Emma and Riley

“It’s so goddam hot, Christ, we need an air con.” Riley reached down onto the floor by the accelerator where she’d dropped her shirt. She had taken it off back in Westonia and needed to use it as a makeshift sweat towel on her clammy chest. It was a summer’s evening in late February, and the scorching sun on the Nullarbor hadn’t shown any signs of retreating. They had been driving for almost eight hours straight. Driving no faster than a hundred kilometers an hour, slow enough to be sure the car didn’t over heat, but fast enough to reach the roadhouse before sundown.

The 93’ Holden Wagon was a year younger than they were and just as unreliable. Filled with the possessions of the two twenty something year olds life; clothes, shoes and scarlet dreams, the wagon hung low.

Emma had began working at her mothers friends surf and street apparel store before it was legal. At thirteen years old she had begged to work there during late night trading after school. At that stage she wanted to be anywhere but home. Along with the latest street wear fashion and inappropriate footwear was Riley’s expansive book collection. An ensemble of opinions and notions she quoted and referenced on the daily. She may have been a failure in those early years of adulthood, but she had aced literacy, sociology and mathematics. Her Science and Engineering scholarship to Curtin University had been proof of that. Riley deferred the first year and opted a position working behind the bar back home. The Rose Hotel provided her with the social life she’d demanded during high school. In those years that followed, Riley soon grew detached from the reality that was slipping away from her with time-her future. The offer to Curtin was made redundant that following year.

“I know, it's disgusting. We should stop over for the night in Norseman. There’s a roadhouse there.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Do they have any vacancies? Do you have reception on your phone?”

“No reception, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Christ I hope so. I need a bloody shower, I feel so gross and sweaty.”

“Yeah, same.”

“It’s not far now, maybe seven kilometers. Oh, it’s just up there can you see it?”

“Thank god! Yes! Please have a room, please have a room, oh God..”

“Ill go in, you wait here and try find some things to take in the room, an overnight bag so we don’t have keep coming out to the car. The blue suitcase has some shower gel and undies I think.”

“Okay. Oh here, take this. Use this card.”

“Okay, I’ll be back.”

As Emma entered the roadhouse and approached the front counter, she suddenly became incredibly self conscious. Having just realized how sweaty her hair looked and how blotchy her skin appeared from the clammy heat. She had heat rash under both arms. They had been driving in the humidity all day without having a good nights’ rest beforehand. She smelt, she knew that she smelt, she could smell herself. A musky blend of sweat, cigarette and unbrushed teeth with a hint of salt topped with the sugary smell from a Redbull. Emma didn’t get too close to the counter, an arms reach was far enough away to secure a room without arousing contempt on account bad hygiene.

“Hi there.”

“Hi, welcome to Norseman Eyre Motel. Were you needing a room for the night?”

“Yes..please..um, for two.. adults?” Emma begged the question as she herself needing reassuring of this fact sometimes. Emma looked back at Riley who’d opted to start packing the clothes, shirtless, from the open boot of the wagon. Exposing their vulnerable mass of messy clothes and shoes, along with herself. It did seem to worry Riley, or the women at the front desk for that matter. It never came easy to the two in those early years-adulthood.

“I see. Sure.” The women followed Emma’s glance over to Riley who stuffed random items into an overnight bag. The women smiled a broad and knowing smile. Her eyes were sincere and humorous as she began processing payment and collecting papers. Emma wasn’t sure if she would be relived or annoyed by the condescending - empathic smile. The thought occurred to her that the roadhouse probably attracted many strays running across state lines. Not to mention the likes of socially deprived truck drivers, all beard and built up testosterone. There was a photo board hanging behind the desk. In the photos there were different families, couples, friends, groups of happy travelers. They’d all made the journey across the same red road across the state and beyond. Magnets and spoons hung from a swivel display by the window, collectors items for the crazy nomad. They each read - Nullarbor Drive, Norseman Eyre Motel. Emma caught a glimpse out past the magnets through the window into the car-park, where Riley looked hot and bothered. Whatever she was doing, it looked like had work.

“Here’s your key to room 17. The diner's open for burgers, it always is."

At the price of eighty dollars a night, it meant they had enough money to buy themselves each a burger from the diner. After only having eaten a bag of unwanted salty chips on the scorching hot day, a burger and a beer at an air conditioned diner was a welcoming invention.

“Thank you so much.”

“Not at all you’re very welcome. Just remember check out is a 10am.”

“Oh, we should be out of here well before then.” Emma headed for the door.

“Not too early I hope. You girls should be careful of Kangaroos. You were smart to have stopped here when you did.” Emma gave the women an awkward smile for the unaccredited credit, of stopping at the diner when they did.

