Getting Away.

Before I knew it we were in my Ford Falcon speeding through a highway and heading up to Katya’s parents beach house.

“They barely go over there.” She said as I helped her pack some stuff. Clothes, CD’s and her guitar. Her priorities in reverse, I thought.

“Da… Steven bought it for himself and mum when they got back together.” She noted as we caught the tram from her joint over to my house in Richmond.

“I hate the place, just because it always reminds me of him.” She added after we’d arrived at my place. She helped me pack my bag. Notebooks, pens, CD’s, clothes and some towels are what I brought.

“But it’s okay. We can spend most of our time at the beach. It’s beautiful there.” She grinned as her hands held the steering wheel and he foot pressed the accelerator. I made her drive – I refused. It’s hard enough for me to get into a car, let alone drive one. So she drove, and we had the windows open and we were being pelted by a fantastic breeze. The sun was shining, the day was great, and with all this beauty around me, I didn’t care that I was blowing off school for an undetermined period of time. I didn’t care that I was disappearing without letting my dad or my friends know where I was headed. I didn’t care about anything, and looking at Katya, I could see she didn’t care either. We were free as birds and with a tape of Kyuss’ Blues For The Red Sun playing, it felt like we were flying down the road.

“This is a nice car.” Katya said of my automatic Fairmont.

“Thanks.” I replied and joked: “Just to clarify, I’m letting you drive it. If you send this thing into a river, I’ll be pissed.

And Katya went silent. Her lips settled and she faced ahead so I couldn’t get a glimpse of her eyes. The instant rush of remorse that spread through me told me that the workers inside were as appalled by the remark as she was. You dickhead, Owen.

“How much did it cost?” Katya asked unexpectedly. I felt warm with relief and was all too pleased to answer.

“’Bout fifteen grand, I think.”

“You think?” she inquired.

“Yeah, I think. I let Damo take care of it. I don’t know shit about cars. I just gave him some money and told him to get me a good deal.”

Katya turned to me and cocked an eye.

“Are you always so loose with your money?”

I shrugged. “Meh. It’s just money.”

Katya gave me a weird look before facing forward again and shaking her head softly. Was it a shake of incredulity or disappointment? We drove for a little while in silence. She probably wanted to ask me more about money, like most people do – and all I wanted was for her to change the subject. And like she was reading my mind, she did.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me putting it into a river. That’s a Merc thing.” She smiled, somewhat sinisterly, and the fact that she could joke about something I knew was so serious to her made my heart swell. I looked directly at her as she looked forward, driving. Her raven black hair blowing in the wind, her pale skin glistening, You’re the coolest chick ever, I thought.

And “You’re the coolest chick ever.” I said. Her smile remained, but became less baleful. I kept looking at her, transfixed.

“What?” she said laughing, as I’d been staring at her for what could have been hours but felt like seconds.

“Nothing.” I said with a smile and shifted in my seat, looking out the window as we flew further and further away from civilization. An angel with her wings spread, I was just along for the ride.

For the next few hours we didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. We just let the music play. After Blues For The Red Sun was finished came another Kyuss album, Welcome To Sky Valley. And when that had finished we listened to another one: Muchas Gracias. Katya had been so excited when she saw the Kyuss tapes in my glove box. Seeing her head-bang as we drove was something to behold. And every time she deliberately grizzled her voice to sing along to a song, I thought: Everything you do makes me love you more.

Love. Again that word. Was I throwing it around too loosely? All I knew was what I felt, and what I felt was completely different, but just as strong as I’d felt for the only other important woman in my life.

When we arrived at the beach house, it was getting dark. Out away from the city, the night sky always looks so much prettier. As the dusk approached, I looked forward to maybe laying out on the beach later and watching the stars.

We got out of the car and retrieved our bags out of the boot, leaving the guitar in there. Neither of us had brought much – just a bag each and the guitar. We hadn’t discussed how long this trip would last, nor did I plan on bringing it up. I figured we wouldn’t be away for longer than a week, but now that I was here, I didn’t care if we stayed for the rest of our lives.

As we approached the house I looked about and took in my surroundings. This house must have cost a LOT. It was huge and literally right on the beach. Around us were no other houses or anything. We were pretty much isolated.

Cool, I thought.

The house, from the outside anyway, appeared very fancy. So clean it was, that it was hard to believe anyone had ever set foot in it. When we arrived at the door, Katya knelt and lifted the welcome mat. Under it was a key. How original, I thought.

“My parents are very original.” She said jokingly, but still with a stinging disdain in her tone. I wondered how much this place would affect her with all the memories it could bring up. I told myself I’d do my best to keep her mind on other things. On me, hopefully.

Katya inserted the key into its hole. With a low sounding ‘click’ the door was open. Katya pushed it inward and we entered.

Wow.

Katya was ahead of me and turned ashamedly. “Don’t judge me by this.” She said. “This is all my parents.” And as she said this she was standing in a farcically sized room with antique furniture everywhere. The centre of the room was filled by a pool table and amongst all of the antique stuff was a juke box sitting against a one of the white walls. Katya saw me eye it and quickly explained “They have parties here. That’s why there’s so much stuff. Steven likes to show off.” Steven – she’d started calling her dad by his first name.

