Shallow Breath

by Sara Foster

‘I’ll miss you.’

  He puts his arm around her and kisses her hair, as he has done so many times before, but this time feels different. In each of their gestures there is new promise.

  ‘I want you to think about something while I’m gone,’ Pete says. ‘I’m considering moving to Sumatra, long-term. You’d be great at the release station. The orphaned orang-utans need a mother figure, someone who can stay for years. I think you’d love it.’

  ‘I probably would,’ Desi murmurs. ‘But I need to make sure Maya is okay first.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Pete says. ‘And now it’s probably time I got going.’ He gets to his feet and grabs his empty glass, then helps to pull her up. He heads into the house to collect his things before making his way to the front door. As he’s leaving, he spots a DVD box on Desi’s front table and picks it up.

  ‘Where did you get this from?’

  He sees her pause. ‘A friend lent it to me.’

  He studies the cover and puts it down again. ‘Do me a favour and give it back,’ he says. ‘Believe me, after everything that’s happened to you, you don’t want to watch that.’ And he heads for the door.

  41

  Desi

  In the years after Maya’s birth, Desi notices a distinct rise in her popularity. Hester often stays until long after dark, cuddling her grandchild, saying that Jackson needs to spend time with his friends in town and she might as well wait to pick him up. And when Jackson accompanies Hester, he runs around the house giggling and hiding, as Maya crawls and, later, toddles after him earnestly.

  Pete appears whenever he has a day off. He has adored Maya from the moment he saw her, when she was only an hour old. He had come charging into the hospital room in panic, but once reassured that Desi was okay he had picked up the tiny infant and held her close against his chest. A nurse had come in to take Desi’s blood pressure and whispered, ‘Daddy’s girl already, hey?’ Desi was exhausted; she had just smiled in response.

  But she knows that, in the absence of Connor, Maya couldn’t ask for a better father figure. As often as he can get up from the city, Pete is there to turn cots into toddler beds, to fix bike tyres, to carry Maya along the beach on his shoulders and to chase the monsters from under her bed.

  And, much to Desi’s surprise, another person arrives in her life to take care of them. Marie begins to walk to the shack regularly, always with bags or pots full of food. Desi hasn’t spent this much time with her in years, and they get to know each other all over again. Hester is delighted to see more of her old friend, and soon they are turning up at the shack at similar times, hunting down one another’s company. Marie has an infectious laugh and a pin-sharp memory, and sings songs to Maya in Italian, as Maya stares in surprise. But occasionally she comes in and gets straight to work in the kitchen, her head bowed, and Desi and Hester know to leave her alone. No one ever mentions Rick.

  Rebecca hardly visits at all in the first few years of Maya’s life, but Marie offers an explanation. ‘She’s green with envy at the moment,’ she confides. ‘She wants a baby but nothing is happening. Let’s pray that Theo is working down there. He always did seem a bit too good to be true.’

  Such comments make Hester and Marie chuckle, but Desi has to work hard to fix a smile to her face. Maya keeps her busy enough, but after she’s in bed Desi is usually too exhausted to do much more than put her feet up and watch television. And yet, as the months go by, it becomes so aimless and unsatisfying. Life isn’t about big dreams any longer. It is about putting one foot in front of the other, and seeing if that takes her anywhere. This world is so far removed from the one she had once imagined for herself and Connor that she wonders what he would make of it all.

  She can still sometimes hear his voice. There was always a buoyancy to it, even in their deepest conversations. As she watches Maya’s mind awakening, she can often spot him in the edges of their daughter’s smiling eyes. Maya reminds her of a butterfly, flitting towards each new experience, perhaps landing for a moment before she is distracted by something else. Every day she is full of questions, and yet she accepts the world just as it is too, and only desires to understand it. Maya is the one who can make Desi laugh for real.

