‘Sleeping, eating, watching movies.’ Cassie makes a snoring sound.
‘Do you want to go on a road trip with me to Melbourne?’
‘Um, yeah! Can we take my new car? Well, it’s not new. It’s probably older than I am but it goes all right.’
I’m pretty sure I can hear Cassie jumping up and down. ‘That would be awesome.’
‘When do we leave?’
‘Don’t you have to ask your mum?’
‘Nah, she’ll be cool with it. Mum moved to London when she was eighteen. She’s disappointed that I haven’t ventured out like she did when she was my age.’
‘I haven’t asked my parents yet. They’re not going to be so cool with it.’
‘Tell them you want to go discover yourself.’
I picture Dad’s face if I was to tell him this, and laugh. ‘Okay. I’ll call you later.’
‘Piper, I’m really glad you asked me.’
‘Me too.’
I hang up, lie back and kick my legs in the air in excitement.
A few moments later, I stop, realising that I’m not going anywhere just yet. I still have to get permission. Staring up at the ceiling, I try to decide when is the best time to ask my parents. They’re pretty chilled after dinner, unless Evie was fussy and wouldn’t eat. Just before bed is also a good time, but not if they’re really tired. The morning is hit and miss. I realise there is no best time. I might as well ask them now.
When I get downstairs, Mum is in the lounge room and Dad is in the study. It takes me a few minutes to get them into the same room. When they are both sitting down, I put on my most mature face. ‘Can I go on a road trip to Melbourne?’
‘What?’ they both say, almost simultaneously.
‘I want to go on a road trip to Melbourne with Cassie. We’ll stay with Grandma in Geelong and I’ll only be gone a few days.’
‘Do you know how far Melbourne is?’ says Mum.
I shrug. ‘It’s about a nine-hour drive.’
‘That’s right. You’ve only just got your licence. You haven’t driven more than two hours in one trip. How are you going to drive to Melbourne?’
‘I’ll take breaks and I can share the driving with Cassie.’ I’m trying hard to keep my voice light and chirpy.
Mum holds up a hand. ‘You’re still doing exams.’
‘The last one is on Friday. I can leave on the weekend.’ Still chirpy.
‘There’s so much traffic on the weekend.’
‘Then I’ll leave on Monday.’ I nod, hoping they’ll return the nod.
‘Don’t you want to be here with West?’ asks Dad.
I sigh. ‘I do but you both said I shouldn’t be spending so much time at the hospital and you’re right. I’m not helping anyone by being there. Part of me is afraid that something might happen to West if I go. But that same part of me is afraid that it will happen to him even if I stay. Besides, I’ll only be gone a few days.’
Mum and Dad don’t say anything.
‘I promise I’ll be fine. I can do this. I need to do this.’
‘Why?’
‘I can’t explain why. But it feels like the right thing to do. It was something West and I planned.’
Dad shakes his head. ‘Even if we did say yes, your mother and I both need our cars.’
‘Cassie has a car.’ My voice is not so chirpy now.
‘What if we flew you and Cassie to Melbourne? There are cheap flights.’
‘It needs to be a road trip. There’s places I want to stop at along the way to buy things for West.’
‘Can’t you get those things posted to you?’
‘Dad, please.’
‘All right,’ he says tiredly. ‘You can go if it’s all right with your mother.’
I look at Mum with desperate eyes.
‘Fine,’ she says.
‘Really?’ I know I should run and start packing but I want to be certain.
Mum nods. ‘But you have to call us every few hours and tell us exactly where you are.’
‘And have a break from driving every three hours,’ Dad adds.
I nod. ‘Thank you.’
I run upstairs and ring Cassie back, telling her that we’ll be leaving on Monday. Then I email my tree.
Cassie pulls up just before seven in the morning. We need to get an early start to make it to Geelong in one day. Dad has written up a driving schedule that includes rest stops, lunch breaks and driver changes which gets us there around seven tonight. The original plan was to stop for a night around Canberra, but my parents prefer that we don’t stay in a hotel.
