A New Life - 6. Chapter 6: The Trick

Early the next morning, Blake’s eyes slowly opened and peered about the darkness of his room. It was so dark that he almost couldn’t see anything at all, just ghostly green shadows lit by the faint glow from his alarm clock.

He felt tired and sleepy, but after a good ten minutes or so he came to wonder why he wasn’t actually falling asleep again. What time was it?

He tried to lift his head off the pillow to check, but instead only frowned at how difficult he found this. He felt weak and dizzy and very confused. With no small amount of effort he managed to move his head enough to see the clock.

Digital green numbers glowed 3.48am. That was way too early. He should go back to sleep.

However, sleep just wouldn’t come and after a while he found this frustrating enough to force his brain to try to figure out why that would be?

Jet lag it decided. It was 7 or 8am Sydney time. He had only been here a couple of days so it was probably natural to be waking up too early.

After a while he figured he may as well get up, since he wasn’t going back to sleep again. He had probably slept enough, anyway. But this thought made him wonder about what time he actually went to bed last night and he realised he had no idea.

It was a puzzling sensation, he reached for the memory, but it just wasn’t there. What was he doing last night?

He found it extremely difficult to think and that in itself was familiar to him. He knew this feeling he just couldn’t quite remember how.

He moved to switch on his bed lamp, but found his arm was heavy and uncoordinated. It flailed about in the darkness and instead of turning on the light he started knocking things off his bedside table. There was a clatter of this and that, but then amongst the noise something familiar.

A tingling sound. Plastic and light metal foil falling onto the wooden floor. The packet from his medication. And then he remembered. He’d taken a tab last night.

Blake groaned noisily and rolled over to curl up and burry his head in a pillow. He hated this part of the medication. It would be midday before he was doing anything except blinking and answering ‘what?’ to any question that was asked of him. Often up to ten seconds too late for people not to notice.

If he was still awake and feeling the effects of the medication then he had definitely slept enough, he reasoned. The stuff usually put him out for at least eight hours, jet lag or not.

He stretched out his arms and legs, twisting and turning on the mattress, knocking off pillows and blankets and yawning loudly. Eventually, with supreme effort, he managed to drag himself out of bed and onto his feet. He flipped on the light switch and then reeled backwards from the brightness, falling back onto the mattress again.

He blinked stupidly and then got up once more and made for the bathroom, kicking the door and knocking things over as he went. His mind was a complete blank as he found the bathroom light, turned on the shower and struggled out of the boxers he was wearing, all on auto pilot.

It took a while for the water to heat up and when it finally did he climbed in eagerly, relishing the feeling of the warm water flowing over his body. He opened his mouth under the flow, but then gagged and quickly pulled back, spiting it out. It was salty. He remembered now, the water here was salty.

There was something about that memory that started him thinking. Standing there under the soothing cascade of water, he tried to collect his thoughts. He began to wonder why it was that he took the medication last night. He only had it for emergencies. He hadn’t taken any in ages. Why would he ... ?

“OOOoooowwwww!” he cried out aloud as a trickle of memories started to come back to him.

He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. Embarrassment and shame washed over him. He remembered now. He had acted like a total crazy freak, right in front of Haze.

He shook his head and then leaned back against the cool tiles. More memories were flooding back now. He’d had two panic attacks in one day and one was right in front of Haze. What a freak show.

“Noooooo,” he sung the word long and low to himself, banging his head against the wall softly.

It was still piecemeal, but every second seemed to bring to his mind more details and none of them were good. He winced every now and then as something particularly bad came back to him. Sometimes he reached up his arm and buried his face in the nook of his elbow. As if to shield his eyes from a sandstorm. Sometime, he dug the heel of his palms into his eye socket. Sometimes he’d bang the side of his head with a closed fist.

He remembered saying absolutely everything wrong to Haze. Not just acting like a weirdo in front of him, but managing to put him off even more by saying such stupid, stupid things, one after the other.

Haze hadn’t even looked at him or said goodbye when they got back to the shop. The car trip there though only about five minutes long, was agonisingly uncomfortable and seemed to take forever. Haze had practically leapt out of the car and immediately went over to help the others clean up, disappearing shortly after. He had shut down entirely and barely spoke a word, not that Blake could blame him. He was pretty shaky himself and had been no more interested in talking to anyone than Haze had been.

