He never saw all the work my mum did to keep us going, her hardships, and how she fought for me even when she got sick. He never knew what an excellent mother and good woman she was. He never gave her a chance, gave us a chance to be a family. He left and now Mum’s dead and he’ll never know anything.
I stoke the embers with a stick as my anger turns to tears. I miss my mum a thousand times a day in a million different ways.
We sit quietly, my father oblivious to the change in my mood.
‘I was going to bring marshmallows but then I realised, damn, gelatine,’ he says, firelight playing on his face. ‘So I got bananas and dark chocolate instead.’
We cut a slice into the banana skin, fill it with cubes of chocolate, wrap each banana in silver foil and throw them into the fire. When they’re ready, the chocolate has melted into the fruit and we eat it with a spoon.
Full of delicious sugary good-feeling, I realise my father’s been considerate of my diet since I arrived, even though it’s foreign to him.
‘Thanks for thinking of the gelatine,’ I say, ‘and the soy cheese and almond milk and everything.’
He smiles.
After Jaxon tries to call his father again with the satellite phone, he takes out his guitar and starts picking a melancholy tune. I watch the fire, wondering if Melody made it safely to the festival. Then my thoughts turn again to Oliver. His dad disappeared in a way, too, after his parents divorced. Even though his dad doesn’t live far away, they almost never see each other, and Oliver’s mum works full-time running her small organic grocery in town and brings up Oliver and Sabine alone. Not that you’d know it’s hard for her—she’s quick to smile, and since Oliver and I started going out, she’s always made me feel welcome. Just last week she gave me all her new skin-care samples to try out—peach, cinnamon and pear—whatever I like best, she’s going to order for the store. His family has become a second one for me. As much as I love Paula and Dave, it’s nice to have another one to fall back on. If the last year’s taught me anything, it’s that you never know when you’ll need a Plan B. I imagine Oliver’s arms around me and shiver a little.
My father pulls out a pack of cards and we start playing; it’s a super-fast game of luck called Speed, and soon we’re shouting and laughing, tying in points and pretending to accuse each other of cheating.
‘Tell me about life back home,’ he says after we’ve finally calmed down.
I put down the cards and begin to talk. I tell him how I was pulled away from my home, city and everything I knew, and thrown into Paula and Dave’s house in their teensy country town. I finally made friends but it all changed when I adopted my chicken, Chirp. I take a breath. ‘Actually,’ I confess, ‘I stole her from a broiler farm I snuck into when I was doing a school project.’
He raises his eyebrows.
I admit how I can sometimes be overtaken by my emotions—not mentioning how, when I was little, I’d have temper tantrums and throw things around, stamping my feet like a crazy person. No need to go into all the details. I also don’t include the fact that after I stole Chirp, I literally fled the farm, the scene of the crime, and had to escape under a fence.
I do tell him how later I had the worst luck—the farm was owned by the father of the girl I thought was my new bestie, Marissa, aka Queen of Popularity.
My father’s not a bad listener, stopping me occasionally to ask a question, make an empathetic grunt, or voice his approval.
I explain how I called Marissa’s father cruel, and she was so furious she ended our friendship. And along with Marissa, I lost my entire friend group. Social Siberia is as lonely as advertised. But it all worked out in the end, mostly. And the most important thing was, I found my way to Paula and Dave, discovered a more genuine friend in Lucy, and green-eyed Oliver, the nicest, cutest boy in my year, liked me back, miracle of miracles.
It’s a long story, all set to Jaxon’s live guitar soundtrack. I check if he’s listening but he has a faraway expression, clearly too involved in his music. Or maybe he’s just giving us some space.
When I finally finish talking, we stand up and my father hugs me. I feel a million kilos lighter having told him so much. We put out the fire and pack up.
‘I’ll come soon,’ Jaxon says. ‘Just want to try calling him again.’
After I go to the snow-toilet again, my father demonstrates how to wrap and hang our food on a tree branch a few metres away so if any animal comes visiting, they won’t associate us with food.