It means that we only get to stop at the truffle farm West talked about on the way there and the cheese farm on the way back. The distillery in Thredbo didn’t make the schedule. Dad said it was too far out of the way, but I think he just didn’t want his seventeen-year-old daughter and her friend getting drunk tasting schnapps and then going back on the road. I’m happy to compromise on this.
While Dad is checking the air pressure in the tyres, and giving Cassie driving advice, I put my bag in the car and say goodbye to Mum and Evie. I already waved goodbye to Jackson as I went past his room and Tilly is staying over at a friend’s house.
‘Can I come with you?’ says Evie.
I pick her up in a hug and blow a raspberry on her cheek. ‘Maybe next time.’
‘Be safe,’ says Mum, hugging me tight. ‘Love you.’
‘I will. I love you too.’
Dad walks around the car and stands next to us on the kerb. ‘You’ve got the GPS?’
I nod.
‘And the schedule?’
‘Yes, Dad. I’ve got everything.’ I hold up the evidence. Attached to the back of the schedule are two street maps that Natalie emailed me. The first map is an area around the State Library where my tree is. It’s just a little green symbol that Nat has circled and written P next to. The other map shows where West’s tree is, circled with a W next to it.
‘Okay, well, I guess you better go so you can keep to the schedule.’
Cassie runs out to the driver’s side. I hug Dad and assure him that we’ll be fine. They wave as we drive off. When we turn the corner, I sink down into the seat and exhale. I can’t believe that we’re doing this.
‘We’re off!’ cries Cassie. ‘Melbourne here we come!’
‘Yay!’ I cry, trying to sound as excited as Cassie. I can’t help but think of West in the hospital bed, all those machines hooked up to him. It’s so unfair that I’m here and he’s not.
For the first hour of driving, we sing to the radio and argue over stations, in the end deciding that whoever is driving gets to choose the music. It’s all pretty basic driving, long stretches of highway. We do a swap-over and have a toilet stop at Campbelltown and then have morning tea at Mittagong, all according to the schedule.
On our way to the truffle farm at Sutton, Cassie pops her feet up on the dash and asks, ‘What are truffles anyway?’
‘I think they’re a bit like mushrooms.’
‘What does West want with a mushroom? Do they get you high?’
I laugh. ‘I don’t think so. They’re used in cooking. It’s like a fancy ingredient.’
Cassie shrugs. ‘Fair enough. Do you know what? You haven’t shown me a picture of West yet.’
‘Grab my phone and have a look on Facebook.’
Cassie spends a few minutes playing around on my phone and then she turns to look at me, her eyes wide. ‘Piper. He. Is. Hot.’
‘Yep and that’s with his clothes on,’ I say with a wink.
‘Did you like . . .?’
I nod and burst out laughing.
‘I’m so incredibly, unbelievably jealous.’
My face drops. Thinking of West brings reality crashing back. West is not here. West is in a coma.
‘He’ll get better,’ says Cassie, reading my mind.
I nod.
The GPS tells me to take the exit off the highway and then a few minutes later it says that we’ve arrive
d at our destination. I turn into a property with a wooden yellow sign that says Sunnyside Truffle Farm.
At the end of a long driveway, we come to a large double-storey brick house with farmland stretching endlessly behind it. I was expecting a shop, not someone’s house.
A woman comes around the side of the house as we get out of the car. Her blonde hair is streaked with white. ‘Hello,’ she says.
‘Hi. Is this Sunnyside Truffle Farm?’ asks Cassie.
‘It is. But we’re not open to the public any more. We sell our truffles online and to businesses.’
‘We’ve come a long way. Is there anything you can do?’
I look at Cassie with a slight twitch of annoyance. It’s not her fault that she is enabling me to be silent by speaking for me; that’s how we always used to do things.
The woman sighs. ‘Come around the back and I’ll bring you some truffles. Are you after something small?’
I nod.
‘Just show us everything,’ says Cassie. ‘But we’re on a schedule.’ She winks at me and we follow the woman around the side of the house. Her garden is in full bloom, yellows, whites, pinks. I wish I hadn’t left my camera in the car.
