by West, Jade
And I watched her.
I watched her suck in breaths through her mask and sink deep into the night, before trying to sink down deep into my own.
I put Master back on the bookshelf and pulled out my copy of Mythago Wood. It’d been a long, long time since I’d read that one. Getting caught up in the words was easier than I expected. The life on the pages made it a breeze. But there was more to it than the novel, and I knew it. It may have been a woodland fantasy tale, but even Mythago Wood had more rationale about it than the matter darting through my mind.
It was Chloe I was picturing in the labyrinth of trees in Ryhope, and it was myself I pictured running there too.
It captured me.
She captured me.
The girl on the train was a splash of brightness in my wilderness. A zany flash of colour in the grey.
It made no sense.
I didn’t want it to.
Throughout every aspect of my life I’d always been clear on what I wanted – I craved order, and discipline and the steel of rationale. But there was none there for me tonight.
I fell asleep in my reading chair, under the lamp’s warm amber glow, and I slept well.
I slept well and I dreamt of primal woodland, and Stephen Huxley in the trees, and Chloe flicking the pages of Mythago Wood. Just like me.
And then the next morning I took the action that needed taking, for my poor dying mother upstairs.
10
Chloe
Sweater zipped up high on a cloudy morning. The wind was a shiver and my breaths were hot.
Late.
I was late again.
I launched myself onto Eddington platform, my hair a bounce of a mess in its ponytail, crazy relieved to find the train waiting. Phew.
Thank you, universe, for saving my ass again.
Liam hadn’t been happy with me last night. He’d cursed about my stupid books and said I should suck his dick before bed, but I hadn’t done. Liam’s dick could go suck itself, I wanted Mythago Wood.
Right now, I wanted something else, though. It wasn’t the wind that had me in a shiver as I headed up the carriage.
My heart was pounding, and my mouth was dry, and my stomach was a churn of wanting a man I didn’t know.
And there he was.
The stranger.
Sitting there as calmly as ever with a paperback open on his lap. Today he was wearing a grey suit – a really nice one. His tie was navy blue and it suited him, but I suspected every single colour under the sun would.
My breaths were still hot when I sat down opposite him. I was grinning way wider than I should. Awkward. But a nice awkward.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hello,” he said right back.
Hello. Hello, stranger. Hello.
I wondered all over again where he was going and what his name was. I wished I had the confidence to ask. But what would I say and why? And what would I ask him next?
Stupid. The whole thing was stupid.
I felt like a teenager with a crush on a teacher, all giggly and goofy opposite the guy who made me gooey. Because that’s what this was, right? A crush.
I’d been thinking about that man in ways that I shouldn’t – not with a pissed off boyfriend in bed next to me. I shouldn’t have slipped my hand down under the covers and circled my fingers in just the right spot. I shouldn’t have held my breath when I reached that rush, just to stop Liam from waking up and rolling over on top. But I did.
I did think about the stranger last night.
I thought about his salt and pepper hair, and the dark pattern of his beard. I thought about his voice, deep chocolate satin, and the way his eyes had a shimmer of steel.
I thought about his fingers flicking the pages.
I thought about those fingers flicking me.
And more. I thought about a whole lot more.
With that, the stranger held his novel up for me to see the cover.
Mythago Wood.
My mouth dropped open. For real, it dropped open. He’d picked up the very same novel I’d been reading.
I held up my cover right back.
Lavondyss.
The very same novel he’d mentioned.
His mouth didn’t drop open, but he was shocked too. I could see it in his eyes.
I smiled, and blushed, and looked down at my lap, and it was stupid. A doofus move on my part, because with that he looked right down at his. And we were done.
There was silence all the way through Wenton and Eastworth and Newstone. My insides were screaming, right the way from my toes to my teeth, including all the bits that shouldn’t be screaming. I was ditzy in my seat, not sure how to sit right, and wanting nothing more than to sit next to him.
I nearly did it. Nearly. I nearly summoned up the courage to say something… until an utter loudmouth jumped on board at Churchley and sat down across the aisle. He was on his phone and laughing way too loud for pre-eight a.m., guffawing at everything the other person said like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He didn’t shut up, and in other circumstances I wouldn’t have wanted him to – I love it when people laugh like that. Just not today. Today it was a blare of noise I really didn’t want to hear.
My stranger didn’t look at me. Not at Churchley. He didn’t look at me as we chugged on closer to Harrow, not when I looked up at him, or when I shifted myself in my seat. Nothing. Just him devouring Mythago Wood while I devoured him. And then the inevitable happened.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow.
Damn it.
I shoved Lavondyss under my arm and grabbed my bag from the seat, resigned to walking away without a word. But no.
He cleared his throat as I stood, and he met my eyes as I looked his way.
“Have a nice day, Chloe.”
Hearing his voice was enough to light the whole grey sky outside. My smile back must have blinded him by the force.
“You have a nice day, too,” I said.
And then I bounded away.
I guess that’s where it started. Hello, stranger.
