The Ordinary Haunting II

10. The 30th Birthday - Part 2

I slipped in the sand and the old Sony camera was the first thing to hit the ground. As I gave a small curse and sat back on my heels to clean it off, a shadow rose slowly in front of me. I didn't look up at its owner.

He'd be framed by the dusky purple sea and the orange sky, and the breeze would be connecting the two of us with its invisible ribbons, and he would be too beautiful for me to be calm like I needed right now.

"It's okay," I chuckled, holding the lens out for New to see. "It's happened so many times that I think it works better with a bit of grit in it."

"A camera can work better with sand in it?" his voice asked, curious.

"Totally. Check this out." I got to my feet and lined up the red lighthouse sitting at the end of the pier a little way down the beach. Its bright colour was muted by both age and the sinking sun, and even before the preview popped up in the display I knew it was the perfect target for the dirty camera. I passed it over to New.

"See? Sure, it won't be any good for big scenic shots or detailed close-ups, but a focal piece like an old lighthouse looks great with all that texture and blurring, right?"

I found if I concentrated on just one part of New's face, I could stop myself from getting too distracted by him as a whole. For his reaction to the photo, I chose to watch his eyebrows. They didn't furrow like I expected. They stayed soft, and the right one curved in a sign of interest.

"Huh, maybe you have some talent for this after-all."

I furrowed my own brows as far as they would go. "I beg your pardon. If you'd seen my Instagram you wouldn't only be saying that now."

"You wouldn't let me see it, remember?"

"No, all I remember is you saying I had a foot fetish or something. Don't deny it. You were so rude."

"Do you or do you not take photos of feet?"

"Not just feet!"

"I rest my case." He handed the camera back, turned away and began to skid down the dunes to the main beach, marching directly for the lighthouse. I glared at his left shoulder, which sat higher than the right. My grandmother's handkerchief was still holding his arm in place while his sling hung on a clothesline on the balcony at home.

"Who was making a case!" I stomped after him. "Oi, you're walking off right now, which means you know you've lost the conversation."

He answered without looking back, his words coming out faint in the distance between us that I was slowly closing. "The argument, you mean. And I won. You said 'Oi', which you say when you get called out for something you know you did."

"If I had to distinguish every time we have a conversation versus an argument, we'd never be able to say we've had a conversation."

"Have we?"

I ran until I was in front of him. The sun was burning low and bright in my eyes, so I swivelled on my toes and started to walk backwards while looking at bits of him. His eyelashes winking in the light, or his shirt collar flipping back and forth. "Sure we have. We talked about the fighting animal videos that one time."

"I'm pretty certain we argued, because I didn't get why you like them."

"Explain to me again why you like that mobile game you play every morning with breakf–ah!"

I instinctively shouted when New tripped on a rogue tuft of beach grass sprouting from the sand on the approach to the pier. I guessed I'd missed it out of sheer luck, but in doing so had blocked it from New's view until it was under his feet. He didn't fall, simply stumbled awkwardly forward and skimmed past my arms, which I had stretched out for him. He swung around my body like I'd seen magnets do – the ones with the same charge that weren't able to touch. I'd always been so confused by those magnets as a kid.