A Prick

Memory summons a September Saturday '74, accompanying Coral to the beach.

She nose-dived in low spirits, and the catalyst was an independent Josh. I clung to my gossamer thoughts to woo her heart. My mate Josh spent recent weekends and holidays with Max instead of his girlfriend. And at our local beach, I dallied to put Coral off seeing Josh. Even brooding, I desired to have her stay beside me. So moody as she gripped her satchel.

My conscience didn't want her to say anything to Josh she might regret, whilst my ego wished for her company and my daydreams to be explored — finally.

Josh preferred to avoid 'intricate Coral,' but I liked Coral's intricacies—they defined my bestie.

The day before, Coral and Josh's latest relationship tiff came to a head.

My bestie spieled her story in a rush as we departed my house and went to the beach.

"I plan a night at the movies and dinner with my aunt visiting from the States, and my boy goes-" Coral gasped and heaved with emphasis —"He goes, 'Boring! I'm going to a party at Max's."

I exhaled deeply, glad we walked, and I didn't need to connect with her eyes — only her words.

Coral spat fire, "I knew Brit was there, tempting my guy! If Josh, if he…."

Her arms flew, and her satchel bounced off her shoulder. My bestie trailed as she caught her pouch. I balked at escorting her to Josh's. Instead, I distracted her. I decided to go to the headland.

"Let's go over the rocks," I urged when we reached the beach.

An outcrop formed a craggy break between two beaches. We enjoyed inspecting the flaking iron oxide-stained boulders in the past. My bestie agreed to go after pacing around in a circle, dragging one sandshoe in frustration. My deft, precise, artistic Coral's toe scrawled an unclear shape, a meaningless circle or a rough heart.

We scampered over the ragged point as the tide ebbed; scrabbling the rocks was easier. I led us on a slant, scouting a safe route. Coral lagged, disconnected from this venture. I swooped back and gathered her, my arms sweeping wide around her without touching her.

With Coral a step in front of me, we scrambled a poor route. I surmised that Josh occupied her mind, not our safe footing. We began our descent at the final tier of boulders. Tricky on a good day, I eased in front of her as we scuttled down.

Immediately, my bestie railed, "I had half an hour at his place last week."

She halted and inspected her calves for rock scrapes, adding, in the dumps, "How much am I worth?"

Coral, you deserve a lifetime's attention.

Instead, I emphasised to her, "Mind your step. The big rock wobbles."

She rocked unsteadily, spreading her arms though she had regained her balance. Her thoughts, I supposed, were see-sawing on her boyfriend.

Yes, as she let fly, "He cut his hair without consulting me!"

Did Coral think she could ground her Josh for that?

Her arms formed triangles at her hips, "A mullet cut," she huffed.

My mate deserved a grounding — awful hairstyle!

Coral wound tighter than her spinning top string, "I offered to restyle his hair. He said, 'No!' He insisted he was busy with Max, learning about engines. And off he went."

She clambered down between two wedged chunks. I waited at the flatter final boulder, and we jumped the short distance to the sand together.

Over the bluff and onto the next beach — make her laugh about rocky relationships! 

No, my mind quickly commanded.

How to divert her?

The point and its colourful rocks failed to distract her.

I spied strands of leathery brown bull kelp bundled and strewn by the retreating tide. I missed when I tried to cheer Coral by tossing wet kelp at her.

Kelp fight! 

In primary school, Josh, Coral, and I had tangled, smelly fun with seaweed.

Coral, however, reversed towards the rocks.

Holy moly, she's going home or directly to confront Josh! 

She sat on a rock, her arms folded, her fingers cradled her elbows. I swaggered towards her like a waiter, two strands of kelp draped on my arm. I focused on decorating her to make her laugh. First, I dangled a piece over her shoulder, then placed a wreath that crowned her hair. After my self-focused adorning, I realised my bestie sobbed quietly.

Screw seaweed!

I perched on the enormous boulder next to her, orange-brown and sea-smoothed. My arm encircled her shoulder. Her smooth softness contrasted with my jutting angular one. I immediately removed the pieces of kelp, dropping them behind me and releasing my hand from her back.

"What is it? Do you think you'll lose Josh if you give him a piece of your mind?"

I probed, trying to enter her thinking.

"Yes, plus, you made me feel unattached, like seaweed."

Her brow wrinkled, and she rubbed her eyebrows.

With soulful clarity, she admitted, "Like, I'm here unattached, without Josh. I'll drift if I let him go!"

Her hands covered her ears as she rocked in depths no one should ever sustain. Coral's tongue poked out beside her reddened cheek.

Her mind changed to cross, "Boy, is he getting a serve."

Her revealed fretting underpinned her mood and her tears.

"What if I go to his place and Brit is there?!" she lamented.

