The United States of Us

by Kate Sundara

  Dawn is yawning, colours bursting through curdled sky. She watches daybreak, she walks into it, dawn breaks quickly here. Shapes that, moments ago were silhouettes, acquire features, illuminated by pink, white and gold. The chilled air is sweet with dew and newness, the scent of strawberries in a garden patch, roses wet with rebirth. Daffodils suffuse the dimness, their yellow edging each roadside, heads drooped heavily, mimicking hers. All this purity, all this early morning beauty and she feels unworthy of it all. She thinks herself a low-down stray, sleeping on landings, scratching on doors. Her party clothes are old and stale on her body and she suffers all the sorrowful symptoms of a hangover, without drink to blame. She sees herself in the wet listless bin-sack, the empty beer cans strewn across the frat-house lawn. Once she realises she has no need to fake buoyancy, she walks the Walk of Shame, sodden-hearted, no destination in mind, beyond that of walking away.

  If Ryan slept at April’s then he’ll likely still be there (meaning she couldn’t be). Nowhere’s open yet, it’s still too early, still so cold. Her stomach rumbles. Hunger pains. She heads for the gas station with a few dollar notes and quarters in her wallet, presses buttons for hot chocolate and Reese’s peanut-butter cakes.

  Making her way along an avenue, she notices a dark shape moving against the dawn and realises it’s Rosa. Mia’s instinct is to hide and avoid a conversation for which she’s not prepared. Swiftly turning off at the next street, she hopes Rosa didn’t see her. If no one noticed Mia on her pitiful escape then she could pretend this whole night never happened.

  * * *

  Dust skids down a sunbeam through a slice of exposed window, drifting particles sparkling like specks of gold. Later the same morning, catching up on a couple of hours sleep, Mia dreams she’s swimming in dirty water. Surfacing now, alone in April’s caravan, she’s filled with the knowing of something her waking self didn’t: another woman has been between Zak’s sheets. That’s the reason why last night she slept outside his door.

  Mia hopes it’s just a dream, but the sense is so real she dreads it. If Zak wakes up every day with a different personality, then today so does she: one that doesn’t trust as easily as once it did.

  She sits up on the back bunk, the sun high and too bright. Her tiredness and stiff-neck reminders of her humiliation. She looks to the clock, sees it was only two hours ago she came back to the van after wandering around the valley since dawn. April had already left for work by the time she rattled through the beaded curtain and found Ryan sprawled across April’s mattress, precariously covered with a crochet blanket. It was odd being in the van with him, but Mia was too cranky to feel uncomfortable about it after the discomfort of sleeping on Zak’s landing. She hit the hay and passed out anyway. At some point, while Mia was snoozing, Ryan left.

  Stumbling bleary-eyed and off-balance over the mess, she carries tiredness like a sack of lead, her cloak of fractured dreams crumbling off her as she checks the answer-phone for Zak’s messages – no flashing light, just a four-digit number scribbled on a scrap of paper with the word Zak written above it.

  This must be his new key-code then…

  Is the code for April or for me?

  Either way, Mia snatches it up and makes a decision: she’ll go to Zak’s place. She wants her stuff, she wants answers. She’d agreed to meet the Dale crowd today for an afternoon adventure, and she’ll do that first – steel herself in the company of that group who offer strength in numbers. Her support network. Coming all this way to be with Zak, she now knows, had been a dive in at the deep-end, and no one had been more willing to receive her than the inhabitants of that happy home in Dale Drive. Not usually one for letting people close, fear has forced her to make friends fast. She needs them now. Wil was right: things can change.

  Backed by them, if only in a general sense, then she’ll head over to Zak’s.

  The view stretches across the windscreen like a panoramic photo from a National Geographic magazine. A long open road, plains of wild horses and buffalo, ahead of them an unending mountain range, peaks lost in pure white cloud. They’re on their way back to River Valley following the Dale house outing, although Mia’s preoccupation hadn’t really let her enjoy it. She thinks how Zak is like the place in which he lives – all dramatic peaks and valleys, highs and lows – which would she find when she returned to him this time? Nearing the mountains, conversation drops away, her thoughts misting over with the thickening fear of what await her on the other side of them.

