Snow

by Sherman Ondine

  My grandmother and I pull up plastic seats beside Adam’s bed and sit together for a few minutes. All I can think about is how grateful I am he’s alive. And how I’m not ready to leave him like this and fly back to Australia. It feels like we’re just starting.

  Now I know one million per cent I want him in my life, perfect or not.

  I think of the video Mum made for me before she passed, and the words I’ve remembered by heart: When you don’t know what to do, trust your heart, my love. It will never lead you astray.

  I’ve been stupid to let other things seem bigger, more important than a relationship with my own father, who seems to love and care about me no matter what I say or do. Could I stay a little longer? School starts next week—a new year, new teachers and a heavy schedule of exams. Would they let me miss a week? I could check if there are any flights left. And what would Paula say? Could I change my flight at the last minute? I need to talk to Melody first … My head is starting to spin like a washing machine.

  ‘I’m going to get a coffee.’ Mike gets up with a grunt. ‘Good to hear you’re all right, Son. Anyone want anything?’

  ‘Sure,’ my father says, ‘I’m getting a withdrawal headache already. Milk and two sugars.’

  ‘Sky, you take tea, don’t you?’ Mike says.

  I nod. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Miriam. Come help me, would you?’

  My grandmother gently takes Adam’s head between her hands, gives him a tender kiss on his unhurt cheek and brushes a wisp of hair off his forehead. A loving mum with her hurt boy. She joins Mike, giving me a smile and pat on the shoulder on her way out.

  A moment later, she sticks her head back in the door. ‘Sky dear, can you send me Jaxon’s number? I’ll call him now. And give Adam the bag from home I brought.’

  I send her the number and put away my phone, now alone in the room with my father.

  The room’s quite nice, considering. Cheery orange curtains frame the frosted window, and outside snowflakes fall in slow-motion.

  I cross the room to fetch the bag Miriam packed from the chair beside the window, then return to my seat, drawing it closer to the bed, and put the bag on my lap.

  ‘How are you?’ my father asks.

  ‘Better now,’ I say. ‘I was freaking out.’

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry …’ I fiddle with the bag. ‘Dad. I’m just really happy you’re alive.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere, Sky. I promise.’ His voice sounds choked up.

  ‘You can’t make promises like that.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. But I can promise I will always be here for you … if I’m on this Earth.’

  ‘As opposed to another Earth?’ I smile. ‘Do you really mean that?’ And suddenly, my eyes start leaking.

  ‘Really. I promised you everything was going to be okay, didn’t I? Now come here.’ He waves me closer, and I lean forward to rest my head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. My breath intermingles with the fragrance of apples.

  ‘Why does your hair smell like fruit?’ I ask.

  ‘Maybe the answer’s in the bag.’ He smiles.

  I pull out a green bottle of apple-scented shampoo. Mystery solved.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, nestling back in.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For everything.’ My eyes fill up yet again. ‘For being so judgemental.’ I sit up and sniff. ‘It’s just been hard for me.’

  ‘I know.’ He takes my hand.

  ‘But I don’t care what you do for a living,’ I say. ‘I mean, I do care a bit, of course. But it’s way more important that we can be together. I don’t want to lose you.’

  ‘I refuse to lose you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’ A few minutes pass, then my father says, ‘Sky, do you still think about the moose?’

  ‘Yes. And the baby who may still be searching for his father.’

  ‘Bulls are solitary animals, Sky. They don’t care for the young. There won’t be a calf missing him, I promise.’

  ‘Oh.’ I feel a great weight lifted off me.

  My father is silent again, but eventually he says, ‘I feel terrible about it. But maybe … also …’ He stalls. ‘Did it also bring up some issues for you, like a trigger?’

  Images of Mum dying float across my mind, and then the searing pain of being totally alone, a boat in a stormy harbour without an anchor. ‘I guess.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sky,’ he says, and I feel his eyes on me. ‘About putting you through that, and your mum passing. I know I’ve said it before but I am so sorry I didn’t fight and try harder to see you, to be in your life.’

  ‘I know,’ I say. And I do.

