by Kate Sundara
Zak takes a deep breath that sounds something like relief. Mia’s relieved too, his reaction far better than she’d dared imagine. ‘She has no place to live?’
‘She has a place. Not far away.’
Zak nods. ‘I’ve seen her around.’
‘Did you have any idea?’
He doesn’t answer for what feels like forever. ‘I should’ve known something was up. She walks by here most every day. Always stops outside the house. I’ve wondered about her, but she seemed harmless enough. I just figured whatever – thought her interest was band related…’
Mia and Zak share a vague flitting smile. He touches the image then traces his fingers over his own cheekbone, identifying the resemblance between the Dawn Treader and himself.
They sit watching each other for an era.
‘Her name is Rosa Grace Avery. She’s seen you perform. She came to your concert.’
‘She did?’ Zak half-laughs, as if not knowing what to make of that.
‘She liked it. She’s proud of you. She’s a special person. It was her who gave me this.’ Mia gestures to the talisman in her hand. ‘She said it was to help me find my path. I’d better keep wearing it.’ She goes to tie it back around her neck, Zak gently reaches in and helps her. ‘A feather is what first brought you and me together too. You fixed up that bluebird on the island. You plucked out the broken shaft.’
‘I removed the damaged part. Too bad I can’t do the same to myself.’
‘Zak…’
He tries to smile, but it’s the saddest smile she’s ever seen.
‘Is this for me too?’ he asks, referring to the back of an envelope.
Mia looks puzzled. Turning it over she sees it’s addressed to her, the mail from my sister she pocketed weeks ago and forgot about. ‘Oh… I’ll read it later…’
Zak softly leans in towards her, taking her in his arms.
‘Thank you,’ he tells her. ‘Thank you. Thank you.’
And in the tightness of his embrace, at last she lets him go for good.
Alone, outside, Mia finally opens the letter from Lucy. A card, it turns out. An apology. Orderly writing expresses her hopes that Mia is having a wonderful time and that she regrets their tiff in the London café. She goes on to confess that she has never blamed Mia for what happened to me, but blames herself for never learning to swim – that she’d projected her pain onto Mia and has felt awful about it ever since. It’s the last thing Mia expected. All this time they’d shared more than she knew.
Mia, stunned by my twin’s revelation, feels a huge weight lift from her shoulders. Not enough to send me on my way, but another step closer on our journey to liberation.
* * *
Mia and Ruth hike to the summit of sweeping falls to watch the sunset. It’s a long way up with a sheer drop, hence the name.
‘You haven’t brought me up here to push me off, have you Ruthie?’
They both laugh a little – how Mia needs to laugh.
‘I’m sorry… about before,’ says Ruth. ‘You didn’t ask for Wil to protect you against that stupid bear. I was irrational to be so jealous.’
‘Love isn’t rational,’ says Mia.
‘Still, it seems so silly compared to this Rosa-Zak business. You’ve some rad detective skills.’
‘No. Intuition led me to the truth, but the truth wanted to be known. I was on its path, it came through me.’
‘Well, now they’ve connected, it’s up to them from here on out. Your work is done, my friend.’
‘I hope it all works out okay.’
‘He’s in a good place, Mia. Just look all around us. Plenty worse places a person could be suffering; it’s not like he’s lost in some crazy big city.’
Mia envisions the glorious dawns she witnessed as a stray – misty mornings, spectacular sunrises silhouetting magical trees, night birds nestling, stars melting in the blaze. ‘Yeah, sometimes you can almost believe you’re on the open plains of Kenya.’
‘I want you to stay,’ says Ruth, twiddling the stem of a leaf between her fingers.
‘The wind’s a-callin’, Ruthie.’ Mia smiles, squeezes Ruth’s arm – it’s bravado, not what she really thinks; she’s masking myriad mixed emotions about leaving.
‘These stories: mental illness, forced adoption, bear attacks – everything but the fairytale you came here for,’ says Ruth.
