Gravity Well

by Melanie Joosten

  So the world will slow down, he said. We won’t notice; we don’t even notice it’s moving. Not really.

  It’s moving at over a thousand kilometres an hour, she wanted to say to him. We’d notice. It’s just that none of us will be alive to witness it.

  Maybe we need to slow down, he said. We need a holiday, a proper one. It will be easier to deal with everything if we’ve had some time out. You said this year you’d be spending more time on campus, less time out at the observatory sites.

  I did.

  Lotte rested her arms on his, happy to entertain the idea that stopping time was so simple. Eventually, the Earth would slow enough for the moon not to run any further: the two would establish perfect harmony. But by then the moon would only be seen from half of Earth: it would never appear in the sky of the other half. She could never look at the moon without knowing this, its beauty tainted by its truth.

  On Christmas morning, Lotte folded the cardboard box of the coffee machine flat, and dutifully accepted the coffee Vin had made, admiring the ease of the machine, its handle that pumped down then up, the light that switched from blue to red as the water was heated. They stood together at the pantry door and discussed where it was best to store the little pods of coffee. Each serve came in its own foil container — a different colour for each flavour; a treasure chest of precious jewels.

  Vin had given her a bottle of perfume and a photo frame made from recycled timber. As she sipped her coffee, she looked at the frame propped on the couch.

  You didn’t put any photos in it, she said.

  There were nine blank rectangles cut into the wood. It seemed bad luck; like a set of knives, or a purse given without money. A hint of an absence that was to come.

  I thought we would take a bunch of photos if we go on holiday, said Vin. I was thinking maybe Japan — it’s so close and neither of us have been.

  Your parents will ask why we don’t just go to China.

  And spend the whole time visiting relatives I barely know? Vin laughed. No, thanks! We should look at flights when we get home from Mum and Dad’s today — see what’s available in January. It will be freezing, though.

  Already his mind was skipping ahead — he’d book the hotels, train tickets, restaurants, everything in advance. He’d have researched the holiday so thoroughly that by the time they got on the plane, it would be as though they’d already been to Japan and she had failed to pay proper attention.

  Vin, I don’t think we can go on a holiday. Not just now.

  Lotte took a breath, putting her coffee cup on the bench.

  I’ve been offered a job at the International Astronomical Observatory. At one of their sites in Chile, in the Atacama Desert. It starts at the end of January.

  She felt her face burn with shame as she spoke, to have kept it secret for so long when there wasn’t even anything to hide.

  End of January? In a few weeks? That’s great, Lotte!

  His beaming smile disarmed her.

  When did you find out? We can holiday in Chile, go to Peru. When does it finish? March? April?

  Realisation dawned — he thought it was a regular assignment. A few weeks, a month at most.

  The end of the year, she said. Well, the beginning of next year, actually. It’s a twelve-month contract.

  His face fell — eyebrows slouching, cheekbones retreating, mouth turning down; every part dutifully giving a performance of the expression.

  Twelve months?

  She nodded.

  It’s on their new planet-hunting project, she said. The one the uni is collaborating on. But they want me on the ground there — they need me to coordinate one of the teams.

  A whole year, said Vin, shaking his head. But we agreed that this year we were concentrating on Canberra. Buying a house. You didn’t have any international conferences; you weren’t going to be up in Siding Spring so often. You said you were sick of always being away …

  And she realised that he had catalogued every one of their conversations over the last year, stacking evidence and drawing conclusions. Her throwaway comments and aloud musings had become fact, something that she would be held to.

  I was sick of it — I am. The travel, the living out of a suitcase. But this would be different; it’s for a proper period of time. And it’s an amazing opportunity, Vin. I’ll never get it again. If I turn this down, it’s not going to come back. It’s everything I’ve been working towards.

  She watched Vin rinse out his coffee cup, jabbing at it with the sponge.

  You’re leaving at the end of January?

  The fifteenth.

  She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction.

  That’s only three weeks away, he said. When did they offer it to you? It wasn’t today, obviously.

  A few weeks ago.

  And you’re telling me now.

  She opened her eyes. It wasn’t a question.

  I had to think about it for a while. I had to decide whether or not to take it, consider all the possibilities. I know it disrupts our plans, but I didn’t want to bother you for no reason.

  You think about everything, don’t you? The genetic testing, this, what you want to do with your life. And then once you consider all the facts, you make a decision, and choose a course of action. And then I’m the one who has to follow, or I get accused of holding you back.

  I’ve never said that.

  Because I’ve never given you the opportunity. You were always going to take the job, weren’t you?

  Yes, she said. She couldn’t lie to him, not directly.

  And you should take it, of course you should. But you should have told me.

  I’m telling you now.

  Earlier, Lotte. You should have told me earlier.

  He carefully dried his coffee cup and put it away, hanging the tea towel on the oven door.

  I’m going to have a shower; we need to get going soon. Mum said lunch was at one, and traffic might be bad.

  She watched him go down the hallway, the legs of his navy shorts whispering as he walked, a thread hanging from his T-shirt. On the couch, the photo frame caught the sun, blank and expectant.