Every morning I’d get a tickle of excitement when I stepped onto that train.
Hello, I’d say, and hello, he’d say back. Over and over as I sat myself down opposite, both of us in the same seats on every ride.
I’d hold my cover up and he’d hold up his, and we’d smile, and sometimes we’d comment, but that would be it. He’d drop his eyes and I’d pretend to drop mine, sitting with this weird tingly squizzle inside until Harrow. The next station is Harrow. And then I’d shove my novel under my arm and jump to my feet ready to leave, and he’d speak next. Always.
Have a nice day, Chloe.
I’d smile back. Always. Bright enough that I must’ve burned the whole entire carriage with the glow.
You have a nice day, too.
The first couple of days I thought I’d pluck up the courage to start up some great conversation about the literary brilliance of the novels on our laps. I figured that’s all it would be, just a bit of time and enough confidence to find my voice. But it wasn’t that.
It was him.
He wasn’t speaking, and the quiet was getting quieter. I was feeling it more and more and getting more squiggly inside, and even then, nine days after he first said hello back at me, it was still such a nervous thing for me to even think about starting up some random book conversation with him that I didn’t think I ever could.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow.
Have a nice day, Chloe.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow
Have a nice day, Chloe.
He was reading 1984 and To Kill a Mockingbird. I was reading The Scarlet Letter and Silas Marner.
Liam was moaning at me every night, and rolling over with a groan every night, and I was slipping my fingers down between my legs and thinking about salt and pepper hair and cultured fingers and promising myself that tomorrow I’d suddenly find my voice and damn well just say something.
Harr
ow. The next station is Harrow
Have a nice day, Chloe.
Every day I raced to work, always worried I wasn’t going to make it, and only just turning up on time.
Every day I learned what I could, and got ready for Franklin Ward, crapping myself scared in case I wasn’t good enough to work with the best.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow
Have a nice day, Chloe.
Every single day I kidded myself that maybe that day would be the day I found my voice and said more than hello to my stranger.
Every day I kicked myself that I hadn’t.
Every day I thought about it way more than I should do.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow
Have a nice day, Chloe.
I told myself it was ok, that one day we would say more. One day one of us would speak, and maybe I’d be brave and ask him one of the questions I wanted to ask. It was ok… just time, right? Just time and the guts to spit the words out.
Harrow. The next station is Harrow
Have a nice day, Chloe.
Until it wasn’t ok.
Not on the day I’d jumped on that train and my heart stopped pounding, and my squiggles turned into a whole other kind of squiggly and the grey outside stayed grey and shivery.
Because my stranger was gone.
11
Logan
Meet an elephant.
Climb a mountain.
Ride the back of a motorcycle around a sharp corner.
Put my toes in the sea.
Get a daughter-in-law.
Mum’s time was running out, and I knew it. Rachel Edwards could step in for my patients for a few days, and I knew that, too.
I also had a huge amount of annual leave backed up, and having seen my mother in bed that night, scraping breath and lost in herself, I’d known it was time to take action.
Mum didn’t know what was going on as I set up her mobile oxygen unit just as soon as she woke. She had a nervous smile on her face when she saw the smile on mine, and held out her hands for me as I told her we were going out that day.
“Beach or mountain?” she asked me.
I shook my head. “Neither.”
The carers helped me downstairs with her, making sure she was nice and steady all the way.
I eased her into the passenger seat, and wired up her oxygen, and with that we were off, driving west out from Redwood and into the open countryside. It’d been a long time since I’d ventured out this way.
“Not the beach, then, hey?” Mum asked, and that sparkle was back in her voice.
“Not the beach.”
“You aren’t about to push me up a mountain in my wheelchair, then?” she asked with a laugh, and I laughed right back at her.
“Not today.”
She went quiet once the signs for Pilsner started showing up at the side of the road. I loved how her eyes fixed on them, and her smile grew brighter.
“They have elephants at Pilsner,” she said, and I nodded.
“Yes, they do.”
We parked up close to the main entrance, avoiding the drive through, and I helped her into her wheelchair. My mother had never been one for quiet, but she was silent as we headed up to the main reception and I asked to see Jason Wood.
She looked so fragile there in her seat. I felt so fragile alongside her, knowing full well that this was one of those days that would last forever in memories, for all time.
“You’re here to see the elephants,” Jason Wood said, and Mum nodded.
“It’s on my bucket list. Top item.”
“Let’s make it a damn good meeting, then,” he said, and gestured us along the corridor.
It’s strange how those days slow down and speed up both at once. Every second is in high definition, the colours bright and the noises loud, and the smells… the smells embed themselves in your senses. I smelt the elephant enclosure before I saw it. Straw and sweat and that depth of animal presence.
Mum sucked in the deepest breath I’d heard in months when the first of the elephants came into view. He was standing there, towering tall in a sunlit stall. A grand creature, so steady on his feet.
