by Nicole Hayes
‘Konbanwa, Tess-chan. O-genki desu ka?’ Keiko said, bowing.
‘I’m fine, thanks. Hi, Yuke, Doug,’ Tessa said, before Keiko pulled her into a tight hug. She stood there, letting Yuki’s mum hold her longer than she let her own mother. ‘Where’s Mia?’
‘With a friend,’ Doug said. ‘We wanted an adult night out.’
‘Bummer you had to bring Yuki, then.’ Tessa grinned.
‘Hilarious,’ Yuki said.
Ellen came to the door, her expression a little shy, a little uncertain. Too many times when Keiko had reached out she’d told her to go, to leave them alone. Keiko had persisted for some time, but eventually the arsehole had stepped in. And Ellen had begged Keiko, with fear in her eyes, to please, please, please leave them alone.
And Keiko had, because how could she say no? How could anyone? Except Doug, who even the arsehole couldn’t intimidate.
Keiko smiled straight into Ellen’s eyes. ‘Otomodachi!’ All the layers in that one pleasantry, ‘my friend’, as broad and as thick as the smile beamed across her face.
Ellen leant into Keiko’s hug. ‘Thank you for coming.’ Relief in her voice.
‘Mochiron yo!’ Keiko said. Of course.
‘God, Mum. Lighten up, will you?’ Yuki rolled her eyes and, smiling, tucked her arm into Tessa’s so naturally that Tessa felt her feet almost lift off the ground.
The Frasers had been carrying her for so long that, still, even the sight of them made her feel lighter. And here, now, entering her home like a normal family, like normal friends, like they used to, before … everything. She had pictures in her mind of these people laughing in her lounge room, Doug clapping Tessa’s dad on the back. Keiko speaking ebulliently in Japanese–English, slipping from one language to another. Yuki cutting off her mum to interpret for Ellen, sharing an eye roll with Tessa, who hadn’t noticed, she’d been following Keiko’s musical bilingualism for as long as she could remember. Learning bits of Japanese without realising it. This all came back to Tessa in a wave of tenderness, erasing the tension she’d felt in the presence of the Kostases only moments before.
These people were home.
Tessa’s legs are heavy with exhaustion, her one good arm almost as painful from carrying the load as her injured one. They have slowed considerably, the scent of smoke still in the air but no thicker than before. The wind is steady and the sun is sinking and they’ve almost reached the boulders. She can see them ahead, enormous and imposing, and prays there’ll be a cave big enough for them to wait out the fire.
‘Almost there,’ Tessa says to Nick, her hand now gripping his as much for her own stability as to hurry him along. He keeps falling back, and she hates to ask more of him, but she has a renewed sense of urgency.
They approach the first of a series of boulders, some of them propped tall and high, others flatter, horizontal and piled end to end, like massive slabs of playdough. Tessa turns back to assess how far they’ve come, feels the change as the wind gusts in her face, the heat in the air –
The fire has reached their mountain.
‘Go!’ she cries.
Nick is already staggering forward, dragging his leg. She tugs on his hand and they stumble from rock to rock, scanning for a safe hiding spot. Her palms are sweaty and the air is hot and close. They squeeze through a narrow gap and push further into the forest of stones, the sky darkening with each new minute.
And then she sees it – a hollow, really, more than a cave. It’s a tight fit, but there’s a hole in the back, so air can travel through. It’s surrounded by rock and there’s barely a tree or grass for some distance.
‘I think we need to stop here,’ Tessa says, resting against the opening, letting Nick collapse into the space first. She wants to keep an eye on the fire for as long as she can, but it’s difficult from within the confines of the cave.
She ducks her head and crawls into the space beside Nick, the cool of the stone wall a blessed relief against her skin. She rests her head against his shoulder, sinking against him. The loamy smell is almost as overpowering as the dry, smoky air outside. It’s not much, but it’s the closest thing to a win they’ve had since they first made it out of the car.
And so they stay there, huddled together, hands clasped fiercely, curled up as small as they can make themselves, surrendering to whatever else the world is about to offer them, their hearts synchronised to a single, rapid beat.
Tessa topped up her mineral water and offered some to her mum.
