A LIFE MADE OF LAVA

by Del, Lissa

  “I bet you liked it best when grandma told you that you needed a haircut.” He shifts in my arms and I lean closer to his ear. “Oh, no wait. Was it when she told you to stay off your iPad because it’ll kill your brain cells?”

  There’s a breath, a pause, and then: “When is Julia coming back?”

  “I’m not sure, baby.”

  “Could we go and visit her?” Jesse obviously didn’t buy the vacation story.

  “We’ll see,” I reply, not able to commit. To my surprise, he lets the matter rest.

  I must have dozed off, because when I wake, the children are all asleep, their limbs entwined in mine. I manoeuvre myself through the labyrinth as carefully as I can before I wander downstairs. I find Nick on the lounger outside, a whiskey in hand, staring up at a blanket of stars. He is so deep in thought he doesn’t hear me until I’m right beside him.

  “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was. I’m not anymore.”

  “Come here.” He sets the glass down on the flagstone paving and opens his arms. I curl into the space beside him. I’ve lost so much weight I fit easily. With my head resting on Nick’s shoulder and his arm draped lazily around me, we watch the night sky.

  “If you had one wish, what would it be?” I ask him. Nick cuts me a wry look and I shake my head. “Okay, that was a stupid question. What else?”

  His chest rises and falls beneath my ear as he considers the question.

  “I’d like to go back to Harbour Bay and find that stone,” he says eventually.

  Perfect answer. “That would be something,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

  “What about you, what would you wish for?”

  “So many things. I want Jesse to let go of this burden he’s carrying, for him to be a kid again and to stop worrying about me, for Casey to stop sucking her thumb, for Dylan to make pitcher for once and not be the only kid left on the bench. For you…” I trail off, knowing I’ve ventured into dangerous territory.

  “For me to what?” Nick prompts. “What do you wish for me, Evie?”

  “So many things,” I repeat softly.

  He doesn’t push it. “That’s a lot of wishes. You’re only supposed to get one, remember?”

  I focus on one star above me, a small, insignificant little star that is barely noticeable amongst the others. You matter, I want to tell it. I pick you. I think of the red bag in my vanity and how desperately I need it, but I don’t move. Instead, I focus on my breathing, on the fabric softener scent that still lingers on Nick’s shirt, despite the sweat. On that little star, still burning, still twinkling even though it hasn’t a hope of outshining the others.

  “A puppy,” I say, only half-joking. “If I had one wish right now, it would be that we had a puppy.”

  35

  Julia

  It’s been over a month since I left, but I cannot get the Danvers out of my head. It’s not just Nick, although he is the one who haunts my dreams, dreams that I wake from shame-faced, and yet I still cannot suppress that moment of despair when I realise it was only that: a dream. I miss Evie, too. I miss her quick wit and easy smile – the way she always knows exactly what to say. At least ten times a day I find myself reaching for my phone to call her, but I stop myself, because the love I feel for her is overshadowed by the guilt at my feelings for her husband. I miss the children so badly it hurts. Somehow, in the few short months I had with them, they wormed their way into my heart and I’m only now starting to realise that no amount of time will diminish the place they hold.

  I take my frustrations out on the potatoes I’m mashing, pounding so hard into the pot that my wrists ache.

  “You’re going to break that,” my dad remarks wryly from his spot at the kitchen table. I glance up to find him peering at me over his newspaper.

  “I don’t want any lumps,” I say.

  He lets it go. “How was work?”

  I drop the masher into the pot. “It was fine.”

  It wasn’t fine. I’d managed to get a job downtown serving drinks at a pub which is over ten miles from the house. The bus fare alone is eating into most of my wage. I wouldn’t mind so much if this particular establishment didn’t cater to a very select group of fifty-somethings who are mostly single, or keep their wedding rings stashed in their pockets and find it highly amusing to try to charm the pants off the female staff.

  Who are you to judge? my subconscious murmurs. Or is it simply that these married men are not the right married man?

  I set the mashed potatoes down on the table next to the fried chicken and fall into my chair.

