Blue Saturn

by Jay, Libby

  “No, I don’t get sea-sick. Are we going on a boat?”

  I nod my head and pull into a car park. “We’re going on a boat.”

  “Are we going on a fishing boat? Are we going fishing?” I can’t make out the tone of her voice. Her voice sounds as though she can’t believe I’m taking her fishing.

  “We’re going on a boat. You can fish if you want to. I thought you liked fishing?” She told me once ages ago that she used to go fishing all the time but she hasn’t been for years.

  “I do like fishing. I can’t believe you remembered.”

  Relief pours through me. She’s happy we’re going fishing. And the tension from the earlier conversation seems to have lifted. “I remember everything you told me, Lyndsay.”

  She looks out the window to all the boats. “Which one are we going on?”

  “Well, that all depends,” I say as I open the car door. “Which one do you want to go on?”

  She gives me an incredulous look before looking back to the boats. “That one looks good.” She points to a blue and white boat. It’s a nice looking boat, but it’s small. Well, smallish.

  “Are you sure you want to go on that one?” I close my door and open Mikey’s, lifting the back-pack onto my back before picking up Mikey. I walk around to the front of the car where Lyndsay is now waiting for me. “Because I reckon we can find a better one.”

  She laughs. “A better one? That’s an awesome fishing boat. Look at all the room at the sides and back…”

  I shake my head at her, completely lost at what she’s saying. “I reckon we can find a better one.”

  I head toward the marina pier. There are close to a hundred boats moored at this marina and the boat we’re going on, I’ve been told is at the end of pier 7. I head toward pier seven.

  It’s obvious as we walk out onto the pier that we’re not going on any ordinary fishing boat. The boats up this end of the marina are big. But the one we’re going out on is the biggest. I stop and turn around to look at Lyndsay.

  Her eyebrows are high in disbelief. “We’re not…” she says.

  I smile. “We are.”

  “That’s not a fishing boat. That’s a cruiser. That’s a big cruiser.”

  “You can fish off it, the Captain told me.”

  “It’s not a fishing boat though. It’s a…It’s a…”

  “It’s a cruiser,” I finish for her.

  The Captain comes out from the cruiser and looks up at us. “Mike,” he says, holding out his hand to me. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  I shake his hand and stand back to help Lyndsay onto the boat. “Lyndsay, this is Bruce, our Captain.”

  Bruce puts his hand out to help Lyndsay aboard. “It’s a pleasure to have you on board Lyndsay. Mike tells me you’re a keen fisherwoman.”

  “I am. Well I used to be, but I haven’t fished in a long time.”

  I step on board just as Mikey lifts his head. “Where are we going?” he asks in his sleepy morning voice.

  “We’re going fishing on a big boat,” I answer.

  “I like boats,” he says. “I’ve never been on a boat but I like them.”

  “Well today is your lucky day. We’re going to go for a big ride on the boat and then do some fishing.”

  “What are you hoping to catch, Lyndsay?” Bruce asks.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve only ever fished in Melbourne or New Zealand.”

  Bruce claps his hands and rubs them together excitedly. “You’re in for a treat then, Lyndsay. You get settled and we’ll head out in a few minutes.”

  Lyndsay is looking at me and shaking her head as the Chef brings out a platter of fruit. He’s just told us that the second course won’t be too far off.

  “Why are you shaking your head at me?” I ask.

  “Who has more than one course for breakfast?” Her question ends in a laugh of disbelief.

  “I do Lyndsay.” But then I laugh. “I don’t know, breakfast and lunch are included.” I shrug.

  “I hate to think how much this is costing you.”

  “Don’t think about it. Just enjoy your day.” This day is costing me an absolute fortune. I made the mistake of pushing my star power to get the booking at short notice, but then Bruce threw it back in my face by charging me for it. Anyway, I don’t care. It’s worth it to spend the time with Lyndsay.

  She reaches for a piece of pineapple and pops it into her mouth. “I think I will,” she says.

