Returning from the beach full of my mother's reproach on how not to approach girls, I entered our kitchen by the back door to see Coral seated at our table; I let my hair fall over my eyes.
"Can I talk to Luke," my bestie asked my mum.
Ignoring Coral, my mother pointed me straight up to my room. James and Mary, sensing Mum's ongoing frustration, sneaked outside.
Embarrassed, I sidled past Coral, dipping my head and choosing not to respond to her low half-wave.
Climbing the stairs to my bedroom — why was my bestie in our kitchen?
Coral later recounted how she deflected my mother's angst. She urged my mother to make a caramel slice together.
Interspersed between making and baking, she gave a best friend's promise to a mother, 'I will look out for Luke.'
My mum permitted Coral to see me before she left.
She tapped on my room door and waited until she heard the "Come in."
She reprimanded me compassionately, "You bashful boy. I will look out for you, I promise."
I quivered with determination and echoed sincerely, "I will look out for you. I promise."
We locked pinkie fingers at my bedroom door. I watched her leave.
On the landing, she turned and smiled, " Your mum promised me your grounding is two weeks, dear me; she wanted more! I convinced her, no."
— On the beach, the sand crabs scuttled.
I twitched, tempted as one hustled over my boot.
"No, I'm sorry, Coral."
Head down, my hair straggled my face before I brushed it back, and we winked at each other in unison.
"Let's get some chips and a coke, okay?"
I kicked a stray stone, guilty I kept putting off helping her; she needed Josh's time.
We ambled on the esplanade where the tops of the palm trees swayed.
Coral, I twigged, wasn't always solo brave in the affairs of her heart.
Did I have the willpower to take her to Josh and lose her?
I vainly sought her freckles; they hid.
Perhaps the shade cast by the broad palm we walked beneath. Coral's gait lacked her perky glide. I grasped that she believed Josh currently flirted with Brittany or worse.
Offering a half-smile, she managed, "Okay. You're paying, and I want French fries, not chunky chips!"
After purchasing snacks at a van, we strolled to the jetty to sit and eat. We watched the tide eke, time well spent in the company of a friend: the jetty, a Coral favourite place.
Here, she first let Josh kiss her on the cheek, and growing up, probably her sweet lips.
I recalled a happy moment my bestie divulged.
Coral brought a picnic basket, and Josh carried his fishing rods.
She bubbled later, 'I let him give me an angel kiss.'
Coral and I sat at the far end of the jetty, eating chips. Sitting next to her, my eyes were drawn to her satchel. I loved its fine leatherwork, a birthday present from her dad following a trip to her mum's family in America.
I asked my bestie to sketch and draw. Coral buoyed up with her sketchpad and a charcoal stick. She soothed her mind by drawing. I gave her a free half-hour without disturbing her. I resisted the temptation to peep over her shoulder. She may have drawn the jetty, the sea or the beach.
God — not, Josh!
Eventually, I hit bored! I teased the seagulls on the jetty using the last cold, soggy chip in a greasy bag. My bait was to pretend to throw the chip and watch for which seagull reacted. I would put the chip in the bag and repeat the process.
Coral finally shut her sketchbook and returned it to her satchel.
She pried, "Do you like her, Denny?"
She sipped her Cola.
"Denny, in your Maths class?" I queried.
"No, Denny, on the beach, the girl you chased!"
"Mmm, the girl at the beach. It was Jenny, not Denny—it won't make a difference — ever."
"Maybe I can help," she offered with a little wink.
"Please help because I don't know what to do," I answered, then groaned, "I reckon I won't get another chance. She didn't even look at me. She scrunched her fist."
I grabbed and held my wrist.
"Ah, Luke," responded Coral, "Ah, Luke."
She gently reached and separated my hands, then tilted her soft drink can, draining the dregs.
"Mmm," she considered, "You and I should talk about how you approach girls. You need to create interest without staring. Okay! Let's find time in the boathouse to practice."
She gave me the empty can to crush under my foot.
"And sorry, you are not a perv. I shouldn't have said that to you, even as a ribbing!"
My heel compressed the can, squashing it.
"Her name? The girl at the beach — her full name?"
Coral wore her astute face like when she studied a painting.
"Jenny Taylor. Why?"
"Say it slow, Luke, and listen to the words. It's a sensual name."
I did, and I liked it.
I still do.
"Okay, Coral. Let's go to Josh's; come on!"
The chip bag I used to tease the gulls lay open on the jetty's wooden slats. Shifting my weight, foot to foot, I realised my edginess wasn't waiting for the gulls to react. I should have escorted Coral to her boyfriend's house hours ago.
Whatever was going to happen at Josh's place would happen!
I grabbed and tossed the crushed can beyond my shoulder; it clattered to a halt. Coral, in the meantime, moved off with purpose. I walked at the double to reach her side as she burst along the jetty.
Several gulls fought over the chip in the greasy bag.
Coral stopped, and said, "At least clean this mess before I make another!"
I scampered to collect the can and paper bag and dropped them in a bin.
Though we often walked to Josh's house together, this day lacked our usual free-flow banter. As we approached Josh's street, my feelings conflicted.