  “How was your day?” I ask, desperate for a distraction. My dad folds the paper and sets about filling his plate.

  “It was good, actually. Archer’s Bow broke the yard record and Graham’s Pride is competing in his first graded race next weekend. I told Kat those horses weren’t getting enough fibre.”

  I can’t help but smile at how assertive he’s become. His confidence trickled back, slowly at first, but then in leaps and bounds, until somehow, the man sitting across from me suddenly became the father I grew up with. His grey pallor is long gone, replaced by a deep, even tan from hours spent outside, and his eyes have regained some of the sparkle he lost after my mother died.

  “How is Kat?” I ask, masochistically. Kat is close to Evie and Nick, and even the mention of her name is like a punch to my gut.

  “She’s seeing someone,” my dad mumbles through a mouthful of chicken. “Seems like a nice young chap, and she certainly seems happy.”

  I pick at my peas. “What’s his name?”

  “Jack. Nice strong name, Jack.” He pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Have you spoken to Nick or Evie at all?”

  “No.”

  The fork clatters against his plate. “Juju, please. Can’t you just tell me what happened?”

  “Nothing happened Dad. I told you, it wasn’t working out. I needed to find something else.”

  “Working in that pub?” he raises his brow.

  “It’s only temporary.”

  “Look there’s obviously more to it, but I’m not going to press you. If you don’t want to tell me, I’m sure you have good reason, but right now you’re in a slump. You miss them. Even if you’re not working there anymore, you can still visit. You were friends, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” My voice has shrunk.

  “Then go and see them. They’re good people, they’re good for you. You shouldn’t cut ties with them because you don’t work there anymore.”

  “Yeah,” I say, only to get him to drop it, “maybe I’ll pop around this weekend.”

  “That’s a good idea. It beats hanging around here day in and day out. You should take your costume if the weather’s nice. And please quit that awful job. I’m earning again, I can take care of you. You could even resume day classes.”

  He so desperately wants to fix things and I hate that I’m falling apart now, just when he’s getting back on his feet. I pull myself together and force a smile. “I missed registration, but I’m definitely going to start up next semester. And I won’t quit yet, but I’ll cut down my shifts so I can look for something else.”

  “That’s my girl,” he smiles. “Now eat up, will you? You’re going to fall through your own backside if you don’t put some meat back on those bones.”

  The next day I tell Georgie, the owner of the pub and its most frequent customer that I need to cut down my shifts.

  “But I’ve already fixed the roster for the whole of next month,” she whines.

  “I know, and I’ll work all of those shifts, but on the next rotation could you cut me down to three shifts a week?”

  “That’s not fair on the other girls,” she points out.

  “I’ll speak to them, see if anyone wants to pick up a few extra shifts.”

  “If you don’t find anyone, I’m going to have to look for someone to replace you, Julia. You’re a great worker, but the job is five days a week.”

>   I bite my tongue to keep from screaming. “I know. I’ll… let me see what I can do.”

  She nods curtly and wanders off to socialise with a few of the regular customers. A new table has just come in and I force a smile.

  “Hi!” I say brightly, “what can I get for you?”

  “Julia?” The sound of my name draws my attention to the man sitting at the far end of the table.

  “Ian! Hey! What are you doing here?” I splutter. Why, oh why did they sit in my section? I sneak a glance over to where Lydia, the other waitress on duty, is picking her nails, her lone table’s drinks having just been refilled.

  “Our office is just a few blocks from here,” Ian replies, indicating the three men sitting with him. “We thought we’d grab a quick lunch.” His eyes narrow. “Do you work here now?”

  I nod. “Yeah, for a few weeks now.”

  “You’re not working for Nick and Evie anymore?” There’s genuine confusion on his face.

  “No.” Something very strange is going on. “Didn’t they tell you?”

  “I… we…” he stops, remembering he has company and then he shakes his head. “No, they didn’t.”

