A Shadow's Breath

by Nicole Hayes

  Except.

  It was the first summer in years that she’d been looking forward to, but what would it mean without Yuki? Knowing she was at the beach with her new friends, while Tessa was stuck in Carrima. Could she do it?

  But what if she went and they all ignored her? Yuki would feel obligated to take care of her. Resenting her, too, for holding her back. Always holding her back. Would everyone make jokes about Tessa’s drinking – or not drinking? About how she should be good at it, given how much of a pro her mum was? Her mind instantly went back to the fete – the hot shame, the relentless taunts that followed. Could she expose herself like that again?

  ‘Nick’s keen,’ Lara added. ‘Last time we spoke.’

  Zane brought their drinks, buying Tessa some time. She stirred her coffee, adding a sugar, then stirred some more. Nick hadn’t said anything to her either. And anyway, did she want to be there with Nick and Lara acting like besties? Right in her face? It was bad enough he’d be heading off to uni in a couple of months. Although he wasn’t moving far, she reminded herself, she had to plan for this reality. Had to find a way to fill the space. Here was a friendship being offered, or the possibility of one. ‘I, um. I’ll see. I have to check with … my mum.’

  ‘That would be great,’ Lara said, triumphant.

  And Yuki nodded at Tessa, a tight smile that told her nothing but hinted at something more, before diving into her sandwich and not looking up again.

  Tessa and Nick sit on the bank, soaking wet, their legs sprawled, their clothes clinging to them, heavy with river water. They have filled and emptied the water bottle twice already, and Tessa would have drunk more if a sudden rush of nausea hadn’t struck her. She was careful to take small, steady sips after that.

  ‘We should leave soon,’ she says into the restful quiet, but doesn’t move. Not yet. She’s reluctant to break the spell that has brought them back together.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll last out here. Alone.’

  ‘But you don’t want to go back either.’

  Tessa crosses her feet, drawing her knees to her chest. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Yes, you can.’

  ‘It’s easy for you to say! You don’t have to go back! Everything’s different for you. Everything!’ Her whole body shudders. ‘I can’t do it alone. Don’t you understand that?’

  ‘You don’t have to be alone.’

  ‘Might as well be.’

  ‘You need to fix it. Go home. Talk to your mum.’

  ‘I don’t need to talk to anyone. Least of all her.’ Her shoulders feel like balls of muscle, coiled so tight it hurts to move. So when Nick touches her arm with a gentle hand, she’s surprised at how good it feels. How much she wants to whisper her sorry and lean against his chest with his arms around her again and wait for the world to find them. Or not. Just stay here together and let the world do what it must do.

  ‘I can’t make you,’ he says, as though she thinks he can.

  She shakes her head, her hair nearly dry in the hot sun. She stands gingerly, the wobble of her legs not entirely gone, but at least they hold her as she wades into the river again, dunking herself in its cool flow. She pushes her hair off her face so it hangs wet and cold against her neck. Every fibre of her being begs her to stay near the river. To follow its length as far as it goes, knowing that there will be life – and help – eventually.

  ‘We need to get going,’ she says to Nick, cupping water in her one hand and splashing her face. It runs down her chin. She licks her lips – another jolt of energy just at the taste of it.

  Nick shrugs sadly. ‘That’s it, then?’

  ‘Let it go. Okay?’

  Nick’s face swims before her. The thin line of his mouth the only part unmoved. ‘So. Which way?’

  Tessa breathes in. Logistics. Good. That’s what matters right now. Practicalities. Things they can do. Things they can fix. ‘It could take days if we follow the river. And we don’t have days.’ She stares at him evenly. ‘Do we.’

  ‘No.’

  She straightens the sling under her elbow. ‘We have to head for the road,’ she says, and nods towards the thickening bushland.

  ‘Are you sure? What about the fire?’

  Tessa hesitates. She’s not sure of anything right now. Definitely not this. She climbs up the bank, takes a moment to remove her shoes and socks, wrings them out, shakes them off, before slipping them back on again.

  ‘Tessa?’

  She picks up her backpack. ‘I’m sure,’ she says, with only a brief, backward glance at the river before she pushes her way back into the bush.

