katalina chung
sunburnt
The sun is searing today. If it weren’t for the shade of the pōhutukawa behind me, I’d be sliding in my sweat across this wooden bench. I’ve never liked summer and always hated tanning. I never understood the need to burn your skin just so you could reach that blissful point of ‘sun-kissed’. I’d watch girls lying like chairs on the beach and wondered if they might go blind.
The harsh sun washes Karangahape Road in white, squeezing the vibrancy out of a road so full of colour in the dark. The small crowded gigs that made you feel a little younger, the semi-ethnic bars with DJs old enough to be dead, the lusty fashion and the sexual energy: K Road was a beast of the night. Though I probably wouldn’t be enjoying these things for a while.
I watch a group of green girls sauntering arm-in-arm across the street. Their baby heels clatter against the uneven concrete in a nearly intimidating way. Their legs are tucked neatly into skirts and shorts, riding a fine line between thigh and ass. Their A-cup boobs are crammed into double-A push-ups. I can smell their perfume just from looking at them. The shortest one wears a tight neon yellow crop top that shows off her nipple piercing. Each girl has plastered on heavy makeup, which fails to mask the softness of their uncarved baby faces.
A blur of ivory and denim obstructs my view. I look up to see Molly’s freckled face grinning down at me. ‘What are you staring at, hmm?’ she asks, her thumbs harnessed under her overall straps.
‘Those girls walking off over there. We never dressed like that, did we?’
Molly looks back and turns to me with a grin, her right eye crinkling. ‘You definitely did.’
Molly has one of those smiles that makes you aware of how ugly your own is. She has a deep husky laugh, warm and flirtatious. She’s the kind of person that never holds onto shame or judgement. When Molly says you could tell her anything, you really can.
‘How long were you waiting for me?’ she asks, easing herself down next to me. I can hear her silver earrings jangling in the summer breeze.
The truth was, I had arrived at Myers Park half an hour earlier than we had agreed. I’d woken up, had a shower, and walked straight out the door. My hair was still damp. I had nothing else to do today and decided that if I had no choice but to leave the house, I would at least enjoy the weather.
‘Only a little while ago. I thought it’d be good for me to just sit here and breathe in some fresh air,’ I say.
Molly nods, her expression betraying a moment of concern. She knew I had hardly left my room in the past two weeks. I called in sick at work and pushed back assignments with flimsy excuses. My flatmates checked up on me once a day or so, which I appreciated, but I had no energy to show it. Molly was the only one I could actually talk to, and she had been the one to suggest meeting at the park first.
Molly clears her throat. I feel the weight of the question before she asks it: ‘So... how are you feeling?’
I look over Molly’s shoulder, at a group of three or so couples, all in their early thirties, having a picnic in the shade. Their purebred dogs lay on the sweet grass, dry tongues hanging out. Their hair looked better conditioned than mine. One of them, a Jack Russell about 6 months old, was making prickly little yaps at its owner, who was tossing bits of brie on the ground for him.
‘May?’ Molly asks again, tenderness in her voice.
I look at Molly. She knows this question is impossible to answer but she asks it anyway, out of necessity. She had always been like that, the one to carry the heavy load for both of us. I place my keys beside me, lift my knee across the bench, and turn towards her.
‘I’m not sure. I feel numb and confused. But I’m here now and I have you and I know that one day I won’t feel like this anymore.’ My gaze finally meeting hers, a tear refusing to form in the corner of my eye.
Molly nods. She offers a sympathetic smile and places her hand on mine, squeezing my knuckles together.
‘I’ve got you, okay? I’m right here with you. We’ll go to the clinic and take care of everything and afterwards I’m going to pick up some ice cream, we’re going to watch movies in bed, with the curtains closed, and by tomorrow you’ll already be feeling better, alright?’ Molly says.
It’s my turn to nod, and I do so with the obedience of a child, though I know she is wrong.
*
I watch the rock walls change colour from shore to shore as we speed past them. My abdomen lurches into another cramp. I cradle my belly with limp hands. I look at the crowded beaches packed with young families and half-dressed teenagers. I spot a dark, curly-haired toddler splashing around in a puddle of sandy water. His stumpy little body is butt-naked, and his chubby legs wobble as he jumps up and down. He falls once before landing on his mother’s criss-crossed legs, belly-first. She lifts him up and he tosses back a one-toothed grin, mouth wide open with glee, his giggles bubbling up into the air. An ache trembles at the bottom of my chest. I clean off a spoonful of ice cream. As I wait for it to melt on my tongue, I can taste the remnants of it already curdling in my mouth.
Katalina Chung is an English, Screen Production and Global Studies student at the University of Auckland. Her favourite person is her 10-year-old brother Leo. You can find her work in Together Apart, a magazine collaboration between Migrant Zine Collective and Wellington Zinefest.