We open the tent door. Inside, it’s surprisingly warm and I fall down on my sleeping-bag, exhausted.
‘You were saying before,’ I say, hoping to hear more about him since we’ve only talked about me, ‘about what you do for work?’
Silence.
‘Adam?’
His soft snores fill the tent.
Chapter 5
I hear a rustling of the tent flap.
‘Everyone asleep?’ Jaxon whispers.
‘I’m awake,’ I whisper back. Despite my bonetiredness, my head’s buzzing. ‘But Adam’s asleep already.’
Jaxon’s sleeping-bag is on the other side of my father and I hear him shuffling around, scraping, a clanging on the fire-heater door, then finally a zip and silence.
‘Still awake?’ he asks after a few minutes.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Guess it’s the jet lag. Any luck with your dad?’
‘No.’
Another pause. I’m curious to know what’s happening with his parents, but don’t want to ask anything too personal.
I hear him say something, but it’s soft and mumbled.
‘What?’ I whisper. ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you.’
Jaxon manoeuvres around Adam, bringing his bag closer to mine.
I hold my breath, hoping this isn’t going to be weird. He’s nice and all, but I like Oliver. I should really mention I have a boyfriend, but then again, if he’s not planning to make a move I don’t want to come across as arrogant or vain. ‘Um,’ I start.
‘What?’ he asks.
‘It’s just, I wanted to say—’
He wiggles even nearer. ‘I can’t hear you. Anyway, I think I owe you an explanation.’
‘About what?’
He’s so close that despite the darkness I can see his eyelashes blinking. They’re as long as a camel’s. I once read that camels’ eyelashes protect their eyes from sandstorms, but it’s not quite the right moment to say that out loud.
‘My dad,’ Jaxon says. ‘And why I’m crashing your father–daughter trip.’
‘Oh,’ I say, feeling stupid. Why did I assume he wanted to make a move? I’m not that irresistible.
‘But first, what were you saying before?’
‘Nothing,’ I lie.
I hear him take a big breath. ‘He started drinking after Mom died. My dad, that is.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say, knowing the words are too trivial, not right. ‘That must’ve been horrible for you.’
‘He really loved her. You know, wolves mate for life; they only separate when one dies.’
‘Really? That’s amazing. Pity about my father. Guess he’s not a loyal-wolf type like yours.’ I can’t believe I just said that.
‘Give him a chance, he’s a good guy.’
I don’t answer.
‘My dad’s drinking has gotten worse and worse over the last three years,’ Jaxon continues. ‘Some mornings he has no memory of what he did the night before, total blackouts, and if I try to get out of the house when he’s in that mood, he gets really …’
A minute passes as I wait.
‘Gets really what?’ I ask as gently as I can.
‘Sorry, I’m babbling. I’m just pissed off he’s disappeared. It’s so selfish. I mean, I hope he’s okay, but it really sucks that he does this all the time.’
‘Totally,’ I say. ‘It’s good to talk it out—that’s what everyone says, anyway. It’s cool with me if you want to keep babbling.’
‘Thanks,’ he say
s. ‘My dad gets angry. And when he does, there’s no point talking to him, or trying to get him to stop. I’ve tried and tried.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again. I know how annoying those words are; people used them all the time when Mum got cancer and then after she died. But I can’t think of any others.
‘Adam’s tried to speak with him,’ Jaxon says. ‘He even found the local AA group and gave my dad the number. But he never called.’
We lie quietly for a moment.
‘My mom died in a snowmobile accident,’ Jaxon says.
Oh my God, that sounds beyond horrible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a snowmobile let alone knew you could be killed by one.
‘How about yours?’ he asks softly.
‘Cancer. It was really fast.’
‘Sometimes it’s …’ He’s whispering now. ‘It’s hard to believe life has to go on without …’
I wait but he doesn’t continue. ‘I know what you mean,’ I say, my voice gravelly. ‘I don’t think anyone will ever …’
Something about being in the middle of nowhere, the crinkle of sleeping-bags, fire and snow all mixed together, the near blackness and my father snoring peacefully beside us … it makes me feel brave. Jaxon’s the first person I’ve met who’s also lost a mother. He understands.