  ‘Yuke!’ Tessa hurried after her friend along the quiet street. A break in Yuki’s stride the only indication that she had heard. Tessa drew up beside her. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey.’ Yuki slowed but continued walking.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Tessa tried to keep her tone light but uncertainty fluttered in her chest. This unexpected awkwardness between them, the weird, distant looks. Usually, when Tessa and Yuki argued the whole world knew about it. It was loud and embarrassing, but it was always, always clear.

  ‘Yeah. Why?’

  Tessa stood still, reaching for Yuki’s arm.

  Yuki stopped. Lifted an eyebrow. ‘What, Tess? What’s the problem now?’

  The flutter in Tessa’s chest turned into full-blown dread. ‘Is it about the trip? Do you want me to go or not?’ Tessa heard the tremor in her voice, hating it.

  Yuki sighed. ‘Go. Don’t go. What do you want to do?’

  Tessa sucked in air, shocked by the bitterness in Yuki’s voice. ‘I don’t …’

  ‘Know? You don’t know?’ Yuki exhaled loudly.

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ Tessa snapped.

  Yuki stared at her, scanning her face as if looking for the right words. ‘The truth, maybe?’

  ‘I never lie to you, Yuke.’

  Yuki’s shoulders sagged, and she continued walking, but slowly. ‘I know, Tess. I do.’

  Tessa stayed in step close by, wishing she could fix this. ‘Then what? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I get it, Tess. I get that all this is new to you. I know why, and I understand too.’ Yuki stopped this time, and it was Tessa who was tempted to keep walking. But they were outside the Fraser house now. There was nowhere to go.

  ‘Tell me, Yuke. Please?’

  ‘It’s a trip away with friends. It shouldn’t be so complicated. But with you?’ Yuki studied her feet, then met Tessa’s gaze. ‘Why does everything always have to be so hard?’

  Tessa blinked. Good question. ‘I don’t … I don’t want to impose.’

  ‘Since when has that bothered you?’

  Tessa stepped back as though struck.

  ‘I didn’t mean that …’

  But Tessa halted her with her hand. She took in the Frasers’ neatly mown lawn, the driveway swept free of leaves, Keiko’s and Doug’s cars parked beside each other, noses lined up almost to match. Everything where it belonged –

  Except when Tessa came along and messed things up.

  She shook her head. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘No. Really. You should come. They’re just normal people, Tess. They’re not special or scary. They’re just like us.’

  Tessa nodded, the words sticking in her throat, but echoing in her mind: No one’s like me. Not even you.

  Yuki placed her hands on Tessa’s shoulders, eyed her steadily. ‘Don’t get weird on me. I didn’t mean what I said. It’s just been a big year. You know? I’m over it. We’re all over it.’

  Tessa stood perfectly still, Yuki’s hands seeming almost to burn through her clothes.

  ‘We all right?’

  ‘Yeah. Always.’

  ‘Tess?’

  ‘It’s fine. I’m fine.’

  Yuki nodded, and headed across the Frasers’ lawn.

  Tessa watched her friend disappear into her house, the familiar shape of the oak-panelled door, the glimpse of the hallstand that still he
ld one of Tessa’s jackets, the walls containing bits of Tessa and her life gathered over the years. Bits of her that no one else saw or knew except Yuki and her mum and dad. Secret and safe but suddenly, painfully, out of reach.

  Ms Bainbridge whacked the window-box air conditioner above her desk, cursing under her breath as she made contact. The system coughed and spluttered, then fell silent.

  ‘God. What I’d give for proper air conditioning! I mean, I know it sounds indulgent, given it only hits the low forties a few times a week, but seriously. Public Education. Am I right?’

  Tessa had no idea. Or she did, but had nothing to compare it to. School was school. Bland cinder-block walls. Grey lino floor in the hallways. Scratched whiteboard. Louvred windows. Hot in summer. Freezing in winter. Boring all year. Was it different at private schools?

  Ms Bainbridge glared at the AC once more before she took her seat beside Tessa, turning towards her – a favourite trick to help Tessa relax and open up. A trick that Tessa was determined not to fall for every session, but sometimes, embarrassingly, did.