  Our second course was a selection of eggs, bacon, ham, spinach, tomato, mushrooms, bread rolls, pancakes, berries, maple syrup, chocolate sauce and ice-cream. Lyndsay picked at a bit of everything; she still hasn’t got her appetite back completely. Mikey gorged himself on pancakes, ice-cream and chocolate sauce and I ate a high protein breakfast of eggs, bacon and spinach.

  We’re sitting on the deck now, eating our third course - a fruit and custard tart. We’re washing it down with hot tea.

  “The sun will rise soon,” Lyndsay says as she looks out to the horizon.

  I look at her and am blown away by how beautiful she is. She is still a bit thinner than she was before she got sick, but looking at her now, the fresh air bringing colour to her cheeks and the way she fights not to look at me even though she knows I’m looking at her, making her lips curl up ever so slightly, it makes me realise how lucky I am to have walked into that hospital room that day. Any other day and...hell, I don’t want to think about that. That’s just miserable.

  “Look,” Mikey yells out to us from the top of the ladder. He’s been with Bruce, “helping” him captain the boat. He points out over the water, to the opposite side Lyndsay and I are standing and when we move and follow his direction, we see the pod of dolphins that has Mikey so excited.

  They’re jumping in and out of the water beside the boat. There’s probably six or seven of them, playing in the wake of the boat.

  “Aren’t they beautiful,” Lyndsay says, smiling.

  “They sure are.” My eyes were on the dolphins but when I speak to agree with Lyndsay’s sentiments, my eyes fall on her again. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  She smiles up at me before looking back to the water. Then she steps closer to me and reaches her hand out, slowly brushing her knuckles against my hand before she wraps her fingers around mine and tightens her grip. She looks down to where our bodies are making contact and then she looks up into my eyes.

  “Thank you, Mike. This is a very thoughtful gift.” She looks straight into my eyes and I see it. That look I’ve seen a hundred times when I’ve stared at the photo at the top of my staircase. She’s looking at me the exact same way she looked at me on Christmas Day a year ago.

  Lyndsay still loves me. Now I just have to get her to take that damn wall down and let me in.

  I am a lot of things. I am not a fisherman. Lyndsay cannot stop laughing as I try to thread a bit of bait onto the hook. This stuff is slimy and it stinks and I have gunk all over my shirt and it’s taking all my might not to retch. It’s gonna take days for this stink to leave my hands.

  “Let me do it,” Lyndsay says as she puts her rod into a holder and comes closer to me. “You’re such a baby.” She takes the bait from me in one hand and the hook in the other. I watch as she patiently threads the chunk of fish or whatever it is onto the hook. “See, easy. It’s a culinary delight.”

  “It’s disgusting is what it is.”

  She laughs and shakes her head and goes back to her rod. She watches me as I drop the line overboard and let it sink. I put the rod in the holder and go to the bucket of seawater to wash my hands. Lyndsay shakes her head at me again and smiles.

  Moments later, Lyndsay lunges at my rod and lifts it quickly. “You’re on, Mike.”

  “On?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  “You’ve caught a fish.” She begins to wind the...thingy...as she lowers the rod. “It’s a good size too.”

  I go to her side and look down over the edge of the boat. “How do you know? I can’t see i
t.”

  She laughs. “You really know nothing about fishing, do you?” She holds the rod out to me. “Come on, bring it in.”

  Well she was definitely right about it being big. It’s massive. The rod is heavy and I’m embarrassed to say that hauling this fish in is taking quite a bit of effort. I mimic her form; winding in while lowering the rod and then pulling the rod up. After a few minutes, we see a shimmer of colour in the water.

  “It might be a snapper,” she says.

  I don’t know what a snapper is; my knowledge of fish goes as far as ordering grilled flake from the fish and chip shop. But Lyndsay seems to be excited about catching a snapper.

  She goes to the back of the boat where there’s a big net and while I continue to pull the fish in, she lowers the net over the side.

  “What have you got?” Bruce asks me.

  “It’s a snapper, or so Lyndsay seems to think,” I answer.