‘Wait here,’ she says, leaving us next to a wooden table in a small area sheltered by a shade cloth.
Cassie walks around the table and stops on the other side to face me. ‘This place is pretty cool.’
The woman appears, holding a tray with a few jars on it. ‘We sell black truffles here,’ she says, opening the first jar. She takes out a small bundle wrapped in a paper towel and unwraps it to reveal a black nugget, the size of a dried-up baby potato. The woman passes it to me, still sitting in the paper towel. The smell is hypnotising, earthy and almost metallic. She takes out another one. It’s very similar in size and smell, but perhaps a bit more pungent.
‘We only harvested these a few days ago,’ says the woman. ‘Ones this size will cost $35.’
‘Thirty-five dollars for a mushroom?’ says Cassie.
‘It’s not a mushroom; it’s a truffle,’ says the woman. ‘Some larger ones sell for thousands of dollars. Are you buying it for yourself or for someone else?’
‘It’s for –’
‘My boyfriend,’ I say softly, interrupting Cassie. I have to nudge and edge the words out.
The woman doesn’t make any reaction to me speaking. No big deal. My entire body relaxes. From the corner of my eye, I notice Cassie grinning at me. I ignore her and point to the first truffle the lady showed us. ‘I’ll take that one.’ The words still take nudging, but not as much.
The woman wraps it back up and puts it in the jar. ‘He must be a pretty special boy for you to come all the way out here to buy him a truffle,’ she says.
I nod. ‘He is.’ This time there’s confidence in my voice that I haven’t heard in a long while.
I wake up with that horrible feeling where you don’t know where you are. My heart pounds. I look around at the lace curtains and blue walls. Familiar memories rush back. I’m in Geelong at my grandma’s house. I close my eyes and sink back into the pillow.
‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ says a voice from the door.
I sit up and blink a few times. ‘Hi, Grandma. What time is it?’
‘It’s still early, around seven. I’m heading to the gallery this morning so I’ll be leaving soon, but wanted to catch up with you for a few minutes before I do. We didn’t get a chance to talk much when you arrived.’
Even following Dad’s schedule closely, we didn’t arrive until eight last night.
Grandma walks over to my bed. Her bangles make soft clinks as she walks. ‘Scoot over for an old woman.’
I make some room and she lies down on the bed next to me. It reminds me of when we used to visit every school holidays when I was younger. ‘So how’s life?’
‘Okay,’ I answer without much conviction.
‘How did you go with the exams?’
‘Good, I think.’
‘Good, you think? I bet you aced them. Have you decided what university you want to study journalism at? You know you could always come live with me and go to the University of Melbourne.’
‘Well, I’m hoping to study psychology not journalism, actually. I think it’s a better fit for me. I’m not sure which university though. Depends on what mark I get.’
‘That’s great. I can see you as a psychologist. How’s that boy of yours? Your mother told me about the accident.’
I wrap the end of Grandma’s yellow-and-orange silk scarf around my hand and shrug. ‘He’s still in a coma. It’s been a few weeks. I’m really worried for him.’
‘Do you remember when you were five and found that baby myna bird? It had fallen out of its nest and it was so tiny. We thought there was no chance it would live. But you fed it and kept it warm and by some miracle, it survived.’
I smile. ‘I remember. I called it Lucky.’
‘Miracles do happen.’ Grandma looks at her watch. ‘I’d better get going. When you feel like getting up, help yourselves to anything in the kitchen. There are fresh strawberries in the fridge. I’ve left instructions on the dining table for getting to the station. Will you be all right?’
I nod. ‘Thanks, Grandma.’
‘Have a nice day in Melbourne, chook,’ she says, putting her arm around me and giving me a squeeze. ‘When I get back tonight, we’ll play Boggle.’
I laugh. ‘Okay.’
She leaves but the smell of vanilla lingers in the room. She’s always smelt like vanilla. Instead of going back to bed, I get up to have breakfast. Cassie walks in just as I’m finishing my cereal.