I just stood in the doorway, consuming my surroundings, being consumed by them. Katya looked around at the room again before looking to me. She must have seen the complete awe in my face because she looked worried.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here.” She said. “We should go.” She started walking to me, to the door, to leave.

“No.” I said as she stood right in front of me, her eyes remorseful. Remembering my vow, I tried to assure her. “It’s okay – it’s just that this place is so big.” From outside I had no idea of the amazing things within. Of course all this stuff was just possessions, nothing I had interest in. Still, it was quite a sight. I walked to the pool table and set my bag down next to it. “We’ll have to play a game later.” I suggested. Katya smiled and I felt warm.

“Yeah.” She set her bag down at her feet. “I’m going to bring my guitar in. Have a look around if you want.” She turned and exited the house. Through the open door a cool breeze was blowing in. It felt nice. I looked around. The room was astounding. So big, and with a carpet so clean that you just knew they had a cleaner come every week and give it a once-over regardless of whether the house had been used or not. I felt like I should take off my shoes so as not to dirty the place, then I figured Katya would kill me for showing such respect to her parents’ possessions, so I didn’t.

I ran my hand over the surface of the pool table. I love pool. It’s the best sport around – one where you get progressively better with each beverage you down. Curiously I went over to the juke box to see what was in there. Maybe their taste in music could be a redeeming quality, as if anything could redeem the way they’d treated Katya. Pressing buttons and browsing through the selection, I was disgusted. Celine Dion, George Michael, Joshua Kadison. People actually listen to this shit? How the hell had Katya acquired such good musical tastes? Then again, from what I knew of her parents – mother’s emotional instability, her father’s adultery and psychological abuse – Katya must have had to derive a lot of her great qualities from inside herself. That made her infinitely more admirable and amazing.

I didn’t want to go anywhere near the antique stuff, so I made my way through an open doorway that led into the kitchen. Their beach house kitchen was fancier than any of the rooms at my dad’s house. Just how much money did these guys have? What the hell does Katya’s dad do for a living? I wondered. If Katya wasn’t so removed from her parents, I’d be intimidated by all this stuff, I thought, but I’m not intimidated, I told myself. I’m not.

Ahead and to my left was a counter and behind that was a bench and a pantry and drawers and an oven and a microwave and a sink and a coffee machine and a fridge. So much stuff to clutter up the space and yet it was eerily clean. Ahead and to my right was a dinner table with coasters and dressing already out. Who for? I wondered. Why the fuck are these guys so organised? Directly ahead of me was an expensive looking rug that appeared to be there just to fill space. It led to a hallway. I started walking to it, but as I did, I heard the front door close and turned to see Katya entering the kitchen with her guitar in hand. As she lent the steel-stringed Maton against the counter, I had to ask:

“Why is this place so clean?”

Katya, facing me, shrugged. “My mum cleans. She used to come by when I was at school to clean my house until I talked her out of it.”

I wanted so bad to ask how she’d talked her mother out of it, but every fiber in my body was telling me not to, so I listened. I have to keep her mind off her parents, I told myself. Like I keep mine off my own. I changed the topic completely.

“Are there any shops around here?” I had no idea where we were. I hadn’t been taking notice as we drove, so now I was completely in Katya’s hand.

“What kind of shops?” She asked as she leant against the counter.

I shrugged. “I dunno. Grocery stores, bottle-o’s. I’ll go get some food and stuff if we need it.”

Katya smiled and went behind the counter and to the pantry. She opened it wide and turned to me with a grin. It was full of food. Chips, dips, sauces, pastas, spaghettis - whatever. She then went to the fridge and opened it. This too was packed full of stuff that wouldn’t go old. No beer though. Just to further illustrate her point, she opened the freezer – it too was full.

“Steven and Karen can’t stand an empty fridge.” Katya said, her smile fading a little with the mention of their names. I nodded.

“What about alcohol?” I asked. “We’ll need some alcohol.”

Katya playfully put up her index finger to signify “no” as she disappeared behind the counter. I heard a door open and shortly thereafter Katya popped back into view with a bottle of Johnny Walker in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She was smiling widely, as if she were a model presenting a prize on a cheesy game show. And though I smiled at her actions, I couldn’t help but wonder at the hot-and-coldness of her emotions. One second she was sad because of her parents, the next she was playful. I hoped maybe I could balance her out.

“The counter is full of alcohol.” She exclaimed. “Steven loves it.”

“And it’s okay if we drink it?” I asked, walking to the counter to lean, and to be closer to her. Her face became more serious and I again wondered about just how temperamental she was.

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em.” She spoke in a tone I’d only heard from her once before – in her Mercedes-Benz, before she destroyed it, when she started telling me the truth about her father. Something didn’t feel right, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to upset her, and I’m not one to knock back free wine and spirits. So, within twenty minutes we were cooking pasta and drinking wine, though Katya was the only one watching the pasta. I had brought my bag into the kitchen and placed it next to the chair I was sitting in at the kitchen table. I had a notebook out and was writing poetry.