That One Summer (The Summer Series), Page 7

  I scoffed at the thought. Relax? I didn’t know the meaning of the word – my mind was a constant churning of worry. The only peace I really afforded myself was when I went for my runs and worked on my fitness circuits. Any other time my mind would race at a million miles an hour, never at peace. It hadn’t taken my doctor long to pinpoint that my migraines were brought on by stress, that with a combination of full-time study and my fitness job I was running myself thin. He advised me that something had to give. Pretty amusing, really – it didn’t matter how physically healthy and fit my body had become, my mind was still as frazzled as ever. Maybe a few days of sitting in contemplative silence with Chris would do me good, keep me occupied in a different sense. A welcome distraction from reality, from working out, studying. Just me (and Chris) and the road to a new year – hell, a new century. This might actually be good for me. I squared my shoulders.

  Positive, positive, positive.

  “So why did you hide from me at the Bake House?” Chris asked.

  Oh crap!

  I didn’t know where to look. Especially now, as Chris flicked his sunnies up onto his head and glanced at me expectantly. The canopy of towering gum trees flickered shadows across his face as the afternoon sun battled to pierce through the dense bushland lining the road.

  “Oh, I was just joking around.” I gave a quick laugh, wiping a crease from my lap.

  “You were avoiding me,” he pressed, his tone serious.

  “I wasn’t avoiding you,” I said, squirming under his scrutiny. A bubble of unease surfaced in my chest, but then a thought popped into my head. I looked pointedly at him. “Why would I do that?”

  Ha! Ball’s back in your court. Maybe it would make him have a think as to why anyone might want to avoid him; he wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine and considering the last time we interacted he had given me such a penetrating death stare … Have a think about that, Mr Henderson.

  I watched his reaction – there was no evidence of him even taking in the question, as if he wasn’t even giving what I had said a second thought.

  He shrugged. “You tell me,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he wasn’t even particularly invested in the answer.

  Unease turned into anger. Was he so blind to himself? Did he have no real sense of why I would perhaps want to go to such lengths to avoid him? His nonchalant attitude made me feel like a bit of a weirdo, as if I just did random weird things all the time. I expected him to shrug, roll his eyes and say, “Chicks.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. Maybe it was time I did him a favour. “I hid because, frankly, at that moment you were the last person on Earth that I wanted to see.”

  Chris’s brows rose. “Really?” he said, a mixture of amusement and intrigue lining his face.

  I crossed my arms. “Just because your friends put up with you doesn’t mean I have to. If the choice is to be subjected to your pissy-pants attitude or hide under a table, well I clearly choose the latter.”

  “Pissy-pants attitude?” He glowered.

  I leaned closer. “Believe me, that’s sugar-coating it.” I looked back out of the window, conversation over.

  A long silence settled between us. An immense sense of satisfaction swelled in my chest, a feeling of pride, I guess, from staring down the beast and telling him what for. Maybe honesty really was the best policy.

  I snuck a glance at him, scowling at the road ahead. Then again, considering we weren’t anywhere near our destination, this was going to be one hell of a road trip.

  Nevertheless, I still felt empowered, until, of course, my attention was caught by the chuckle coming from beside me. That smile was back. Chris rubbed his jaw line in humoured wonder as he glanced at me.

  “Not bad for someone who doesn’t like confrontation,” he mused.

  My brows narrowed. I had never told him that, I had never admitted that to anyone; it was my own Achilles heel and something I would never voice out loud. I shifted uneasily.

  “And what makes you think I can’t handle confrontation?” I lifted my chin in defiance. “I can handle it just fine.”

  Chris tilted his head incredulously. “Tam … you hid under a table.”

  Oh, right.

  I didn’t know what was more infuriating – the fact that he was so obviously right or that he had called me Tam. It sounded so foreign on his tongue, so strangely intimate. Usually any of the boys would playfully call me Tammy, Tamara or Tim-Tam. Sean and Amy would occasionally call me Tam, but no one else and especially not Chris.