‘Fairytales are filled with dark as much as light. People forget that when they wish for one.’
‘You’ve made the most of a bad situation, Mia. Credit to ya – adventures and camping trips–’
‘All the things I imagined doing with Zak.’
‘All the things you’ve been doing with Wil instead.’
‘Wil…’ Mia pauses.
‘What is it?’
‘I need to speak with him. I went over there today. He wasn’t in. I really want to see him.’ Ruth looks at her questioningly.
‘To talk about Zak,’ Mia assures her. ‘Wil knew about all this, about Zak, about Rosa. Can you imagine that? I want to know how much he knows. I need to get things straight.’ Mia’s trying to fathom her unfixed feelings about Wil, as if her feelings for him weren’t already complicated enough. She’s been dreaming of him for weeks now – dreams ever-more intimate, erotic, entangling – dreams that woke her up on Ruth’s couch in a sweat, plagued with a sense of confusion and disloyalty. Even now she’s warmed against the cool air just hearing his name. But with the lid off these secrets, she’s not sure how to feel.
‘Is that the only reason you want to see Wil so bad?’ asks Ruth.
Mia frowns.
‘Who is he to you?’ presses Ruth. ‘Friend and confidante? Someone I’m in love with…?’
To Mia he’s all that and more. He’s a vision in white T-shirt, driving her away from trouble like an angel at the wheel. He’s the camomile-smile when the world is a harsh place, the quiet room where they sit and talk. He’s the one who believes in her when she’s stopped believing in herself, who helps her pick up the pieces, who reminds her of her own strength. He’s the hand hovering her back when climbing mountain-faces in the dark, he’s her sign of safety when hot-springing with a bunch of naked men or road-tripping across the country. He’s feel-good getaways, pine forests and happy childhood memories, he’s the joke that makes her laugh when she’s in pain, the one who lets her make him smile. He’s the secret glimpse, the thrill and sweet rush as he surges from steamy water, he’s her favourite drink being ready on the bar. He’s every stimulating question, every little nickname, every glance in her direction, every opened door. He’s the contradictions in her heart trying to lock itself back up that, whenever she’s around him, wants to stay wide-open. She can’t suppress the phoenix rising from the ashes in her chest. But now…
‘I’m angry at him!’ blurts Mia. ‘Wil knew the truth about Zak the whole time, but I had to go through all this to figure it out!’
‘What do you mean knew the whole truth? What makes you so certain?’
Mia can’t break Wil’s confidence. She promised no one would ever find out he gave her the heads up – even if it was only half the picture – so she white lies: ‘He’s bound to know. He’s Zak’s friend, ‘like brothers,’ you said.’
‘Which is exactly why Wil has never made a move on you, just so you know. He’s one of the good guys. He has respect and integrity. You’d have to be the one to initiate things. Wil’s a gentleman.’ Ruth lets out a loaded breath. The girls walk a few paces without talking.
Mia is thrown by Ruth’s digression. ‘Anyway…’
‘Zak’s super private, Mia, you know that. He could probably hide his state, even from Wil. And if Wil learnt about it through his counselling then there’s no way he could’ve told you about it. He’d have been risking his job, right?’
‘Right.’ Mia’s backed into a corner on this one. She’ll have to take it up with Wil, directly.
The girls keep walking.
‘I don’t think that’s your
real frustration,’ deduces Ruth.
‘You know why I never come on those adventures with you, Mia?’
‘Because of your library job… You didn’t coordinate your time off with the others.’
‘Because you and Wil have something he and I never had – chemistry!’
‘What? Oh no, Ruthie! Please don’t start with the primate analogies again…’
‘I could’ve taken that time off work if I’d wanted to road-trip with you guys, but I didn’t.’
Mia looks wounded. ‘Why not?’
‘And play third wheel? The sexual tension between the two of you is ridiculous!’
Mia scoffs.