  In the back of Eric’s Combi van, cracking open another beer from the trunk, knocking back liquid like she hasn’t drunk in days. Excited talk around her. Suggestions of an impromptu party. Wil glancing at her, making a face. Whatever it is, she’s too distracted to care.

  ‘You seen Zak in the last couple of days?’ Mia asks him. She’s allowed to ask that.

  ‘No. We were supposed to meet this morning, but he didn’t get back to me.’ Wil gives a patient smile. ‘Guess he’s busy with the band.’ Wil doesn’t say any more about it, but Mia gets the impression from speaking with Ruth that Zak’s left him in the lurch at least a few times before. It’s hard to resist pressing Wil for more answers, but Mia just about manages to. She knows it’s not fair to go back on her word, this is something she’ll have to solve on her own.

  Brent touches Mia’s hand, she turns to look at him, on the other side of her, and he goes for a kiss on the lips. She pulls away with a look of revulsion. Brent’s clearly less attuned to her vibe.

  ‘You’re so hot,’ he says lowly into her ear. She can’t deny that it’s sexy and flattering. ‘I want you,’ he tells her. But she doesn’t want him.

  They finally pull into Dale Drive. The girls run into the house to prepare for festivity. Some of the guys talk about heading to the store to buy more booze.

  ‘I need to go to Zak’s,’ Mia tells Wil discreetly. This is how she planned it; she can face him having spent the day with her friends. But unless she gets some answers, there’s no chance she’s going to enjoy their party.

  ‘Will Zak be in? He usually has his dark room session tonight, or at least he used to.’ Wil looks suspicious. ‘What’s going on, Mia?’

  ‘You tell me.’ She regrets her response as soon as she says it. ‘Sorry…’

  ‘If you’ve got to go then, here, take my bike. You can’t be out walking with that maniac still on the loose.’ I agree.

  She gives a quick smile, takes a swig of Wil’s beer, hands it back to him. ‘Dutch courage,’ she tells him.

  On the bike ride over to Zak’s place she pedals herself back to life. The world grows bright, the grass, the trees, the daffodils with their cowering heads – all of nature radiating luminosity, the way it does right before a storm. Above the glowing greenness rolls a thick dark sky. The air is close and heavy, charged and way too warm. The streets are still and silent, she is the only animated thing.

  * * *

  It’s nearing twilight when Mia enters the Ivory Tower. A startled crow flurries towards her, making her shriek and wave her arms in defence. She sees the shadow of a man dart across the walls, but there’s no-one here but her. As the cawing crow shoots off into the night sky a single black feather floats to her feet.

  Beer races through her body as she climbs Zak’s stairs – she wishes now she’d drunk more beer. Touching the metal door-handle, a spark of electricity snaps at her fingers, setting her heart beating hard in her neck. Short of breath, she tells herself it’s the bike ride, the stairs, but no, her body always reacts this way when she visits Zak. She’d always fooled herself it was excitement, but deep down she knows it’s always been fear.

  She tries the key-code she copied from that scrap of paper at April’s. It works this time. She enters, struck by the dinginess of his apartment, so in need of natural daylight. Perfect place for deadly-nightshade, perfect place to keep a person in the dark. Love is blind; how had she convinced herself this tip was just ‘lived in’? He hadn’t bothered cleaning up for her arrival, he’d never mad
e any effort for her at all. The apartment is airless and stifling. Like a cave…

  Trembling in her boots, she’s all restless curiosity, unbearable itch–

  She came here for answers without the specifics of how to get them.

  Computer whirring away in the corner, she sees a post-it on the monitor with the instruction, Read Me.

  Read Me?

  Alice in Wonderland jabs the keypad, screen-saver falling away, revealing an opened inbox – Pandora’s Box… Heart booming in her ears, fingers quivering over keys, she clicks open emails:

  Zak, my darling, I’ll not forget that summer as long as I live! Every day you are in my thoughts, every day I work to save money to come and see you. Please wait for me, Zak, we’ll be together soon. Te amo. Your Maria xxxxxxxxx

  … Yes! Just like we did on the island when you led me to the meadow. Do you still think about it as I do, Zak – that balmy night against the wall? Did you find any good deals for coming to France? My parents have a holiday house in the South… just you and me in our own private world… I’ll wait your call. Bisous. Sylvia.

