The sky made the transition from dark to dawn about the same time I transitioned from drunk to hungover. Groaning and in desperate need of fresh air, I padded silently out of the house and down to the beach.

Given that it was spring and school holidays, the beach should have been packed. Instead, it arced away from me in an empty crescent of sand.

Not entirely empty. Bailey's slender figure stood on the rocks to my left. They leaned artfully, sculpted cheekbones catching the early light as they stared out to sea.

I approached cautiously, and Bailey tuned and smiled knowingly. "How are you feeling?"

"Ugh." I lowered myself carefully to the nearest rock. "Exceedingly ugh."

"Not surprising." Bailey perched next to me and we sat in silence, watching the sun rise.

"I heard you talking to Rueben last night," I said, needing to know the full extent of the damage before I could deal with it. "What did you tell him about me?"

"Nothing. He was pretty upset because of Mischa and what you said about kids getting people killed, so I just let him know that's not who you are and that what you said came from trauma."

Internally I flinched at the memory of my callous words. "I was only trying to be funny, have a few drinks. How come when I let go of the reins for even a second, it always ends up causing me hell?"

Bailey said, "Because when you let go, you don't just drop the reins, you light them on fire."

The air began to warm around us, the light creeping higher in the sky.

"Karla, I think... I think you're not going to want to hear this."

"Hear what?"

Bailey turned their intelligent grey eyes on me. "I think you need to tell your mum and your brother about Dean when we get to Tassie."

A shockwave of white-hot tingles pulsed through me like an internal tsunami. "Tell them what?" I said, keeping my voice even. "There's nothing to tell."

"You know that's not true."

"I know you and I see that situation differently-"

"I see what happened, and I see you in total denial."

"-But even if there was anything to tell, all of that was years ago."

"And you haven't dealt with any of it," said Bailey, pushing off the rock and running a hand over their hair in frustration. "What did you tell me when all that garbage with my family went down?"

I stayed silent, unwilling to give them more to win this argument with.

"You told me that I couldn't deal with all of this alone. You were the one who said I should talk it through with a therapist, find people who understood me to process the drama with. And I did. It sucked, and I did it anyway, because I knew you were right. Why can't you take that advice for yourself?"

"Bailey, what you went through was horrendous. My situation with Dean was nothing like that."

"No, you're right. Because the shit with my family was completely expected. What Dean did was a betrayal out of the blue."

"Enough!" The sun was too bright, my head pulsed too painfully and this conversation was too close to the open nerves around my heart. I stood. "Bailey, you know I love you, and I'm grateful you were there for me, and I will apologise to Rueben, but the situation with Dean has changed, okay?"

"Changed how?"

"We spoke on the phone yesterday. He said he was wrong."

"About what?"

"About what he said the last time we were together."

"Jesus, Karla. That's not even an apology. What does that mean? He's sorry about breaking your heart? Or about what he forced you to do?"

"I don't know, Bailey!" I stood and began to walk away, wishing the conversation would blow out to sea. "But he's there with my family, and if he wants to make things work, I should be open to it."

"No, you bloody well shouldn't be."

I didn't trust myself to speak. My eyes were locked on my feet, watching the sand dry as the pressure of my soles forced the liquid away with each step.

Bailey spoke again. "I don't know why you keep space in your heart for that guy. You're worth so much more than his bullshit."

I didn't have an answer. It had never felt like bullshit when I was with Dean. It had felt like love.

We walked in silence back towards the house. Another figure had joined us on the beach; Nev played with Bella near where the tide threw itself up the shore in long, gentle fingers.

I watched Bailey's face draw into a smitten smile. "On the topic of telling people things..." I said suggestively.

"No."

"Bailey, this is literally the perfect time. We're all stuck together, you've been crazy about her for ages, it's not like Tinder is an option anymore for her. Put your cards on the table."

"Do you want to know what happened the last time I told a straight girl had feelings for them? Last day of high school, my year 12 choir buddy, Sara Matterson. I'd been obsessing over her for a year and I knew that she was super-straight, but when someone would bring booze along on a choir trip, she'd get all giggly and talk about how she really wanted to kiss a girl someday, just to say she'd done it, and this little part of me would jump up and down all happy crying out, 'see, maybe she's not completely straight!'"

"Were you... How were you dressing back then?" I tried to phrase it diplomatically.

"I wore a non-gendered school uniform, shorts, shirt. My hair was pretty short. When I started there in grade 10, I was going by they/them pronouns, and my school was really supportive, which was great considering what I was going through with my family at the time. Sara had been good with the pronouns too, said she respected me for who I was. She was sweet, pretty. I was so into her."