‘Doth the lady protest too much? C’mon, Mia, it’s been there from the get-go and it kills me. That’s why I never come! Unrequited love – turns out that’s another sucky part of the real world too! I guess I brought it all on myself, I was so determined to have you stick around when you wanted to leave the valley. You and Wil, it was inevitable. But this – all this – it puts everything into perspective, and it makes me so grateful how lucky I am! These past few weeks with Corey, it’s been fast but I was so ready to be loved. And I love him for loving me the way I am. I’m happy. I want you to be happy. I want Wil to be happy too. Spend the time you have left here being happy. Be happy with Wil.’
Now Mia’s juggling even more feelings about him. Not only had Wil put his job on the line for her, he’d balanced it with keeping Zak’s confidence, performing diplomatic acrobatics. Realising that, though Wil may have contorted the facts, he’d done his best by everyone, Mia’s fury starts to subside…
‘Even if it is mutual, I wouldn’t do that to you,’ she tells Ruth.
‘Mutual! See?’ In Mia’s muddle, Ruth has outfoxed her.
‘Please. You’re the gold-dust I’ve sifted out from all this mess. I’ve never had a friend like you!’
‘Me neither. And even now I don’t regret making you stay. I’ve loved having you here.’ Ruth sits on a rock, sunset in her eyes. ‘I have loved Wil a long time. Long enough to know nothing’s going to happen between us. You can’t make somebody love you. Wil was never mine, it was only ever the dream that belonged to me. You understand that, Mia. And though it feels like the hardest thing in the world watching the person you love loving someone else, sooner or later he’s going to be with someone. Please let that someone be you. If it were you it’d almost be me.’ Ruth smiles like some brave abandoned princess. Mia’s heart is full of love for her.
‘I wish I could do something for you.’
‘There is something,’ says Ruth, eventually. ‘Help me to let go. Help me to let go because I don’t know how. Have him. Have him for me.’
Mia cups her hands around both of Ruth’s and, looking into each other’s eyes, they open their fingers like a lotus in bloom, letting the golden leaf Ruth’s been holding onto take flight.
‘What are you going to do, Mia?’
‘I don’t know.’
* * *
I’ve tried so many times to reach her. The closest I got to her believing was through the rain. Once, during her lowest point, she sat in the mud in the fields we’d played in as children. Rain lashing down, I knelt at her feet. She almost felt me then. The sound of water, like crashing waves, acted as conductor between us. But when the rain seized, Mia ascribed it to her neurosis.
Wind rattles on the doors and whistles under the rafters. She’s lying on Ruth’s couch, covers tossed on the floor. It’s been one of those weird weather nights that obstruct proper sleep, the wind noisy, the air warm, something big building up in the atmosphere. She’s near driven to distraction.
Mia takes an afternoon stroll beneath a surreal brown sky, miniature cyclones sucking up dust from the ground, leaves shooting through eerie air. She ties her jacket around her waist again – the humidity gives her headache one minute, the cool streaming down from the mountaintops gives her goosebumps the next.
She spends most of the day downtown, sheltered by buildings, looming like a shadow behind a pillar opposite where – as a friendly local directs her – Old Maurie’s Piano Bar used to be. Now the sign on that establishment reads The Cottonwood Hardware Store, and looks like a sober respectable place. She envisions scenes from Rosa’s letters – the bar, whorehouse, fabric factory – remembers what she said about the valley being full of stories. A valley of secrets.
It starts to rain again, no ordinary rain, a deluge. It hammers down hard. Mia runs to the side of the abandoned factory, taking refuge beneath the old metal shelter where the downpour is near deafening. She closes her eyes on it, on all the broody, solemn contemplation of the day.
She inhales, exhales and I see my chance. Water connecting us, its sonics surge her back to that day, to the roar of the ocean, to me – and I’m ready.
‘Mia.’
Nothing. She stands, eyes closed, not moving.
‘It’s me’ – or it’s her imagination, she’s not sure which. The feeling is too real to believe she’s only talking to herself.
