The Waves Burn Bright

by Iain Maloney

  ‘We’re not there yet.’ The Professor was already metres ahead of me moving across the caldera on a deliberate path. For the second time I had to jog to catch up. It was obvious I shouldn’t speak. We walked across the vast rock lake. I could almost be walking on the back of a dragon, so scale-like were the cracked plates. When we seemed roughly in the centre of the caldera, Professor Lau stopped, placed her bag down and began pulling things out of it. I wanted to offer to help but it felt like intruding. I put my own pack down and sat on the crater floor, running my hands over petrified lava.

  Candles. She had big church candles, the size of two food cans one on top of the other. She lit each one with matches, managing two, sometimes three before the match burned down or blew out. She struck ten matches. Once the candles were lit she placed them in a wide circle around us. I felt maybe I should retreat and leave her alone with whatever ceremony she was about to perform, but she’d asked me to come, in fact she’d demanded it of Professor Seung, and I was already within the burning circumference. Whatever was going on, she wanted me to be part of it.

  Once the circle was complete she came over and sat cross-legged in front of me. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said with a small laugh, ‘I’m not going to sacrifice you to Pele or anything like that. You’ve read my book?’

  ‘Many times.’

  ‘What happened on June first, nineteen fifty?’

  ‘God, I remember. I’m sorry.’ Today was the first of June. Fifty-three years ago Mauna Loa erupted. Professor Lau’s parents had died while trying to evacuate. The Professor had been four years old and was carried to safety by her grandmother.

  ‘Every year, assuming Loa is sleeping, I come up here at night – the eruption began during the night – and pray for them.’

  ‘I’m sorry Professor, but I feel like I’m intruding. Maybe I should—’

  ‘No, I want you here. I did a bit of research into you.’

  ‘Into me?’

  ‘Don’t worry, not spying or anything. Papers, posts, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes, you’re thinking what has this got to do with that. There was another Scottish geologist called Fraser came up in the results.’

  ‘My father.’

  ‘I met him once.’

  It took a moment to process. Professor Lau and my father, in the same room? ‘He never mentioned it.’

  ‘He wouldn’t remember me. Indeed I didn’t remember him. It was when we were both postgrads. He delivered a paper and I was on after him. We exchanged a few words and that was that. I’d even forgotten about the conference but it all came back when I saw his name.’ She paused. ‘We’re not at work. I’m not your boss. You can tell me to fuck off.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I saw what happened. He survived Piper Alpha but it broke up your family. I…’ I’d never seen her so hesitant. She seemed to have shrunk. ‘I thought you might get something out of this.’

  I had to breathe. I counted to ten. ‘I… thank you, but… my parents aren’t… aren’t dead. It wouldn’t be appropriate to intrude on your memorial.’

  ‘If you wish to leave, I’ll take no offence, but I said, I want you here. I have no parents. I have no children. The last of my family died with my grandmother. When I come here, when I sit under the stars in this place of destruction and creation, I am communing with my family. In one month it will be fifteen years since Piper Alpha. It’s fifty-three years since my night. One night, for each of us, changed everything. Up here, I acknowledge that. Then tomorrow I go back to work.’

  ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘Nothing. Sit. Listen to the mountain. Listen to the stars. Just sit.’

  I forced myself. If she thought I had some mental scars that sitting on Mauna Loa surrounded by candles would magically heal, then fine. I could humour her.

  So we sat. Smooth as the ground was compared with outside the caldera, it was still rock. Soon my bum started to hurt, and I began to shift around. It was a warm night, so I took my jumper off, folded it up and pushed it under me. How long did she intend to sit there? What did she expect me to get out of this? Mourning dead parents was one thing, but mourning living parents – that was daft. Dad was still there, in Aberdeen, in God knows what kind of self-inflicted state. Hannah had moved to France with Frank Carpenter. I hadn’t gone to her wedding and hadn’t met my step-brother and step-sister. She didn’t need me. I didn’t need her. We didn’t even share a name anymore.