  As Maya gets older, Desi and Hester set up some cages again in the back garden and Hester brings across a few of her convalescing animals. Before long, there is a colourful cast of characters there – including Mr Pink, the blind galah; Munchkin, the baby possum; Patch, the three-legged long-necked turtle. Desi cares for them, while Maya pays intermittent attention. At one point, Desi moans about how little interest Maya is showing in them. ‘I didn’t bring them for Maya,’ Hester replies.

  As the months turn into years, Desi comes to accept this new life, letting it bed down into reality. It might be insipid and uninspiring at times, but at least it is calm. She forgets that she doesn’t need to go searching for turmoil; that when it’s ready it will find her easily enough on its own.

  It is a dismal, stormy spring day in 1999 when Desi opens the door to Marie and sees she is soaked to the skin. Marie hurries to the kitchen without saying much, and Desi follows.

  ‘Do you want a change of clothes?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Where’s the little one?’ Marie begins setting out yet another shopping bag full of food, keeping her eyes averted, and Desi walks across to her.

  ‘She’s watching television. Come on, Marie, you’re soaked! I’m sure I have something you can wear,’ she says, putting a hand against the small of her friend’s back, unthinking.

  Marie jumps and winces. ‘Oh, sorry,’ Desi says in surprise, snatching her fingers away.

  But Marie doesn’t say anything. She stops unpacking, leans over the benchtop and begins to sob.

  Without asking permission, Desi slowly lifts up Marie’s blouse. Before she can even see ten centimetres of skin, she notices two circular black welts, one of which is ringed with yellow pus. She lifts the blouse a little higher. There are no more fresh burns, but what she finds more shocking are the number of faint brown marks, evidence of previous torture.

  ‘Oh, Marie.’

  ‘I thought it was getting better,’ Marie sniffs once her tears have lessened. ‘I thought he might have stopped.’

  It is the first time that Desi has been given a true opening to talk about this. She hesitates, but has to ask the one thing she longs to know. ‘Why on earth do you stay with him?’

  Marie glances up at her, and Desi is surprised at how angry she seems. ‘Where do I go, Desi? I don’t have any money of my own. Marcus has gone as far away as he can get. Rebecca is so happy at the moment, now she is expecting, thank God – and I will not drag her into this again. She kept quiet for me for years – she deserves this chance with Theo. Besides, he says that if I go he will hunt me down. He’s told me this many times.’ She grabs a cloth and begins to wipe furiously at invisible spots on the sink. ‘He spends so much time at the pub now, or in front of the TV,’ she says. ‘Most days I can stay out of the way.’

  Desi remembers what Rick said to her all those years ago, on the afternoon she came back to the bay. Would he really pursue Marie if she dared to leave? Still, she cannot let it drop.

  ‘Marie, you can stay here any time. Perhaps if you stand up to him you’ll find that he’s all talk.’

  ‘And what if he’s not, Desi?’ Marie snaps. ‘Are you willing to take that risk for me? You have a little one in the house. Perhaps you should be more frightened.’

  Desi has no answer. They are still staring at one another when they hear Hester arriving. ‘Don’t mention this to your mother,’ Marie mutters, turning away.

  On any other day, Hester would have been astute enough to register the atmosphere as she walks in. But she is buzzing with a strange energy. ‘I’ve just heard some shocking news,’ she says to them. ‘You remember those Atlantis dolphins that went to the aquarium down at Hillarys? Mila and Rajah and Echo? Well, someone has poisoned them – they’re all dead.’

  42

  Re
becca

  As Desi stands at her door, Rebecca hesitates. She has known this moment would arrive sooner or later. In imaginary rehearsals, she had anticipated how angry she would be, but the reality is different. She is oddly calm.

  Desi, on the other hand, is visibly quaking. ‘I’ve come to apologise. But if you would like me to leave, I’ll go.’

  Despite the youthful combination of faded shirt and jeans, even from this distance Rebecca can see the tired lines on her old friend’s face. In the short time they have been estranged, Desi has turned middle-aged. Rebecca wonders if the last few difficult years since the accident have had a similar effect on her.

