editor. Scares me shitless. I love it. I miss you, write.

love Thea

*