“Yes.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m ok. Sad, I guess.”
“Yeah. Me too. Andrew’s a good bloke. It’s devastating that this has happened.”
“When we were leaving, Larissa took my hand.”
“I saw that.”
“Her grief is beyond words. I saw nothing else in her mind but Andrew’s face and crashing, tumbling waves of grief. She will struggle with his death.”
“It’s such a miserable turn of events. The sooner they can head back to Sweden the better. They’ll need to say their goodbyes here and tie up any loose ends, but after that they will head home.”
“You’d think after twenty years the orphanage would be their home.”
“Andrew pulled me aside there tonight and said it’s Larissa that wants to go home. He’s happy to go along with it because he doesn’t think it’s right to stay around the children, forcing them to witness his demise.”
“Even at the end he is thinking of everyone else but himself.”
“That’s Andrew.”
“I’m starting to see that.”
“It never ceases to make me wonder how someone who has devoted their entire life to helping others ends up with a terminal brain tumour at the age of forty-nine. You’d think life could be more considerate.”
“Death doesn’t discriminate. It comes to us all.” Jet sighs heavily.
“Did you hear from Derrick?” she asks.
“He’ll be here in two days with his girlfriend, who is a qualified teacher. He’s pumped to be able to help out and experience a new country. They have consented to do a six month stint in Mongolia and will stay on permanently after that if they like it, otherwise we’ll organise someone else to take on the co-ordinator’s role.”
“That’s one good piece of news amidst all this.”
“Yeah. It will ease a little of the burden Andrew is feeling.”
“I never realised how much you have to deal with. I’ve only seen the consulting business, never all these other projects, which require so much energy. How do you cope? It’s endless.”
“I have a lot of help from many intelligent, skilled, compassionate people all over the world and,” he softly laughs, “I run Scott off his feet.”
“It’s a hell of a lot of responsibility,” she says.
“It is. That’s why I share it.”
Autumn’s eyes glisten with tears so she closes them. She feels Jet’s lips press gently against her cheek where a single tear has landed.
“It will all be fine, Autumn. I promise.”
She nods. “I know.”
“I love you so much. I want you to know that.”
“I do know it and I love you too.”
He kisses her then, gently, expressively. Autumn relishes his very being as he makes love to her as though it is quite possible that the sun will not rise tomorrow.
The next two days find Autumn deeply involved with the children from all houses. Every morning she enjoys the bathing and feeding of the littlies, but loves to walk up to the older children later and help them with their English studies, joining in on sporting activities, music lessons or assisting with the cooking.
On the third and final day at Hope House, Autumn heads to the nursery, her shoulders rolling forward, heart heavy; she will miss the children she has bonded with over the brief five days here. Autumn takes the time to admire each baby’s supple skin and tiny features as she bathes them, adoring their dark chocolate eyes and silken hair. In her mind, she impresses the images of their smiling mouths, tiny feet and curious little fingers.
Holding nine-month-old Narantsetseg on her lap, she pulls her snug against her chest, letting the smell of her imprint on her memory and, more importantly, she lets Narantsetseg know that someone has felt beautiful affinity for her, enjoyed her company and has thought she is special. Narantsetseg smiles and gurgles wonderful sounds and curls her hand around two of Autumn’s fingers. Autumn gasps: it has been so long since she has seen the mind of a child, not since she was one herself.
Narantsetseg’s mind is beautiful, simple, and imaginative, without the untruths or guilt that accompanies adults’ thoughts. Her memories are what they are. She is happy. The baby girl falls over, hurts herself, she feels hungry, anger, but only when the situation calls for it. Autumn can see faces of volunteers and staff, smiles and cuddles. She can see the other children, bath-time, play-time, dinner-time. The world is a tool of play and offers so much fascination. Autumn grins and kisses Narantsetseg on the cheek as she disentangles her fingers from her hand. She lifts her onto the mat near some toys and says, “Goodbye, Narantsetseg. I hope you find a loving family.”