  Fifteen years. 1988 to 2003. There’d be a service in St Nicholas Kirk, something in Hazelhead Park at the memorial statue. Fifteen years. One hundred and sixty-seven dead. One hundred and sixty-five from Piper Alpha and two from the rescue vessel. Their families would be looking at the calendar, July again, steeling themselves, getting ready for the wave of grief they knew was coming, the upsurge of pain the anniversary brought. Would some stay away? Dad wouldn’t go. He never went. But were there other survivors who, fifteen years later, still couldn’t… what? Couldn’t cope? Couldn’t move on? Professor Lau was right. Those nights were fixed points, event horizons.

  The tears came, silently at first, my face wet before I realised it. Then more and more, sobs, my palms slamming onto the rock, the volcano, the caldera. I wanted to see him. His email. He was getting married again. It was time to go home.

  It was time.

  We hugged each other, Professor Lau and I, both tear-stained under the stars. Thanked each other. Blew the candles out one by one, wrapped them in plastic bags and put them back in the professor’s pack, scaled the sides of the caldera in the creeping dawn and made our way along the rocky path home.

  The weeks passed, the night shifts continued and I didn’t see Professor Lau again. June moved into July and the field work was done. The long-term readings could be trusted to continue mechanically without anyone watching over them. Everyone was back in Honolulu analysing data and imbibing caffeine. Beth and I were put in a flat together. I shrugged at the news but Beth brought the issue up with Professor Seung while I was in the room.

  ‘If it’s all the same with you, Professor, I’d rather make alternative arrangements.’

  ‘Well it isn’t all the same with me. I told you two to sort this out.’

  ‘I’ve tried,’ she said, which was news to me. Ben Seung looked at me. I shrugged.

  ‘What’s the problem, Caroline?’ he asked.

  ‘No problem, Professor. I’ve got no problem with the arrangements.’

  ‘I bet you haven’t,’ said Beth.

  You see, I said silently.

  ‘Doctor Osbourne, do you have a specific objection to Doctor Fraser?’

  ‘We are incompatible as room mates.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘A difference of outlook.’

  I could’ve watched her squirm all day, but I had other things to do. ‘Beth learned that I am bisexual. She has a problem with that. I think. She hasn’t spoken to me since she found out so I don’t really know. I can only assume that’s what the problem is and that she thinks it might be contagious and therefore doesn’t want to be near me. Or maybe she thinks I’m going to jump on her in the night. You’d have to ask her.’

  ‘Beth?’

  She wasn’t stupid. She knew any admission of prejudice would make its way back through the grapevine to her department. ‘I have no problem with Doctor Fraser’s lifestyle choice.’

  ‘Fine. That’s decided then.’

  I thought about changing my flight home so we wouldn’t have to fly together, but then thought, why bother? She was the one with the problem. At least we had separate bedrooms. A lot of American universities went for sharing in a big way.

  The results were flowing in, everything working as predicted, more or less. I had to write a report for the department and for the funding body in order to justify the time away and the money spent, what I’d learned and how I could use it to benefit Otago. I was sketching it out on an A4 pad when my phone bleeped.

  Remember me? I’ll be back in Hawaii ne
xt week. Hilo or Honolulu?

  Adrenaline like a flame shot through me, warmth and energy. Had I been looking forward to this that much?

  Have you ever seen Kilauea?

  No. Show me. See you there, xx.

  The intimate casualness of it. Two kisses. What could I say back? Ok. Looking forward to fucking you.

  The curse of Gregor Mendel: some things run in the family.

  I put the phone away and went back to the notepad. Mapping the volcanoes in the North Island of New Zealand could provide the basis for a number of PhDs. My green pen flying across the lined paper, ideas unspooling from my mind, images of magma chambers, subterranean plumbing stretching out under the majestic New Zealand landscape, out under the oceans, down towards the core.

  Was I that easy to please?

  I needed a break so I changed into my running gear and set off through campus, down East-West Road onto Dole Street, left onto St Louis Drive and followed its meandering route to Peter Street, Ruth Place and up onto the Wa’ahila Ridge Trail. I’d found this place on one of my many runs since we were recalled. The wide paths and tree cover were perfect for summer jogging. I ran every morning, used the university gym at lunchtime and took a long walk after dinner, but I missed the big island and my campsite. The university was inland and, though vital and verdant, was too built up for my tastes.