  It was unsettling.

  I closed my eyes and rubbed at my temples, a dull ache slowly surfacing in its old, familiar way. I rubbed the back of my neck. I needed to relax – the last thing I needed was a migraine. My best form of avoidance of Chris was to stare out of the window, but the constant whirring and flashing of scenery going by was a sure-fire way to induce an instant migraine. My eyes needed to focus on nothing; I just needed to be still and silent. Luckily, Bruce had remained turned down and was really only acting as croony background music. I swallowed deeply, trying not to fear the worst.

  I shifted in my seat, making myself more comfortable.

  “What’s going on?” Chris said. “Will you stop fidgeting?”

  At this point I really couldn’t care what Chris thought. Fine, I would sit still for a while and hope that maybe I was being paranoid, that perhaps I had just been worked up from the chaos of the morning and the pent-up frustration. Maybe I was dehydrated. If I sat still with my eyes closed, maybe I could rein this thing back in.

  “You okay?” Chris’s voice pierced the darkness.

  “Hmm,” I said. “Fine.”

  I breathed in deeply, wishing I had paid more attention to the meditation techniques I was taught when I was a teenager. For now I would try for stillness, for silence. That could work – just breathe, relax. Shut off my thoughts and let go.

  I concentrated on my breathing and not the thunder of the engine. I could feel my shoulders sagging and my body melting into the leather bucket seat as I calmed my mind and my body into believing everything would be okay. And just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, my eyes blinked open.

  I sat up straight in a panic. “STOP THE CAR!”

  Chapter Seventeen.

  Oh no-no-no-no-no …

  As soon as Chris had jolted the car to a violent stop on the gravelly side of the road, I unbuckled myself and almost kneed him in the face as I scurried over the back of the seat like an uncoordinated spider.

  Hmmmph. I landed fair on my back; bless the mattress for breaking my awkward dismount.

  “What the hell, Tam? What happened? What are you doing?” Chris asked as he swivelled in his seat to watch me. I crawled over the mattress to my Esprit bag, unzipped it and dumped the contents out onto the mattress.

  No-no-no-no-no …

  I scrambled through my belongings, fearing the worst. Surely I couldn’t be so stupid? I stilled. Leaning back on my heels I delved into the pocket of my shorts and retrieved Tess’s list. I unravelled it and sure enough there it was, boldly circled, the only thing not ticked off the list.

  Any personal medication needed.

  My heart sank. In all the chaos of searching for bloody sleeping bags and other essentials I had organised through Mum, I had completely forgotten to pack the most important thing of all: my migraine medication. My heart pumped and a light sheen of perspiration made the nape of my neck sticky, or was that just the onset of sickness? Oh God, I was in trouble.

  A blinding streak of light assaulted me. I shielded my eyes against the offending rays. Chris stood before me, holding open the back door to the panel van.

  “What did you forget?” He sighed. Ha! Now he just sounded like my mother.

  I held up my hands, slapping them on my thighs in defeat; I shook my head. Hot tears welled in my eyes as my traitorous chin began to tremble.

  I tried to scoop up my belongings in between horrid sniffling sounds that came involuntarily out of me, as now d
id the water works, gushing tears from my eyes.

  Just perfect!

  A hand snaked gently around my wrist.

  A perfect hand.

  “What’s the matter?” Chris’s voice was soft. “What can I do to help?”

  I looked up at his face. The hard lines had melted into something that looked like … concern? I pulled my hand away.

  “I just forgot something really important,” I said, trying to keep it together.

  Chris’s brows rose in alarm. “Oh … right.” He straightened and the gentle hand let go of my wrist. Shoving his hands in his back pockets, he attempted to look casual, but he looked anything but. “Well, we might be able to find a petrol station or something up the road to find what you need.”

  I shoved my belongings back into my bag, pausing only to meet Chris’s eyes in confusion.