‘Love me like she did,’ I finish, feeling my lip quivering and eyes filling. ‘And now she’s gone. My whole life, the entire universe, up in flames. It’s like I’m a different person.’
I feel a tear run down my cheek, and I’m glad for the darkness so he can’t see.
A few minutes pass; maybe he’s fallen asleep. My mind is wide awake but really, I’m beyond tired.
There’s a movement from Jaxon’s sleeping-bag. ‘How is it meeting your father for the first time?’
I stop to listen—yes, Adam’s still snoring. ‘Scary.’
I want to say, It would have been better if you weren’t here. But I’m not sure if that’s true. Instead I add, ‘It’s weird we haven’t had a proper conversation yet—I barely know anything about him.’
‘He’s probably just nervous,’ Jaxon says. ‘He was real worried before you came, about impressing you and everything. He was worried about … well … he didn’t want to …’
‘Want to what?’
‘It’s nothing. He didn’t want to not have the right food for you.’
‘Food? Oh. Well, he’s done a pretty good job so far. Those chocolate bananas were out of this world.’
Jaxon and I talk music for a while longer. Our heads are almost touching as we share his earbuds and listen to another playlist.
The closeness feels brotherly, not flirty. Big relief. I don’t want to betray Oliver. And there’s no tingle around Jaxon, shaggy hair and sparkly eyes or not. With Oliver, I get shocks of electricity just by accidentally brushing against his knee. And often when we kiss my legs go seriously wobbly, which I thought only happened in the movies.
Tomorrow I’ll bring up Oliver in conversation and find out if Jaxon has a girlfriend. I wouldn’t mind one bit if he did. If we lived in the same country, we could even double date.
‘I have that band competition next week—you should come along,’ he murmurs.
Jaxon gets what I’ve been through and I feel relaxed around him. It’s weird how I’m talking to someone from a totally different world to mine, with a different accent, and music can make it easier.
‘For sure,’ I whisper back.
I must nod off after this because I wake to someone nudging me. My father.
‘Come outside,’ he says.
I look around the tent. Is it morning already? It feels like I’ve just closed my eyes.
I pull on my boots and follow him and Jaxon out of the tent, wrapping myself in my snow jacket.
‘Look,’ my father says, pointing upwards.
My mouth drops open and I can’t rip my eyes from the sight. The sky is moving with waves of colour, rivers of green, blue and purple.
This is what my father meant by there being no words to describe nature.
‘The northern lights. You can’t see them well from a big city and you need the ideal meteorological conditions for them to occur as well as a clear sky, no clouds. It has to be perfect.’
Perfect conditions. Perfect.
I continue to stare. Can my father fulfil the fantasy of my perfect dad? He has been warm and considerate, but if he doesn’t talk to me, how will I know who he is and if we have anything in common?
The fresh snow makes a soft mattress. We lie on our backs, our eyes towards the sky, and ooh and aah. I feel like I’m five watching the early fireworks on New Year’s Eve, my mum beside me, hugging me tight.
I wrap my arms around my chest, watching and thinking of her. Sending her my love through the galaxies to wherever she is floating above.
After a while, Jaxon leaves us and returns to the tent, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
‘Have you seen it many times before?’ I ask my father, once we’re alone.
‘I used to,’ he says.
‘When you were a kid?’
‘No, I grew up in Chicago—can’t see a damn thing in the sky over there.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ I say. I don’t know anything. ‘Why did you move here?’
‘Someone brought me,’ he says. ‘Long story.’
‘To do with work?’
‘No, not work …’
He doesn’t finish his sentence. That’s it. I can’t keep playing chief police inspector interrogating an uncooperative suspect. ‘Goodnight then.’ I sigh, getting up and brushing snow off my back. ‘I’m going back to bed.’
‘No, Sky. Stay for a bit. I’m sorry, I’m not used to sharing much. Let me tell you a little about my life.’
I sit back down.