Ellen nodded slowly, her gaze glancing off the wine bottle before settling back on Tessa and the mineral water. ‘Thanks, darling.’
Tessa blushed at the endearment, unused to hearing it without the thickness of alcohol blurring its meaning. She watched as her mum drank the mineral water Tessa poured, even as Mr Kostas blithely sipped at his wine. Felt the raw edge of pride.
Yuki’s mum and dad were drinking lemon, lime and bitters, and Nick’s mum wasn’t drinking anything at all. She’d fallen quiet since their earlier conversation, and Nick had barely spoken at all. The two of them sat in the corner, not offering anything beyond polite answers to questions someone else had asked. Tessa had tried twice to catch Nick’s attention, but the last time she’d shot him a questioning look, his expression had been stony. Tessa fought the urge to say something. Instead, she turned her attention away from him and the appalling idea that he was ashamed of her. And her mum.
She should have known.
By the time dessert was served, Tessa’s face ached with all the forced smiling. She’d relax only when she caught Yuki’s eyes, or Keiko’s, or when Doug made one of his terrible dad jokes, feeling the relief almost at the same moment she felt the weight of Nick’s silent brooding.
‘So, Nick,’ Ellen said, cutting through a particularly awkward break in conversation, ‘what are your plans for next year?’
Nick shifted uncomfortably. ‘Uni, I guess.’ He studied his slice of cheesecake, four ripe strawberries glistening beside it. ‘I’m not sure, really.’
‘We’ve talked about this, son,’ his dad said. He spoke to Ellen but his eyes remained fixed on Nick. ‘Medicine at Melbourne. Or Sydney.’ He lifted his wine glass, a kind of salute to his son. ‘That’s what he’s been working for. Isn’t it?’
Nick speared a strawberry with his fork, studied it briefly, then set it down uneaten. ‘That’s the current plan,’ he said, only then lifting his gaze to meet Tessa’s.
She could see the battle there, the indecision, and felt a familiar churning in her chest. He’d never mentioned Sydney before.
‘Whatever you choose, Nick,’ his mum weighed in, ‘I’m sure you’ll make it work.’
Nick breathed out noisily. ‘Which is code for “somewhere nearby”. Isn’t it, Mum?’
She lifted a shoulder, a half smile on her face. ‘Why travel far when you don’t need to? Best university in the country is a couple of hours away.’
Nick sat back. ‘That was great, Ellen. Really delicious. Thank you.’
‘Thank you, Nick. I’ve loved having you here,’ Ellen said carefully.
And everyone rushed to join in with the courtesies, all those things people say when they’re trying not to say something else, comments about Ellen’s delicious food, the lack of rain all spring, the relentless heat of the early summer, the lovely colours of the decor, the work Ellen’s done to the house, Tessa and Yuki’s plans for the summer, and Nick’s. Where the Kostases plan to take their next holiday, how much time they spend in Greece nowadays, how much Marina misses Cyprus. How different it is to the mainland. Yuki started talking about the film she wanted to make, the footage they were keen to get, how the light this time of year was perfect for what they wanted to do, while Tessa nodded at the right moments, smiled when called, stealing glances at Nick.
It was near to ten when Ellen saw them to the door, her smile faltering only the once, when Nick’s mum said something about doing it again sometime, at their house next, but it was so tiny, more a flicker than
a flinch, Tessa noted, before she said, ‘Yes, yes. That would be great.’
Doug and Keiko gripped Ellen in overlong hugs, and Yuki kissed Ellen on both cheeks, laughing as she did it, while Nick waited beside his mum, eyes downcast, his back turned to his dad.
‘So, all good for Friday, T?’ Yuki said.
‘Yep.’
‘Don’t be late. You know I hate that.’
‘See you at Lara’s at two.’
‘No excuses from you either, Nick.’ Yuki’s frown was jokey and exaggerated, but Tessa could sense her concern.
Maybe he’s going to bail on the trip. Maybe that’s why he’s being weird.
Nick nodded, his eyes falling to Tessa in question, though Tessa could only guess at what. ‘We’ll be there.’