  Their friendship has always been punctuated by absences. Only once Caitlin had arrived, and Marie had left, had they seen one another regularly again. Yet, after Desi had gone to prison, Rebecca had realised what a surface closeness it was – keeping up appearances so the girls would each have a pretend sibling. Now she will admit that, when she and Desi were alone in a room, despite their common ground – their history, their daughters, their passion for animals – there were often gaps in the conversation while they struggled to find something to talk about.

  For a long time it had been easy to put that aside, not to worry about it too much. Until fifteen months ago, when Desi was sentenced, almost a year after the accident, and Rebecca began to reflect. Then she was hit by something so blindingly obvious that she could still recall the sting of it as physical pain.

  It had never been that Desi and Rebecca had too little to say to one another; it was that too much had been left to fester unsaid. Perhaps if she had realised that sooner, she could have saved them all.

  ‘It’s okay, you can come in.’ She leads Desi to the kitchen, glad that Theo and Caitlin are out. She goes to the fridge and pours out two glasses of water, puts them on the table and sits down.

  Desi has been examining her fingers closely, but she looks up when she realises she has Rebecca’s attention.

  ‘I will never forgive myself for what happened, Rebecca. It was a moment of utter madness. I don’t expect you to forgive me either, and I realise I can’t rewind the clock and made amends. But if there’s anything I can do from now on, I will.’

  As Rebecca watches Desi’s tortured face, an unexpected apathy comes over her. She sighs. ‘I’ve spent so long being angry, anticipating what I’d say to you when I had the chance … but now you’re here, I feel sorry for you.’ She watches Desi hang her head. ‘I saw Maya the other day, for the first time since … since that awful day … and it made me realise how much both girls have been the victims in this.’

  Desi puts a hand over her eyes. ‘I know.’

  ‘I accept your apology, Desi, but…’ – she pauses, watching Desi closely – ‘before I can forgive you, I want to know what really happened. Do you remember now?’

  ‘Yes.’ Desi catches her eye, hesitates. ‘How is Rick nowadays?’

  ‘He’s dying,’ Rebecca says matter-of-factly.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Rebecca shrugs. ‘We both know that it will be a relief. I’m just trying to hang in there, until the end. But I still need to know, why did you want to hurt him so badly that day?’

  And, finally, Desi sits back in her chair and explains everything.

  After Desi has gone, Rebecca grabs her keys and drives to Rick’s. She is vaguely aware that this isn’t a good idea. That she should let her mind settle before seeing her father. She is shaken with this new knowledge, and the realisation of the part she has unwittingly played in all that has happened.

  As soon as she gets into the house, Rick’s antipathy sours the atmosphere. When she walks into the lounge, he is slouched in his chair, glaring at her.

  ‘I can’t find my tablets.’

  She stands at a distance, her hands on her hips, trying to get the measure of him – how this shambling, broken-down man could have been responsible for so much suffering and sorrow. ‘Okay, we’ll look for them.’

  ‘Just tell me where you put them, you silly cow. Do you do it deliberately so I have to ask? It wouldn’t surprise me one bit.’ He tries to get up but sways and grabs hold of the side of the armchair, hovering there unsteadily.

  Rebecca watches him in silence with her arms folded. She doubts he could keep standing if he took one hand off the chair. He attempts to lift up the cushion of his seat to check beneath it, but he’s too weak. She goes across and sees the tablets half-hidden down the side, pulls them out and gives them to him. She feels no triumph today at showing him who’s in control, only disdain.

  He sits down again with a thump as she holds the packet out to him. Instead of taking them, his clammy hand locks tight around her wrist. ‘Next time, don’t play games with me,’ he spits, leaning forward in his chair.

  Rebecca waits until he stops moving before she pulls her hand away and shakes it out, testing her fingers. Finally, she squats down next to him, making sure his eyes are on hers. She musters every bit of contempt for him she has, and thinks she sees a flicker of unease in his bloodshot eyes.

  ‘I finally understand why Desi wanted to hit you with her car that day,’ she says softly. ‘And to tell you the truth, Dad, I’m only sorry she missed.’