  I don’t frown. I don’t react at all, but I know that something must have happened. I secretly hope that Nick punched him in the face. Whatever it was, the fact that Ian hasn’t seen Nick or Evie sets me at ease. He wasn’t good for either of them.

  “Okay, well, what can I get you?” I ask, and this time my smile is genuine. “I can recommend the rump.”

  36

  Evie

  The agony roils around in my bones as if searching for a place it’s never visited before. I throw back two pain pills even though it’s only been an hour since the cannabis, and wait, every second stretching into an hour of torture.

  “Breathe,” Kat says again, and I slowly draw the air in through my nose and let it escape through my mouth. “Again.”

  I do as I’m told, focusing only on my breathing, until, finally, mercifully, the pain begins to ease. When I sit up, I’m white and shaking.

  “Better?” Kat asks. I nod, waving away the glass of water she’s holding out and wrapping my arms around myself. “They’re getting worse.”

  “No need to state the obvious,” I tease, then grimace as a vengeful spasm shoots through me.

  “You should go to the hospital.” It’s the first time she’s ever encouraged it, and it terrifies me.

  “No, I’m fine. The pills are kicking in, although you might want to order take-out for the kids – I’ll be high as a kite in no time.” I’ve been increasing my cannabis dosage faster than my body can build up a tolerance.

  Kat snatches up her phone as I lie back on the sofa. Her voice sounds disconnected as if she’s speaking underwater. “Jack, I need you to pick up some food on your way over to Evie’s. No, not pizza, something healthy.” A pause. “Yeah, that’ll do, thanks babe.” She ends the call. “He’s going to stop and get something. He said he’ll cook.”

  “He doesn’t have to do that.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Right. What else do you need?”

  “Nothing.” She makes to stand, but I seize her hand. “Where are you going?”

  Kat’s eyes widen as she recognises the expression on my face for what it truly is. Fear.

  “I’m just going to get you a blanket, Evie.” Her voice is soft, fragile. “I won’t leave you.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears. “Thank you.”

  Five minutes, I tell myself sternly. You have five minutes to feel sorry for yourself and then you pull yourself together.

  The pain on its own wouldn’t be so bad. It’s what it represents that tears me up inside. The pain I can live with, it’s the fear that’s begun to claw at my chest, growing, ever-growing, that is sending me into a tail-spin.

  I don’t get five minutes. It takes only three for Nick to walk into the house carrying a squirming bundle of creamy silken fur that drives the fear away.

  “Oh!” I shriek as he deposits a baby Labrador on my lap. “Nick! You didn’t!”

  “You see,” he smiles, as the puppy jumps up to lick my face, “wishes can come true.”

  “Where did you get him?”

  “Her,” he corrects. “She’s a girl.”

  “Oh God,” Kat drawls, coming to a standstill a safe distance away.

  “Isn’t she cute?” I laugh, scratching the puppy’s ears.

  “She’s probably riddled with fleas.”

  “Oh, shut it.” I tease, so fixated on the wriggling ball of fur that I miss the look between Kat and Nick. “She’s perfect.”

  “What do you want to call her?” Nick asks, coming to sit beside me and petting her sweet head.

  “I’ll let the kids decide.”

  “Speaking of which, where are our children?”

  “Emily took them to the park,” Kat interjects smoothly.

  “Emily?”

  “My assistant. Don’t worry, she’s perfectly capable.”

  A furrow appears in Nick’s brow. He looks from Kat to me and I try desperately to look fine.

  “What happened?” There’s no ignoring that tone.

  “I had a bit of a bad spell,” I admit while Kat glides out of the room. “Coward!” I yell after her, hoping to get a smile out of Nick, but he isn’t in the mood for jokes. I slump back, keeping one hand on the puppy. “Kat came over and she brought Emily to take the kids off my hands for a while.”

  He keeps his face impassive, but the tendons in his clenched fists are strained, bulging.

  “How bad?” his eyes cut to the table, to the red bag and the blister pack of pain pills.

  “Bad,” I admit.

  His arms are around me, holding me, warming me, loving me, and the fear that only just surrendered is replaced by a wave of sadness. The puppy squirms out from between us and hops down off the sofa, making off with one of my slippers.