‘You should’ve woken me up,’ she says. ‘We’re going into the city today, right?’
I nod. ‘There’s something I want to do for West and I sort of want to do it myself. Is that okay?’
‘Sure. I’ll go shopping. I can buy a whole new wardrobe for uni next year.’
Ten minutes later, we’re ready to leave. I put a new roll of film in my camera. Something about my old camera makes me feel closer to West. We get on the train at Geelong Station and catch it to Southern Cross, then change trains for a quick trip to Melbourne Central. From here, Cassie and I part ways. I tell her that I’ll call her when I’m done.
A rush of energy hits me as I walk out of the station. Before going to bed last night, even though I was incredibly, unbelievably tired, I studied the two maps Natalie sent me. My tree is the closest, so I head in the direction of the State Library. It doesn’t take me long to get there and as I wait to cross the street, among a whole crowd of people, I take in the place. The library is a beautiful sandstone-coloured building with wide stairs leading to the pillared entrance. People are sitting on grassy lawn areas in front of the library, looking completely relaxed despite the bustling traffic only metres away.
Then, of course, there are the trees. My eyes go straight to the two trees on the far right, alongside Little Lonsdale Street.
One of them is mine.
According to Natalie’s map, it’s the one closest to Swanston Street. I walk up the grassy hill towards the smooth-barked apple myrtle – my tree. It looks a lot like a eucalypt in shape and size, only the leaves are different, lusher. There’s another tree next to it that’s slightly bigger. I want to reach out and press my hand against its rough trunk but there are bushes around the bottom of it that stop me from getting close. I have the strangest feeling, like when you meet someone for the first time, but you feel like you’ve known them forever.
I take some photos, then lie back on the grass and look up at my tree. I’ve always felt connected to nature but not this connected.
I could stay here all day but I still have to find West’s tree. I get out the map, trying to work out the most direct route to get there. It’s about four blocks from Queen Victoria Markets towards North Melbourne. Grandma used to take us to the markets years ago, so I have a rough idea of where it is. I decide to walk, instead of trying to navigate public transport.
&nbs
p; Twenty minutes later, after almost being run over by a woman on a Vespa and being serenaded by a guy carrying a ukulele, I turn onto Little Leveson Street. This is it. I walk to the end and stop next to the last tree, which according to Natalie’s map should be West’s tree.
This can’t be it.
I remember West telling me that his tree was a smooth-barked apple myrtle, like mine. This tree doesn’t look anything like the tree I just took photos of. It’s a different height and shape. Not only that, its leaves are a different colour and it has red flowers. All the other trees on this street are exactly the same variety. I can see the red haze of their flowers from here. I double-check the map. This is the correct street and this is definitely the tree that is circled on the page, but it still can’t be right.
Natalie must have given me the wrong address or the wrong tree. I could email her but I might not get a reply until tomorrow or later. I need to find his tree now, which means going to the council and asking her in person. The idea of this fills me with dread. Natalie knows so much about me, things I wouldn’t have told her if I’d known I was going to meet her one day.
The walk feels only half as long as it takes. I consider doing another lap around the block but I don’t. I’ll only end up more breathless and tied up in my anxieties, anxieties like what if Natalie’s not there, what if she can’t find the location of West’s tree, what if I can’t speak?
I stand in front of Melbourne Town Hall. It’s an old, two-tone stone building. With a deep breath, I walk beneath the arches and enter the reception.
‘Good afternoon,’ says the woman at the customer service desk. Her nametag says Danielle.
I don’t say anything. Familiar feelings return, dry mouth, stiff muscles, rapid heartbeat. I spoke to West’s parents in front of everyone in the waiting room. I spoke to the woman at the truffle farm yesterday. I should be able to do this.
Why does every time have to be like climbing a mountain? Once you get to the top of one mountain, shouldn’t that be it? Like, you can climb any mountain now. The problem is, not all mountains are the same. Not all speaking situations are the same. But it’s only Danielle and me here. There’s no one waiting behind me, no other receptionist, no one to overhear us, no one that knows me as the girl with Selective Mutism.
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