Tessa was still smarting, could feel his judgement and shame. She didn’t know what she would do about it, but she couldn’t deal with it right then. So she kissed Yuki on the cheek, told her she’d see her Friday and turned her attention to Nick’s parents. They were talking to Ellen, alongside Keiko and Doug.
Nick caught her eye as she headed for his parents. ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ he asked. But he still couldn’t look at her steadily and seemed to have separated himself so completely from his mum and dad that she had to excuse herself from them before she could even answer his question.
‘I’m really tired. Talk tomorrow?’ Tessa could hear the cool in her voice, the restraint, an old familiar friend. The voice she’d retreated behind for the past few years whenever anyone attempted to befriend her.
Nick hesitated. ‘Um, sure.’
‘Thanks for coming,’ she said, loud enough to encompass everyone, ignoring the quizzical look in her mum’s eyes until the door was shut and the house empty.
They both headed back to the kitchen, Tessa aware of the question that seemed to hover between them. ‘I’ll clear up,’ she said, before her mum could ask. ‘You go to bed.’
‘I can do it,’ Ellen said, already running a platter under the faucet before slotting it into the dishwasher.
‘Really, I’m okay.’ She took the bowl her mum had begun rinsing and placed it on the top rack of the machine. She felt Ellen’s eyes on her, felt the guarded, careful query in the air. ‘It’s fine,’ Tessa said. ‘But I don’t feel like talking right now.’
‘Well, that’s a surprise,’ her mum quipped, and even Tessa had to smile at that.
‘I know, right? So out of character.’
Ellen placed a hand on her arm. ‘I’m not going to force it. I’m not.’
‘Good.’
‘But it doesn’t help to keep it inside. Whatever’s going on? You need to talk about it.’
‘Mum.’
‘I know, I know. I wouldn’t expect anyone to take advice from me.’
‘Actually, that’s bullshit,’ Tessa said, meaning it. ‘You know more than most.’
Ellen tilted her head, a tremulous smile on her lips. ‘And so do you. Though how I wish I could take it away.’
Tessa shrugged. ‘Hey, what doesn’t kill you …’
Her mum nodded, her hand still on Tessa’s arm, her gaze firm and steady. ‘You’ll be fine, Tess. Despite me and my mess. You’ll be fine.’
‘Of course I will,’ Tessa said, trying to lighten the tone. ‘Now, will you let me do these dishes?’ And before she could protest, Tessa leant in and kissed her mum’s cheek, surprising herself as much as Ellen. ‘Goodnight, Mum.’
For a long second her mum stood there. And then she squeezed Tessa’s arm and told her she’d see her in the morning.
When Tessa jolts awake, her first thought is that she can breathe. That the air is clearer. But when she reaches for Nick to report this, she realises, with a flash of white-hot pain, that her arm has fallen out of its sling. She almost blacks out right there. The pain is excruciating, even worse than when she first got out of the car.
She sees how completely it’s come loose from the joint, and a wave of nausea washes over her. She finds herself leaning to the side, vomiting bile onto the dirt. Her body shudders, her cheeks turn ice-cold, the sweat beading on her lip.
‘Nick?’ She peers outside, but it must be later than she thinks.
He appears in the entrance then, more a shape in the gloom than a recognisable face. ‘You don’t look so good.’
She wants to shake her head, no, but even that small gesture seems beyond her right now; nausea has weakened her limbs, leaving her dizzy and confused.
‘You need to drink.’ And then the bottle is in her hands, and she is sipping cautiously, not convinced it will stay in her gut long enough to make a difference. She stops, tries to cap the lid, but Nick shakes his head. ‘Have more.’
‘I can’t. We have to save it.’
‘It’s more important now,’ he says, and she knows he means because there might not be a later. She knows this as surely as she understands why neither of them will say it.
She sips again and again, and then she can hardly hold the bottle and has to steady her hand against her chest to stop it from shaking so much that the last of the water spills. The nausea passes, and although the pain in her shoulder continues unabated, it’s less sharp than it is dull. But she knows she has to do something about it. She takes her left hand in her right one, braces herself, then lifts it above her, clenching her teeth against the flash of hot pain, braces again and then swivels it backwards until she feels a sickly thunk –
And then she’s on the ground, blinking, black splodges before her eyes. Did she pass out again?
