by John Shors
The first image that Mattie created was simple—a cherry tree, full of blossoms, leaning over a river. As she worked, she saw that Holly and Georgia had moved to nearby boulders and were wiping them clean. Mattie smiled but said nothing, her hand in constant motion, chalk coloring the boulders and her fingers. In her mind’s eye, she saw the tree in Kyoto, near the river, and she brought that tree back to life. It dominated the rock, her pink petals full and falling, her river catching their reflections.
Mattie moved to the next boulder, taking out a thick, brand-new piece of white chalk. She closed her eyes, imagining the Taj Mahal—the dome sparking in the sun, the sky blue and ancient. Her hand began to move again, almost of its own accord, and the Taj was rebuilt, section by section, dream by dream. She smiled as she worked, believing that her mother was watching her, guiding her. That was why her hand moved so freely, like the dove that they’d let go.
The mountains of Nepal came next, their peaks topped with snow, their bases dominated by fields of green and drifts of flowers. Mattie then sketched the longboat in Thailand, the girl they had helped perched in its bow. Rupee was her fifth creation. She drew him in his new clothes, sitting on a tree branch and smiling at her. She couldn’t be too detailed with the chalk, but she captured his smile, the joy that shone from his face.
She stepped onto a massive boulder that Georgia and Holly had just cleaned. As Mattie settled in front of the boulder, Georgia knelt down and positioned a white wildflower above Mattie’s ear, then kissed the top of her head before moving back.
Mattie’s sticks of chalk were shrinking to stubs, so she decided to merely outline the city of Hong Kong, as seen from the mountains above. The harbor, the skyscrapers, the majesty of the city were reincarnated on the rock. Finally satisfied, Mattie moved to another boulder, on which she drew a lake. She then added dots of yellow—fireflies created from her memory, from a night that would always remain with her. Four figures came to life near the lake. Two leapt for fireflies and two held hands.
Mattie was still working when Ian crept up behind her. He studied the boulders, saw how her memories had blossomed—good memories, recollections of beauty and joy. Though he had always known that Mattie was talented, as he stood there, he realized that her skills went beyond what he had imagined. She had a gift far exceeding anything he might grasp. Though her Taj Mahal might not have been perfectly shaped, she had captured its soul. Though Rupee’s features weren’t quite right, his smile was angelic.
Ian knelt behind Mattie, kissing the back of her head, drawing her against him. She turned, and he nodded, again and again. Her chalk-covered hands went around him. He squeezed her, for the first time since Kate’s death believing that she could actually see them. Kate had asked Mattie to create something beautiful, and she had. And there was no way that her mother wouldn’t be watching her right now.
Thirty feet away, Georgia and Holly stood hand in hand. Holly, who had been so hurt by her father’s neglect, by his preference for a museum over her, had never expected to like a painting or a sculpture or a poem. But she was entranced by what Mattie had done. And Georgia kept staring at the rock with the fireflies, the rock that showed the two adult figures holding hands.
Mattie kissed her father’s cheek. She picked up a piece of red chalk and walked to another boulder. She climbed to the top and drew an immense red heart. Under the heart, in white lettering, she wrote, “We love you, Mommy. And I love you, Daddy.”
Ian stepped to the boulder, helping her down, holding her against him. He kissed her forehead, touching her tears, which were joined by his own. But then she smiled. And in her smile existed such goodness and hope and pride that he lifted her higher, so that she could see all of her work. He turned her around, still holding her up.
He looked up at the sky, telling Kate that he loved her, that Mattie loved her. Then his feet began to carry them toward Georgia and Holly, toward where he knew Mattie wanted to go. Though his own thoughts were still unformed, his steps were steady, and the two groups came together as one.
TWO DAYS LATER, AFTER TRAVELING BACK DOWN the coast with Khan in his battered van, the companions walked through the zoo in Ho Chi Minh City. Though not large, it had a variety of animals and exhibits. Like most zoos in the West, it featured boulevards to walk on, immense shade trees, ponds, and colorful gardens. Since it was a Sunday, the site was packed with Vietnamese—parents pulling children in wagons, couples seeking secluded benches.