  Speaking like this, side by side, feels good. We’re finally alone together with time to talk.

  ‘How about a brownie? There’s a box in my bag.’ He points to a backpack by the window.

  I get up and rummage around in the bag. ‘Are these the—’

  ‘Vegan ones I told you I’d buy a few days ago? Sure are.’

  He kept his promise.

  I eat one, and then another, brushing crumbs off my lap. They taste like heaven.

  But there’s still something unresolved. ‘I did want to ask you,’ I say, glancing sideways at him, ‘about Melody. It was kind of horrible when I found out you guys were together and—’

  ‘Sky.’ He sighs and shakes his head. ‘That was one night, never to be repeated, never to happen again.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He squeezes my hand. ‘I’m sorry you know about that. I regretted it terribly then because she was Eli’s friend and it wasn’t cool, not respectful. I didn’t know your mum was pregnant when it happened, no one did, not even her. But that’s not an excuse. Anyway, I give you my word, it will never happen again.’

  I take a moment to let his words absorb. There’s more I need to know, to understand, about where he’s coming from. I take a breath. ‘Do you think you’ll ever stop hunting or is it something you’re really passionate about?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He plays with the side of his beard that’s left. ‘I’ve never hung a head or made a bear into a rug. Never understood that. The people I guide from the lower forty-eight states mostly do want the trophies, and it’s probably the biggest reason, if I think about it, why my clients hunt. I admit, I’ve profited from that cowboy culture.’ He sighs, looking out the frosted window. ‘How about you, you don’t think there are any circumstances in which hunting would be okay?’

  I think of Jane Goodall. What would she say? I don’t know. This time, it’s up to me. ‘If I were living in the Alaskan forest a hundred years ago, I would need to eat something and wouldn’t have a choice. But … we don’t really live that way anymore, do we?’

  He waits for me to continue.

  ‘I mean, we don’t have to eat meat these days. There are supermarkets and small stores full of food, like beans and tofu and almond butter and stuff, which give us all the vitamins we need without meat.’

  ‘What about a remote village in Africa?’ he asks.

  ‘Okay, not everywhere, but in the places there are, why do we have to kill animals? If we have a choice, why can’t we live peacefully and not cause them pain?’

  ‘Most people don’t see it that way—there’s a food chain with us humans on top.’

  ‘I guess.’ I’m really trying to understand things from his point of view.

  ‘And living off the land is still a lifestyle important to many,’ he continues. ‘Good people who want a connection with nature. That’s what drew me in and, after Steph left, kept me going … Camping, hunting, guiding, they changed my life for the better. Gave me a feeling of confidence, of finally knowing my place in the world.’

  ‘I get that, it’s awesome being out in nature. What I don’t get—have a hard time with—’ I correct myself, ‘is why people think animals don’t have as much right to live as we do. Why do we, humans, get to make all the decisions about w
ho lives and who dies?’

  ‘That’s also a perspective not everyone agrees with. Eating animals, using them for our needs, is natural.’

  ‘But, do you agree?’ I hold my breath, unsure if I want to hear the answer.

  He scratches his beard again. ‘You’re challenging me with your ideas, Sky. I appreciate that. How about I promise to think deeply about everything you’ve said, and you and I promise to keep talking openly?’

  Not the perfect answer, but good enough for now. I let myself breathe, and give him a smile. ‘Whatever you do, it’s okay with me.’

  I lie with my head next to my father’s until Miriam and Mike return with a tray of coffees and tea. My grandmother smiles as I sit up.

  ‘Two peas in a pod,’ she says as she passes me the tea and my father the coffee. He pulls himself up to sit, grunting a little as he holds his ribs.

  The nurse knocks and enters the room, checks his clipboard, makes a note, and takes the drip out of Adam’s arm, attaching a bandaid in its place. ‘Tomorrow you can rest and recover, we’ll double-check there are no follow-on issues, and Friday you should be good to—’

  ‘Go home?’ my father butts in.

  ‘Yes.’

  Phew. That’s the day before I fly. At least we can have a little more time together.

  ‘Am I okay to travel?’ my father asks.