  Mikey is at my side too now. He’s been following Bruce around all morning, but the excitement of actually catching a fish has caught his attention.

  “It’s a good size,” Bruce says and I wonder how he knows.

  The fish finally appears near the surface and Bruce and Lyndsay both say it’s a snapper.

  “I’ll let Chef know,” Bruce says. “That’ll make a good bit of eatin’.”

  Bruce disappears into the boat, Mikey hot on his heels, while Lyndsay leans over and nets the fish.

  “Beginners luck,” she says as I help her lift a huge orange fish into the boat.

  “I didn’t actually do anything,” I say. I feel like I’ve stolen this fish.

  “I’m aware of that,” Lyndsay laughs. “You can bait your own hook next time.”

  “I think I might quit while I’m ahead. I can boast a one hundred percent success rate for the rest of my life.”

  Lyndsay smiles as she picks up the fish and holds it out to me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I step away.

  “We gotta get a photo.”

  “I have to touch it?” I ask.

  “Far out Greene. Man up!” She steps toward me.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and put my hands out. I am never going fishing again.

  Mikey stopped following Bruce for long enough to have some lunch and now he’s curled up on the couch sleeping soundly. Lyndsay looks like she could use a little nap too. She’s pale and those dark circles are beginning to show under her eyes. And she’s yawning, again.

  “Lie down, have a nap,” I say to her.

  She looks outside. “I don’t want to waste this sun. I was thinking I might go sit at the front of the boat.” She slides out from the round table and stands up. “Would you like to come with me?”

  She doesn’t have to ask me twice, hell, she needn’t ask me at all. “Of course I would.” I follow her out to the front of the boat.

  At the front of the boat, sunken down just enough to give some protection from the wind is a large half circular couch. Bruce told us when we boarded that there were a few blankets under the cushions if we needed to stay warm. Lyndsay immediately takes a blanket and wraps it around her and curls up on the couch, letting the sun hit her face.

  I forego a blanket, hoping that Lyndsay will ask me to join her under hers. I sit at her feet and pull them up onto my lap, slowly running my hand up her leg. I instantly feel the goose-bumps form on her skin.

  “Mike,” she says slowly and pulls her feet away, sitting up. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

  “Why can’t I touch you, Lyndsay?”

  “Because touching me like that is too intimate.”

  “I can think of far more intimate ways to touch you,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes and then falls against me, her forehead resting against my shoulder. “There is no stopping you, is there Michael Greene?”

  “Do you want me to stop, Lyndsay?”

  She lifts her head and looks at me. Her gaze holds mine before she looks down to my lips and then quickly back to my eyes. She repeats this again and again, fighting that internal battle between wanting to kiss me and knowing that if she does things between us will escalate very quickly.

  Her breathing becomes shallow and she begins to pant as though she’s just finished a 10 k run. I have that effect on her and it is the best feeling in the world.

  She eventually takes a deep breath, holds it and then turns her body, so that her back is against my side. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold her tightly against me. I kiss the top of her head, where her scarf covers her fuzzy regrowth and press my cheek against her. “Sleep, Lyndsay. I’ll wake you when we get back.”

  As she falls asleep, her head falls this way and that before I eventually lower her down so her head rests against my thigh. I spend the rest of the trip back to shore looking at her, knowing that if my plan doesn’t work, this could very well be the last time I ever watch her sleep.

  *****

  Although both Lyndsay and Mikey slept the entire way back to shore, they’re both still dead tired. To help out Lyndsay a bit, I had a shower with Mikey and got him into his pyjamas. I thought it might have been a bit early in the day for pyjamas but when I came out from my bedroom and Lyndsay had also showered and was dressed in a massive terry-towelling bathrobe, courtesy of the hotel, I knew my assumption was correct. They’d both need an early night.