The smiles shared by Mattie, Holly, Georgia, and Ian had departed. Holly and Georgia were leaving in a few hours and had brought their bags to the zoo, which was on the way to the airport. Mattie moved like the caged tigers and lions—listless and without purpose. She held Holly’s hand, and they headed toward the elephants, which Holly remembered from an earlier trip. Though Holly was sad about her looming departure, she held herself straighter than Mattie. She didn’t walk as if she was inside a cage. She had spent her whole life learning to move this way, and even though sadness gripped her, she continued onward. As she often did when she was unhappy, she recalled watching the play Annie with her mother when she was younger. Annie had believed in a better tomorrow, and so did Holly.
Holly told Mattie about a baby elephant that had been born in the zoo a year earlier. She wanted to see the elephant, wanted Mattie to smile at the sight of it. But Holly wasn’t sure if her friend would smile at the zoo. Mattie seemed beaten, and Holly wondered if she had ever seen Annie. Probably not, which made Holly sad.
“Did you ride an elephant in Thailand?” Holly asked. “I did. And I even got to feed a baby.”
Mattie glanced up from the pavement. “No, we didn’t see any elephants.”
“Well, maybe next time you will. And if you do, you should ride one. Ride one and give him little bananas afterward. Juicy little bananas that will make his trunk twist and curl.”
Thinking that she’d be back in Manhattan in about ten days, where she could never ride an elephant, Mattie nodded. “Maybe someday . . . we can meet in Thailand.”
“We will, Mattie. We will.”
“I hope so.”
About twenty feet behind them, Ian pulled Georgia’s suitcase and watched Mattie and Holly talk. He noticed that Mattie seemed to be much more affected than Holly by thoughts of the future. He wanted to lift his little girl, to put her on his shoulders and tell her that she’d see Holly again. But he had the suitcase, and he was also tired. The best week they’d had since Kate’s death was about to end.
Though she kept her emotions hidden, Georgia was also disheartened. She saw how Holly and Mattie were holding hands, and she longed to do the same with Ian, to feel him once again. But they hadn’t touched since that night by the lake, and she didn’t expect to ever hold his hand again. He was still in love with Kate, still one with her. And she wasn’t going to try to disrupt that connection.
Yet, needing to hear his voice, Georgia turned to him. “What will you do . . . in Egypt?”
Ian knew that she wanted him to touch her, but he thought again about the bridge, about how Kate had died with tears in her eyes. “We’ve hardly talked about it,” he replied, moving closer to Georgia. “I don’t know much about the place. I reckon we’ll start in Cairo, have a gander at the pyramids, and maybe buzz off for the Nile.”
“And it’s your last country? Then you’ll go home?”
“Our walkabout will be over.”
“Well, I think you made the perfect choice. Mattie will love Egypt.”
Ian glanced at his daughter, unaware of the monkeys to his left. “She seems awfully down, doesn’t she?”
Georgia saw the concern on his face but couldn’t tend to it as she wanted to. “She’s still finding her way. But she won’t always be.”
“She won’t?”
“No. Not at all. Just think about what she’s done on this trip. How brave she’s been. And she talks about Rupee constantly. She wants to help him. And that’s not what someone does when she can only think about herself, wh
en sadness is in the way of everything else.”
Ian nodded, wondering again why his e-mails to the orphanage’s director were not being returned. The lack of a response unsettled him. “I’m proud of her . . . for that.”
“And you should be. And that’s a reflection not just on her, but on you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Georgia replied, pushing her bangs back so that she could see him better. “Like I said, she’s finding her way. But you’re showing her the way too. I know about that. I know how it works. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”
“You’re a lovely friend,” he said, taking her hand, surprising himself once again. Even though he often thought about the bridge, he wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Georgia. “A lovely mate. I’m sorry that we’ll soon be so far apart.”
“Me too,” she replied, thinking about his lips against her skin, wanting to walk all day, hand in hand, in the footsteps of their children.
“I reckon the world’s too big for us, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ll be in Manhattan; you’ll be in Hong Kong. And that’s a lot of space . . . even for mates.”
“Space is only as big as you make it.”