The good part about taking anti-anxiety medication was that Blake found it virtually impossible to get too upset about any of this. He could still feel the burning embarrassment, the regrets and the internal cringes of shame, but they seemed far away somehow, far less intense. Everything he was feeling was smothered by an overarching dullness. A kind of blankness, which made it just too difficult to get very worked up about anything. Certainly there was no chance of getting into a panic while he was like this.

The bad part about taking anti-anxiety medication, aside from the debilitating physical clumsiness, was that it didn’t really fix anything and it didn’t last for long.

Blake wasn’t suddenly okay now about what had happened yesterday. He wasn’t done worrying about what Haze would think of him, whether he would tell the others and what they would think of him if he did. He wasn’t finished with going over all the stupid things he’d said and dwelling on what a freak he was. And, neither was he done with the triggers that got him into that state in the first place. The stressing over his appearance. The self-consciousness. The inner critic voiced inside his head. All of that and more was still there waiting for him, just not right now.

Right now there was nothing much of anything.

Blake used to think this was a fantastic arrangement. Naively, even a ‘solution’, at least a first. For a long time he mistook the lack of anxiety and panic for peace, for calm, for happiness. But it wasn’t really calm or contentedness or anything good like that. It was just a kind of nothing feeling really. He could no more feel happiness or joy than he could anger or sadness or anxiety. It was just a kind of mute button. A bandaid. Not a solution, just something to cover over the cracks for a bit.

That didn’t make it entirely useless. He had been pretty worked up last night and left alone he wouldn’t have slept and that would have lead to him feeling even worse today. The medication had its place.

But rather than a ‘solution’ he had come to think of it as a ‘mental credit card’ of sorts. He could get what he wanted now (usually ‘calm’) on credit, but he still had to pay for it later, with interest. Sometimes that was worth it. Usually it was not.

Being in his nature to do so, he began to criticise how he had ended up this way. In ‘mental debt’ as it were.

First off, he really shouldn’t have started work straight away. He should’ve taken a day or two or maybe even a week to adjust to his new surroundings. Back home he had a ritual or pattern to almost every aspect of his life. His psych had told him that there was nothing necessarily wrong with that, at least in moderation. It gave him a sense of control and helped him get things done. But now he came to realise how much he depended on those things to keep him sane. How quickly he had deteriorated outside of his routine and comfort zone.

He really should have planned all of this better. It was just that he had been so keen to start afresh. To start his new life here. He had underestimated how difficult the change would be.

The water began to cool and he realised he must have been in the shower for a long while now. So reluctantly, he turned off the taps and towelled off, careful to avoid the small bathroom mirror which, fortunately, was fogged up anyway.

He then wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom to sit on his couch and stare blankly at the wall.

He knew he should be using this time more productively. He had almost three hours before he had to be at work, and during that time he would be relatively unencumbered by anxiety. This was a good time to think.

Think, think, not dwell or freak out, but actually think in the logical, left brain sense of the word. This would be fine, except that along with dulling his body and feelings the drug also made it hard to think clearly.

He knew the best way to get things moving in his head was to move his body. Exercise would help sharpened him up for work and he could take the time to assess as clearly as he could where he was at and what to do.

He grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, savouring the ability to just get dressed in whatever without fussing or checking. He left the house in record time and decided to go for a long walk along the white sandy beaches of Kulibari Bay.

***

Sometime later Blake was feeling much better after a long stroll along the beach. The shoreline was pristine and completely devoid of any litter, other than some bleached white shells or the occasional cuttlefish bone tangled in some dried seaweed. On his right was a horizon of sparkling clear water. On his left, endless white sandy dunes, that became yellower and then redder the further inland they went. The beach stretched for as far as he could see in either direction. It seemed he could walk for days and never come across another soul.

The early morning was peaceful, calm and cool. After another hour or so, the sun would heat the desert and the wind would pick up as would the temperature. But for now the climate was very comfortable.

All in all it was perfect for thinking.

He had cordoned off the memories of yesterday now and had come to the view that while bad, things could definitely have been worse. Only Haze saw him acting crazy. Fortunately, Haze was secretive by nature so Blake could probably rely on him not to say anything to any of the others. Especially, since Haze seemed to be worried about keeping his own secrets too.

At least this was what Blake had decided to think. He had to stick to this line of thinking too, even though he knew doubts and anxiety would begin to creep into his mind as his medication wore off. It was no use thinking about it again later and deciding differently. He would only arrive at a more catastrophic conclusion if he went over and over this again because that is what he usually did.

