Purple, Blue Clouds

Words by Jasmine Boreham Wright (she/her)

They took the scenic route as they left the hospital. The car hummed underneath them as it passed over the freshly-paved road; neither passenger made a sound. Olivia chewed hard on the skin of her index finger; she found that the pain distracted her. The poor digit had teeth marks now—she bit harder for more pain. Her fringe was plastered by dried sweat to her sallow forehead. Sitting next to her and driving was a bloodshot-eyed man, Julian, his thin lips pressed tightly into nothing. His puffer jacket squeaked as he moved his arm and flicked on the indicator. The car moved onto the state highway. The new road, a winding terrace along the coast, had been dug into the edge of hills that sloped into the sea. The hum of the car grew louder as they sped up with the new, faster traffic. Olivia’s gaze passed over the cut earth that sped outside her window; stones, dirt, and juvenile bushes which grew horizontally out from the excavated hill, all sped by on the other side of her window. Her wet lashes felt heavy as she blinked. 

A nurse, Sherry, had gently wiped Olivia’s mascara from underneath her eyes after the flurry of clinicians inspecting her body gave up: no point looking dressed for Halloween, she’d said, and had gently coaxed Olivia back into her own clothes, leaving the hospital gown on the bed. With a stash of pain pills pressed into Juilian’s palms, Sherry had guided her back into the car only a few hours after they had arrived. 

By the coastal side of the road, over the crash barriers, and down a few meters of drop off, seals lay flopped on top of rocks, bellies bare to the sun. Julian had noticed them a few minutes ago but hadn’t pointed it out to Olivia—he didn’t think she would want to see the pups rolling around together in the rock pools. The seal colony stretched along the coast, far enough that her head did turn from her brown window scene. He didn't mention it but he felt her stare slip straight past him, out to the furry creatures.

She turned off the air conditioner. ‘They smell.’

‘We’re almost past them.’

The pongy population decreased as the large rocks declined into the sand, an undisturbed stretch of yellow that swept around a distant corner of land. 

‘I’m feeling sick. I want to get out of the car,’ Olivia said. 

‘The wharf is around this next bend.’

‘Okay.’ 

The wharf’s carpark was relatively quiet as they rolled in. Only a few cars were parked, sunshades covering their windows. An ice cream van sat under a pine tree’s shade with a man in it, his elbow leaning between the sugary sauces, watching something on his phone.

‘Want me to stay in the car?’ Julian asked as he turned off the car. 

She nodded. 

Her feet led her straight to the wharf where kids bombed into the water and a pair of women fished. It was when Olivia’s foot slid wayward in her haste to get past and move further away from the other wharf users, that she realised she wore no shoes and hadn’t since leaving the hospital. Sand had made it up onto the wharf, it sat in the cracks of the planks and made it slippery against bare feet; her toes curled up, cringing at the thought of a splinter. She walked slower. The wind was a blessing: it was warm, and it dulled the high shrill of kids… she was almost alone. Watching her feet, Olivia didn’t notice the man a couple meters ahead who occupied the end of the long wharf; he sat flicking his fishing rod up and down. 

He must have heard her walking because he said: ‘Beautiful clouds.’

She hadn’t noticed. ‘Yes.’ 

‘Purple, blue.’

She didn’t answer so he said nothing else. Those clouds were coming towards them, fat with rain. After a moment, ‘I like a storm, if it’s warm.’ 

‘So do the Kahawai.’

‘You’ve no bucket to keep them.’

‘Only here for the sport.’ He turned and looked over at her for the first time. His gaze glanced at her feet. ‘You can come sit.’

He didn’t have the nose she thought he would—big nostrils. He wore a zipped-up oil-skin vest, no shirt. 

‘I’m alright.’

‘I don’t bother with shoes either.’

She didn’t reply again but she walked forward and peered at the water—it was just blue. A shark could've swam under her gaze and she wouldn’t have noticed.

‘I once lost a snapper to a seal here.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. There’s not much fight to give when you verse one of those; I lost my line. She needed it more, probably a mama.’

Her head flinched back. ‘—Oh…’ 

He looked up at her. 

Her hand had raised to her lower belly. 

‘Hungry?’ 

‘What? No, no I should be going.’ 

‘I would’ve given you a fish to take with you if I had caught anything.’

‘It’s okay, I don’t have a container, I would have had to have it on my lap for an hour.’ He flicked the fishing rod again. ‘Then all is well.’ 

She couldn’t echo him. 

The wharf was quieter as she walked back: the women still chatted, but the children were being ushered up the sand hill to the car park. Her feet left wood and met sand. Birds occupied the beach: seagulls sat all together; they rotated between sorting through their feathers and watching the waves. A nervous dotterel paced nearby at the entrance of the waves, eyeing the ground for supper. She paused halfway up the slope to breath and watched the slow rising sea: empty shells, opened and discarded by oyster catchers, were being slowly covered by the rising sea, ready to be swept away in the ebb of the morning tide. Olivia made it up the slope. She passed through the old pines which divided the cars from the beach, stepping over the bent coke cans and various wrappers that lie on top of the soft matt of pine needles. She saw Julian sitting on the curb licking one of the two tall, pink ice creams in his hands.

‘I didn’t know if you wanted one.’ He offered the untouched ice cream to her.

A small laugh left her dry throat. ‘You can eat through anything,’ she stated. ‘We’ll get through anything.’ He stood and kissed her head. ‘We should eat quickly, it’ll rain soon.’