She picks up another child into her arms, a seven-month-old girl, Oyunbileg. Autumn tries her hardest not have favourites when dealing with children, but Oyunbileg is irresistible.
“Sain uu, Oyunbileg.” The little girl looks at her with her big brown eyes. “Sain uu.”
Feeling uplifted from her interaction with Narantsetseg, she takes Oyunbileg’s hand in hers but immediately snaps her hand away, scaring the little girl. Oyunbileg’s mouth drops into a frown and her little lips begin to tremble, but before she can cry, Autumn hugs her tight to her chest for a long while, rocking her gently.
What she saw in this child’s short life was startling, unbearable. Autumn finds it difficult to release her from her arms knowing she is, in a couple of hours’ time, going to walk out of the door to go on a self-indulgent holiday to Japan, while this child lives here in an orphanage, forever with her heart-breaking experiences.
This child is the daughter of a prostitute who, night in night out, witnessed her mother providing base level pleasure to man, after man, after man, while she lay in her cot, so hungry and so thirsty her entire body throbbed. She watched her mother push drugs into her veins with filthy needles, not understanding what any of it means. One extremely cold night, recently, her mother overdosed, bile, froth and vomit dribbling from her mouth, eyes rolling back into her head. All the while this baby girl watched, scared and frightened and confused, hungry and freezing cold.
The police found her and brought her to the orphanage and she felt warmth for the first time and what it is like have a full belly and to laugh and to be held in loving arms.
Autumn doesn’t leave the nursery. She takes a seat with the little girl in her arms and holds her all morning, stroking her hair, feeling the soft flesh of her rounded, rosy cheeks. Autumn kisses her forehead, her little hands and never stops cuddling her.
Jet walks in and sees her sitting at the back of the nursery, cradling Oyunbileg. He smiles. “We need to take off.”
Autumn feels the tears begin to wet her eyes. She shakes her head. “I can’t leave her.”
Jet walks to Autumn and kneels down beside her. “I understand, Autumn. Believe me I do. But she has a great home here.”
Autumn nods. “I could give her a better home. I could love her until the end of my life.”
Jet smiles affectionately and kisses Autumn on her forehead. “I know you could.”
The tears flood her eyes now. “Her mum was a whore,” she whispers. “She starved her so she could pump drugs into her fucking arm.”
“Autumn. Many of the kids here have a history like hers. Some a lot worse. Some don’t even make it. But we can’t take them all home with us, that’s why the orphanage is here.” He kisses Autumn again on the cheek. “I’ll let you say goodbye and I’ll meet you in the van.”
Autumn nods and watches Jet walk back out through the front door. Autumn bends her head to the baby and kisses her cheek. “Sayn uu, Oyunbileg.” She stands and lays the little girl into a cot and makes her a warm, fresh bottle of milk. Oyunbileg sucks on the teat, eyes heavy with weariness. Autumn leans in one more time and kisses her on the forehead. She then turns, not looking back and joins Jet in the van out the front.
Autumn wipes away the tears long enough to drive to the teen house to say goodbye to the other chi
ldren and to Andrew and Larissa. Having already checked out of the hotel, they collect Derrick from the kindergarten house and he drives them to the airport.
When it is only Autumn and Jet waiting in the airport lounge, she allows herself to cry again; a continual stream of tears, and she wonders, even as she boards the twelve hour trip to first Beijing, then Japan, if she will ever be able to make them stop. The flight attendants offer tissues and hot tea, but still the tears don’t cease. Eventually, sometime after leaving Beijing, she falls asleep against Jet’s shoulder, cuddling him tight to her body and feels relief, albeit temporary.
The plane lands in Tokyo and they are greeted by a more pleasant temperature—ten degrees Celsius. Jet snuggles Autumn as they wait for a taxi and all the way on the drive to the hotel. She barely sees the swanky lobby, ornate features, or the sheer size and beauty of their suite.
