A Shadow's Breath

by Nicole Hayes

Tessa glanced at the door. ‘Get away from here. Away from Carrima.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine it feels very small right now. So, then what?’

  Tessa could feel the heat move through her body, the flush darkening her cheeks. She hated how her face always gave her away. The redhead’s curse. Her mum said it was endearing, that it meant she could never lie. But what if lying was the only way to stay safe? She picked at her fingernails, feeling ten again. ‘Probably head to Melbourne,’ she said, as though this wasn’t the plan she’d been devising with Yuki for years. ‘Get a job.’

  Ms Bainbridge walked behind her desk, tapped on the folder in front of her. ‘Your marks are good. Despite all those absences – which I’m really pleased you’ve addressed this year – you’re doing well. Feeling confident about your exam results?’

  Tessa shrugged. That had never been a problem.

  Ms Bainbridge sat down. ‘Ms Alessandro says you’re very good at art.’

  Tessa became acutely aware of the notepad digging into her belly, confined by the jumper tied around her waist. She crossed her arms in front of it. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Have you thought about studying art?’

  Tessa thought of all the sketches she used to do. The wide, white pages of sketchpads she’d filled. The perpetual grey smudges on her fingers and clothes when she was young. Her mum used to laugh and say she’d just have to follow the smudges to find Tessa. But then the arsehole moved in.

  A couple of years ago she’d stopped for good when he’d ripped up her sketchpad right in her face. For a fraction of a second, her mum had looked horrified enough to object, but when she’d opened her mouth, he’d slapped it hard. Ellen had then stood by, a silent witness, while he’d trashed a whole year’s work. Tessa only ever doodled now.

  ‘Not really. It’s just an easy pass.’

  Ms Bainbridge eyed Tessa, as though measuring how far she could go. She ran a hand through her pixie cut, dirty blonde with a smattering of grey. ‘That’s a shame. Ms Alessandro says you’re a natural.’ She smiled gently. ‘Runs in the family.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Tessa snorted. She hated how easily such a tiny compliment could swell in her chest, even if it was crap. Ms Alessandro was nice to everyone. She glared at the folder on the desk between them.

  Ms Bainbridge picked it up and held it out to her. ‘You can read it if you like.’

  Tessa stared at it, then shook her head. She just wanted to move on. Why can’t they let me move on?

  ‘Well. It’s up to you.’

  Tessa gripped herself tighter, flattening the notepad against her chest as if Ms Bainbridge had threatened to reach out and grab it.

  ‘You don’t have to decide yet,’ Ms Bainbridge said. ‘Have a think about your options. Ask me anything you want.’

  Tessa didn’t care what she did after school as long as it was miles from Carrima. And Melbourne was all she knew, the place she’d lived before everything got so fucked up. Before her dad got sick and her mum turned into a loser.

  In Melbourne she could start again. Her, Yuki and Nick … He was a shoo-in for Melbourne Uni – everyone said so. They’d already talked about him going there, already sketched the beginning of a plan. Tessa just had to get through high school.

  Then she’d be free.

  The car’s smell is suffocating. Heat like an oven stifling all coherent thought. She dreams of a glass of water, can almost taste it when she closes her eyes.

  ‘You can do it.’

  Her eyes fly open. She’s still here. Still trapped. ‘So you keep saying,’ she says.

  ‘Because you can.’

  She studies the bush outside; harsh, brown scrub clawing at them like a predator. Is the car even visible from the sky? And if it is, what then? She can’t go back to Carrima. Back to that house. But where else can she go? Nowhere. She has nowhere. ‘I can’t,’ she says miserably.

  ‘Tess …’ his voice coaxes her, liquid chocolate. ‘We have to try.’

  She blinks back tears, feels the weight of her future. ‘What if I don’t want to?’ she asks into the silence, unable to face him.

  ‘You have to.’

  She doesn’t bother to ask why. He’ll have a reason. A sensible, logical reason. But it’s not good enough. Not now.

  She draws a ragged breath and strains against the pain. The truth is, she’s just as terrified of not trying. ‘Okay,’ she says. She thinks she means it as she inches into a more comfortable position. Her arm is still stuck, but it’s as much about the angle as it is about the pain. Tessa grits her teeth and uses her right hand to leverage herself, pushing the weight of her body off her shoulder. Eyes closed, breathing short and fast, she twists and contorts as far as the tight, crumpled carcass of Nick’s Honda will let her.