  ‘Drive, sail, fly, sure thing,’ the nurse says. ‘You may be in some pain from your rib cage and will probably frighten a few fellow travellers with that bruised face of yours. But, apart from that? You’re perfect.’

  There’s that word again.

  Perfect.

  Chapter 23

  ‘There’s extra space in my suitcase if you need it.’ Melody rolls her clothes into sausages and fits them together like a puzzle. ‘I literally didn’t buy a thing here. Cheapest trip ever!’

  ‘I forgot to give this to you,’ I say, digging through the bag of gifts I bought in town to find the crotcheted scarf. ‘Now you have a souvenir.’

  ‘Thanks, love, that’s a beauty, and soft too.’ She wraps it around her neck. ‘I’ll wear it right now.’

  ‘I think I’ve got enough room,’ I say, as I overturn the contents of my suitcase onto the floor. I never actually used the cupboard so my bag is buried under a mountain of clothes, dirty mixed with clean. Since the camping trip, I never got around to doing laundry. Gross.

  ‘Flying tomorrow, I can’t believe it. Sorry we couldn’t delay, love; plenty of seats to LA, it was the next leg to Sydney that was totally booked up.’

  ‘You must have wanted to stay for Autumn too?’ I venture.

  ‘Desperately. She’s one of the loveliest, warmest and most caring people I’ve ever met.’ Melody looks at me. ‘Second to Eli, of course. But we’ll find a way. Just need to get some money saved first. You disappointed we’re leaving?’

  I nod sadly. My father and I still need more time to get to know each other. But I suppose, like we promised, we’ll still be in touch when I’m back at school, and we can Skype, call and make plans to see each other again.

  ‘How did you know …’ I start, but I’m not sure how to say this in the best way. ‘I mean, you liked guys and then, did you … do you now only … like girls?’ I smile awkwardly.

  ‘I’m glad you asked. For me, and I’m sure it’s not like this for everyone, I realised I’m attracted to the person inside. The outside, the skin, well … it doesn’t matter as much. It’s like …’ She twirls a lock of her hair as she thinks. ‘I love the little beach crab who lives inside the shell, and the shell is … whatever. It’s not crucial to the picture. You know the ones I mean?’

  ‘A hermit crab?’

  ‘Yes!’ She chuckles a little at her own metaphor. I want to ponder this, but before I can she continues. ‘I can’t believe how lucky Adam was, hit by a car and only bruised. He seemed to be doing great when I called yesterday, insisted there was no need for me to go to the hospital to check in on him. Been an eventful couple of weeks, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Understatement of the year.’ I dig around in my clothes, matching pairs of socks.

  ‘Lucky it’s January then. Plenty of time for more understatements.’

  ‘Ha.’

  ‘Any news from Jaxon? Maybe you should call him.’

  When I got back from the hospital, Melody and I talked for a long while, polishing off an entire packet of chocolate pretzels. I told her all about Dad, finally having a conversation with him, and the brooch from my grandmother, and I didn’t stop there. Maybe it was the sugar rush or the emotional exhaustion of the day, but the usual filter that blocks what’s in my brain from coming out of my mouth wasn’t working. I told her how Oliver said he loves me and I said I loved him too. I told her about Jaxon’s concert and all the awkward moments leading up to the kiss, and how he found out about Oliver afterwards.

  ‘I’ve messaged Jaxon a million times,’ I say. ‘Tried calling. Nothing.’

  Now I’m rolling my flannels into veggie sausages, copying Melody’s technique.

  ‘He must be humiliated. Bruised ego and all,’ she says. ‘It’s a guy thing. He’s sulking now, but he’ll get over it, and I think you have a strong enough foundation to be friends again. Keep trying to talk to him.’

  I sigh, knowing she’s right. I don’t want to leave things this way; after everything we’ve gone through together, I really do care about him.

  I move onto my thermal leggings. I’ll be glad never to see them again.

  ‘Is Adam back today?’ Melody zips up her large backpack and stands it up. It falls down.

