Blossoming, Blundering

Mari is my best friend, and maybe even more than that. 

I lay my overstuffed duffle bag down on the bench next to Mari’s latest gift, homemade pecan swirl cookies wrapped in parchment and twine. I smirked a little, I knew her game. The late nights, the Moscato, the presents. I smiled warmly at the thought of her spontaneous acts of confession. When I told her I hadn’t spent a summer away from home since I was six, she immediately booked a room for us on the coast, the best her wallet could buy. That’s the thing about Mari, she makes me taste life, the bitter and the sweet.

My phone buzzes twice and I take it as my queue to leave. Outside, Mari is already leaning against the car, doors open, with a big grin on her face. 

“Are you ready for summer!” she shouts enthusiastically.

I laugh as I walk past her and place my belongings in the backseat, blushing a little as I notice her bags. Hastily thrown in and only half zipped, I spot a picnic blanket, roses, and a bottle of red wine.

“So, don’t get mad at me but I kind of have a surprise.” Mari doesn’t look at me as we begin our commute. She turns a strange corner, ignoring the beratement from Google maps rerouting us.

“Oh?” I chime in, excited now. “You better say something before my imagination gets the better of me.”

She looks guilty as she pulls into the driveway of a quaint looking duplex apartment. I immediately offer my guesses. “What’s this? Are we picking up a cake? A cat?” 

A wedding ring, matching dresses?

“So, I found this really cool guy on Tinder, and he said he can show us all the best party locations. How fun is this going to be!” She grins and nudges my arm lightly, “you always say you want to put yourself out there, this is perfect right?”

I try and hide it, but my crestfallen expression makes Mari frown.

“You’re not mad, are you? It won’t take anything away from our girl’s trip. Think of him as our tour guide!” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s cool,” my fake smile softens as Mari hugs my arm. A guy from Tinder? Not exactly what I was imagining when she suggested this vacation. She looks up at me and my guard falls down. Her soft freckles and pink lips have such a way with my heart. 

“I told you I’d make this fun," she cheers, "wait here!”

She jumps out of the car at the same time as a tall man walks out of the house. He looked purebred Australian with his overgrown brown locks and tan skin. They embrace each other quickly, and I feel contempt rising like bile in my throat. 

He introduces himself like he’s in love with himself, bragging about his family, his career, his friends. Mari gives me puppy dog eyes when he asks to ride shotgun and I give in because it’s her. He reclines his seat all the way back and I shift seats, glaring at him and hoping Mari sees it. 

The hour car ride up to the coast was cruelty. While I was the recluse, Mari was the life of the party, and his personality exuded a similar caliber. The two talked all the way as if conversations with strangers came as natural as breathing to their kind, while I felt brave when I contributed a mumble. Much to my chagrin, he never looked at me when I spoke, he only ever looked at Mari.

“There’s going to be a lot of parties on this weekend. It’s going to be mad,” he says assuredly.

“Nice, I’m craving a good summer,” I mutter, trying to feel a part of this. I don’t know how to explain that I’m craving the summer I’ve only experienced in movies and fantasies, the summer where it’s just Mari in I, cuddling on beaches and kissing under waterfalls. The summer where rich tan boys with bad breath and way too much cologne don’t take everything away from me.

We pull into the small motel carpark as Mari and Mr. Cologne keep talking. As he offers to take the bags in, Mari links her arm into mine and pulls me towards the footpath.

“We’ll meet you back at the room! We’re going out for girl time!” 

Finally, my turn to watch his face fall as she leaves him with the keys, and we run. We giggle like schoolgirls as we race each other to the beach, trying to push the other back. Shoes and sand go flying as we reach the shore, letting them land anywhere. Mari slides the flannel off her shoulders, and I hesitate. Her freckled chest and pale skin taunt me as she strips down to her bikini and I decide to let her win our little race. Her legs make impact with the water and she shouts with glee. I feel something in me crumble as I shyly crouch on the sand.

“Scared of the water or something? What's wrong with you?” Her cheeky smile meets mine and she bends down to grab a handful of salt water.

At once she pounces, embracing me with her shivering body and showering us both in wet, sticky sand. She wraps me in a hug as we lay laughing. I almost wanted to say something pathetic about how well we fit together but I’m not a poet, so I don’t. Mari opens her mouth as if to speak but then she doesn’t. She just presses her forehead to mine, and I pray to every religion I know that we stay just like this.

“Mari, why did you invite that guy?” I speak quietly but I feel bold. We are too perfect here, pale and brown bodies intertwined, her blonde hair tangled in my braids. We look like sapphic poetry. Suddenly her arms loosen from around my torso.

“You don’t like him? She asks as she pulls away, sitting upright. I wanted her and I resented her. 

“I just hoped this trip would be about us and he obviously doesn’t want me here."

