Barbery

by Pil Lee

“It should fit”, she said, struggling into the skimpy lycra. I held my tongue and tried to help a suddenly curvy 12 year old into last year’s swimsuit.

The flyscreen slammed at the back, and I could hear Colin’s father shuffle in.

“That’s good timing, we’re just about to leave”, I called.

Burdened with towels and sunscreen, I handed Colin the hats and we all headed for the door.

Colin’s dad waited for us in the hall, his chest puffed up and a strange gleam in his rheumy old eyes.

“I’ve been to the ’airdresser”, he said.

We all stared. The top of his head was as bare as ever, but his usual thick grey goatee had been transformed into a perfect, hairy, grey map of Australia.

Darwin and Arnhem Land sat just touching the bottom of his lower lip. On either side the papery, wrinkled skin of the Timor Sea and the Gulf of Carpentaria were winged by the Kimberley Plateau and the Cape York Peninsula. The Great Sandy Dessert curved away on the left down to Perth at the edge of his jaw, and on the right the Great Dividing Range arced out to Brisbane and then down to Wilson’s Promontory. Passing Melbourne, the hair swept in and up, revealing the Great Australian Bight shining pale and hairless on his knobbly chin. Alice Springs and Uluru nestled darkly in his central dimple.

“It’s for Federation”, he said.

“Well, that’s that”, I said when I could finally speak again. “You’re going back right now and get that shaved off”.

“Mel”, said Colin protesting.

“Do you want him to go out like that”, I demanded. “To go out with us like that!”

“I’m not going back”, said the old man. “The lad was very nice. He did it special, no extra charge.”

“Then I’ll shave it myself”, I said.

“You’re not touching my beard”, he screeched at me.

“You idiot, he’s made a fool of you”, I yelled back.

“No, no”, he said, and he ran out to the car and sat in the front seat with the door locked, staring straight ahead.

Colin sighed. “Just leave it love,” he said. “We’ll do something about it when everyone cools down. Let’s all just get in the car and go down to the beach.”

Colin drove, next to his Dad, and I sat in the back with the girls.

When we got to the beach I busied myself with sunscreen and hats, ignoring the men. Then we all left the towels to walk down to the water.

And it was then, as I glanced at my father-in-law’s smooth, hairless old torso above his boardshorts, that it dawned on me.

My god, where was Tasmania?!