  When I was young I thought exercise helped me forget. The concentration, the effort pushing the negatives aside. Now I realised it distracted the conscious enough to let the subconscious do what it’s good at: sorting and filtering.

  As my steps kicked up dry dirt and twigs lay snapped in my wake, the white noise of my mind settled into a snowfall, then steady calm.

  Dad’s email, the wedding in December. It was time to go home. Not just Dunedin. Scotland. It was time.

  On the way back through campus Professor Lau spotted me, called me over.

  ‘How are you getting on?’

  ‘Good, Professor, thanks. Kind of winding down really.’

  We walked along the paths between departments, mostly empty with the students on holiday. I’d spent more of my university life as a student than as staff, and the spirit of a campus for me was still young people with bags and books sauntering from class to library, crowding green spaces when it was warm, crushed into stairwells to hide from bad weather. Without them campus felt hollow.

  ‘Are you looking forward to getting back?’ I hesitated too long. ‘No? I thought you liked Otago.’

  ‘Just some personal issues I’ll have to deal with.’

  ‘We all have those. Have you enjoyed your time in Hawaii?’

  ‘I’ll be sorry to leave.’

  ‘You’ll have to come back and visit us sometime.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  Ash arrived Friday afternoon and we spoke briefly on the phone. Hilo didn’t have much in the way of hotels so she rented a one-bedroom villa between the town and Kilauea, set back in a lush forest of palms and ferns, but because of work I couldn’t island-hop until the next morning. I arranged to be there for breakfast.

  It was her first time on the big island, so I offered to drive her around, show her the sights. As I went to meet her, the old Toyota rattled down the dirt track, the chassis skiffing the grass strip in the middle of the road. I could almost feel the forest hold its breath as it coughed past. The trees fell back and the villa appeared in a teardrop-shaped clearing. I shook to a stop in what looked like the most unobtrusive spot. Ash was sitting outside in one of four wicker chairs at a round marble table with a pot of coffee, plates of fruit, pancakes, eggs, bacon, a basket of bread and a jug of fruit juice.

  ‘I didn’t know what you’d want so I ordered everything.’ How to greet her? Like an interpretive dance portraying ‘awkwardness’, we half-hugged, kissed a bit of cheek, a corner of mouth. Her smell, coconut milk. ‘Sit. Eat.’

  ‘You look good,’ I said. ‘How was the flight?’

  ‘Long. Not bad. I don’t let myself complain about air travel.’

  ‘I’d imagine not in business class.’ I took a rasher of bacon, a bit of focaccia, slices of pineapple, poured some juice.

  ‘It’s not that. I pay for that, so it’s not like it’s a luxury.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay, it is a luxury but not a gift. No, I mean air travel itself is a luxury. Being able to get on a plane in New York and a few hours later be in Hawaii.’

  ‘How long is the flight?’

  ‘About twelve hours including the change.’

  ‘Not bad for an entire continent and half an ocean.’

  ‘One hundred years ago that would’ve taken months. It drives me mad when I hear someone bitching that their flight is thirty minutes late, like thirty minutes is such an inconvenience.’

  ‘Still, it’s a long way for a weekend.’

  ‘A week.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve got the week off?’

  ‘No, but I’ve got phones and the internet and a bag full of papers.’ My face must have betrayed me. ‘Is that okay with you?’

  ‘Okay? No, it’s… I mean yes, it’s just I leave on Tuesday.’

  ‘Project done?’

  ‘My part in it.’

  ‘Well, that gives us four days.’

  ‘Three and a half.’

  ‘You’re a glass half-empty girl.’

  ‘I try not to be.’

  ‘Pessimism’s good if it motivates you.’

  I finished off my breakfast and Ash drained the coffee pot, which must have held at least a litre, if not more. ‘You never drink coffee?’ she asked.

  ‘It really messes with my sleep cycles.’

  ‘That’s the point. I couldn’t survive without it.’

  ‘Sounds like an addiction.’ It came out harder than I meant, a tone of accusation that crept in. She cocked her head and looked at me. I couldn’t meet her eye.

  ‘You might be right,’ she said after a pause. ‘But if you’d had the week I’ve had, you’d need a caffeine kick in the ass.’