  Of course I haven’t forgotten you, Zak! You are the love of my life! You are in my heart always. When’s a good time to call? Let’s speak soon. Angeline xxx

  Ha ha… very funny, man. Was great to see you after the concert the other night. You were so hot. I’ll get back to you re: Thursday night, but it’s gotta be at your place this time, dude. There’s no way I’m risking being caught again. Matt.

  Zak, why you stop writing me? I worry it something I say. Please forgive me, my father ill and only me to take care of him. My life in Poland not easy, but one thought that get me through each day is you. I keep your poem with me. I can’t wait to be in your arms again. Daria Xxx

  Morning my crazy, sexy, beautiful man ;-) I want to tell you what an incredible night I spent with you on Saturday. I’d also like to assure you that my interviews don’t usually wind up that way ;-) Thank you for your discretion. I think that you and your band are out of this world! And as for the after-show party… seriously… Who knew there was so much fun to be had in a bathroom. I can’t stop replaying it in my mind and craving it all over again. I can’t wait for tonight. I also can’t wait to tell you that I’ve an amazing opportunity just come up – an all-expenses paid assignment to Hotfoot Falls this weekend. I can complete the report in a flash, then you could join me. I hope you’ll bring your inner animal again ;-) Thank you for the beautiful lyrics. Likewise, I’ve written you something that I think will whet your appetite ;-b Am at work right now, the hours are dragging too slowly. See you tonight!

  Freya X

  Mia glares at the date and sees that the message was only sent yesterday, meaning Zak was with ‘Freya’ last night when she slept outside his door. Punch-drunk and dizzy she clicks open the attachment, but the screen’s pulsating with purple prose, with the sordid and seductive. Unable to focus, she minimises all the windows, revealing an online article about the band, but she can’t look at it, can’t fit anything more in her head. She minimises that too, finds yet another email behind it. She pushes back from the computer, stands up and feels like she’s falling. Strands of sentences, words of want tornado around her, everything’s spinning, the house starting to crumble, roses choking, thorns clawing through walls. She’s the curious child who chased a white rabbit down a hole and now she doesn’t know where she is but she’s shrinking, The Queen of Hearts racing up behind her – boom boom boom – it’s her own heartbeat. She’s spinning in tea-cups, running backwards through the maze – click her heels together three times, this isn’t happening.

  Unthinkingly, she stumbles through to Zak’s room and finds a trail of erotica splayed around his bed – black and white polaroids of a naked seductress, her iron-ore eyes burning with lust, power, intent, and her name, signed across the one on top, marking her territory.

  Catching his scent in her nostrils it’s all too much. Mia rushes to his bathroom, spewing up again and again. Post-coital post-its – one on the dresser, one in the kitchen. All signed Freya Freya Freya – a sexy lace thing poking out from beneath the bedroom curtains, a condom wrapper in the bedroom bin. A downstairs door-slam, feet pounding up stairs, and Zak appears in the doorway. He sees the computer screen, Mia standing there, vomit in hair and deathly pale.

  ‘Wow,’ she tells him. ‘You’ve been busy.’ Her voice wobbles. ‘I suppose it was just a photo session? Professional intimacy. Purely artistic.’

  She looks to the Read Me post-it note on his monitor, and Zak clocks on:

  ‘You read my emails?’ he demands, as it suddenly occurs to her that note could’ve been left by Freya in reference to the online article she wrote.

  Both stood in shock, the air between them is loaded, dangerous. Zak looks defensive. Through the window behind him a party of hikers hurry down the mountain as lightening shatters the bruised and breaking sky. Anger boils up inside her: ‘It was all make-believe, all bullshit…’

  ‘Get out,’ he orders through clenched teeth.

  Shooting out, Zak slams the door behind her as she bangs down the staircase. Quicker than the crazed crow she flies from his place.

  Fumbling for Wil’s bike she hurtles away, road tearing up behind her in a twister, black clouds chasing her down White Willow Lane. Body quivering with fire and ice, she darts around the corner, leaps off the bike and sits trembling on the steps of the timber church, drawing up her knees to her chin. She shudders.

  ‘Mia?’