The other thing he decided was that he would just distance himself from Haze and spend more time with people like Nats. She was exactly the sort of person he should be hanging out with. Upbeat and pleasant, she had a calming effect on him. Haze, on the other hand, while certainly enticing and stimulating, brought out the worse in Blake. Stoking his anxiety and giving his obsessive tendencies something to fixate on.

He wasn’t entirely satisfied with this conclusion, there was still a sense of longing for the quiet young man with alluring blue eyes, but he didn’t really expect Haze to want to have much to do with him anymore. So, this decision was not only sensible it also pre-empted any hurt he might feel if he was about to be ignored today. He would ignore Haze first.

He could feel the drug wearing off now as his senses began to sharpen. He was probably another half-hour’s walk away from getting back to town when he noticed a dot on the beach in front of him, someone else was out for a walk.

He could see for miles ahead, so he had plenty of time to watch them approach. At first all he could make out was a person in what looked like a jogging suit. Grey coloured tracksuit pants and a matching jacket with pink stripes. Then he could make out that the person was a ‘she’, middle aged with a bob of light brown hair streaked with greying blond. She was holding small, pink, handheld weights of some kind, moving her arms vigorously as she approached.

They began smiling at each other a long way before they were at a speaking distance. Blake found it a bit awkward and ducked his head occasionally rather than just stare as the women approached. Back home he would rarely acknowledge someone he was passing on the street. Maybe if it was early and no one else was around he would give a nod or say a quick ‘hi’ as they passed, but for the most part he would just pretend not to notice other people.

Out here though this wasn’t possible as anyone could tell they were going to cross paths a good while before they actually met. A long and drawn-out process of smiling at each other ensued.

When she was finally within earshot he said hello and she did likewise, but then instead of passing by she stopped. She grinned at him, head slanting to one side with a knowing kind of look to her eye.

“Are you Blake?” she asked, appearing to openly delight in the way this surprised him.

“Um ... yeah,” he stuttered. “How’d you guess?”

She laughed warmly. “Oh come now dear, the whole town is talking about the handsome young man who’s just arrived from Sydney.”

He flinched slightly, involuntarily reacting to the word ‘handsome’. He didn’t like it and she seemed to notice this too, but she quickly spoke before he could think much about that.

“I am Penelope,” she said, passing a pink weight from one hand to the other so as to free herself to shake his.

He took her hand and properly introduced himself in return.

“How are you finding our little town?” she asked. Her voice had a sort of music to it that was pleasant and strangely reassuring.

“I’ve only been here two days, but so far it’s exactly how I imagined.”

She laughed a musical laugh and when she did so her whole body shook. Then she reached out to clasp his arm as if to steady herself.

“Well that’s not really answering the question, now is it?” she asked rhetorically, giving him a cheeky grin and patting him on the arm.

“No I didn’t mean ...”

She laughed off his protests and moved her hand from his arm to behind his back, leading him towards the town.

“Come on, let’s walk together, I can keep going the other way afterwards, but you’ll need to get back soon or you’ll be late for work,” she told him.

Blake wondered how she knew that, but didn’t have time to puzzle over it because he found himself having to keep up with her as she walked briskly back towards the town. They were walking together now and yet he was not sure when or how he had agreed to that.

“You work at the dive shop don’t you?”

“Err ... yeah, I just started yesterday.”

Though she walked slower than his usual pace, Blake found himself struggling to keep up with her mentally.

“Oh, how lovely, our little town has some of the best diving on the coast, you know.”

“Yes, from what I’ve seen of it so far it’s fantastic.”

“Your very kind, I think you are going to fit in perfectly here,” she told him.

Blake felt himself warming to Penelope quite quickly. She seemed very friendly and had a motherly feel to her that put him at ease for some reason he couldn’t quiet put his finger on. She had kind blue eyes and a pretty face. She was a very attractive woman for her age. Somewhere in her mid to late forties, or so he guessed.

They chatted for another ten minutes or so about the town, about Sydney and about other places they had both visited. Blake found he was enjoying talking to her. She was a charming, funny and kind-hearted woman. By the time they neared the sandy path joining the beach to the town he was completely won over.

She stopped at the beginning of the path and turned towards him as they spoke, to finish their conversation.

“You must have Gus make you one then, next time you drop by the Billabong,” she laughed. She had been telling him all about her favourite cocktail. “Do you like our little bar?”

“Yes I was there yesterday with Nats, it was very nice.”

