by Kate Sundara
‘About a two hour drive, three tops. Hospital’s nearly double that.’
‘Tess is right,’ agrees Wil. Their families were neighbours before his moved away – hers like his next of kin, Mia remembers him saying.
‘Let’s get back on the road.’
Mia and Wil ride in Eric’s Combi with most of the party. Josh drives Wil’s Chevy with the other three in it and they’re speeding through the wilderness again. Wil keeps his arm in an elevated position, propped up on the headrest in front of him. Mia, sat beside him, looks at it, believing she’s to blame – that she attracted the bear, that it smelt her anger, wild hormones, cartwheeling emotions, now she’s started to release those feelings.
‘Keep your sugar levels up, too,’ says Megan, passing back food no-one got to eat at breakfast. Mia, discombobulated in the back, accepts a bagel, looks for peace in the morning horizon. Zooming along the open road, her eyes start to shut as the adrenaline wears off, the painkillers take effect, the hangover sets in. She gazes out of the window, chastened, spacey, humble, just watching clouds, watching clouds until she falls asleep. It’s a strange groggy doze, every so often, jerking awake with mad blurry eyes, finding Wil asleep beside her. She can’t comprehend what they just lived through together – lived. Breathing, unspeaking and together reborn, she feels as close to Wil as twins today. I know that feeling. I was a twin.
‘It can’t have been the food that allured it,’ states Megan. ‘We didn’t leave any trash about and all the food was put in the canister and hoisted thirty feet up that tree.’
‘Pretty rare for a bear to attack unprovoked,’ says Jake. ‘Like, unless you’re between the mother and its cubs or you startle it. They’re scared of people, they’ll run off if they hear ya coming.’
‘You’re sure it wasn’t a griz?’ asks Megan, turning to look at Wil in the back-seat.
Wil, who’s been slipping in and out of consciousness, gingerly leans forward. Mia stares at the blood-soaked press on his forearm, the stick between them. ‘I don’t think you don’t get grizzlies around here,’ he answers vaguely. ‘Black bears… not grizzlies, I don’t think…’
‘Dude!’ exclaims Brent, ‘You would’ve known if it was a griz – that’s a proper bear. Those little black bears? Right, like one of those is gonna kill ya…’
Mia looks to Brent. What’s with the attitude?
‘Whatcha talking about, man?’ retorts Jake. ‘Male black bears weigh, like, three hundred kilos. You know they eat their own cubs?’
‘I’m just saying it could’ve been a whole lot worse, is all.’
‘How d’ya get out of it?’ asks Megan, looking back. ‘You okay, Mia?’
‘I saw light. Everything was white light.’ Mia’s not sure what she saw. Maybe she dreamt it, or had an out-of-body experience, or ingested hallucinogenic fly-agaric while pressed to forest floor. Maybe she saw me.
Mia pulls the Red Riding Hood top over her head, hoodwinked.
‘An eagle,’ says Wil hesitantly. ‘I think I saw an eagle. I didn’t really see it – my glasses came off – but there was this crazy squawking the second the bear swiped me, I looked up and saw these huge feathered wings. Then a whole bunch of other birds shot up into the sky. The commotion must have startled the bear.’
Mia reaches up and touches the feather talisman Rosa gave her between her collarbones. The hairs on the back of her neck creep up each other, just like when Rosa tied it onto her. She rubs her thumb over the necklace and a shiver runs down her spine. She pulls up the blanket to cover her goose-bumps.
‘Lucky escape, huh,’ Wil cajoles her, quirking his eyebrows.
‘Lucky escape…’ Lucky feather? she wonders.
Wil gives Mia a calm sleepy smile and looks out to the horizon.
* * *
Canada
Crossing the border they speed into Canada, finally arriving at Tess’s family ranch. Her mother’s stood on the driveway looking eager. She pulls Tess towards her and reaches out to include Wil in the bundle, then heeds, seeing his arm – the tourniquet with stick, the blood–soaked pad, and she pulls back. ‘What the heck happened?!’