I wanted to confront her about the gifts and the hints she keeps leaving me, I wanted her to admit why we were here. 

"Cher," she spoke. My heart leapt as she took my hand. Before she could say more, an irritating voice chimed in above us. Standing tall was shirtless Mr. cologne, complaining about being hungry. Mari stood up quickly and immediately dusted off the sand coating her skin. The desperation to perfect herself in front of him felt like a confession.

After sunset, Mari rings me and verbally guides me to the party where she and Mr. Cologne were already located, only a short walk from the motel. I had decided to stay back a few hours before they left, Mari insisted she couldn't miss a second of the action even after I begged her to stay.

"I promise it'll just be me and you tonight Cher," Mari's sweet voice reassured me, half muffled by the sound of music and people.

You could hear the crowd before you could see it. A big bonfire roared on the horizon as a sea of rainbow Hawaiian shirts and sundresses flooded the scene. I tried my best to behave but I couldn’t. I spotted Mari almost immediately, wearing a cream crochet dress that fit her frame perfectly, her freshly tanned skin peeking at me through the gaps between the fabric. I would have given anything to run into her arms and bury my face into her neck.

Her beauty was tarnished only by the man leaning against her, as if he were trying to display some kind of dominance. I felt something breaking in my chest. This was the kind of jealously that felt bitter, the kind where anger pricks at you from beneath the skin. Still, I clung to the hope that this wasn’t over, and I walked over to Mari and offered to find us some drinks. 

“I’ll take a beer,” Mr. Cologne says, not looking at me, but at a group of girls in short dresses walking by. I pretended not to notice the red twinge in Mari’s cheeks. 

"Actually, I think we should dance," Mari giggled as she placed her hands on my waist. 

I blush, not knowing where to put my hands. I wanted this from Mari so badly but not here, not crowded into a dance circle made up of tipsy men. I was stiff and unmoving as Mari placed her head on my shoulder, swaying her hips and trying to encourage me to do the same. Her breath on my neck made my heart ache. I tried to meet her eyes, but she wouldn't look at me, she was watching Mr. Cologne, who was grinning with all of his teeth bared.

Maybe I just needed more liquid courage. "Let's dance later Mari," I mumbled looking down, pushing her hands away, "I'm not drunk enough for this."

She looked hurt as I ran off, but Mr. Cologne looked more than pleased. I raided the nearest esky which was filled with cheap beer and bagged wine. When I returned, Mari was nowhere to be found. I tried to dance alone but I felt the moment had been missed, so I sat down and people watched. I frowned at the irony of this. I was finally at a real party, but I was watching it from afar, no different to the way I spend every other summer, watching people party from behind a screen.

I stared at a young couple attempting to waltz to an upbeat party song. The way he looked at her was so pure and I despised her for having it. That needed to be Mari and I. I needed to find her. 

A long time past before I found Mari, she was perched like a trophy on Mr. Cologne's lap, trying to cough gracefully while holding a cigarette. The small crowd laughed at her as she gingerly handed the cigarette to the boy on her left. I felt tears stinging the backs of my eyes as I made my way towards her and her little group.

"OH hiii Cher," Mari giggles, her voice slurred. "Your hair is soo pretty."

Mr. Cologne's hands were fastened tightly around her waist like a corset. I imagined breaking each finger clean off.

“I’m going back to the room, I feel sick.” It wasn’t a lie. I turned away as the gathering shouted slurs at me. I was expecting Mari come up beside me immediately, linking her arm into mine or putting her hand on my shoulder. I waited for her voice to tickle the back of my neck telling me she was sorry for leaving and that she was so enamored with me. But she didn't. 

I couldn’t sleep back at the motel. It had two rooms, and I took the bigger room out of spite. I must have laid there for hours. Eventually the peace was disturbed by clumsy steps, Mari’s drunken giggles and Mr. Colognes pathetic attempts at flirting and subtlety. Mari’s voice was a few octaves too high, then brief silence, and then the dread hit me; this was a lover’s vacation, just not for me. Embarrassment and nausea crashed in at once as I clutched my aching chest. I threw up in the ensuite bathtub until they eventually fell asleep.

I thought about the price of bus fares in the area, for two it would be cheap. Moving on instinct more than consciousness I stood up and took the car keys from the coffee table.

For a moment I imagined forgiving Mari, sneaking into their room and taking her away. Her hair would be thick and tangled and yet, it would fall and frame her face perfectly, and her irresistible sleepy-croaky voice will beg for answers. She would speak too loud so I would press my finger to her lips and tell her to whisper. We would suppress laughter as we stuff our bags under our arms and we'd hold hands and run. 

We would have our rose petal picnic on the beach, just in time for the sunrise, and she would taste just like cabernet sauvignon. And then we would go home together. 

But that’s not what will happen, and I felt like a fool. I make an effort to shut the door quietly behind me as I leave. I start the car. I drive home.