  ‘So. Thanks for coming.’

  ‘I’m not sure why you asked me to come back,’ Tessa said quietly, meeting the woman’s eyes with a confidence she seemed to have borrowed from someone else. ‘I’m okay now,’ Tessa added, provoking a raised eyebrow. ‘I am.’

  Ms Bainbridge nodded. ‘You seem to be doing great. Making friends too.’ She cocked her head towards the doorway, presumably indicating her art class the day before. ‘Good on you.’

  Tessa’s eyes dropped to the floor. She was proud of herself, but wasn’t going to let the school counsellor see that. ‘So why am I here?’

  Ms Bainbridge smiled, ran her fingers through her hair, so short it barely moved, and leant forward. ‘I’m not sure you believe it.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Tessa didn’t try to soften the edge to her voice, the heat in her cheeks only making her angrier. Yuki’s words from the day before echoing still.

  Ms Bainbridge laughed shortly, but it came out almost as a grunt. ‘I’m not sure myself. You’re probably right.’ She took Tessa’s file from her desk and held it on her lap. ‘It’s just something you said that won’t leave me alone.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A while ago. Maybe last month?’ Her voice was a question as she opened the file and scanned her notes. Tessa shifted on her seat, hating the notes almost as much as she hated the curiosity that plagued her whenever Ms Bainbridge brought them out. ‘We were talking about your dad,’ Ms Bainbridge said, lifting her gaze to meet Tessa’s. ‘And you said: “Mum started drinking when my dad left.”’ Ms Bainbridge looked up. ‘What did you meant by that?’

  ‘By what? She drank like normal people before.’

  ‘Right, right. I get that bit. But you said when your dad left.’

  Tessa sat back. Crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. Felt a cavernous fear in her chest hollowing her out. Gnawing and chewing without taking a breath. ‘I meant “died” – obviously. When he died.’

  Ms Bainbridge nodded but didn’t look away.

  A muscle twitched in Tessa’s jaw. ‘It’s just a word.’

  ‘Right. Fair enough.’

  Tessa stood up, avoiding eye contact, stalling while she got herself together. ‘Are we done?’

  Ms Bainbridge stood up too, those long, tangly legs and the thin, marathon runners’ arms imposing and brittle at the same time. ‘I just want you to know that I’m here. You’re almost done with school, the holidays are coming up, et cetera, but if you need me – or anyone to talk to – I’m here.’ She handed Tessa a card with a mobile number scrawled on it.

  Tessa frowned. ‘Are you allowed to hand this out?’

  Ms Bainbridge laughed. ‘Allowed? Sure. Recommended? No.’

  ‘I must be really fucked up.’

  Ms Bainbridge shook her head, grinning. ‘Not at all.’

  She saw herself then, her arms crossed, the scowl in place, how she’d put space between them the first chance she could. This was what Yuki was talking about. This was what was driving her away. Would drive Nick away too, if she let it. She took a deep breath and let her arms hang loose by her sides. ‘Mum’s not drinking anymore.’ It was the first time she’d said it out loud – the first time she’d really felt like she could. It was stupid because Ms Bainbridge almost certainly knew. Everyone knew. But they were words she’d wanted to say for so long.

  Ms Bainbridge’s smile was warm and real. ‘That’s great, Tessa. Really good news.’

  Tessa blushed, feeling both proud of her mum, but also a little like she’d somehow betrayed her. She stared at the card and thought of Yuki. How much she’d done, how much had been asked of her.

  ‘The thing is,’ Ms Bainbridge said slowly, ‘it’s a particularly difficult time, in cases of … family violence.’

  Tessa blanched. Family violence. No one had been brave enough to use that term, given there were no charges, no evidence. The alcohol was clear, the drinking obvious, but what happened when they got drunk? That almost always happened at home, amid the chaos of their drunken parties, or after the pub, when no one else was there except Tessa. And she’d never said a word – her mum had begged her not to.

  Tessa felt a heaviness in her chest. Her mum had promised it was over. ‘No. It’s just us now.’

  ‘Good.’ Ms Bainbridge hesitated. ‘I’m sure you won’t need me. But, you know, I’m here if you just want to talk.’