The group give a nutshell version of events, Wil and Mia both rushed off to be vetted by Tess’s dad. Impressed with their makeshift medical masterpiece, he dismantles the tourniquet, cleans and treats Wil’s wounds with solutions, injects a shot of local anaesthetic and gets to work with the stitches. Wil’s super brave about it, barely flinching and even managing to joke about being able to keep his arm and the downside of hanging out with impractical arts grads when Mia informs Tess’s dad that the quick-fix procedure was conducted by Wil. She knows Wil doesn’t mean his joke, even though it’s true. Wil is in the driver’s seat, even when someone else took over the wheel, he’s just so amiable about it that people don’t really notice. But Mia notices now, and Tess’s dad’s not the only one impressed: that brainpower that once made Wil a geek in her eyes, now one of the things that makes him so cool. Humour is Wil’s way of negating his embarrassment; he’s as modest as ever.
‘Isn’t young Brent reading medicine?’ asks Tess’s dad. ‘I’ll bet he was handy in that situation.’
‘Brent’s a chemistry major,’ answers Wil.
The suggestion snags Mia. Brent could have helped more, regardless of his degree; he’s always boasting about his practical conquests in hunting, fishing and survival, his scientific know-how. Why didn’t he practise his prowess today? Before it has chance to get under her skin, Tess’s dad beckons Mia over to address her surface wounds – far lesser than Wil’s – scrapes, bumps and scratches, a few nasty bruises. Mia mentioned she likes natural remedies so Tess’s dad treats her with organic salves, gives her some oils to take away and apply as needed, though both she and Wil swallow pills for the pain.
When they re-emerge from the home surgery, Wil’s arm with dressing and gauze, everyone’s in the kitchen talking about it. Tess’s mum is opening a bottle of liquor, if only to settle her nerves, she admits.
‘Uh-uh, not for you two,’ Tess’s dad tells Wil and Mia, ‘Don’t go mixing alcohol with those things’, he says, referring to the painkillers.
‘Such a lovely home,’ remarks Mia.
Tess’s mum looks tickled. ‘I love it! British, so polite! So good to have you home, sweetie!’ she coos, hugging – nearly suffocating – her daughter. Mia looks on with a sad sort of smile and misses her own mother. Tess is close to her parents, and they’ve known Wil since he was a kid. ‘Any friends of Wil and Tess are welcome here,’ says her mum, laying out a huge buffet on the table. ‘Sounds like you’ve all been hav- ing a great time, from what Tess tells me.’
Mia is introduced to Nate and Ramsey, Tess and Wil’s childhood friends who’ll be coming back to the valley with them to work for the summer. She nearly trips over one of the little pooches excitedly scuttling about on the kitchen floor. Animals are everywhere, the house like some kind of petting zoo; cats on the backs of sofas, rabbits and guinea pigs in the living-room. Outside, goats and horses graze in paddocks, chickens cluck in their coop. Everything looks well cared for, lived in, loved.
Tess’s mum cups Mia’s cheekbone, examining her cuts and bruises. ‘So what brings you all the way to the States to be nearly mauled by a bear?’
‘Mia came to the valley to be with someone, Mom.’
Right at that moment, Mia is passing Wil a soda that Tess just poured. Wil smiles appreciatively at Mia and Tess’s mother misunderstands.
‘Oh, I see. Well, Wil, you kept that one quiet!’ Turning to Mia. ‘You know I always kinda hoped for this one as my son-in-law someday.’
‘Mom! Wil’s practically my brother!’ cries Tess.
‘Yes, son, I’d say you’ve even more of a glow about you than usual,’ she goes on.
Cheeks flushing, Mia glances Wil. He looks uneasy. ‘Not us,’ she interjects.
Everyone laughs awkwardly, except for Mia, Brent and Tess, who’s shaking her head at her mum, ‘I’ll fill you in later,
’ she says. Tess’s mother opens the oven door and pulls out a dish of potatoes, Mia turns away from the heat. Organic, free-range, crispy chicken comes to the rescue and everyone gathers around the table, marvelling at the feast, burrowing into hearty home-cooked food. Smells and tastes lift the group’s spirits, the perfect remedy for the undernourished and sleep-deprived. Inevitably, talk turns to the bear attack. Those not on the road-trip – Tess’s parents, Nate and Ramsey – want to know all the details and those not in the Combi on the remainder of the drive are intrigued.
‘Y’know, despite everything I’ve ever been told about bears, I know I’d have forgotten it all had I been in that situation,’ admits Tess, shovelling serving-tongs into a mound of buttery new potatoes.