  “What I need?”

  He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah … You know.”

  I raised my brows in silent question.

  He sighed in agitation. “Where you can get … girl stuff,” he whispered the last words, as if someone might overhear him on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere.

  It took a moment for the penny to drop and I broke into a weak smile. “Ooooh, I see.” I nodded. “Chris, I don’t need a tampon.” I had great joy in watching him squirm at the sound of that word.

  “Oh, right. Okay. Well … good.” He moved, refusing to look at me as he slammed the door on my smirk, coating me in soothing darkness again. At least his moment of unease had momentarily snapped me out of my despair.

  I placed my bag aside, took a deep breath and climbed back over the seat again. Chris waited until I had settled in before he opened the driver’s door and slid in beside me. He gripped the steering wheel and looked ahead as silence settled over us; this time there was no Bruce to mask it.

  I sighed, pushing my fingers back through my hair, gathering the tendrils at the base of my neck. “I forgot my pain medication.”

  The infamous crease pinched between Chris’s eyes and I knew what he was thinking: ‘Is that all?’

  “Oh, right,” he said as he clicked his seatbelt into place. “Well, we can always pick up some Panadol at the next servo.”

  I shook my head. “I wish that would work. I get really bad migraines, like really bad. My vision goes and I get nauseous and the pain …” I broke off. I didn’t want the tears to come again. That would just make it worse.

  “How often do you get them?” Chris asked.

  “Usually about once a fortnight, lately more frequently,” I said.

  “Do you know what causes it?”

  Stress.

  I shrugged. “Just prone to them; I guess I’m just lucky like that.”

  “Are you getting one now?” His eyes studied me like I was a bug under a microscope.

  I bit my lip. “I really hope not.” My voice shook. Truth be known, I had become so reliant on having my painkillers at hand come an attack, and I was at least able to shut myself away in the comfort and darkness of my own home and manage myself through the pain. But not like this, stuck in a van in the middle of bushland with a moody, silent boy who probably thought I was just being a drama queen.

  Chris’s knuckles brushed against my arm, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Here,” he said, holding out his sunglasses. “Put these on.”

  My gaze lifted from the sunglasses to his face as the corner of his mouth pinched into a smile.

  I grabbed them from him, my fingers brushing his. “Thanks,” I said.

  Chris cleared his throat as he placed his hand on the steering wheel and he started up the engine again. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

  I tried not to laugh and slid on his sunnies.

  Normal suited Chris.

  ***

  We had been travelling for an hour, maybe two? I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was a storm was brewing and as black clouds rolled in, so did the familiar migraine pain. There was no denying it now, this was definitely a migraine.

  Tears burned my eyes – what once had been worry of potentially being far away from home without my medication had now become a bone-jarring reality. I’d never thought that such a beautiful, picturesque trip through the wide open spaces and leafy ranges could feel so claustrophobic.

  As the panel van hummed forward through sweeping turns and bends, it only reinforced how completely out of my comfort zone I was. I could almost feel the colour drain from my face as my skin became clammy and spots danced across my vision, forcing me to keep my eyes shut tight behind the sunglasses. I guess I turned out to be the perfect travel partner for Chris – there was no small talk from me, I was all about silence. I left him alone and he left me alone. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and block out the whirring of the engine, the motion of the car sweeping around bends, which only heightened my nausea. I tried desperately not to think about vomiting or passing out, but the more I thought the more miserable I became.

  At some point I must have drifted off, awakened only by a feathery touch to my cheek.

  “Tam?”

  The car was still, the world was silent, save for the odd bird call in the distance. I stirred gently, not wanting to move in case I was thrust into the pain that spiralled its way through my head in excruciating pulses with every movement.

  I felt a palm cup my forehead, then my cheek.

  “You’re burning up.”

  That was the last I heard before feeling my passenger door fly open and a voice near my face spoke gently.

  “Tam, we’ve stopped at a rest area. There are toilets here if you want to freshen up.”