  43

  Desi

  Desi is alone when the visitor first arrives. The sun has barely peeped over the horizon, and Maya is still asleep as Desi wanders down to the water. She likes to swim early whenever she can, while the day is at peace with itself and there’s time enough for solitude.

  The world is already a few weeks into the new millennium, and, despite all the hype, absolutely nothing has changed. The papers still recycle the same stories, made into news by fresh names and places. And Desi continues to meander despondently through her days, working two part-time jobs at the cafe and the petrol station, and looking after Maya. She does all she can to be a responsible parent and citizen, but it often feels as though she is living someone else’s life. Only when she’s in the ocean can she still recognise herself, once her surroundings drop away and all that remains are the complementary rhythms of limbs and lungs.

  Today, as always, it takes her a moment to adjust to the shock of cold water, but before long it is revitalising. She powers through her morning swim, staying parallel to the coastline. The swell cushions her, relieving a weight that seems increasingly more than physical.

  Maya is seven years old, and full of questions about the world that Desi can’t answer, but the hardest by far are those concerning Connor. Desi can tell Maya is eager for a fairy story, but, as time has passed, her memories have begun to slip and wear. Despite Connor’s promises, he had never called once he was in America. Was it his death that had killed their love affair, or had it been over for him already? Although Desi had posted a few baby photographs to Half Moon Bay, she had heard nothing from his family since they sent her the money. Their silence seems to lend weight to her only ever having been a bit player in Connor’s life.

  While she struggles to keep her doubts at bay, they have slowly taken on a darker, more amorphous form. As a result, her answers to Maya seem tainted by suspicion. She has put away the necklace. She has stopped turning the pages of Connor’s log book, knowing there is nothing new to find. And, unintentionally, she has begun to brush off Maya’s questions.

  As she swims, she turns her head with each stroke, her view flicking between solid shore and shifting sea. Why can’t she put her uncertainties aside, she berates herself, and tell Maya what she longs to hear? What did it matter now whether it was the truth? Damn you, Connor, she thinks, for waltzing in and out of my life, sending me permanently spinning. Damn you for dying, and leaving me lost in this struggle.

  Anger drives her on for a few extra laps, but she knows Maya will be waking soon. She is panting hard by the time she finds her footing, and pauses reluctantly for a few moments before she begins to wade to shore.

  The silence is broken abruptly by a long, familiar sigh. As she swings around, she sees a dolphin bobbing clo
se by, facing her. He gives another protracted puff of air as, astonished, she walks into the water again. When she gets nearer, he stays close but begins to circle, and she hears him making a few short clicks as he loiters. For a moment he sticks his face above water, and they contemplate each other briefly before he ducks beneath the surface.

  ‘Hello there,’ Desi says in delight, ‘and who are you?’

  From a distance his skin had appeared smooth, but now she is close enough to notice the scars. Jagged lines, a few rake marks and teeth marks, and a faint stripe running down his dorsal fin. She begins to swim slowly into deeper water, and the dolphin moves in tandem, then charges forward. At first she thinks that’s it, as she watches him head out to the open ocean, but he suddenly turns and comes close again, then swings round and races off, as though trying to lead her somewhere. When she doesn’t follow, eventually he seems to lose interest, moving further and further away.

  She is exhilarated. She understands that the event is probably a one-off, but it lifts her for the rest of the day, and the next morning she is up extra early, hoping he will appear again. Sure enough, halfway through her swim, she hears a tired pfffff right next to her, and sees the arch of the dolphin’s back as he comes up for air then disappears. And that’s it – this time the encounter has ended before it’s begun.

  For the next few days, she doesn’t see the dolphin at all. But she hurries down to the beach every morning, and finds she can’t lose herself as easily in her routine. An air of expectancy now underlies each moment in the water. When Jackson next stays over to take care of Maya, so that Desi can work a late shift at the petrol station, she debates whether to let them in on her secret.

  But the following morning, she doesn’t have to. She immediately knows the dolphin is there when she hears Jackson’s voice echoing from the verandah. ‘What’s that?’