  ‘Sorry. Work?’

  ‘Yeah. Not talking about it.’

  ‘Secret?’

  ‘Depressing. So. Are you going to show me this island?’

  ‘You’ll need some sturdy shoes.’

  ‘I thought I might.’

  The villa was only a ten minute drive from the Kilauea Visitor Centre so we started there. As it was a Saturday, it was pretty busy inside so I quickly said hi to Gillian and some of the others, told them if they saw two strange people in the restricted zone, one of them would be me. Ash didn’t seem too disappointed at not seeing the displays, but then we were going to see the real thing, and from much closer than the tourists. We set off down the trail, my pack full of water and fruit I’d pinched from her villa.

  ‘Kilauea is a shield volcano. They look a bit like a warrior’s shield lying on the ground.’

  ‘I was just thinking that.’

  ‘They’re built up mainly of lava, rather than being mountainous like stratovolcanoes. This one is the most active volcano on Hawaii and the second youngest. It has a caldera at the summit and two rift zones heading out that way and that.’ She followed my finger east and west. ‘You’ll notice that this direction is like a desert but when we were driving up it was all lush and green. That’s because sulphur dioxide can cause acid rain. This is known as the Ka’ū Desert. There’s a campsite over there where I camped for a few weeks. It’s really beautiful. Peaceful.’ We turned off the main trail directly towards the Halemaumau Crater. ‘Where we’re going is Pele’s home. Do you know Pele?’

  ‘Personally?’

  ‘I mean have you heard of her?’

  ‘Just the tourist stuff.’

  ‘Well Pele was—’

  ‘Carrie?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you going to lecture all day?’

  ‘Sorry, I thought…’

  ‘You switched into teacher mode there.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Hey.’ She grabbed my shoulder
s and turned me towards her, took my head between her hands, palms soft on my cheeks, fingertips gliding over my ears, and kissed me. I kissed her back, the anger at myself, the hurt melted.

  ‘Sorry, I—’ Kissing again, silenced by her tongue, the scent of coconut, the fine strands of her hair rolled under my thumb. ‘Point taken.’

  A barrier crossed. We held hands as we climbed the gentle slope, the kilometres of piping underneath us thrumming with gallons of molten rock, vibrations rolling up through our legs, caressing our bodies, a current passing through our clasped palms. We sat on the ground, the rocks too jagged, sipped water, scanned the horizon. From that angle we were alone in the world, a low ridge hiding us from the viewpoint. I breathed the air, filtered earth through my fingers. ‘I don’t want to leave.’

  ‘Hawaii?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘No one does. I never do. But that’s what makes coming back sweeter.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Are there any jobs open?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t checked.’ Why not? It was obvious. I’d always wanted to work in Hawaii. Professor Lau knew me, knew my work. I’d been in Otago long enough that jumping ship wouldn’t be too much of a surprise. ‘I will though.’

  I leaned towards her, she leaned, we kissed again, the heat between us, bubbling inside me, hands over clothes, the shock of skin on skin, under my shirt, under her top, my lips on her neck, tongue behind her ear, her hands moving down, skimming my stomach, her tongue in my mouth, a button, a zip, and her hand, her hand, my back against my pack, her hand, her mouth on mine, her hand, the rocks under me, the ash, the earth, the volcano, Pele deep under me, in me, the warmth, her hand and I came, twitching, catching my breath, my face buried in her neck. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘You too. Shall we go back?’

  ‘In a minute. Where’s the water?’ She pulled back, rocked into a squat and handed me the water. I drank, straightened myself out and we walked back to the car. She laughed, looking back. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll never look at a volcano in quite the same way again.’

  ‘Me neither.’ I gunned the engine and swung out into the road.

  Using one of the internet stations in the airport, I checked the Manoa website. There were no jobs going but I set up an alert just in case. The idea flitted round my head like a caged bird, flapping and disrupting all my other thoughts. If the pieces fell into place it would be possible. To move from the rim to the hub. A house along the coast from Honolulu, away from the tourists and the buildings and the traffic, sea views out the front, mountains out the back. No sharing. Just me, my life set up the way I wanted it. An escape from the Dunedin weather.