Free Falling Away by Allie Little

beneath the car. “How about I do it for five? Seeing as you’re a friend of Jack’s.” He winks, letting me know he’s in on a secret. I’d sure love to know what that secret is too.
    “Gosh, thanks. I would really appreciate that. Thanks Matt,” I say, grateful for the discount. “So uh … Jack’s car. What will that cost? I want to pay for it, because ... well, the accident was my fault.”
    Jack and Matt share a glance. “Don’t worry about it, Sam. Matt owes me a favour. Don’t you, buddy?” Jack says, raising his eyebrows at him.
    Matt laughs. “Yeah mate, I’ll do yours for free.”
    “Really? That’s so nice of you. Thanks.” I won’t argue with a gift horse, but it seems too good to be true.
    “So, leave me the key and I’ll call you when it’s done,” Matt says, holding out an expectant hand.
    I twist the key from the ring, placing it firmly in the palm of his calloused, grease-ridden hand.
    “So, what’s your number?” he asks, pulling a notepad from the top pocket of his overalls. He scribbles it down, smearing dark fingerprints over the lily-white paper. “Well, it should be a couple of days, maybe a week.”
    “Thanks, mate. We’ll keep in touch,” says Jack.
    Matt nods an agreement, backing into the workshop. “No worries, mate.”
    “Hey, do you want catch up for a beer and burger one night?” Jack calls.
    “Well mate, seeing as you’re carless we’ll have to meet at the pub,” smirks Matt. “Technically carless,” he adds, watching us climb into Bobby’s four-wheel drive.
    “Any excuse, eh? Sounds like a plan.” Jack gives him the thumbs up before driving away.
     
    ***
     
    The drive from Karuah to Tea Gardens is awkward, at least for me. As usual, attempting to make small talk is like scraping fingernails down a blackboard.
    “So,” I say after a while, going out on a limb. “There’s something I’ve noticed about you.”
    “Oh yeah? What’s that?” He looks across, interested, then turns back to study the road.
    I hesitate, glancing sideways. “Well, you don’t surf. I’ve never seen you on the break. Not even once.”
    His face clouds over. And it’s deep cloud. Dark, like you don’t want to go there. “Nah, you’re right. I don’t surf,” he says, his eyes never leaving the road. We speed past fields and swampy wetlands where black swans once huddled in rushes. The emptiness is obvious.
    “Why not? I mean, you fish, skipper boats ...”
    “Just not my thing.”
    “Which seems odd, you know. Seeing how you love the water.”
    “It’s not that odd.” His voice is clipped, but I assume I’ve read too much into the tone.
    I wonder if there’s a story, because it sure seems as if there is. His face loses warmth, turning grey in the gloomy day. The wipers swing evenly over the windscreen, the swish and clunk audible in the loud silence.
    Jack exhales loudly. “My brother died a few years back. In the ocean.”
    I sit here stunned. Because the revelation is completely left field. I really wasn’t expecting this. Or anything of the sort. “What?” I say stupidly. “God, Jack, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” An image of Ben flashes through my mind, dark and painful. I would never recover.
    “He drowned, surfing. Lost his board on the rocks, you know? It was way too rough for surfing that day, but the waves were awesome. He was chasing the thrill.”
    I shudder. “God, your parents. And you, Jack. How awful.”
    He nods grimly. “He was knocked out on the rocks. No-one saw. He just drowned. All alone, with his board smashed to pieces, caught in the rip channelling deep below the sea. And I should have been there, you know? To save him. If I’d been there I would’ve seen. He asked me to go. Wanted me to surf with him. But the waves were so huge. Too huge for me. So I left him there. Walked home with my board beneath my arm. And every single day I wish it was different. That I’d stayed. Because he’d