  My bladder agreed that that was an excellent idea, the only thing that could possibly have made me move.

  “That a girl. Come on, I’ll help you.” A hand clasped onto my arm, strength for me to lean on, to help me stand. I eased myself out of the car and clutched at my temples. Squinting through blurred vision, I could see a hexagon-shaped concrete block in the distance that housed the public toilets back off the road amid the bushland. It was like a beacon to me as I broke from Chris’s hold and headed slowly over.

  “You all right?” he asked, following closely behind. It was kind of reassuring to think that if I stumbled he would break my fall. I waved him off, managing nothing more than caveman-like grunts as I shuffled toward the toilet block. The last thing I needed was for Chris Henderson to help me to the toilet. I stumbled forward, determined to force myself through the door, out of his sight. Then I could crumble.

  “Whoa!” Hands grabbed my shoulders and steered me to the left. “Not that one.”

  Oh, right, maybe I did need his help.

  Thankfully, the toilet block was cool and dark inside. I managed to do what I needed without passing out and waking up in a compromising position. It’s amazing how determined you can be even on the edge of delirium. Mind you, I didn’t get a chance to fall into mindlessness with Chris calling out every minute, asking if I was okay. I didn’t know which of us was more frightened of me hitting the women’s toilet floor, him or me?

  I splashed cool water onto my face and the back of my neck and squinted at my cloudy reflection in the rest room mirror. I didn’t need a whole lot of light to know I was as white as a ghost, my eyes bloodshot, my hair in disarray.

  I was an absolute train wreck, but right now, I couldn’t care less. I had to get out of there, the churning of my nausea made only worse by the dank surroundings of the toilet block. I edged my way outside and spotted Chris pacing then jerk to a halt when he saw me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Was I dreaming?

  There was no noise, no thumping V8 engine, no Bruce. Nothing but silence – beautiful, underrated silence. Something cool pressed against my forehead; a soft sensation smoothed over my head. The movement was hypnotic, back and forth, sweeping and dividing the tendrils of my hair. I snuggled deeper into the dream. My cheek felt warm, in stark contrast to the cool feeling on my forehead. This was a strange dre
am, one that I didn’t want to wake from. I felt safe, rested; no pain reached me here. I wanted to stay forever. The stroking motion through my hair stopped.

  No, don’t stop. I squirmed. Something touched my shoulder blade, a delicate squeeze.

  “Tammy?”

  No, no, I wasn’t ready.

  “Tam?”

  There was that name again.

  The cold compress swept away from my brow and ran a delicious cool trail along my cheek and around to the nape of my neck, causing my eyelids to flutter open.

  “Tammy, you better drink something, you need to keep your fluids up.” The squeeze to my shoulder turned into a series of gentle taps.

  I squinted and blinked, trying to focus on a light glow in the distance. I groaned and rubbed my face before stretching one arm up to the heavens, expecting my bones to crack and pop. I savoured the sweet, sated feeling of unravelling from sleep, but most of all basking in my blissful new reality: no pain. It was over. As I stretched, the back of my hand whacked against something.

  “Jesus, Tammy, watch it!” A strong hand grabbed my wrist. “You nearly took out my eye.”

  I lifted my head a little and looked around me. My head was resting on a thigh? I sat bolt upright and my head slammed against something hard.

  “Faaaaar … Tammy!” I swivelled around, clutching the back of my head to see Chris gripping his jaw, his face contorted in badly disguised surprise and pain.

  “Bloody hell, you just got rid of one migraine.” Chris winced as he worked his jaw to check it wasn’t broken.

  I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, you just startled me.”

  Startled was an understatement. I took in the darkened surrounds lit only by some crude camping glow wand or something wedged in the corner. My knees dipped into the spongy mattress. We were in the back of the panel van. My eyes settled on Chris who sat with his elbows resting on his knees, looking pissed off as he continued to rub his jaw. This was definitely not a dream.