Noticing Wil struggling to chop his food beside her, Mia helps him, discreetly and now self-consciously, thinking they must look like a doting, decrepit old couple feeding each other in a nursing home. Wil’s playing his injury down to such an extent that nobody else even noticed his challenge. I did.
‘I know there are different things you’re supposed to do with different kinds of bear, but all that stuff would just shoot right outta my head, had that been me.’
‘But you know you’re not meant to lay down, right,’ says Brent, directing it at Wil. It sounds more like a criticism than a question. ‘If it’s a griz y’lay down, but black bears… you’re supposed to wave your arms about, make yourself real tall, bang pans, yell, make a lot of noise n’ scare ’em off. The playing dead deal only works with a griz.’
‘Brent!’ warns Megan.
‘What?’
‘You’re right, you’re right: in hindsight, it wasn’t the best thing to do,’ says Wil self-effacingly. ‘I mean, I knew you played dead with one and fought against the other but –’
‘Are you kidding! You guys did great. I so woulda ran,’ confesses Amber.
‘Tess is right, it’s different when you’re in the middle of it all,’ Mia chips in.
‘They were barely awake and unarmed and only trying to get us all firewood. Banging pans? They didn’t take pans into the forest with them, did they!’ says Megan.
‘Yeah Brent,’ says Wil. ‘Don’t steal our glory, man!’ He smiles playfully at Brent, reminding Mia of that good-natured way the boys teased her on previous camping trips about her so-called ‘paranoia’ regarding bears. She knows it’s only friendly banter around the table, but hopefully enough to shut Brent up; he’s been making digs at Wil all day and Mia suspects why: Wil’s downplaying it, but he’s still the man of the hour.
Despite Brent’s idiotic jealousy, Mia doesn’t want him to feel bad. She knows what it’s like to feel inferior, to be bested by someone, like the day she found out about Freya. She knows what it is to be consumed with animal instinct; maybe these past few days in the wilderness had unleashed in Brent a sense of alpha-male rivalry. I’m kind of relieved to be out of that.
Over dinner, Mia learns how Wil and his family lived nearby for eight years until his parents moved further north for early retirement, how that accounted for the slight Canadian twang in Wil’s accent. Tess’s mum asks after his folks, his sister, says she really must call them, that they hadn’t spoken all week. Mia’s moved as the bond between the fami- lies becomes apparent, at how Tess’s parents really do regard Wil as the son they never had. Tess’s mum retrieves some old photographs of Wil, Tess, Nate and Ramsey when they were kids. Everyone gathers around as the adult versions of themselves point, laugh and reminisce, mocking bad haircuts and tiny bodies with lollipop heads. Wil appears almost egoless, the way he laughs at himself along with the others. Mia looks at the photos over his shoulder: one of the boys plastered in wet sand on a beach, one in a sports day sack race, one of Wil and Tess together dressed up for prom. Wil points at a particularly animated picture of himself and Nate, pulling faces and looking boisterous, a rebellious Wil sticking his tongue out at the camera. Mia’s amused to see Mr Nice-Guy, Mr Good-Wil showing such attitude; maybe he has a secret wild side she hasn’t yet witnessed. Curiouser and curiouser. Seeing him as a sparky little kid, Mia starts to feel closer to him, starts to remember what she was like at that age and wonders if, had their worlds come together, they might have been childhood friends, but instead she finds me.
It’s getting late. Everyone’s bushed. The ten road-trippers haul their baggage from the cars to the house. The sleeping arrangements are potentially complex but everyone’s too whacked to fuss over it, and after sleeping communally these past nights they’re happy to crash wherever. Megan and Eric take the guest room, Tess takes her old single bed, Heather and Georgia share the downstairs pull-out, leaving the others with Tess’s younger sister’s big bedroom, as she’s away on a school trip. Mia and Wil stand alone in the room, the others enjoying a nightcap downstairs. Mia says Wil should take the nice double bed instead of the single fold-down – his wounds, she insists, are far worse than hers, he deserves the best night’s sleep. But Wil won’t accept and he claims the single bed, leaving Mia the double. She soon wishes she’d been more persistent about it because now she’ll have to share the double with someone and she really doesn’t want that someone to be Brent – their status stalemate since he insulted her in the hotel room, then showed her up at the hot-spring. Still, he seems to have got the message.