Emma stepped out and made her way back the wagon where Riley sat, in her black bra and cut off shorts. At that point Emma wondered why they had filled the wagon with clothes. After all, they never seemed to where many. Proud of her achievements, Riley jiggled the room key she’d secured for them both, like a feather in front of a kitten.

“Yes! Thank God. Lets’ go. Which room?”

“17. It’s just over there.”

“How much was it?”

“Only eighty dollars.”

“Sick, lets’ get a beer after we shower. We’ll go sit in the diner.”

She shared the same thought as Emma. From the humdrum to the exceptional emotive, secular notions. They were awkwardly two halves of a combined whole.

“I’m going to have first shower, do you mind?” Riley was already in the bathroom half naked.

“No that’s fine.” Truth be told, Emma wasn’t too bothered. They had arrived at the air-conditioned motel and she was content with knowing that she’d be sleeping between clean, crisp white sheets. Emma ran her tongue over her top teeth and had the urgency to brush them. Why hadn’t I brushed them this morning? Because she hadn’t risen that morning. They had both been up all night plotting their drive across Country. It was the only logical idea either of them could manifest, and one that required only a nights consideration. Riley hadn’t spoken to her mum since she slept with her mothers boyfriend. A man she had refused to accept as her step-father but one she was all to happy to call daddy behind her mothers back. Riley received a blow to the cheek from an open palm slap from her mother when she found out. The topic was delicate, but one Emma thought she understood the workings of. At least as much as she understood Riley.

“That’s so good, I feel so much better. Babe, go for it, showers all yours." Riley stepped out from the shower curtain and out of the tiny, white tiled bathroom, looking renewed.

“Thanks. You bring the shower gel?” Emma new she had, she could smell the pomegranate and berry mix as soon as Riley opened the bottle. A wave of artificial fruity fragrance along with girly adolescents flooded the motel room. An intoxicating blend that was a misogynistic’s wet dream. It smelt of glitter and fairy floss wrapped in insecurities. It was a smell that resinated with them both at a cellular level.

“Yeah babe it’s in there.” Riley was pulling the entire contents of the bag on the bed. She needed a bigger work station obviously, to find what she had put in the bag ten minutes earlier. Within the space of five minutes her things dominated the entire space. She had made it her home.

“You message your mum today or what? Poor Lynn, I cant believe you insisted we go without saying goodbye to your Mum. I feel awful.”

“You feel awful about not saying goodbye to my Mum?” Emma was surprised at her own response and hoped Riley didn’t pick up on her accusatory tone. She winced behind the shower curtain, waiting for a response.

“Yeah, we left her alone with your sister and your brother! Poor Lynn, she’s going to go crazy looking after those two narcissists.” Riley, oblivious to the implication continued. They had to laugh at this reality or else they’d cry. It was true, both Emma’s brother and sister were toxic beings who drained the energy of anyone who didn’t match their potency. They call these people narcissists don’t they? Her brother, still too young to understand his evil potential, but her older sister and her many personalities was a weathered storm you did not want to get caught in without an umbrella. Unfortunately for Emma’s mother, she had raised those two on her own and had no idea as to how to handle them or how to take responsibility for her part in it all. Emma was more like her mother than she ever cared to admit. The only difference being, she left and never came back.

When Emma was barely sixteen she had moved out, carrying the burden of resentment with her. It was a heavy load, which seemed to weigh her down more with time. When Emma was younger. her mother would ask for advice on how to deal with the temperaments of both siblings. Both were known for their unreasonable perspectives and tantrums. It wasn’t uncommon for plates be thrown or malicious verbal stones to be thrown. They were cruel to their mother, holding her responsible for their father leaving them all. Emma’s simple response was to just - don’t. Perhaps it was a theory she had adopted form her absent father, just - to leave. If he did it to them, why could they do it to each other?

She would though, every time. It wouldn’t matter what hurtful things were said or what dark memories were distorted from the past or what kitchenware was broken. Perhaps her mother thought it was easier to get people's sympathy than it was to get their respect. It became a structure for life and source of identity for her mother. A natural instinct which had become so ingrained in her that the mere thought of dealing with problems with any other perspective other than that of a victim would be far too alien for her to comprehend. She’d make her choices and then render herself a prisoner of those choices. The resentment Emma had for her mother grew heavier, and heavier.

The smells form the diner were carried on the hot winds of the February evening. The scent of salty sweet potato chips and burgers with freshly made patties danced in the air. As Riley and Emma stepped out of their room and headed for the diner, they followed their desires like they had they're whole lives.