“Not as fancy as the bars in Sydney no doubt!”

“Much better actually, I prefer the relaxed atmosphere and friendly people.”

“Oh we still get the occasional trouble maker don’t you worry. There was one the other night that had to be removed.”

“Yeah, I think I know the one you mean, Nats said he was a truckie or something, not a local.”

“Well it was very kind of you to help Haze with him.”

“Y-“

And then he stopped.

He knew this trick and he had nearly fallen for it. No one knew about that night except himself and Haze. Only years of practice at this game at his old job stopped him in time. He managed to realise all of this in an instant and change tack quickly.

“Sorry?” he asked innocently, doing his best to look bewildered by her comment.

She said nothing, smile frozen and eyes fixated on his face as if appraising his expression. It didn’t faze him though, but only because he was good at this game too. Maybe if she had been a good looking young man like Haze he wouldn’t have managed so well. However outside of that one group of people he was pretty adept at these mind games.

Finally, she just nodded slightly, as if acknowledging a worthy opponent. As if they had been playing a game of cards and he had just made an excellent move and she was nodding in recognition of that. Or was he imagining all of this?

“Well, you better be on your way, don’t want to be late now,” she said, changing the subject, her eyes never leaving his.

Blake noticed the musical tone of her voice as if hearing it for the first time. There was nothing natural or genuine about it. Penelope was he realised, intentionally charming and also very clever. There was nothing plain or simple about this woman.

“Thank you for a lovely walk,” Blake said with an equally gracious tone. “I do hope we meet again ... Penelope ...” he trailed off as if to inquire as to her surname.

He didn’t really need to. He knew the answer before she said it. How could he not have recognised those eyes?

“Herrington,” she said, her smile tightening almost imperceptibly. As if reluctant to give up this piece of information.

“Speak to you soon then Penelope Herrington,” he said, smiling broadly and clasping her hand. He was careful not to make out that the name was significant to him.

“Of course,” she chimed leaning in to add, “I am rather hard to miss!”

She laughed at her own joke and gave what now appeared to Blake to be a sickly sweet smile. She then turned briskly and marched off down the beach, leaving him to walk up the sandy path towards the town by himself.

He began furiously going over their conversation in his head. He was looking for any lapses, but was pretty sure they hadn’t spoken about Haze at all until that last bit of the conversation and he was pretty sure he gave nothing away.

In his previous life as a corporate lawyer Blake had encountered many a successful entrepreneur, company executive, broker or other lawyer who was just like Penelope Herrington. He had experienced many of these types of conversations before, all charm and smiles, but with behind-the-scenes scrutinising and calculating.

He realised this more and more as he went over their conversation in his head.

The way she had waited until they were facing before she had brought Haze up, so she could study his reaction as well as his words.

The way she spoke was different too, everyone else in the town had a thick outback Aussie accent and yet she spoke clear English, carefully enunciating each word. She spoke with authority, getting what she wanted, but using a ‘sweet pretty lady’ act to charm her way out of drawing attention to this fact. She even had him speaking in a more formal and respectful tone towards her, without him even noticing.

Come to think of it, just how had she known who he was? Sure he was a new face in a small town, but the majority of new people were tourists and they came and went every day. He had even asked her that very question and she had deflected it without him even noticing.

She had him talking all about himself and agreeing to walk with her after only a few minutes. He had been eating out of her hand.

He kicked himself mentally for not noticing any of this. He felt he had been played.

Then he remembered what Nats had called her. New money. A single mum doesn’t become the owner of a stack of property and businesses on her own by being stupid. If she didn’t inherit it, she made it herself and if she made it herself, she made it with the same charm and cunning she had just used to nearly trick him into giving up Haze’s secret.

The medication was wearing off well and truly now and Blake could tell he was obsessing and he really should stop. None of this meant that Penelope was a bad person. She may be every bit as lovely as she appeared. There was nothing wrong with being clever and charming. There was nothing wrong about a caring mother snooping a bit on her son.

But there was an intention behind her actions. Though everything that had just happened had appeared casual and accidental, Penelope was well aware of her abilities and seemed very comfortable with using them. Maybe he was just being paranoid but looking back now he distinctly felt that the entire conversation had been leading up to that one comment about Haze. She had been trying to trick him, he was sure of it.

Of course this was the problem with being an obsessive, anxious, paranoid, freak. How do you know when you’re being crazy and when you’re actually right?