Instead, with apathetic movements, she crawls onto the bed, pulls the covers over her shoulders, rolls onto her side and falls asleep. She sleeps for hours, and hours, a full day, a night, another day, uncomfortable sleep burdened by dreams: shadowed images of strangers’ lives, friends’ regrets, shame, guilt, lies. She sees Andrew’s body lying on a bed; it’s cold, white and lifeless, Larissa crying tears on his chest, drenching him with her pain. Autumn’s mum appears and her dad, their eyes a picture of disapproval and anguish. Her mum is holding a baby but it has no face.
“I want you to know what it is to love a child, Autumn,” she says. The baby transforms into Oyunbileg, her mother into the old Indian woman. She runs her gnarled nails down the delicate skin of the baby’s cheek while the whore of a mother, vomit and bile frothing over her lips, moans with artificial pleasure just so the greasy, grunting man on top of her will finish. She sees people’s thoughts and ambitions and failures, intermingling and whirling, like whispered words in the wind that form no structure and make no sense. “Cursed. Cursed. Cursed.”
Autumn sits bolt upright in bed, chest rising and falling, gasping for air. Beads of sweat have formed on her chest and forehead. Jet, who is on the phone, ends the call and jogs to her side.
He wraps his arms around her and flinches away. “You’re burning,” he says.
“I don’t feel good.”
“I’ll organise some Panadol. Tomorrow we’ll go see a doctor.”
She throws the covers aside and rolls out of bed, darts directly for the bathroom and as soon as her head is near the toilet bowl she throws up repetitively.
When all is quiet, Jet dares to enter. “Can I get you anything?” he asks, eyes filled with sympathy.
Autumn lifts her head out of the sink where she has been rinsing her mouth. “A drink of water, please. Clean, bottled water.”
“Sure.”
Back on the bed, she sits next to Jet who hands her a bottle of water. She drinks it down. “Thanks.”
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I think I just needed to vomit. I feel a little better.”
“Good.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s nine o’clock.”
“I’ve been asleep for…”
“Nearly two days,” he says.
“I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.
She takes another swig of her water. “Andrew will die on Friday. He won’t make it home to Sweden.”
Jet narrows his eyes. “How would you know a thing like that?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure I want to acknowledge why. I’d much rather ignore it and go back to sleep.” Autumn crawls up towards her pillows and lies down, pulling the cover over her body. She closes her eyes, only to hide the tears, and silently cries until she falls asleep again.
Chapter 25
Autumn wakes to find Jet watching her. He smiles as though caught doing something he should not have been doing.
“Good morning,” he whispers.
“Hi.”
“You were talking in your sleep.”
“I was?”
He smiles; it’s strained.
“Are you going to tell me what I was saying?” she asks.
Sadness fills his eyes. “You were singing a lullaby.”
Autumn inhales and slowly lets the air out of her lungs. “That doesn’t mean a thing,” she says. “I was obviously dreaming.”
“I know,” he says, shrugging. “You were singing to Oyunbileg.”
Autumn turns her eyes to the ceiling and sighs. “She won’t escape my thoughts. I feel as though I’ve committed a crime leaving her at that orphanage. She needs love.”
“From you?”
“From someone, anyone. I can love her. I can. I would.”
Jet nods. “You want a baby?”
Autumn shakes her head. “No. I want Oyunbileg.”
Jet pulls the covers back and rolls out of bed. “That’s something I can give you,” he says and walks off to the bathroom; turns on the shower taps.
Autumn follows him. He is under the streaming water when she walks in. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. If that’s what you want, to adopt, I can give you that.”
“I wouldn’t want you to give me it, Jet. It’s not a gift to give someone. Like a puppy or a piece of jewellery.”
His eyes flash exasperation. “I know that.”
“Then what are you saying? Really trying to say?” She pulls off her clothes and steps into the shower with him.
He groans, angrily. “I’m trying to let you know, without moving this relationship too quickly for you, that I’m willing to be a father, with you by my side.”