  Balancing her empty glass on the balcony railing, Lotte contemplated the mark left by the lipstick she felt compelled to wear every time she saw Vin’s mother. Sue was always so impeccably turned out: her fingernails lacquered, her hair set in tight curls, except for the neat fringe that bobbed above her pencilled eyebrows. It didn’t help that, despite not being particularly tall, Lotte towered over the diminutive Chinese woman, just as she did over Vin’s sisters, who always seemed effortlessly svelte. The balcony door slid open and Vin joined her, rolling his eyes at the shrieks of his sisters escaping the room — Janet’s husband had bought her a terrier puppy for Christmas, and it was chasing a ball about the lounge room, slamming its body against the skirting boards, unable to find enough purchase on the tiles to slow down. The women were entranced and horrified in equal measure by its destructive behaviour.

  Vin leaned against the railing, squinting in the sun even as he seemed to unfold towards it. Sunlight opened Vin up, and, not for the first time, Lotte felt bad that her late-night job meant that they both spent too much time in the dark, sleeping away mornings, starting halfway into the day, always struggling to catch up. Looking out over the rooftops, she could see the green ribbon of the Parramatta River, the yellowing grass of a sports field. It was the sort of day where clear-eyed people could see forever.

  I’m sorry, Vin. I should have told you sooner.

  It’s okay, he said. It doesn’t matter. Twelve months isn’t so long; you’ll be back before I know it.

  He gave her a wry smile, which was gratefully accepted.

  You can come to visit, you know. It’s an eight days on, six off cycle. Plus holidays. You could come mid year, we could have a proper holiday. />
  Sounds good.

  He shuffled closer to her, his arm warm against her own.

  Maybe I’ll get a dog, he said. Something to keep me company.

  Lotte laughed.

  Like that little ratty thing of Janet’s? It would be crazy after being cooped up in the flat all day while you’re at work; you’d be sick of it within a week.

  No, a bigger dog. Maybe a Golden Retriever or an Irish Setter. A proper dog — it will have a whole backyard to explore.

  He caught her eye then looked away.

  I still want to buy a house. I want to stick to the plan, he said, drumming his fingers on the balustrade. Besides, it will be something for me to do while you’re away.

  Lunch is ready!

  Janet appeared at the door, the puppy — which was now wearing a Santa hat — desperately nudging at her ankles.

  Don’t let him out; I don’t think this balcony is dog proof, Vin said.

  He ran across to the door, picking up the dog and swooping it in the air.

  See, he might go over!

  Vin, stop it!

  Janet jumped at him, trying to grab the puppy, not knowing whether to laugh or shout.

  Give him back!

  But Vin neatly sidestepped her, walking back inside, puppy held aloft in one hand.

  Come on, Rex. Let’s get this ridiculous hat off you.

  Stop calling him Rex. It’s Cherry!

  Inside, the table was set for eight. The smell of melting palm sugar and cooked pineapple mixed with the chillies and spices that had sent Lotte dry-coughing onto the balcony twenty minutes before. As they all took their seats, Vin pushing his father’s wheelchair into place, Sue came backing out of the spare room, carrying a highchair. They watched as she wordlessly placed it between her seat and her husband’s, a smile playing at her lips. A visiting cousin, a family friend? Who was it for?

  The table was covered in dishes. Gems of sweet-and-sour pork, a hotpot of eggplant, nests of dumplings, and soon they were all reaching and passing, filling their bowls. Lotte tried her best not to make a mess with her chopsticks. Sue fed Stan small bites, mopping at his chin and laughing as he shook his head, pointing to the beer. His stroke had robbed him of language, and while he gave little indication, Lotte suspected he still kept up with the volleying conversation of his family. She remembered when she had first met him years ago, when he was running his shoe import business and he’d teased Vin about landing a woman smarter than he was. And with good taste in shoes, he had said, looking at her feet in a pair of flocked-velvet kitten heels. They were a pair imported by his own company; she’d gone and bought them specially to wear to that meeting, surprised by how much she liked their elegant point and suggestive shape. Vin had laughed at her efforts, doubting his father would even notice, but Lotte had wanted to do everything right, knowing she was the first non-Chinese girl he’d ever brought home.

  Who is the highchair for?

  It was Vin’s voice that cut through the din, and Lotte saw his older sister Michelle shake her head at him.

  I’m glad you asked, Vincent, said Sue, smiling carefully, putting her chopsticks down and placing her hands in her lap. It’s for my grandchild.

  Lotte glanced at Michelle and Janet, and both rolled their eyes, used to their mother’s theatrics.

  Who’s pregnant?

  The question seemed innocent, but Vin’s voice was thick with tension.

  Well, I don’t know, said Sue, with a look of triumph. It seems that you’re all much too busy to give your father and me a grandchild, so I thought I might just give you a little reminder. A little push in the right direction doesn’t hurt, does it? None of you are getting any younger.

  Vin pushed his chair back from the table.

  It’s hardly any of your business, Ma.

  Vin, Lotte said, placing a warning hand on his wrist. She doesn’t mean anything by it.

