Terminal Velocity

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“So what do people call you then, I mean, your name’s Katherine, right?”Getting to know each other; I'm good with that. Did I mention Irish accent are really hot?

“Yeah, Katherine Taylor. Umm, I like Kat or Kathy. Not Kate or Katie; how do you get there from Katherine?! What about you – Nate?”

“Yeah, I'm usually Nate, I’ve been called Than, but I prefer Nate, Than just doesn’t sound like a name to me, do y’know what I mean?”

“I prefer Nate, if that’s what you mean.”

“And I prefer Kat.” He smirks.

I grin. “Perfect!” Pause. Okay, need a new subject, anything, umm ... A ha! “So, where are you guys staying?” Now I'm wondering what the look on his face means, it’s like a cross between sheepish, guilty, and amused; I don’t even know how he does that!

“Yeah, umm, that’s a good question.”He looks up at me, almost ashamedly.

Whoa, whoa, whoa – what? I'm slightly shocked ... “Wait, you’re not staying in a hotel or a youth hostel or something?”

“Nope ...”

“But wait, I watched you guys on the pier last night, where did you stay overnight? Outside?”

“Nah, we slept in Jeep.”

“What?! As in the car, the Jeep?”

“No, the tractor, the Jeep – yes the car, clever girl! And don’t worry, the seats lean all the way back so you’re basically lying down anyway.”

“And what about the poor sod who has to sleep in the back, where your seats have leaned into? There are only two seats in the front of most cars, y’know! Or do they sleep in the boot? And then you’ve got the drum kit, the guitars, the mike, all the amps and wires ... that sucker must have a hard time sleeping!”

“Oh, that’s usually Andy. He’s the youngest so he gets last dibs.”

Laughing quietly, I say “Sucks to be the youngest, ‘cause you get last dibs but you do get all the attention. Sucks to be the oldest ‘cause you get all the responsibility and have to set an example, but you do get the best stuff. Sucks to be the middle ‘cause you don’t get any of the attention or the best stuff. Or so I'm told.”

Stifling a chuckle, he steers us into the new topic. “So do you have any brothers or sisters, then?”

“Yeah,” I reply, more at ease; I can talk freely about this one. “A brother, Will, who’s 25 and a sister, Jenna, who’s 18.”

“So you would know what it was like to be the middle one, huh?”

“Not really,” This earns a questioning/confused look from Nate, so I carry on to explain. “I was always the oldest child.”

“Was your brother really immature or something?” He’s still trying to figure it out. Not that that makes him stupid – my family is not easy to understand.

“No, Will played dad, while me and Jenna were the kids. Then when I grew up a bit I became mum and Jenna was the kid, and soon enough we were all fending for ourselves in the big bad world.”

Suddenly the questioning looks drop and his voice becomes soft and gentle. “No parents?” Two simple words, but still enough to make the breath catch in my throat.

Deep breath, time to spill your guts to someone you met less than an hour ago. “My mum and dad lived ‘til Will was 15, I was 11 and Jenna 8. Car crash; the usual story, wasn’t even original.” Sigh. Without me even noticing he’s got his arm around my shoulders and is drawing circles on my arm with his thumb, so I lean my head on his shoulder. “Do you miss them?” I know the answer he’s expecting, but it’s not the answer I have to give.

“No, not really.”Eyebrows furrowed, he looks at me, trying to figure out whether I'm serious, or seriously crazy. “Sure, I loved them ‘n all, but they didn’t do anything more for us than Will did, sometimes Will did more, so it’s hard to miss them. I did know them and I do remember them; I was 11, it’s just not that deep heartache other people seem to feel when they lose their parents. As for the term ‘orphans’, we never really got our heads round that one.” And at that, I realise I'm babbling. “Sorry, I'm rambling now. What about you, why are you guys even here, why don’t you have a hotel, how did you meet, explain yourselves to me! Though you don’t have to spill your guts if you don’t want to, that’s just my style. I have very little brain-mouth coordination. Oh god, I'm rambling again! Just talk! Go!”

“Okay, we are here on a kind of publicity tour, I guess. We’re just playing around, sometimes giving out CDs so people can listen to our angelic sounds at home. Spreading the word really, letting people know we’re here. Making sure they know our name. Umm, what was the next one? Oh the hotel thing ... Well, that’s just it, we have a kinda manager person and she gave us some money to get here but then we had to pay our own way into hotels and stuff. With the money we earn from the little gigs on the pier. You saw last night how well that went. So we slept in the Jeep. I know this is probably not the best place to try and earn money, but we love it down here so we thought we’d come, even if it’s just for the beginning. How did we meet, well I met Andy in our mam’s arms in her room upstairs, when I was 3½, and and I met Callum at a school music thing, like an orchestra but cooler. That was us. Okay, guts spilled. A question for a question?”

“Okay?” Uncertainty clear in my voice, the not-so-hidden meaning being ‘depends on the question’.

“What do you do, music-wise?”

Phew, that could have been a lot worse. “I sing, as you know and I play piano. They’re my best ones, and then I can do a little violin and a little guitar as well, but only ‘cause Will and Jenna had violins and guitars knocking around the house.”

“You’ve got your own little band there! You could just be the one-woman-wonder ...” He winks at me and I melt a little inside.

“Okay, now for your question.” I can tell by the way his face falls a bit that he’s really not looking forward to it. “Where are you from, where did you grow up?” He raises one eyebrow and gives me a ‘really?!’ look. “Apart from Ireland!” With another little smirk, his explanation begins.

“Well, I was born in Belfast, but when all that IRA shizz was happening we moved south into Dublin; my parents loved the cities. That’s where Andy was born and I think it’s where Cal’s from. In fact, we moved a little too late and my dad lost both his legs during a bombing and was in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I was only two when we moved, so I didn’t really leave any friends behind, except one kid, but I didn’t keep in touch. I think it would’ve been too dangerous; that’s what mam and dad said, anyways.” I'm shocked, I have to admit it. I've never met someone who has as strange a childhood as mine, but Nate’s comes close. And to think, I spoke to him for the first time about an hour and a half ago ... “Now, your question. I'm afraid it’s gonna be a hard one, and please don’t be offended. Cal and Andy asked me to ask you.” At this I furrowed my eye brows – he hasn’t talked to them the whole duration of our conversation, so this must have been arranged beforehand. “Can we come and live with you?”

“Wait, wait, wait, what?!” My face falls, not out of, I don’t know, sadness, but out of shock. Kind of good shock, kind of shocked shock. Not bad shock. What do I say to that?

“Look, I know I’ve only known you for a few hours, but-”

“Is that why you spoke to me in the first place?” I think it’s all finally falling into place. Why would a random stranger try to talk to you on the beach anyway?