We stared at Nev, who was also very sweet and very pretty, her long legs shining with sea water, her silky hair fluttering around bare shoulders. "What happened?" I asked quietly.

"When we were both drunk at our graduation party, I told Sara how beautiful I thought she was, and how much I'd thought about kissing her. And then she kissed me. It was like a miracle. For like a minute, she was into it, like really into it... then she freaked out. She started rambling about not even knowing what kind of genitals I had, so how weird being with me sexually would be, and what if I had any horrible STDs because of my lifestyle, and that she wanted babies one day, and so what was the point of being with someone like me." Bailey's mouth squeezed into a hard line. "I just wanted a kiss, and suddenly I was the diseased freak whose very existence was worthless."

"Bailey, I'm so sorry. You know Nev's not like that, though."

"Karla, with all due respect, you have no idea what it's like to walk in my shoes. Encouraging me to do something like this is harmful and ignorant. Drop it."

Baily walked away, headed up the beach towards the house instead of towards Nev where I knew they'd rather be. A deep sadness ached in my bones. I wasn't trying to be disrespectful or ignorant; I knew Bailey's life had been awful, that they'd been rejected by almost everyone they'd ever loved. I just wanted a happy ending for them, for at least one person they loved to turn and see them and love them for who they were.

I wanted that for myself too.

The fresh air had helped. I took another gulp and put my problem-solving crown on. "Nev," I shouted up the beach. "Come inside. We need to get ready and go."

With fresh charge in my battery, I powered up the stairs and into the house. I decided it would be easiest to let myself back into my room through my balcony door, to avoid running into anyone until I'd changed and had a plan. On sandy feet, I padded along the balcony. Was my room three doors along or four?

I peeped in the third window and saw a king sized bed with two bodies sleeping soundly on it. One was Mischa, her skinny arms clutched tight around a llama soft toy. Rueben lay the other way on the bed, his face pressed to the mattress.

A powerful urge racked me, tempting me to crawl under the covers with him, to hold him close. It wasn't because I was sexually tempted; I just wanted to be part of the tableau. In another universe, I could see a picture of me and a man and a child, the three of us curled up on white sheets, waking up late, eating breakfast in bed and giggling.

No. I shut it down, turning away from the window and fleeing back to my room. I couldn't let myself think about a life like that. It was too dangerous, like bouncing on a cracked board. It would eventually split and I'd fall and have no one to blame but myself.

In my room, I lifted the bag Nev had packed for me and began to sort through the contents again, adding my supply of clothes from the outdoors store.

I sighed as I lifted the skinny jeans. Nev wasn't to know what the jeans symbolised; that they were the pair of 'thin-spirational' pants that I'd never fit again but that I pulled out occasionally when I needed to remind myself that if I just ate less, moved more, did better, that I wouldn't be a fat, single saddo. Maybe they'll fit after a few months of farm living and bike riding.

Wistfully, I stashed the jeans at the bottom of the bag and reached for the cargo pants I'd bought. Sliding out of my stretchy work pants, which really needed a wash after spending the night being splashed with vodka and splattered with vomit and soaked in sweat, I pulled on the cargos.

The came as high as my mid-thigh and no higher, as if Gandalf himself stood there bellowing, You shall not pass! "What the hell...?" I muttered, twisting to inspect the size tag. I'd guessed at the size when I'd picked them up, but sizing was inordinately tricky for a big girl. I could wear smaller sizes on top because my back and waist were quite narrow, but my boobs and belly were expansive. And every brand sized differently - if I bought something online from China, I'd be an XXXL, but in H&M, I was only a large. The system was rigged.

Helplessly, I tugged at the pants again, willing them to rise. No luck. I tossed them aside, staring at the one item left in my collection that would save me from riding around in nothing but a thong. The Lulu tights.

I pulled them up awkwardly, like I was trying to wriggle into a wetsuit. The slinky material hugged and grabbed everywhere, and some of the stitching crackled as I stretched them over my hips. But the extra-high waistband felt comforting as I yanked them up almost to my bra line, and when I checked in the mirror, my butt looked pretty good.

I rubbed my stomach thoughtfully through the fabric, surprised at how comforted I was by the coverage. If I was a pregnant woman, I could have walked around with my gut hanging out and no one would have cared. A regular fat girl had to cover up offensive flesh.