  Sue picked up her glass, lifting it in a toast.

  You know I just want you all to be happy, she said. And nothing has made me happier than my own children.

  Lotte lifted her glass, Vin’s sisters and their husbands doing the same. She caught Stan’s eye, sure she could see laughter in it.

  To family, said Lotte, clinking her glass with Sue’s, relieved to see Vin reaching for his own glass.

  Merry Christmas.

  As they drove back to Canberra that evening, Lotte tried to get Vin to see the funny side.

  She was just having a go, Vin. No need to take it so seriously. You know what she’s like — remember when she came out in that horrible orange hat and jacket before Michelle’s wedding, saying it was her mother-of-the-bride-outfit? She just likes to tease you all.

  Well, it wasn’t very funny.

  I bet she just feels bad for your dad. Having to be at home all day. Maybe she thinks it would be better if there were some grandchildren running around.

  Would it? Do you think that would make a difference?

  He glanced in the rear-view mirror and changed lanes.

  All he does these days is watch TV, said Vin. Though whether he’s really watching is anyone’s guess.

  You know, you could spend some more time with him, said Lotte. Why don’t you take him to the football?

  Despite being the only one in the family to follow AFL, Stan still had a favourite team: the Sydney Swans.

  Like you’re one to talk, said Vin.

  Lotte didn’t answer. She loved Vin’s family, but having grown up as an only child, she found them exhausting. The quips flew thick and fast as soon as someone opened their mouth, drowned out only by the self-congratulatory laughter. We all get on so well! their body language screamed — the crowding, the absentminded patting of hands. They talked over one another, not leaving space for anyone to disagree, to not get on, to correct a mistake that had been made. On their first meeting, Lotte had tried to emulate this amplified joy, but she soon gave up; it had never come naturally to her.

  It had been the same at school: she’d always hated the way the small girls would huddle in the shelter shed, screeching at one another as they skipped rope or played elastics, friendships lauded or discarded at whim. She recalled a time at school camp, when they’d all had to tumble about underneath a billowing silk parachute, students and teachers shaking it high and low, until there were no edges, no sky. As the other students ran about giggling and grabbing at one another, Lotte had frozen to the spot, the thin material of the parachute clinging to her face, threatening to suffocate her. Meals with Vin’s family felt the same — all their voices holding fast to one pitch and barrelling across the table, laughter cackling behind and no air left to breathe. Until inevitably — and it happened so smoothly she never quite captured when — they forgot she was there, breaking into Mandarin, the conversation flooding with multiple tones, a river unleashed.

  How long has it been since you’ve seen your father? Vin continued, raising an eyebrow. One year? Two? I reckon it might even be more than that.

  It’s different with Dad.

  Lotte stared out the window, focusing on each roadside bollard as it sped past, then flicking her gaze to the next. Someone made those, in a factory somewhere, and someone else installed them along the freeway, high-tension cable twisted tight between them to create a crash barrier. There was something comforting about there being so many specific jobs to be done in the world; how unlikely it was that she had stumbled across one she so enjoyed.

  How is it different? He’s your father, said Vin. You should spend more time with him.

  What would we do together? You know what he’s like. We have absolutely nothing in common, and no interest in what the other thinks or does. It’s always been like that.

  He’s your father, Lotte. Isn’t that enough? Haven’t you thought about how lonely he must be since your mum died? Going to work each day and comi
ng home to an empty house. You should be calling him all the time; he doesn’t have anyone else.

  You and I both know Dad would find it bizarre if I started calling. It’s different in your family — you were always a family, you did things together. We weren’t like that. So we don’t need to pretend to be something we’re not.

  You think family is just pretend? Something that can be thrown away without any kind of consequences? What are we then, the two of us? Imaginary?

  Come on Vin, don’t be like this. Dad and I were never close; we don’t have that kind of relationship. We don’t need it.

  Lotte let the scenery blur to a muddy ribbon in her vision.

  Not in the way I need you, she said.

  Yeah, right. Vin let his laugh perform his scorn. Need me so much you’re disappearing for a year. Seriously, Lotte, sometimes I wish you would look at yourself even half as hard as you do at those planets. What’s going to change if you figure out there are other planets out there, light years away? Nothing. And meanwhile, you ignore everything that’s going on in front of you.

  I could say the same about your work, she said. What’s the point of it?

  Vin taught maths to students who just wanted to figure out how to play the market, or who would happily let a computer perform any calculation they ever needed.

  But I don’t criticise you because I know it’s important to you, she said. I support you, and the things you want to do. Is that too much to ask?

  Do you really, Lotte?

  He reached for the radio, punching at the control. They drove the rest of the way home without speaking.

  The fastest way to head south from Canberra was to drive north for almost an hour, and then connect to the Hume Highway. Instead, Lotte decided to drive towards the Snowy Mountains; she was in no great hurry. She pulled over on the shoulder and reached for her phone.

  Are you sure you don’t want to come? You know Dad would love to see you.

  Which is exactly why I’m not coming, said Vin. Your dad and me would just hang out, and the two of you would barely say a thing to one another. It’s better this way. Go have some quality time.