Haze by Paula Weston

time he helps me to my feet, the Williamsons have almost reached us. Mrs Williamson is smiling, Mr Williamson, not so much. I once heard he was a career army man. I can see that in him now.
    I introduce them and Mr Williamson pumps Rafa’s hand like he’s trying to get water out of him.
    ‘Walk us back to town, lad,’ he says, gruff.
    Rafa glances at me. ‘Sure.’
    We start back up the beach, the men leading the way. Mrs Williamson gestures to Rafa behind his back and pretends to fan herself.
    ‘In my day we didn’t kiss respectable girls like that in public,’ Mr Williamson says. His shoulders are stooped, but he must have been nearly as tall as Rafa in his prime. We’re walking into the wind so his voice carries clearly.
    ‘You think Gaby’s respectable?’ Rafa grins at me over his shoulder.
    ‘Don’t be a smart alec, lad. And yes, I do. It’s not like her to take up with your type.’
    ‘Define my “type”?’
    ‘No-hopers who blow in and out of town as though they own the place, bringing nothing but trouble.’ Mr Williamson peers at Rafa from under his cap. ‘Are you staying long?’
    ‘That’s up to Gaby.’
    ‘She’s a good girl, a hard worker. Don’t go playing games with her. Don’t you hurt her.’
    I don’t catch Rafa’s response.
    When we reach the boardwalk, the Williamsons continue on to the esplanade and Rafa and I go back to our shoes. I’m strangely touched by Mr Williamson’s protectiveness.
    ‘I don’t think he likes you,’ I say to Rafa.
    ‘If he’d been five minutes later, he would have liked me a lot less.’
    With the Williamsons gone I’m thinking that he’ll kiss me again. I see him thinking it too. But he doesn’t.
    I sit down to put on my shoes, hoping the breeze cools the heat in my neck. As usual, I can’t really tell what’s going on with him. Like when he kissed me the night we met. I thought he wanted me. He thought I was pretending not to know him and was trying to get a reaction.
    Or in his bedroom, when he knew I wanted him. He backed off because I’m a virgin—or because I think I am—and he doesn’t want the fall-out if I ever get my other life back.
    ‘You know that first night at the bar,’ I say, knocking sand out of a runner. ‘What did you mean about not realising I was that good?’
    Rafa gives me a sidelong glance as he joins me on the ground. ‘You thought I was complimenting your technique?’ He finishes tying a double-knot and realises I’m waiting for an answer. ‘I thought you were faking being into me and I was impressed at your commitment to your cover. That kiss was pretty convincing.’
    He can talk.
    ‘What about a year ago—why did I break your nose?’
    Rafa gets up and goes to the boardwalk, stretches his calves. ‘I found you and Jude on Patmos. I was pissed off he’d taken you there—you hadn’t been there before. I questioned your motives in talking to him again. There may have been some mention of “Daniel” and “puppet”. And of course we got into it. This…volatility between us—it’s not new.’ He sets off along the boardwalk.
    I jam my feet into my runners and jog to catch him.
    ‘That’s why you think I’ll be pissed off at you if I remember my old life? Because the last time we saw each other we had a fight?’
    His eyes are ahead of us, either scanning for threats or avoiding me. Or both. ‘It’s not that simple but, yeah, something like that.’

DID THE EARTH MOVE FOR YOU?
    It’s after six when we hear the front door. Maggie and Jason are walking close, hands not quite touching. Maggie is still in her work clothes: a black skirt and white t-shirt, a silver chain tucked beneath.
    Rafa is pacing the kitchen. He stops when they come in. It’s taking all of his self-control not to pin Jason to the wall. ‘Hey you,’ I say to Maggie as she leans in for a quick hug, keeping the bench between us.
    ‘How are you, Rafael?’ she asks, all politeness.
    ‘I’m very well, Margaret,’ he