Lucy in the Sky

the other one says, “Shit! A talking sausage!’”
    My laugh turns into a snort–very attractive. ‘That’s really funny!’ I squeal. ‘Okay, okay, I’ve got one for you…What do you call a fly once you pull its wings off?’
    He shakes his head.
    ‘A walk,’ I answer.
    Now he’s snorting. Not unattractively, I might add.
    ‘Why is it no one seems to tell jokes anymore?’ I muse. ‘When I was a kid growing up we used to all the time.’
    ‘Yeah, that’s so true,’ he says. ‘My mum used to make me tell jokes to her friends when we went out for dinner.’ He smiles fondly. ‘I’d feel like I was her “show and tell”.’ It’s obvious he didn’t mind. ‘I used to have this elephant joke book,’ he remembers suddenly. ‘It was terrible. How did they go again?’ he ponders. ‘That’s right, where do you find elephants?’
    I shake my head, unsure.
    ‘Depends on where you leave them.’
    I giggle.
    ‘How do you make an elephant float?’
    Nope, I don’t know.
    ‘Two scoops of ice cream, soda and some elephant.’
    ‘That’s awful!’ I cry, but he’s on a roll.
    ‘Okay, okay, wait. What does an elephant have that no other animal has?’
    Pause.
    ‘Baby elephants.’
    I snort again. ‘That one’s funny. Hang on, I think I’ve got one for you,’ I say. ‘How do you fit six elephants in a car?’
    ‘Go on, the suspense is killing me.’ He grins.
    ‘Three in the back, three in the front.’
    ‘That’s crap.’ He laughs.
    ‘What, and yours are comedy genius? I’ve got a better one for you.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘Let me see if I can remember how it goes.’ I pause for a moment, trying to get the facts right in my head. ‘Right, late one night, a burglar breaks into a house he thinks is empty. He tiptoes through the living room but freezes when he hears a loud voice say, “Jesus is watching you.” It all goes quiet, so the burglar continues to creep forward. “Jesus is watching you,” the voice booms again. The burglar stops dead. In a dark corner, he spots a parrot in a cage. “Did you just say Jesus is watching me?” he asks the parrot. “Yes,” the parrot replies. The burglar breathes a sigh of relief then asks, “Is your name Jesus?” “No. It’s Clarence,” the bird says. “That’s a dumb name for a parrot,” sneers the burglar. “What idiot named you Clarence?” “The same idiot who named the Rottweiler Jesus.’”
    We both fall about laughing. Nathan collapses back onto the sand and I sneak a peek at his six-pack. A faded pink scar stretches jaggedly across his stomach, just below his ribs.
    ‘How did you get that?’ I ask.
    ‘Surfing. Hit some rocks,’ he replies, sitting back up.
    ‘Oh, nasty!’ I exclaim. ‘What if that had been your head?’
    ‘Sam would probably be an orphan right about now.’
    The thought makes me shudder.
    ‘I’m sorry about your parents,’ I say quietly.
    ‘Thank you. Me too.’ We sit side by side and gaze out towards the open ocean. ‘Sam won’t go in the water anymore.’
    ‘After the accident?’ I prompt, but I know that’s what he means.
    ‘Yeah. He’s fine on big boats, but anything smaller orswimming…He hates it. For a while there I wasn’t sure if I’d ever want to go surfing again. But I can’t imagine a life without it.’
    I glance up at him and the look on his face makes my heart want to break in two.
    ‘Molly and Sam miss you, you know,’ he says after a moment, looking across at me and brushing my fringe away from my forehead with his rough hand.
    ‘I miss them too.’
    ‘Have you ever thought about moving back here?’
    ‘Right now I can’t bear to think of ever leaving Australia again. I know that sounds dramatic, but my life in England seems so far away.’
    ‘It doesn’t sound dramatic.’
    I realise I’m shivering.
    ‘You’re cold; you should take this off,’ he says, and starts to unzip my wetsuit, before stopping abruptly and turning to look for a dry beach towel. I wriggle out of it down to my waist. He drapes the towel over my shoulders, and puts his arm around me, rubbing my cold arm vigorously with his hand. After a little while he stops and pulls me in tight to his warm body. We sit there for a few minutes longer watching the other surfers ride the waves. The way they keep their balance as their boards kick up and cut back down again reminds me of the skateboarders on the South Bank at home.
    Finally Nathan speaks again. ‘I guess we should get going. I