A bird’s wings against the window make Mia jump, the wolf in her wide-eyed and skittish. Everything puts her on edge: the whinnying horses in the paddock, Josh or Amber appearing in the doorway. Maybe she’s wrong to isolate herself as she has done, maybe she does need refuge from those nightmares lurking in the shady corners of the room, does need Brent’s warm willing arms around her tonight. Is it really better to stay alone, to lay in solitary confinement proving to herself she’s strong? Nevertheless, she can’t go back on herself now, not after reprimanding Brent as she has, he’d think her weak – she’d think herself weak – and what would Wil think? Mia holds his opinion in highest regard. With thoughts as fractured as her body, she tries to stop thinking altogether, to relax in the soft pink light of a little girl’s fairytale bedroom, the murmur of the others downstairs exchanging goodnights.
‘What are the sleeping arrangements in here?’ enquires Amber, resting her bag.
‘Want to share the double with me?’ suggests Mia.
‘Oh great,’ says Brent, ‘so I’m taking the floor?’
‘Sorry buddy,’ Amber tells him then looks to Mia, ‘I’ll go get changed in Tess’s room.’
Bronzed and bare-chested in only his boxers, Brent paces into the en-suite, toothbrush in mouth. He turns on the shower and shuts the bathroom door behind him, too hard and too loudly. Mia shoos two cats off the double-bed and removes animal hair from her tongue. She studies family photos in pretty picture frames on the dressing table: Tess and her sister looking small and brave on horseback, another on vacation, posing on either side of their parents with cocktail-sticks in their hair. It gets Mia to thinking of her own sisters, of growing up amid the apple orchards in England. She sees it as a blessing in disguise that, during these tumultuous weeks, her parents have been preoccu- pied with her fast-rebelling younger sister – and her older sister’s approaching wedding – so don’t question the edited, trouble-free version of her life that she projects down a different phone-line each fortnight. So far, she’s kept her emails to friends back home short and sweet, which they’ve taken to mean she’s having too good a time with Zak to write more. She didn’t refute that. It’s better this way.
Mia unbuttons her shirt, lays it on the bed and stands in her vest top and PJ bottoms, gazing at the feather talisman on her chest in the dresser mirror. She studies the scratches on her face, Wil’s reflection in the background shifts her focus. He’s laid behind her, shirt off, eyes closed, sheets up to his waist, upper body bare. As she gazes at him in the softly-lit mirror, Wil appears to her in a different light, like he had by the camp-fire, only this time she’s sober. Outwardly, he’s the most straightforward person in the world, yet there�
�s so much about him she doesn’t know. How is he feeling? Is he longing for someone to hold him? Is he really as fine as he claims? He seems so self-contained sometimes, as if actively exercising emotionally austerity – which, quite adversely, evokes in Mia the temptation to test it.
Wil’s bound arm rests on his stomach. Almost flat, she observes, nicely toned. She’s never seen it before – it was always dark at the hot-springs, she’s never actually seen–
He has a good body, she thinks, surprisingly good; fair hair creeping up his golden navel, that slight curve that rested in the small of her back just a few hours ago… how his warm breath trembled against her neck as their lives hung in the balance. She’s still wearing his smell and –
‘Do you miss your family, Mia?’ he murmurs.
Her focus darts back to her own reflection as she studies her grazes, feigning full concentration, bringing her bark-burned hands up to her face, starts sniffing the oils she lined up on the dresser – witch-hazel, tea-tree, arnica – all prescribed by Tess’s dad.
Did Wil see her watching him? Why was she watching him?
She gulps. ‘On days like today I do.’ Mia turns to give Wil the sort of reassuring smile he’s always given her, to let him know it’s okay if he’s as weirded out as she is tonight. But there’s a look on his face she doesn’t recognise. Not empathy, patience, kindness or anything else she’s come to know of him. It’s less giving – less forgiving – a composed, unreadable look that holds her there trying to relate it to something she understands.
It now dawns on her, lost in each other’s gaze, she’s not even thanked him for saving her life. The inadequacy of words.
The habitual spraying of aftershave sounds from the bathroom, the door opens and Brent emerges from a cloud of vapour, wearing a towel and walking between them, breaking the look between two people who’ve shared so much in a single day.
* * *
America