  Tessa wanted to get out of there. She wanted to find Yuki. Tell her she got it. That she understood. She looked at the clock above the door: three hours before she could leave Carrima High behind – at least for the summer. Three hours. She took the card, sliding it into the pocket of her black denim shorts. ‘I, um … Thank you.’

  Ms Bainbridge smiled. ‘You’re welcome, Tess. Have a great summer.’

  And for the first time in a long time, Tessa believed she might.

  Tessa looks up at the sky. The sun is low in the west but hotter than it was in the middle of the day. The trek ahead is rocky and sloping. Ancient boulders rest one atop the other – red, ochre and yellow – cascading down the mountainside like the pins of some giant bowling alley.

  She stops walking and stretches her aching back. They’ll need more water than if they waited for the cooler morning sun. ‘I think we should rest. Let’s find shelter – a cave maybe – and get some sleep, then head out early morning.’

  ‘What about the fire?’

  ‘Yeah. We should check.’ She scans the area and spots a good vantage point a little behind them – a large boulder resting against the rugged mountain face, a cluster of rocks offering footholds for her to climb. At the top it takes her a moment to orientate herself, but then she spies the fire, now a wide arc of billowing smoke but still distant and heading uphill in the opposite direction. As long as it continues that way, they’ll be okay.

  Around her, the land falls away dramatically, great sweeping tracts of rock and scrub in every direction. And mountains that go on as far as she can see. From this angle, she thinks, it probably looks much like it did a thousand years ago. Ten thousand years ago. The idea is suffocating, and she feels suddenly very small. Irrelevant. Like she might never have existed at all.

  Focus.

  They don’t have a lot of time. They have to find the fastest way, even if it isn’t the safest. It can’t be too far to the road, but the trek in that direction is difficult. At the rate they’re moving, it’s unlikely they’ll get there before dark. And no one will see them then.

  The idea robs Tessa of breath. The night. Staying here like this, thirsty, hungry, exposed. What if she doesn’t wake up? What if Nick doesn’t? She’s pretty sure she’s concussed, the struggle to stay conscious when she first woke up a good indicator. Nick too. They say not to sleep, don’t they? But if they don’t, they’ll pass out from the heat. Or dehydration. Better to stop and keep an eye on each other. Rest while it can still do them some good.

  Tessa leads the w
ay down the rocky slope. The path is narrow and steep, scattered with patches of shade from crevices of varying size cut into the cliff. They just need to find one big enough for them both to rest in, out of the sun. She begins to regret her decision to leave the river, remembers the delicious feel of the icy water on her skin, against her cheeks. Beneath a rocky overhang they find a broad patch of shade, cool enough for grass to have grown and spread outwards, edged by bushland and tall, straggly trees.

  ‘Here,’ Tessa says. ‘This looks good.’

  Nick nods and starts to sit but collapses instead, his knees buckling beneath him. Tessa gasps, reaches for him, feels her own knees wobble at the same time and plonks down limply beside him. The shimmery heat casts a surreal glow around Nick and everything Tessa sees. They waited too long. Dry, retching nausea overwhelms her, but her body can produce only the thinnest of dribbles as she vomits into a crack between a cluster of rocks. Her throat burns as she retches over and over. She drags herself back to the shade of the overhang.

  Nick eyes her worriedly. ‘You rest first.’

  Tessa shakes her head, trying to protest, but pain splits her skull almost in half and black spots appear before her eyes.

  ‘Please,’ Nick says. ‘I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.’

  Defeated, Tessa nods. She curls up on the hard ground, the soft grass a welcome relief, no longer able to fend off sleep.

  Tessa stood at the top of the steps outside Carrima High, felt the rays of the afternoon sun warm her arms, letting the moment sit with her. The thronging crowd of students were escaping the growing heat, rushing off to gather at the Eastern Creek swimming hole or backyard pools, or to smoke under the bridge by the river, where they’d stashed warm beer or their dad’s forgotten whiskey.

  It was summer. Anything was possible.

  Tessa looked up, shielding the glare with her hand. That cloud-streaked blue, vast and beautiful. The feeling of dread the holidays usually brought her fading into something more containable. For small snatches it disappears altogether.