  ‘They’re doing his paperwork now and he said we’d all have lunch together. My grandparents moved their flights to Chicago to tomorrow, two hours after us, so I guess he’ll be at the airport all day saying goodbye to everyone.’

  ‘The house will be empty after we’re all gone; it will just be him and Jaxon.’

  ‘Yep. Him and Jaxon,’ I say. I load the rest of the gifts into my bag and move onto my toiletries. ‘Doug’s still in gaol—they’re not letting him out so quickly this time. My father told me that after Doug hit him, he didn’t even stop the car to check he was okay. Maybe he didn’t notice?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Melody agrees.

  ‘I heard he drove into town and ran two red lights.’

  ‘Lucky he didn’t kill anyone.’

  ‘And when the police caught up with him at a bar,’ I say, ‘he was asleep on the table.’

  ‘The guy needs professional help. Poor Jaxon.’

  ‘I know. At least he has my father.’

  ‘And you have me. And Paula and Dave and Oliver and all your friends back home.’

  ‘And Bella and Chirp, of course. I can’t wait to see everyone.’ I squeeze the last remaining clothes into my suitcase. It feels good to be talking so freely with Melody. Not censoring myself at all. We’ve come a long way since we flew in.

  The front door closes with a bang. I abandon my packing and run to the top of the stairs.

  ‘Would you like a cup of coffee, Adam dear?’ I hear my grandmother’s voice from the kitchen. ‘I’ll make a fresh pot.’

  My heart beats a little faster. My dad’s here. I grab the framed photograph I bought from a gallery in town—a sunset over Denali Mountain. I used up all my money, but no regrets. He’ll have something on his wall, something to know how much I do care—despite this trip, which was mostly disaster. This is our last day before I fly tomorrow.

  ‘Sky!’ He greets me at the bottom of the stairs and gives me a hug, quickly stepping back. ‘Ouch, sorry.’ He grasps his ribs.

  ‘Hi Dad!’ The word still feels strange in my mouth. But good too.

  ‘Dad?’ His eyes mist.

  ‘Dad.’ I hug him again, gently this time. ‘Your beard is gone.’ I point to his face, now completely clean shaven. So different.

  ‘I know. I can’t walk around with half a beard, now can I?’ he says, scratching his bare chin, seemingly mourning the loss. ‘Come take
a seat; there’s something I want to talk to you about.’

  I sit on the couch, and he pulls up a kitchen chair and faces me, his back to the fire.

  ‘Sky …’ His voice is tentative.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want to tell you something. So …’

  I wait as he fiddles with the corner of his bandage, under his jawbone.

  ‘I was suspended from my job.’ He puts his hand down to his side. ‘Three months without pay and then I could go back on probation. And, honestly, at first it was a real shock. Ralph had more sway than I knew …’

  ‘Oh no,’ I say, feeling a terrible rush of guilt. Suspended, I can’t believe it, I thought he said he was sure he wouldn’t get in trouble. Now, I’ve ruined his life. Is he angry at me? ‘I’m really sorry, honestly, I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘No apology needed,’ he interrupts. ‘I found out the day before yesterday, before the accident. And lying in a hospital bed gave me plenty of time to think. About you. And about my future.’ He rubs his neck. ‘You want to get to know each other better, right?’

  ‘Of course,’ I say. Our time together has felt rushed, and the end of this trip premature. But school’s starting next week and I can’t miss the start of the year.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. Hold on.’ He stands. ‘Let me get my parents for this. Mom?’ He takes a few steps towards the kitchen before walking to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Dad?’ he shouts. ‘Can you come down for a moment? I have some news.’

  This is freaking me out. What’s this leading up to? My heart’s pounding.

  My grandparents join me on the couch so we’re in a line, sitting quietly like schoolkids outside the principal’s office.

  ‘I just told Sky I was suspended,’ my dad says.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Mike says.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I say again, looking between my grandfather and grandmother.

  ‘You could move back to Chicago?’ Miriam says, sounding hopeful. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to come back.’

  ‘Mom. Dad,’ my father says. ‘Thanks for your input, but I know what I’m doing.’

  I try to resist biting my fingernails.