  “Kat!” Nick calls. She appears, as if summoned by magic.

  “Could you take the puppy down to the park and make sure the kids stay there for an hour or two?” I don’t raise my head to see Kat’s response to having to spend time with the dog, but a second later I hear Nick say, “There’s a leash in the bag in the hall,” so I assume she’s done as he asked.

  “Look at me,” Nick murmurs when she’s gone. I shake my head against his chest, the tiny buttons on his shirt scratching my sensitive scalp. “Look at me.”

  I do.

  “You’re okay,” he croons, taking my face in both of his hands. “I love you, and you’re okay.”

  He pulls me back into his chest and I hold onto his arm, shutting my eyes against the world and pretending that everything is going to be all right. I don’t know how long we sit like that, but long enough that the sun dips lower in the sky and the night chill creeps up on me. Kat must have re-routed Jack to the park.

  Slowly, I pull away from Nick’s arms. My throat bobs. “I’m better now,” I say.

  “You sure? Any pain?”

  “No, but have those pink leprechauns always lived in the fireplace?”

  Nick laughs. “You’re not that stoned.” Then he turns sombre. “When is your next appointment with Doctor Moxley? Surely there must be more he can do for the pain?”

  “I haven’t actually told him yet,” I stammer, “but I’ll do it tomorrow, I promise.”

  “Do you want me to call him?”

  “No! I’ll do it.”

  Nick nods his acceptance. “Tell him it’s becoming debilitating, that might help.”

  “You think he reserves the strong stuff until we say that magic word?” I smile, but Nick isn’t listening.

  “Evie, we have to replace her,” he says suddenly.

  I know who he’s talking about. I knew he’d bring it up the second he found out I had to call on Kat to fetch the children from school because I couldn’t make it to the kitchen, let alone the car, doubled over as I was with pain. In the wake of the divorce, Mary-Anne has thrown her
self into the Country Club with even more fervour and I don’t like to call on her at the last minute. That, and she still annoys me.

  “I don’t think we can,” I say. “It took me so long to find the right…”

  “There’s no right or wrong person!” Nick snaps. “We just need a nanny. Any nanny will do, but you can’t do this alone anymore.”

  “Mom?” Oh God. Neither of us had heard Jesse enter the house.

  “Hey Jesse Knight!” I can only pray that my red eyes aren’t too noticeable in the fading light.

  My prayer falls on deaf ears.

  “What’s wrong?” Jesse asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, my voice coming out a croak. I clear my throat. “Nothing’s wrong. Where is everyone?”

  “They’re coming now, I ran ahead.” He’s staring, that uninhibited, intent look that only children can get away with.

  “Did you see the puppy?”

  Thank God for the dog. The mention of it is the perfect distraction and Jesse’s face relaxes slightly. “She’s so cute.”

  “Did you guys think of a name?”

  A semblance of a smile. “Guinevere.”

  I fall back onto the sofa cushions with a chuckle.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Jesse, it’s perfect!”

  He comes over to sit beside me. Nick leans toward the table to pick up my glass of water and when he hands it to me, the pain pills have vanished. Jesse doesn’t notice.

  “You owe me big time!” Kat announces, far less sophisticated, as the puppy hauls her inside. She’s holding the end of Guinevere’s leash in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. As she looks at it, she gags. I giggle, and so does Jesse.

  Guinevere spends the rest of the evening chewing four cushions, both of my slippers and the straps off Nick’s laptop case, before flopping down at the foot of the sofa with a contented sigh.

  “Can she sleep in my room?” Dylan asks, when we finally call bedtime. Kat and Jack stayed only long enough to eat the dinner Jack had cooked, which was delicious.

  Nick looks to me. Jesse isn’t fazed, so I nod. “Don’t let that one wake up, though,” I murmur as he lifts a sleeping Casey off the floor, where she had curled up next to the puppy, “or it’ll turn into an argument over who gets to have the puppy in their room.”