Late one Friday night, fifteen minutes till the last train left, he got a text saying come over. Just two words and a kind of shiver went through him, a nervous excitement, as when your name is called to accept an award.
He re-read the message, watched the clock. Sweat-slicked guys spilled mouthfuls of Hungry Jacks, followed by sleepy-eyed girls wobbling in highheels. His blood was beating harder when he stood up, walked out of the station and spotted a cab.
– Coogee, he said.
He couldn’t remember the address, not exactly. The city was filled with laughing people. He wondered if he was tired. The air changed, grew cooler, and he peered at street names, buildings.
– Here, he said, hopeful.
The ocean was near, he could feel it off in the dark. He walked down a street, backed up, took another turn. Few lights were on, and none he could see in the house he chose. No answer to his knock. He looked around, up at the stars, silent and faint behind the yellow streetlights. He could have been half way home by now.
– You came.
She was standing in the doorway, a candle flickering somewhere in the house. She wore a tight white singlet and little knickers that made a sharp V between her legs.
– Of course, he said, smiling.