  ‘Come on!’ he urges her.

  She strains again, and this time it’s enough. She clings to the dashboard for a moment, letting the blood rush back through her left arm. Barely a second passes before the pain swamps her, dimming her vision and robbing her of air. Black spots dance before her eyes.

  ‘Stay with me, Tess.’ Nick’s voice sounds distant and faint.

  It feels like her shoulder is being ripped from its cuff all over again even though she’s hardly moved. She hears a series of quiet whimpers, then realises they’re coming from her. She stays perfectly still, visualising the pain as the black, feral beast it is, imagining a box big enough to contain it in the hope it will settle. It takes a long minute before there’s even the slightest respite. Several more before she can risk moving again.

  ‘You okay?’

  She nods once. ‘Yes,’ she says, lying.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She swallows, shifts forward to find a safe starting point. Props herself up again. ‘I’m fine.’

  Gently, she lifts her ruined left arm onto her lap, protecting it as she inches forward, the beast still caged in its box, reduced to a steady ache for now.

  The car door is jammed, gravity and its buckled form rendering it immovable. She twists around to scan the back seat while cradling her left arm to avoid jarring it. She spies her jacket flung roughly over the console, caught between the seat and the handbrake. She clinches the sleeve in her fingertips, then draws it out from where it’s hidden, fighting the searing heat that tears through her left side. Short, rasping breaths. She waits for the burning to subside, clutching the jacket like a life preserver, then carefully lifts her arm off her lap with her right hand, positions the jacket under her left elbow and loops the sleeves around her neck, first one, then the other. She pauses, letting the ache ease. Then, with her teeth and her one good hand, she fashions a knot. She tugs the sleeves once, twice, then takes a deep breath and lets the weight of her arm fall into the roughly made sling.

  And screams.

  Her scream is so loud that for a second afterwards she can’t hear anything other than blood pounding in her ears and the harsh ring of tinnitus. The world is doing that shimmery haze thing it does right before she loses consciousness, so she focuses on the phantom box again.

  ‘Good lungs,’ Nick says.

  Tessa ignores him. Concentrates on her breathing and feels her heart rate slow to a more regular pace.

  ‘Will it hold?’ Nick asks, nodding at the sling.

  She shuts her eyes, prays to whoever or whatever it is that landed them there. ‘It has to.’

  ‘Konnichiwa, Tess-chan,’ Keiko said.

  ‘Konnichiwa, Keiko-san,’ Tessa replied, bowing instinctively, grateful for this gesture that has been part of their every day since she’d first met Yuki’s family. She could hide her face and gain her composure in those seconds it took to say hello. And even though Yuki’s mum never seemed to have any problem recognising when Tessa was in trouble, she was mindful to let Tessa tell her about it at her own pace. Maybe with some encouragement, but it never felt forced or difficult, and Tessa often found herself telling Yuki’s mum things she’d not yet told Yuki.

  ‘O-genki desu ka?’ Keiko asked. />
  Tessa nodded and managed a convincing smile. ‘Genki desu. And you?’

  ‘Hai, genki,’ she said in that steady, soothing voice. ‘Yu-chan wa imasen, gomen ne. Did you want to wait?’ The door already open.

  ‘We were meant to study together. An essay.’

  Keiko smiled. ‘You are helping her.’

  Tessa ducked her head. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘I think there is drama,’ Keiko said, and Tessa had to think beyond the obvious to work out what she meant.

  ‘You mean her drama group?’

  Keiko grinned. ‘Yes! The drama. Always the drama.’

  ‘Fair enough. I mean, how else will she get famous?’ Tessa said, smiling, stifling her annoyance that Yuki was standing her up again. A twinge of jealousy too.

  From behind Keiko, a pitchy voice rang out. ‘T-chan! T-chan! Don’t go!’

  Tiny feet thundered up the hall, and Tessa felt a tug of anticipation before Mia appeared in the doorway. Tessa braced herself out of habit as Yuki’s baby sister flung her strong, wiry body at Tessa’s legs. Taut and neat in frame, Mia could pack a punch like her sister.