‘I was married for a while,’ he says, propping himself up on his elbow, turning to face me.
Married? It feels like I’ve been hit in the stomach. He left my mum only to find someone else. Was she better, more loveable?
‘She showed me the lights first. Steph knew them well, used to snow camp even as a toddler. A real mountain woman, Alaskan born and bred. The wilderness was her home, a bit like those wolves we saw. Her family prided themselves on living off the land, and she taught me to love it too. With all my heart.’
‘Oh,’ I say, scooping up a handful of snow and watching it fall through my gloved fingers. Sounds like Steph came from a different world to Mum who, despite her love of animals and nature, was a city girl. Maybe this wild Alaskan life is what my father wanted, needed.
‘That’s how I ended up out here. Jaxon’s mum was her mother’s first cousin, so that’s how I know Jaxon’s dad, Doug, and I’ve known Jaxon since he was little.’
‘What happened with her?’ I ask.
‘It’s complicated. We wanted to have kids.’ He looks at me. ‘She knew all about you, even tried to help me find you.’
‘Oh,’ I say, again. Another punch. What would my life have been like if they had?
‘We tried everything to get pregnant but eventually discovered she was …’ He drops off.
I wait. My fingers are cold now and my toes hurt. I try to wriggle them in my boots, resisting the urge to stomp.
‘She was infertile. And devastated, of course. Guess I didn’t handle it well, all the emotions. I kinda zoned out, went numb. I handled it terribly, actually.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘She packed her bags and left.’
I look at him, the glow of purple galaxy light playing on his face. For a moment, I let go of all my expectations, hopes and disappointments, and see only a person, a human being. And he doesn’t seem so bad after all.
When I wake the next morning, the tent’s empty. I stretch, and venture a foot outside.
The air is freezing and the light low, the sun not up yet. I check my watch—8am. I add layers and walk to the fire pit.
My father’s red jacket is framed by the embers and I ca
n just make out the soaring jagged mountain peaks in the pre-dawn light.
‘Sleep well, Sky? I’ve made tea. Nice and hot.’
Jaxon’s words from last night echo in my head: He’s a good guy. Maybe he is. Jaxon’s lost his mum and now his dad’s a drunk. My mum’s gone too, but my father’s here and he’s trying. Is he a good guy?
I nod and smile, thinking of the wolves, the caribou tracks, the lights and even the gooey chocolate banana. He pours my cup full, steam wafting up.
The steam from the teacup, glow of the fire, and dark white landscape slowly saturate with morning light. It’s like the mountains are glowing from within. I blink to take a mental picture. ‘It’s been awesome.’
He looks at me questioningly.
‘This trip. Thank you.’
He smiles his biggest yet. ‘This is my favourite place in the world. I hoped you’d like it here. Like father like daughter.’
I sip my tea, his words hanging in the air like pretty shiny bubbles that haven’t yet popped. Like father like daughter. Are we alike after all? Maybe, just maybe, my fantasy is coming true and this trip will be the start of a new life. Together. Somehow.
Chapter 6
‘Let’s get back to town—what do you think, Sky, Jaxon? We can stop on the way for lunch.’
I brush the snow off my bum and Jaxon replaces the sat phone in its box. He still hasn’t gotten through to his dad.
Yesterday, we hiked again until my legs cried in protest. But I was a trooper and barely complained. Okay, I may have whined a little.
We discovered more tracks—lynx and hares and other small ‘critters’ as they call them here. With the sun shining brightly, the cold didn’t dig too deeply into my bones. By six in the evening, I was more tired than I had been my entire life, fell asleep before dinner and didn’t wake until this morning.
We pack up camp and load the car. I pull my weight, loading the gear, feeling proud of myself. I survived snow camping and hiking in winter in Alaska, I’ve seen wild wolves and signs of bears, and I’m feeling way more comfortable with my father, who seems significantly less the ‘loser’ my mum told me he was, and more the ‘good guy’ like Jaxon thinks. And what’s more, Jaxon’s become a friend. It feels like weeks since I arrived rather than five days.
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