Sweet Damage Read Free

isn’t outrageously good-looking, but he has an open face, freckled skin and scruffy, windblown hair, which was probably once brown but has been bleached blond by the sun. He has a direct and honest gaze and an easy smile. Things have been smooth for him, she can tell. He is loved, he is confident, he is certain of the order of the world and his place within it. He has never been broken down by life or circumstance, never been betrayed by his own frail mind.
    He looks like someone who belongs outside in the wind and the sun and the sea – all the elements that cause her so much fear – the landscape that she has so carefully removed herself from.
    She imagines that if she licked his skin he would taste like salt.

3
    E VEN THOUGH IT ’ S STILL MORE THAN TWO HOURS UNTIL MY SHIFT starts, I walk straight down to the restaurant after meeting Anna. By the time I reach the waterfront I’m feeling positively lucky. Not only is the house close to the beach and the city, it’s an easy walk to work, too.
    A wiry, fit-looking old guy jogs past me, tilts his chin towards the sparkling water and shakes his head – a gesture that says, Look at that! Too bloody good! I smile back, lift my hand to my forehead in a cheerful salute.
    The Corso is noisy and crowded, fragrant with the smell of waffle cones from the ice-cream shop and the salty tang of the ocean. Right now the mood is cheerful and up. Later, when I finish work, it will have a different vibe. Booze and drugs will make it seedy – all drunken shouts and fights, broken bottles, and sad-faced girls staggering home in heels. But in the early evenings there’s always this festive, celebratory feel to the place that I love.
    My father’s restaurant is directly opposite Manly Beach. Dad’s already in the restaurant when I get there. I find him crouched down behind the bar, restocking the fridges.
    â€˜Hey,’ I say, startling him. He grins up at me.
    â€˜I found a place to live,’ I tell him. ‘Just up the road in Fairlight. It’s unbelievable. Has the most awesome view of the Harbour I’ve ever seen. And it’s dirt cheap too.’
    â€˜Yeah?’ He frowns. ‘So what’s the catch?’
    I sink onto a stool, put my elbows on the bar. ‘Can I have a beer?’
    â€˜If you get off your arse and give me a hand I might think about it.’
    I join him on the other side of the bar, open a case of VB and start sliding stubbies into the fridge.
    â€˜So? Tell me,’ he says. ‘How much and what’s the deal?’
    â€˜Hundred bucks a week – for this beautiful old house near the Harbour. Fairview, it’s called. Can you believe that? I’ll be living in a house with a name.’
    â€˜Sounds fancy.’
    â€˜It is fancy. It’s massive, Dad. Has about a thousand rooms. My room has a view you wouldn’t believe. Over the water, through the headlands. I’ll be able to lie in bed and watch the ferries.’
    â€˜And?’ He lifts his shoulders, urging me to get to the point.
    â€˜So, the owner, this girl called Anna, she’s got agoraphobia and can’t go out. She needs a bit of help. With shopping and stuff. That’s it,’ I say. ‘No big deal.’
    Dad’s silence speaks volumes.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Gotta say, Timmo,’ he says. ‘Seems to me that you’re making some weird choices.’
    I push my fingers through my hair and try to keep the exasperation from my voice. ‘What do you mean, weird choices ?’
    â€˜I thought you went to Indonesia to get stuff sorted,’ he says. ‘I thought you’d come back with some idea of what you wanted.’
    I went to Indonesia to surf, I think, not to find myself.
    â€˜But now you’re back, you’ve been bumming around at Lilla’s for weeks and now you’re going to live in some cheap house and look after a mentally unwell girl . . . all so that you