Mum’s eyes welled up and she let out an oh, oh, ohhhh. I wheeled her up close to the fence of his enclosure and she reached out her hand for Wellington, the biggest elephant they had there on site.
He approached. Three steps forward and his face was up close, his trunk right there, and getting closer. Closer.
Until she touched him.
Her fingers were shaking, and her lip was trembling. Her eyes were wide and watery, and those petals of hers were glowing bright. A flare in the darkness of her deteriorating body.
Jason Wood was telling her about Wellington, but it was fading into a monotony of nothing, and eventually he saw that, and backed away.
He left us there, me up close to Mum’s wheelchair and reaching out a hand of my own.
“He’s beautiful,” she said in a whisper. “He’s just so bloody beautiful, he’s magic. Thank you.”
I didn’t need thanks. The magic in her voice was more than enough thanks for me.
His skin was like tree bark, his eyes were as alive as my mum’s. So solid and so royal. That’s how he seemed to me, that magnificent beast – royal.
“Does he live up to your expectations?” I asked her, and she shook her head.
“Better. So much better.”
That choked up my words in my throat, and I smiled, mute. Smiled with the burn in my chest. Smiled with the urge to break like the little boy she’d held in her arms all those years ago.
Unfortunately, that flare in Mum’s deteriorating darkness didn’t last all that long. She stroked the beast for a few long minutes until she was spent, exhausted and fading in her seat.
Jason took some pictures on my phone before we left, but we were done shortly afterwards and ready to leave the day behind us.
“Thank you,” I said to the keeper. “I appreciate it.”
“Glad I could help,” he replied, and led me on out of there.
The drive home was a long one. Mum’s oxygen kept on pumping, but she was slumped, exhausted, and my brain had time to spin on its axis. Grinding the gears.
I felt strangely alone and strangely vulnerable in that seat behind the steering wheel. Strangely human, in the face of being so cold.
And strangely like I wanted to be sitting back in that train seat with the freckle-faced girl sitting opposite. One day without her, and I was feeling it – void of my one flash of fantasy in the grey.
I needed it.
Needed her.
Needed that flare of light in my own deteriorating reality.
Insanity knows no limits, and it was exceeding all of mine, whirling around the rational and stamping it down.
Chloe was there in my thoughts, blurring with the beauty of Mum’s day. I wondered if she would have enjoyed meeting Wellington as much as we had, and if she’d ever seen an elephant before.
Maybe she loved them?
Maybe she had even half of the elephant ornaments my mother had dotted all over her room.
Maybe she liked giraffes instead? Or penguins? Or dolphins?
I wondered if she’d like Pilsner. I wondered if she’d have smiled along with my mum and been just as excited to see the signs on the road.
But it didn’t matter. That’s what I had to keep telling myself.
It didn’t matter because I’d never know.
I roused Mum once we we’d pulled onto the driveway, and Olivia helped me upstairs with her, then settled her down to sleep. I left them to it until Olivia was out of the front door, then headed on through to Mum’s bedroom.
She pointed up at the list at the wall as soon as I stepped inside, and cleared her throat before she spoke.
“Put a tick up next to it, please.”
“We’re ticking them off, are we? Actually ticking them off?”
She nodded with a grin. “Yep, we sure are. We’re ticking them off
, alright. One down.”
“You’d better keep that pulse beating until we get to complete the list, then,” I said.
“Better meet up with Amy then, and get that last one ticked off,” she winked. “Or you’ll have to put up with me for bloody years.”
“You’d better buckle up for the long haul.” I winked back. “You’ll be hanging on a long damn time if you’re counting on that last one being ticked.”
I looked at that list afresh. One of them down, another load to come.
Meet an elephant.
Climb a mountain.
Ride the back of a motorcycle around a sharp corner.
Put my toes in the sea.
Get a daughter-in-law.
She squeezed my hand, and I knew what was coming. I’d heard it so many times before.
“Why won’t you let someone love you?” she asked me. “Please, Logan, just tell me. Why won’t you let yourself fall in love?”
But I couldn’t tell her.
I didn’t want to.
She knew I wouldn’t give her an answer and sighed.
“Please,” she said again. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. Don’t make me, please. That’s the most important thing of all on my list, that I don’t have to leave you alone.”
I squeezed her hand back but didn’t speak, and she sighed again.
“All those nights it was me holding you, the strength in your storm when you were just a tiny little boy, and now you’re the strength in mine. You’re doing a damn good job of it, darling.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I said, and she looked up at me with enough love to slam my chest.
“It was mine, too,” she said. “Seeing you pull through the storm and being a part of that strength was the greatest pleasure there could ever be.”
I laughed. “Even greater a pleasure than meeting Wellington the elephant?”
She laughed along with me. “Even greater a pleasure than that. It was a bloody good pleasure though.” She paused, and gestured up to the shelf behind her head. “Grab me that elephant picture down, will you?”
I pulled down the postcard and handed it over.
“I never really thought I might meet one. Thought I’d be long dead and gone before I had the chance.”