Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,27

some more spray or something.’

What could I say to him? I’d never really had reason to cancel plans with Henry before. Things in The Shallows were always so laid-back that we all simply drifted from one thing to another. If you’d agreed to be somewhere you just turned up and that was it, nothing like the scheduling and Google calendars and confirming the day prior like Mum and I have to do in the city.

‘Hope we don’t lose power,’ Henry said, shrugging off his hoodie.

As he unzipped his backpack to shove it inside, I caught sight of his orange toothbrush and a change of clothes. My heart sank.

‘Did you hear about this storm coming through tonight?’ he said. ‘It’s meant to be a whopper.’

I stepped down off the footstool and tossed the wad of paper towel aside. ‘Listen, Henry, about our movie night …’

‘Nuh-uh. It’s my pick this time,’ he said, wagging a finger at me. ‘You agreed to Interstellar. We should start it soon, though, ’cause it goes for hours.’

‘It’s not that,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid I need to cancel tonight.’

His smile vanished. ‘What? Why?’

‘I’m just not up for it,’ I lied.

‘You can go to bed whenever you want. Your dad will sit up and watch it with me.’

‘Dad’s tired as well,’ I said quickly. It was only later that I realised I’d made it sound like Dad was rejecting Henry too.

‘But you invited me. Why would you cancel when I’m already here?’

His words were sulky and I was reminded about the age gap between us. He’d become moodier since starting high school; more touchy and less reasonable. Even though he didn’t talk about it much, I knew he’d struggled all year to relate to his peers. He didn’t have a phone or home computer, any gaming systems or streaming services, and his internet access was limited to a couple of hours a week at the library. Henry was on the outer with kids his age, in large part because he wasn’t tech-connected.

I know this is why he loved school holidays, why he tried to cram so much into them when I came to visit. This would’ve been the third movie night in a week, though. Surely it wasn’t the end of the world?

‘I’m sorry,’ I told him. ‘I forgot all about it until you turned up.’

‘Well, that’s not fair,’ he complained. ‘Who skips out on family movie night?’

‘Except we’re not technically family,’ I pointed out, my impatience growing. ‘You don’t live here.’

Henry flinched like I’d thumped him. I regretted the words instantly.

‘Rightio,’ he muttered, folding his arms.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’ I reached for his shoulder but he shrugged me off and backed away. ‘It’s just this once, I promise.’

‘You go home tomorrow,’ he said. ‘And then you won’t be back here for months.’

‘I know. I’m just tired.’

‘Tired of me?’

I sighed. ‘Of course not.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it.’ He snatched up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. ‘Ivy says it all the time.’

That was when I should have caved. I should have texted Raf and called the whole thing off. I knew Henry viewed our place as a refuge and I’d pulled the rug out from under him without any warning. In hindsight, I should have recognised his anger as desperation, the way he was clinging to our movie night like a life raft to avoid going home.

But I wasn’t thinking about Henry. I was thinking about myself. I was thinking about Raf ’s hazel eyes and how they made my insides flutter with nerves way more than any thunderstorm blowing in.

I didn’t stop Henry as he yanked the glass door open and stomped over to his bike. I didn’t call after him as he flew off down the motel driveway, barely slowing as he hit the road. Even now, months later, the shame of that conversation burns from the tips of my ears all the way down to my toes. The words I said to Henry, the way I said them, how it seemed like I didn’t care.

Can I blame him for leaving without saying goodbye?

* * *

It’s late afternoon by the time Sabeen texts me to let me know she’s arrived home, explaining she’ll leave the back door unlocked so I can let myself in while she takes a shower. I could never leave myself vulnerable like that in Sydney, and I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable doing it here in The Shallows either. I’m always telling Dad that country people are