She sits up unsteadily, her stomach roiling, her good hand clutching at the wall to stop the world from spinning. Her left arm aches, dully, but it’s in place. She can barely lift it much beyond waist height, but she can stretch her fingers, form a fist. If her stomach would stop doing backflips she’d be good to go.
‘Nice party trick,’ Nick says, hovering over her, worry in his eyes.
Tessa smiles grimly. ‘All the boys love it.’
The sky seemed almost to reel, as if it knew the world would be forever tilted once she went through that door. She hesitated, knew it for the warning it was. But the sound urged her forward, the awful groan of the rafters like an ancient rusted swing, back and forth, back, forth.
She moved through the door, squinting into the light, her eyes taking seconds to adjust. Dust motes danced in the pool of golden light, kissing the edge of the cluttered workbench. Shadows crouched in the corners, drawing her focus to the back of the shed, where she saw him.
‘Daddy! Daddy!’ She awoke calling his name, clutching at the bedsheets, her voice hoarse as though she’d been yelling for some time. She clambered out of the bed, the horror of that image sharp in her mind, impossible to unsee, etched there like stone.
She hurried to the bedroom door, called out for her mum, but the house was silent, and she remembered her mum was working, wondered then what time it must be. How long she’d slept. She checked her phone and saw messages from Yuki and Nick.
Tessa wandered through the house, taking deep breaths. She needed a shower. Fresh air. Anything but this mindless pacing.
She stopped outside her studio, felt the draw she always felt whenever she smelled the paint, the varnish, the stuff that she’d come to love, that had meant childhood, the happy kind. Or happier, anyway, because she knew it couldn’t have been perfect, but when her dad painted, when they lived in Melbourne, before Gran died, everything had been fine. Everything.
She stood at the canvas, that wintry sky now the shape of her dreams, not just an image or a feeling but a memory. An unfinished one. She selected three tubes of paint and began mixing. When she was satisfied, she picked up a fine brush and touched paint to canvas. Slowly, those dull colours deepened under her hand, the insipid light thickened with something steadier. Fuller.
Like a wound, it had to be given air. Time to heal. She stared at the canvas, feeling the weight of the colours press in. The gap in the painting was no longer empty, the paint livin
g and breathing, filling the space with the difficult truth.
The sun had shone so relentlessly that day. She remembered that. How odd and cheerful it had seemed that morning, only hours before she’d entered the shed. Then she had stepped through the doorway and the walls felt like they were moving towards her, the shadows looming around the golden puddle of light, like living things, guarding her dad.
And she had known in that instant he was dead.
The ground beneath her feet shifted. Every noise heightened and amplified, every motion forced and somehow removed from her. She felt herself looking down on them – on her own body and on his.
And then the plummeting feeling, the reconnection with her self, as she had taken in his contorted face. If she hadn’t been paralysed by shock, she would have believed him to be someone else. A stranger. He’d looked smaller despite hanging high above her. Smaller than the man she’d known. The person he once was.
Her eyes had been drawn to the nylon cord first. How it swung like a pendulum, the weight of the body straining it as it creaked and groaned against the iron rafters.
And still the sun beat on.
The memories were blurred and tinged with darkness, gaps she couldn’t explain. She’d blocked out so many parts of that day for too many years. She didn’t know if she could trust herself even now, when she tried to recall it. Conjuring this picture in the most basic detail had drawn on her in unimaginable ways. She’d felt pulled down and burdened by it as though she’d strapped a suitcase to her back. And yet, in the process of capturing the moment on canvas, the colours wove a new truth – that this was something she could free herself from if only she could face it.
She turned away from the painting, the darkness of the image suddenly shocking. She couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.
Tessa draped the tarp over the canvas, and gently lifted it from the easel and carried it outside. The shed door was still propped where she’d left it, not quite open, not quite closed. She set the painting down against the hot tin wall, and shoved the door free. When it was wide enough to slip inside, she took the painting, careful not to trip over the trailing tarp, and went inside, heading straight for the shelves at the back.