She opens her eyes, desperately needing to see me, but sees nothing but the splashing rain on the road, the buildings. Closing her eyes, she whispers, ‘Come back.’ Her eyelids flicker, her ears pique and she’s wanting, waiting, to hear me.
I’m excited to break through but I contain all my emotions, the way I’ve learnt to. ‘Don’t go back to that day. Don’t go there, you don’t need to.’
Her breath trembles. ‘I’m going out of my mind,’ she mutters. ‘Finally… I’ve gone crazy.’
‘You’re not crazy.’
‘But when I open my eyes you’re not here.’
‘So don’t open them. I’m right here, I always am.’
‘I know.’ She gulps. I’m so close that I can hear it, our contact creates a quiet passage through the sound of the rain. ‘Is it because you’re mad at me? Is that why you’re still here?’
It breaks my non-physical heart to hear her ask the question she’s borne this whole time.
‘I let you down. I let you drown…’
‘You didn’t do either. It was my heart.’
‘When they pulled you from the water, you were already gone.’
‘I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t hang on.’
‘You were so young – too young! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.’
‘I’ve walked with you through mountains and valleys, a burden more than your backpack. What happened to me wasn’t your fault.’
‘Then why am I like this?’ Her tears start to fall. ‘Why?’ She puts her hand to her head.
‘You’re a good person.’
‘I’m not, I’m not.’
‘I’ve been trying to reach you – to tell you.’
‘You are me!’
‘You’re changing, you’re letting go, you’re crying, see! – how long could you not cry?’
‘And now I can’t stop…’
I smile at her, she feels it like a sunbeam.
‘It’s been so hard,’ she says. ‘Nothing should be this hard. I’ve been trying so hard. Trying to be hard. I’m cracking.’
‘Blessed are the cracked for they let in the light.’
‘Light?’
‘If you must crack to be enlightened, then this is my chance, so listen.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘You are not responsible for what happened to me that day, yet you’ve carried it with you. You say you’re free, but how are you free when you’re holding onto me? I’m the undercurrent in your life, the thorn in your side, the stone in your shoe. I’m the gaps in your conversations, the voice in your head, your comparison, the heart you ache to run back to. I’m the one who you know, the one who really knows you. But now I need you to let go of me.’
‘I can’t. I don’t know how!’ Her tears are streaming. ‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘You’re strong, Mia.’
‘I’ve had to be strong!’ Rivers of anger, injustice, frustration pour down her face,
inseparable from the rain. I can’t give her what she needs. I can’t ever come back to her, we both know it.
‘Breathe,’ I tell her. ‘Breathe…’
Her fingers tremble. All these years she’s been holding it together. Not anymore. Nervous system strained, she caves against the wall.
‘Live life. Embrace love. Don’t shirk it off because of me. Until now you’ve been attracting people operating on the same frequency as you, trying to escape inner sadness, emotionally unavailable ones who’ll elude or abandon you because you think you don’t deserve love, but you do.’
‘Until now?’
‘When you broke down in front of Wil, that was when things changed between you.’
‘I was a wreck!’
‘You were real.’
‘I know what you are. Some figment of my conscience. Some part of me that knows more than I do.’
‘If that’s what I am then what would I tell you?’
‘That it wasn’t my fault.’
‘Now say it like you mean it.’
She doesn’t. She just says, ‘Why now?’
‘Because it’s taken this journey to make you see.’
‘That’s the reason… for all of this?’
‘You see more now than you’ve ever seen before. You’ve been learning to see. Your eyes have been opened.’
Droplets drip from her still closed eyes, her lashes. ‘I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much,’ she says. ‘Every day. It never went away. I never stopped feeling you… It’s so good to feel you. I want you to stay.’
‘To free yourself is to free me.’
‘No! If I don’t have you I have nothing!’
‘You have everything. Let go and you’ll see! Keeping hold of me is like cupping water in your hands when you’re standing in the ocean. Release and you’ll see what already is. It’s so much bigger. Let yourself love – and be loved! It’s all here!… Mia… I have to go.’