  ‘Mi-chan. O-genki desu ka?’ Tessa’s arm instinctively wrapped around the girl as she clung to Tessa. She felt the clammy grip of Mia’s fingers on her legs, sniffed the familiar Mia smell of sweat and dough and a whiff of sugar. Felt a warmth deep in her bones. Tessa knew she was stuck. At least for a while.

  ‘Genki!’ Mia said. She always seemed to be on the edge of a fit of giggles.

  ‘Hey, munchkin. You been good today?’

  ‘I broke an egg!’ Mia said with pride, her wide smile revealing crooked, gappy teeth.

  ‘Dame, Mi-chan!’ Tessa joke scolded. ‘You should be more careful.’

  ‘I was meant to,’ Mia said, pouting. ‘We made okonomiyaki.’

  Keiko smiled. ‘We tried to make omelette, but …’ She lifted up her hands, a graceful acknowledgement of her less-than-graceful culinary efforts, and Tessa laughed. ‘We – what is the word? – adapted.’ Keiko tucked a strand of glossy black hair behind her ear, a dent in her brow. ‘Yuki didn’t tell you? About drama?’ She did the air-quote thing to make it a joke.

  Tessa shrugged, whatever.

  But Keiko’s gaze narrowed. ‘Maybe she forgot. That’s all.’

  ‘Oh, she probably said something,’ Tessa lied. ‘All this pre-Year Twelve talk. They’re already ramping up the pressure …’ She let her voice trail off because she never lied to Keiko.

  The older woman nodded. ‘I wish Yuki cared more, but Yuki is …’

  ‘Yuki?’ Tessa offered.

  ‘Yes.’ Keiko opened her palms to the sky. ‘Shouganai.’ What can I do?

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ Tessa said. ‘We all will be.’ And although she’d meant it lightly, her voice cracked.

  Keiko reached for her hand. Held it. ‘How’s your mum?’

  Before Tessa could answer with more than a smile, Mia had wriggled in between them, grabbing at Tessa’s other hand, demanding she come inside, and Tessa felt herself being drawn in.

  ‘You say no, Tess, if you have study. Mia, let go.’ Keiko reached for her daughter’s hand, but Tessa shook her head.

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll come in for a bit.’ And she followed them down the hall, along this familiar path, one that seemed to open up and hug her with every step, while Mia recounted her day in minute detail without pausing for breath. In the kitchen Tessa crouched down to Mia’s eye level and said, ‘Now, start again. Demo, yukkuri, onegaishimasu.’

  Mia’s dark eyes were a pool of earnestness as she began her story, speaking slowly as if Tessa were the child and not the other way around. And as Tessa listened, thoughts of her mum drifted away and even her annoyance with Yuki’s flakiness vanished.

  Later, as Tessa headed out the Frasers’ front door, Yuki’s dad pulled up.

  ‘Hi, Tess,’ he said, dipping his head as he extracted his enormous frame from the driver’s seat. The police car an all-too-familiar sight in Tessa’s life.

  ‘Hi, Doug.’ She smiled up at him, the calming Mia-effect still clinging to her.

  ‘On your way home?’ Built like a rugby front rower, he didn’t seem to know what to do with all that bulk, hunching instinctively whenever he spoke. He towered over Keiko, who was barely five feet in old measure, yet they didn’t look odd together. Keiko held herself with such grace that it was easy to forget she was tiny. Like she deserved every centimetre of space she took up and more. Tessa wondered if you were born with that or had to learn it. However it worked, Doug stood taller when she was by his side.

  ‘Yeah, Mum’s making dinner,’ she said, cringing at the raw pride in her voice. Loving the feel of the words in her mouth.

  ‘That’s great,’ Doug said, and Tessa knew he meant it. He had been her mum’s staunchest supporter for so long, but in the last months even he’d begun to lose hope. Or it had seemed that way. Still, he kept vigil. Still, he helped her mum avoid jail – whether it was stopping her from driving drunk, or collecting Tessa when she was too young to be left alone. Still, he nodded when she’d refuse to press charges. But every time he’d retrieved Tessa from harm’s way, or guided her mum up their front steps, it was almost as though he was losing faith in life itself.

  And why not? she decided, as she crossed the street. Everyone had their limits. Doug’s tolerance had been higher than everyone else’s, for sure, but that didn’t mean it would last forever.