I could do better as her boyfriend.
Coral perhaps sorted herself because she twigged at my glum face. She presumed she knew the cause.
"Geez, lighten up, Luke. Life will give you a chance. Go to the beach next summer; you may find Jenny. She might have glimpsed your underlying sensitive individuality. Next chance, talk, don't watch her. You never know 'til you try!"
"What are you expecting at Josh's?"
She stayed silent; I assumed she mulled, still unsure.
She gripped her satchel hard.
Coral didn't answer me.
I tried again, "What are you expecting at Josh's?"
She stiffened, bracing herself. Coral stalled. We stood outside Josh's butterscotch picket fence, where my bestie and I ran our hands along the stakes as youngsters. A gate and path to his front door lay between girlfriend and boyfriend. My talkative bestie's lips were sealed.
Her mood tunnelled quieter than mine on my shyest day ever — when I was six — and I felt so alone at a daycare centre.
Coral trembled.
God above; she loved him!
The golden girl of my dreams faltered, "What if Josh has it off with Brittany in his room!"
Tears stowed in the corner of her green eyes, stalactite drips poised to run down her cheeks.
Coral froze, rooted to a spot —
Dare she stay, ought she go?
I desired her for myself.
Whose yearnings circled here, unfed like a hungry gull?
Coral's glazed eyes drifted aimlessly rather than letting her feet take that step inside the gate. She clutched her satchel double-handed before she knelt, occupied by an already nicely bowed shoelace.
God, the sunlight danced through her hair and made her freckles blaze. The taut skin across her knee compacted eye-catching.
She hooked my eyes as her deft fingers re-laced. She decided to undo and retie her other sandshoe.
My conscience clicked; she couldn't muster the courage to see Josh.
My ego leaned me against the picket fence, ready to spend the entire afternoon hovering alongside Coral — untying and tying.
"Let's go," she said quietly as she sniffled and rose unsteadily.
Her hands gripped her satchel, and her knuckles whitened.
"No, Coral; don't you dare move!"
Leaving her, I swung open the gate and sprinted along the garden path. I rang Josh's doorbell urgently, a repeated imperative action because —Coral Pearson was my best friend.
I barely waited, hoping the door would fling open instantly. I commenced banging the wooden panels. From the porch, I gazed at my bestie; I marvelled at Coral's changing face. I caught her gradual, holistic smile, its timid genesis to its bedazzling revelation.
I jammed the doorbell in, sharp thumb jabs.
Finally, my bestie whirled through the gate with a spring in her step.
Coral found her sweet voice, "I owe you one, Luke."
Owed me!
I owed my bestie — frickin' everything!
I pressed the bell hard, keeping my thumb on the chimer.
"The girl at the beach — Jenny Taylor — I have her name," she affirmed, walking halfway to the porch.
"Give me a detail. I remember the detail, like in a work of art, as you do with buildings."
A detail — I pictured every freckle.
"I will remember her name and find out about her for you — if I can. If she is the one for you!"
I heard a footfall in the hallway on the other side of the front door.
"Amber, her eyes are amber, her hair is raven black, her eyebrows, charcoal arches."
My voice rapped my response.
Waves eddied in my head as I pictured Jenny at the beach.
My mate resembled a bear emerging from its cave as he stretched and yawned at his front door. Josh looked untidy; his mullet was tousled, and his dark T-shirt creased.
"Geez, mate," he said, once he yawned, "I had a late one with Max, a party invite, an all-nighter. I've slept most of the day. What do you want?"
"It's not me; it's Coral. Look at her mate — really look at her ."
I implored, pivoted and pointed.
Josh fixed his gaze, and I did, too.
I doubted Josh, and I looked at the same young woman. We did, yet we viewed her differently.
Josh shaped his hands high in the air, outlining Coral's curves.
To me, she was a vision.
She wrinkled her nose, and her freckles danced as she marched forward in her green dress.
"Get a fresh T-shirt, wash your face, comb your hair," she commanded, loping the porch steps.
A confident Coral re-emerged in charge.
Josh scuttled along the hallway to change.
Coral stood on the porch next to me, bouncing on her toes. She planted her only ever peck on my cheek.
Uniquely memorable because it was never expected or anticipated.
A heart-given gift because I gave for her.
She rubbed the soft leather of her satchel.
Coral said, "This won't do."
She scooted through the open door and glided along her boyfriend's hallway.
I heard her say, "Josh, what are you thinking of wearing?"
I idled on the porch, watching the sun's shadow move along the fence pickets.
My friends emerged, leaving behind the dimness of the hall. They each carried a fishing rod. Josh sported a light green shirt. Coral's skilful handiwork tried hard to alter his mullet.
Scrutinising his style, I concurred with her.
I could venture a rare word about the mullet.
"Come with us," Coral chimed.
"Yes, mate," Josh said, chummy.
I declined; I faked a promise to help James learn woodturning.
My two best friends' eyes united. The late afternoon sunlight contoured their green oneness. We parted at the garden gate.
As Coral and Josh sauntered to their place, the jetty, I delayed behind them — happy watching their backs — this golden afternoon for my best friend and best mate.