Autumn stares at his face, eyes open and honest. “I’m not afraid of commitment. I’m not afraid of moving this relationship too quickly. Our circumstances have destroyed any possibility of a slow-paced relationship.”
He nods. “I only wanted to be sure we’re on the same page.”
“Are we on the same page?”
He pulls her by the waist into his body and kisses her. “Yes. We always have been.”
While they shower, the phone rings. Jet returns the call while Autumn is dressing. He comes to the door, face epitomising loss. Autumn nods, feeling her throat constricting. She doesn’t need the words spoken to know that Andrew has died. Jet turns and walks away.
Autumn dresses quickly, throwing her hair into a ponytail, slapping on pointless makeup. None of anything seems valid, worthy. She finds Jet sitting on the bed, sliding his feet into his shoes.
“I need to get out of this room,” she says, determined not to cry, body seeming resistant to releasing anything resembling tears.
He nods. “Are you well enough?”
“I’m fine, physically.”
“Then there’s somewhere I want to show you. The reason I brought you to Japan. I want to make good on a promise I made to you.”
“But Andrew—should we—I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Jet stands and takes her arm. “We’re alive. So we keep on living. That’s what we do.”
Jet asks the concierge to organise a driver to take them to Koishikawa Korakuen Gardens. Through the streets of Tokyo, congested with pedestrian and motor traffic, compacted with towering buildings aglow in fluorescent technicolour, they drive in awe and wonderment of their surreal surrounds, a welcome distraction from the gloom felt heavily in each of their hearts.
Autumn doesn’t know what to expect at the gardens. But when she strolls hand in hand with Jet through the entrance, the cool breeze of the morning kissing her cheeks, she beholds the scene before her and is struck dumb: autumn. An idealistic epitome of all that is autumn. Her eyes flitter around the park, but to the maple trees, their snowflake shaped leaves, is where her attention transfixes; absolute beauty expressed in the shades of russet, burnt orange and red with intense magnificence. Against the contrasting shades of greens possessed by the surrounding plant life and the lake rippling behind, the colours of the maples appear like a punch of colour on a blea
k canvas of beige, so strong and fiery, impossible to miss their undeniable beauty.
“This is truly the season of autumn if ever I imagined it. But this, this scene right here, totally transcends any notion I’ve held of what autumn should and could ever be,” she says, voice a husky whisper.
Jet smiles, so broad and genuine. “I have wanted to show you this place since I saw it ten years ago, before I even knew you. I remember saying to myself, ‘I will show my future wife this place’. This memory is what my mind conjured when I first saw you in Bodh Gaya and I knew it then, it was you I was thinking of, when I had that thought.
“When you told me about our past in Tibet and my promise to show you autumn and all that is beautiful, you confirmed what I already knew in my soul to be true.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
“As are you, Autumn.”
She smiles, loving the sound of his tender words, not missing his mention of ‘wife’, but so besotted with the scenery that she cannot turn her eyes away from it, escape the allure.
They continue around the park, the peaceful haven inside a chaotic city, devouring the sights. They past ponds and rice fields, bridges, each unique yet perfectly Japanese, well-tended and flawlessly manicured, until again they arrive at a clump of maples.
“I wish this was all there was to my sight. Being able to see the beauty and aesthetics of the natural world,” Autumn says with a sigh.
“With your ability to see into people’s minds, you are seeing beauty, because you are seeing truth, rather than the false, social veneer.”
She shakes her head. “There isn’t always beauty in what I see. Truth or no truth, the mind holds onto things that as human beings we can do without, and I can do without witnessing them.”
“Like that Indian lady?”
“Exactly like that Indian lady and Tae’s boyfriend and that little baby girl I held in my arms in Mongolia, and Andrew.”
Jet frowns.
“Something’s changing though, Jet. It’s as though this insight is transforming and becoming stronger. Not only have I seen into a former life, but I have felt physical pain and known exactly when someone will die. That has never happened before now.”
The Paler Shade Of Autumn Page 21