  Cradling her elbow, Tessa leans against the car door and gives it another shove. Nothing. She bites her lip, absorbs the pain, then shoves again.

  Nothing.

  She eases back against the seat, against Nick’s seat. Shakes her head.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he says quietly. But it’s not.

  She nods at the windscreen. It’s shattered in Nick’s corner, forming a jagged crack. ‘That way,’ she says, and scans the car for something she can use. Her backpack is tucked under her seat, crushed almost flat but protruding enough that she might be able to retrieve it. She clings to the seat to avoid falling onto Nick and reaches down as far as she can, her hand finding a white T-shirt she sleeps in. She pulls it out, tucks it into the waistband of her shorts, then digs again. It’s wet and slimy in her bag – something’s exploded. Her shampoo? Her toiletries bag is coated in thick goop and is difficult to grip. She withdraws her hand and decides instead to try to release the entire backpack. She tugs a couple of times, feels around when it doesn’t immediately come. One strap is caught on the seat runner. She frees it with fumbling fingers, then tries again. It loosens, but a mess of her belongings fall out as she drags it onto her lap. A can of hairspray tumbles to the floor and rolls under her seat.

  ‘Shit.’ Leaning down, she feels her way until her fingers find the edge of the can. She holds it up to show Nick, allowing herself a victorious smile.

  ‘That’ll work.’

  ‘It has to,’ she says grimly. The pain in her arm resumes its steady ache. She read somewhere that fear brings on adrenaline, and adrenaline acts as an anaesthetic. Whatever is helping her now, she’s grateful for it. As long as she avoids sudden movements, she thinks she can handle it. She shifts in her seat again, pushing towards the front of the cushion, lifts her hand to swing.

  ‘Wait!’ Nick’s voice cuts through her, and she knows what he’s going to say before he says it. ‘Your hand.’

  She nods and takes the T-shirt out of her shorts, but catches sight of Nick’s gash, the wound in his leg, open and glistening. ‘Can you wrap your leg?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He takes the T-shirt.

  ‘What about your hand?’

  ‘It looks worse than it is.’

  She digs into her backpack again and finds a small towel only partly covered in gunk and, with some difficulty, wraps it around her hand and the base of the hairspray can. It’s half falling off but is thick enough to work, she decides.

  ‘Be careful,’ Nick says.

  She braces against the dashboard, gathers her
self, then smashes the can against the remaining glass.

  The moment Tessa entered the fibro, she knew something had changed. The house was neat and clean, like it had been the past weeks, but there was a bunch of freshly cut flowers in a vase Tessa didn’t know they owned, brilliant in the centre of the hallstand. Blushing pink proteas, burgundy wattle and silvery gumnuts burst from the white ceramic vase. They looked professional, from a florist, but she recognised them all from the bushes at the far end of their backyard. The idea of her mum making something so beautiful out of the neglected, overgrown mess of their garden stole her breath away. She felt tipped over and confused.

  ‘Tessa! Is that you?’

  Who’d you think it was? She bit her lip, stifling the impulse. The anger she’d saved for the arsehole these past years seemed to spill out now whenever she saw her mum. She was tired by all the schoolwork, the study, and irritated by Yuki’s bullshit, but it was more than that too. Tessa sucked in air, shook off her anger. She’d do better. She’d promised herself she would.

  As she entered the kitchen, she stopped abruptly. In the middle of the table was a homemade chocolate cake. Rich, creamy icing coating two – or was it three? – layers, a ring of strawberries decorating the top, dollops of chocolate ganache around the base. A flush of shame crept over Tessa’s face. The icing was rough, lumpy in patches, but this only made Tessa feel worse, knowing how much effort her mum had put into it. ‘Looks good,’ she croaked.

  ‘We’re celebrating,’ her mum said, smiling shyly.

  Tessa’s heart skipped. ‘What are we celebrating?’

  Her mum’s face creased in delight. ‘I got a job!’ she squealed, and dashed across the kitchen.

  Tessa gasped. Laughed loud and unexpectedly. She let her mum embrace her for longer than she had in ages, let her mum cling to her until she couldn’t bear it another minute. Then she stepped back, a rush of questions threatening to tumble from her mouth – where? who? how? when? – but she needed to regain her composure first. She reminded herself what happened when she believed. ‘Congratulations.’