  She looks up startled. ‘Wil!’

  ‘What –’ he rushes over. ‘You’re shaking!’ He sees the sick in her hair, her hands trembling. ‘What happened?’ He rests his crate of beer on the ground.

  Holding back a tidal wave of emotion, she’s too choked up to speak.

  ‘Mia.’ Wil’s voice is soft – too soft – if he carries on like this she knows she won’t be able to bear it; it’s not helping ease the squeezing in her ears, her throat.

  She gasps for breath. ‘He was my One and Only. Turns out I was his One of Many.’

  ‘Oh Mia… It’s okay.’

  ‘It’s not okay. Nothing’s okay,’ she forces over the lump in her throat.

  Wil sits on the step beside her.

  ‘Then Freya. His reporter. His new lover. Her photos all around his bed. How can a person be so loving one moment and so hateful the next? What did I do to deserve that? What kind of a trauma makes a person act that way? I don’t know, but you do. You do, you just won’t tell me!’ Her frustration is cracking with the foreign feeling of wanting to cry. She hasn’t cried in years, not since That Day. ‘Tell me, Wil, please just tell me!’

  Wil shakes his head. She bursts into tears, sobs from deep inside her chest that won’t let her breathe. Everywhere hurts. She cries into her sleeves, hot tears burning her face and stinging her eyes – now she’s started it’s like she’s never going to stop. ‘It’s like I’m going crazy.’

  Wil says nothing, just draws in a deep breath. He doesn’t tell her not to cry, doesn’t touch her, he just sits by her side while she sobs it out.

  She can’t bring herself to look at him, not like this – an angry, wretched, confused mess.

  ‘I know what you must be thinking. Chasing a silly holiday romance – what did I expect?’

  ‘That’s so not what I’m thinking.’

  ‘You were right: I’m not strong enough to be with Zak, I can’t take it.’

  ‘You’re one of the strongest people I know.’

  ‘Coming out here was the second biggest mistake of my life.’

  ‘What was the first?’

  She wipes her nose with her sleeve. ‘So stupid. How could I have ever thought it was love? None of it was true. The truth would’ve had more questions. I thought I understood, but I don’t understand anything.’ She sobs some more, hopeless and helpless.

  They sit in the dregs of eerie evening light as zephyr flurries what’s left of the blossom off the trees.

  Wil lowers
his eyes, silenced by circumstance, bound by confidentiality.

  ‘I just wish I knew what was going on. I wish you could say.’

  ‘Here,’ he says finally, offering her a tissue.

  ‘You always carry tissues in your pocket?’

  ‘I’m a student counsellor, we’re issued them in bulk.’

  She laughs a snotty laugh. ‘You know, this is the first time I’ve cried in years.’

  ‘For real?’

  ‘Yep. In three years.’

  ‘Then you’ve a lot to let out, don’t hold back on account of me.’ Wil smiles his gentle smile.

  ‘Feels amazing actually…’ The nervous tension is starting to ebb from her body, she’s cried the edge off her stress and sharp searing pain. Her hands have stopped trembling, she feels clean, honest, relieved.

  ‘How come?’ he asks.

  Mia makes a little sound, not quite a laugh. She wanted a man who asked her questions, but now she finds she can’t answer his. She could tell Wil – they’ve gained each other’s trust – but what’s the point? Mia’s tragic tale, the one she never tells, the sea-secret trying to leak out through salty tears. She’s desperate to talk about it, but she can’t. Can’t bring herself to talk about me; it’d mean diving deep, though I think it’d help. It pains me that she tries to suppress what’s ailing her. If only she could do with words what she’s just done with tears – release; she’d be that much closer to dealing with it, to healing, to moving on.

  Turns out they’re both stuck. Neither of them can say what they want to.

  ‘Ah, I’m so relieved!’ says Mia. ‘Game Over. I couldn’t live here anyway. So far from the sea…’

  ‘You like the sea?’ asks Wil.

  ‘I hate it.’ She laughs ironically. ‘I love to yell at it. I grew up by the sea, I miss it. That’s messed up. I’m messed up. Who else comes halfway across the world to live with a man she barely knows? I crossed an ocean for a man who wouldn’t jump a puddle for me.’