  Lyndsay has been on a fairly strict diet since being diagnosed with cancer. Almost every night she has cooked dinner for us, for Mikey and I. But tonight, I want her to rest. I phoned the hotel management and asked, no I told them, that they were to bring up whatever it was Lyndsay ordered whether or not it was on the menu. I was assured that would be no problem at all and when I told Lyndsay, she rolled her eyes again and accused me of being a high maintenance celebrity.

  If it meant her being rested, I’d happily accept that title.

  Tonight is our last night in Adelaide. We’re at the television studios. Tomorrow we head back to Melbourne. Mikey and I have been working on our plan every day and now I’m sitting back stage ready to go on air, and I’m nervous as hell. Not because I’m about to be on TV, but because every minute that passes is one minute closer to possibly losing the girl I love for the second time and this time I know it will be forever. If my plan doesn’t work...

  “Okay, boys, you’re on.” Anton’s voice breaks my train of thought and I’m forced to focus on the chore at hand. It’s time to put on my rock-star charm.

  Despite my inner turmoil, this interview is going really well. The panel is sticking to the outline, asking questions about the record and throwing in a few light-hearted quips about the rock-star lifestyle. They’re referring to Gavin and I as the Mama and Papa of the band, while Steve and Paul are the unruly teenagers. They show a photo of Mikey and I taken a few weeks ago at the park near where we live. People are always getting shots of us when we’re out together. It seems that the public find it hard to believe I can be both a rock-star and a single dad. Apparently, there’s a Facebook page dedicated to me and my prime example as a single dad. I’ve not looked at it but Anton has assured me that it paints me as an absolute saint. Anyway, people take photos of Mikey and I together and upload them onto Facebook.

  I’m still looking at the monitor screen when a picture of Lyndsay and I appears. One of the male panellists - I’m not sure which one because I’m still looking at the monitor - asks who the girl is.

  I am absolutely shocked. It’s a picture of Lyndsay and I in the hospital. I’m holding her to my chest and she’s crying. It must’ve been taken by either a nurse or another patient. Or someone’s chemo buddy. Someone who should know better.

  Then another picture shows. It’s of Lyndsay and I leaving the hospital. My arm is around her and it’s clear that Lyndsay is relying on me to keep her upright.

  Suddenly the lights in the studio are too bright and hot and I feel a cold sweat break out all over my body. “Can you please take those pictures down?” I ask. I barely recognise my ow
n voice.

  “Is she someone very close to you, Mike?” the female panellist asks. I’ve momentarily forgotten her name.

  “She’s a very good friend and she doesn’t deserve to have her personal life strewn about on national TV,” I answer.

  “Your mother died from cancer, didn’t she?”

  I have no idea who asked me that. I’m not even sure if it was a male or female. I just heard the words and instantly looked to Anton, who is standing off to the side, gesturing to cut the line of questioning.

  The panic rises in me and I feel the beginnings of a full-blown withdrawal attack. I take a deep breath. “She did,” I answer, “but I don’t see how any of that is relevant to the record.”

  The panellist in the middle, Charles, takes control and cuts to a break.

  My heart is racing frantically and now I have to perform. What I want to do is go outside for a smoke. That was always how I dealt with stress.

  Once I’m sure we’ve cut to a break, I quickly stand up and go backstage. I go into the greenroom and start pushing out push-ups.

  “You okay, mate?” Gavin asks.

  “I’ll be fine,” I answer.

  “You’re a bit off tonight.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “It is to me. What’s going on?”

  There’s no point lying to Gavin, he knows me too well. “I’ve just given Lyndsay another reason why she should never be with me.”

  Gavin looks surprised but he nods his head. “Why? What reason is that?”

  “Because of me, the whole damn country knows she had cancer. She’s a private person, Gav.” I stop the push-ups and look up at him. “I only have one day left with her.”

  “I don’t think she’ll care about the photos, Mike.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I get up from the floor, knowing that I have to get on set. “Let’s do it.”

  I can’t wait to get out of here. The show’s producer is apologising again and again for the questions relating to my personal life.

  I’m so over his half hearted display of remorse, that when my phone rings and the I.D. shows that it’s my dad calling, I actually excuse myself to take his call.