She tossed her head and thrust her chin.

"Whoa, dire thinking," I cautioned. "Easy on yourself; Josh won't ever disappoint you."

She gripped her hands low. I offered her a high five, my palm raised and ready. Coral's arms straggled limply.

I changed my plan to occupy her mind, "Nah, not this beach. Let's get ice cream."

I scooped Coral gently off the boulder, my hand on her back. We trudged the dunes to the road. We crossed the street and entered the ice cream parlour. The glass-covered case showcased various flavours of ice cream: Butterscotch, Neapolitan, Milk chocolate and Pistachio.

Keep it simple. 

This proved on the mark as Coral left the choice to me, but she did direct, "Waffle cone, please, not the sugared."

I brought double soft serve vanilla.

Licking ice cream, we loitered the esplanade. The treat failed to cheer Coral until I flicked some sloppy mush off my cone. I missed her. Coral returned the compliment with a deft flick. A creamy blob landed on the bridge of my nose and invaded my nostrils. I sneezed and sprayed, making my bestie chuckle.

Coral collected herself. I sidled as close as I dared; my cheek brushed her spread hair. I loved her laugh; I longed for her warm lips.

No chance.

We rambled the esplanade and meandered back to the sand. The last crunch of a waffle cone joined us. The tide retreated farther, and the mini sand crabs started their ritual scurry. The darting crustaceans were a temptation. I picked one up and threw the crab at Coral.

Quickly—she arched, and it missed.

My bestie bent in a graceful action. She knelt carefully in her bottle-green dress. Her fingers hovered atop a darting dark crab, ready to clutch or cup the little mite. Her clench remained unformed; she resisted the urge of bygone youthful crab fights.

She rose as I bent and dredged a handful of sand-wet crabs. They tickled my cupped palms.

Coral created space on my left, aware of my intention.

"Stop, Luke," her tone guided me to be sensible.

Tease, tease, tease; it's what we do when we are young.

Of the handful, one hit her upper thigh, her dress on the delightful side of short.

"Leave the crabs alone!" she implored.

"Why?"

I sensed the fun end.

"Because I need your mind," focused and firm like when she redirected me to study in the college library.

I wished Coral had asked to hold my hand. 

I stopped tossing the sand crabs.

"You know Josh, as well as me! Has he said anything deep about me?" she probed insecurely.

Her hands pushed down on her satchel, stretching and straining the strap.

My conscience urged me to lie - to ease her. To give Coral the security she yearned for in her relationship with Josh.

The truth: Josh whined on and on about how frustrating Coral could be when he craved increased intimacy.

"Great kisser," he shared, "the best, but a brick wall, with everything else. I am forever waiting!"

Shaking his head, he added, "Waiting should be her middle name!"

My mate joked he would be an older man before touching her private skin.

On the beach, I replied to my golden girl selfishly.

I came as close to asking her to drop Josh for me — as I ever dared.

My hands clasped under my chin, I gave a voice to my dreams, "Coral, you need one guy's attention— full-time!"

"Luke, grow up!" she screeched sharply.

Her finger wagged right between my eyes.

Immediately, I grasped my bestie fathomed; I gazed at her with more than puppy love. I sensed Coral believed she possessed the skills to handle my infatuation.

However, her frustrations concerning Josh boiled over on me today.

I deserved her slicing serve. 

She had requested my support without saying it. My bestie let me know I was out of line!

"God, you can be a self-focused prick! You don't say it. I see it on your face every day!"

And she meant a prick.

"Behind your hushed nature, you can be self-centred. I've read your journal!"

"When?" I threw incredulously.

I ran my hands through my hair and gouged my shoes in the sand.

"When I waited at your house for your mum to bring you home from the beach. The day you 'pestered' the girl. Your mum's words, not mine. That Saturday. I forgot about the picnic. When your mum blustered off, I stayed alone. I wandered; I found your journal!"

"What did you read?" I crossed my fingers, hoping she skimmed or rushed it back because she heard us returning home.

Geez, I recorded my wet dreams in detail! 

I wrote hazy thoughts for a golden girl — a weak alias for Coral. 

I bitched about a pixie leapfrogging me for Goldilocks' affections!

"Parts of it. Sometimes, your writing is thoughtful. Occasionally, you do selfishly ramble!"

She contemplated my gobsmacked face and touched my arm.

My buddy wasn't going to bleed out my soul!

Coral lightened, "Oh and thanks to you, my bestie, I know about guys and wet dreams — as if I wanted to know!"

We kidded as we bumped hips and managed a low five.

I prized how quickly she recovered her forgiving self, "Sorry, I shouldn't have read it… or told you I had."

I couldn't harbour any resentment against her.

Coral saved my skin when my mother brought me home after Parson's Dean's phone call from the beach.