Sure, there were exceptions - Instagram had a few body-positive models I religiously followed who faced the world proudly in their underwear, bellies on display, booties poured into lacy panties. But I'd noticed something about their fat exposure: they were the 'right' kind of fat. The plus-sized influencers were all fat in a smooth, symmetrical way, like a ripe mango. I was fat in the wrong way, like a bumpy avocado or a mushy banana. Even in the bo-po community, cellulite wasn't a thing women my size put on display.

Tearing myself away from a thought cycle that was spiralling speedily south, I folded the cargos and put them away. "You'll be my flood marker," I told them. I needed to lose weight before I saw Dean again, and if I put the cargos on every day, I'd be able to tell if I was making progress on the road without the benefit of scales.

Nev had packed a few t-shirts for me, thank god. I tugged one on, feeling it stretch over the swell of my breasts. It didn't fall low enough for me to be comfortable, but the pants were high enough to make the situation bearable.

I packed and stepped out into the corridor, almost running straight into Rueben. "Oh. Hi."

"Good morning." He looked tired, and as he lifted his arm to rub his face, I caught a whiff of sleepy man smell. It was heady stuff, transporting me instantly back to Dean's bed, when he'd roll over in the night and find me with his fingers and stroke me awake.

Stop that. I blinked and tried to focus. "Rueben, I own you an apology. I was drunk and out of line last night. I didn't mean to scare Mischa, and I'm sorry."

He nodded in gentle acceptance. "It's okay. I get it – not everyone likes kids. I've lost more than one person in my life because I'm a dad now, and that means I have to be responsible."

"That's not-" I began, then realised that justifying that wasn't the reason I'd lashed out would mean sharing a part of my story that only Bailey knew about. "People can't help how they feel," I tried again. "Not everyone is ready for kids."

"I wasn't ready either, but I wouldn't trade her for the world." Rueben smiled, and his entire face lit up.

His parental pride sliced something open inside me, like a blade against taut skin. I blustered forward, wanting the conversation to change before something broke in me that I couldn't easily fix. "Well, sorry again. And sorry for, you know..." I gestured between us. "The thing I said about you taking me to bed. I was super-drunk, and I know the last thing you need right now is the fat chick you just met trying to jump your bones, so don't worry! I promise that moving forward I will never bale you up in a corridor or sneak into your tent and attempt to seduce you, lol."

"Karla, that wasn't-"

"Good morrow, young people," boomed Simon, appearing from the room at the end of the hall. "Karla, how's the head?"

"Fine," I winced. "Or it was until you started yelling."

He threw a pack of Ibuprofen at me. "Take two. You need to be fresh. We've got a long way to go, and the day is not getting any younger."

Simon trundled between Rueben and me, and I started to follow him up the hall. "You heard the man," I said brightly. "Let's pack and go."

"Karla, hang on." Rueben's hands reached for me. "I need you to know... I didn't turn you down because I'm not attracted to you."

"Uh huh." I'd heard this tune before, nice guys not wanting to be seen as assholes because they cared more about flat stomachs than they were proud of, so they crafted intricate stories about it not being the right time, or that they weren't looking for anything serious, or their uncle dying and it giving them new perspective on life. I have heard this all before...

"It's just that anyone who wants to be part of my life needs to accept Mischa."

That's a new one... You're not too fat, but I'm a dad so yeah-nah? "Right. Thanks, I guess. Glad that's sorted then," I said, my words brittle. I walked away, emotions twanging inside me as if I was a guitar and he'd plucked every string.

I strode into the lounge room, where Simon, Nev and Bailey were waiting. Rueben stood silently beside me, and I did my best to ignore the growing sense of longing I felt in his presence. Let's do this, queen. "Okay, team. Day one. 824 k's to Melbourne. Who's ready to hit the road?"

If I could have seen the future, if I'd have known how hard the road was going to hit us back, I would have crawled back into bed with the vodka, never to emerge.

I wrote this chapter when I was miserably ill with a viral infection earlier this week - writing is almost as good as reading for its transportational powers ;)

As a disclaimer, I am cis-gendered and mostly hetero (I identify as non-practicing bisexual but I'm not sure that's actually a thing) - but I have friends and workmates who are part of the LGBTIQA+ community, and I do my best to be an ally. The character of Bailey, being non-binary, is a new kind of character for me to write, but I believe that it's important to have LGBTI characters in stories, as naturally as we have people of different colours and nationalities in stories. If you identify as non-binary and you'd like to give me any feedback, please leave a comment or send me a DM :)

Also, note for my non-Aussie readers - 'yeah nah' is a unique Australian term which translates to no. Not to be confused with 'nah yeah' which means yes. #Aussiesarecrazy

Please vote, and if you haven't already, consider adding this story to your public reading list so others can find it too. xx Kate