He glanced at the sky, his feet feeling heavy. “That’s true. But . . . but to be honest, Kate’s still a part of my world. Of my space. And no matter how I’m feeling . . . right now, I’m not ready to leave her. I can’t . . . leave her.”
Georgia shook her head. “No one’s asking you to leave anyone. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I would never ask that. I wouldn’t even think it.”
He stopped walking, turning to face her. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
She squeezed his hand. “Don’t forget that I loved Kate too. I wouldn’t ever want you to leave her.”
“Sorry. I said something stupid. It came out all wrong.”
Georgia saw how Ian had slumped, how his face seemed to have aged. Even though he had just hurt her, she didn’t want to do the same to him. “You know, Kate used to tell me all about you, about not wanting to ever leave you. She adored you so much. Sometimes I’d kind of laugh to myself about how head over heels she’d fallen for you. It almost seemed . . . childish. Or maybe naive. But now I know. I know why she felt that way.”
“Why?”
A group of children passed, holding balloons, rushing toward a stray peacock. Georgia watched the children, then turned back to him. “I’m not going to say much, Ian. Not now. But I’ll say this. You make me feel young. And that makes me happy.”
He looked at her eyes, aware of how frail they seemed—faint green orbs, sheltered by thin lashes, surrounded by so many harsh elements. He wondered what would happen if he had another month to spend with her. Would memories of the bridge fade? Would he want her lips on his?
“I . . . I don’t fancy going home,” he said, aware that the girls had finally reached the elephants and stopped. “But I have to.”
“I know,” she replied, squeezing his hand once more and then releasing it, seeing his face soften, seeing his hurt.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispered.
“And I’ll miss you.”
Ian watched her step to the fence and ask Holly and Mattie what they thought of the elephants. She’s so bloody strong, he thought. So strong and wonderful.
At the fence, Mattie and Holly gazed at an adult elephant rubbing its head against a tree trunk. The baby elephant was nowhere to be found, which disappointed Holly since she wanted Mattie to see it. Holly saw her mother point to her watch and knew that they didn’t have much time left. Soon they would be back on a plane, back in Hong Kong. And everything would be like before.
“Do you think you can visit again?” Holly asked, her fingers on her sea-glass necklace. “I really hope you and your dad can come back.”
Mattie shrugged, wanting to free the elephant just as she had freed the bird. “I wish we could live in Hong Kong. Then you and I could be best friends. We wouldn’t have to say good-bye.”
“Maybe you can. Maybe he can get a job there. And you could go to school with me.”
“No.”
“Well, maybe we . . . we can go to the same college. You could study art. And I . . . could study banking, like my mom. Then we could still be best friends.”
“That’s too far away,” Mattie replied, feeling trapped like the elephant and longing to run.
“We can e-mail each other. I’ll teach you one word in Mandarin every day. And you can send me pictures of your drawings.”
Mattie looked at the elephant, then at the pathway leading away. Her legs trembled. Her breaths were shallow and frequent.
“You’ll have fun in Egypt,” Holly added. “So much fun.”
Holly said something else, as did her mother, but Mattie didn’t hear them. Instead she hugged her friend, holding her tight. She started to cry, even though she tried to hold back her tears, wanting to be strong like Holly and Georgia. But she couldn’t stop, and her tears continued to fall. She heard Georgia’s voice, saw her father’s arms encircle her, and yet she still felt alone. Watching the elephant, wishing she could climb onto its back and that together they could charge away into a jungle, she tried to set herself free.
But she failed. And the elephant turned away, moving toward the other side of its enclosure, where the dirt was trampled by the passage of countless footsteps, where human voices were more distant, and where the wind rustled the leaves of nearby trees.
EGYPT
The Choice
“FRIENDSHIP DOUBLES JOY AND HALVES GRIEF.”
—EGYPTIAN SAYING
From twenty stories up, on the balcony of a modern hotel, the Nile still looked ancient. The immense brown river dominated Cairo, dividing the city in half. Barges, passenger vessels, and traditional sailing boats known as feluccas drifted over the water, passing in front of a skyline so colorless it was as if the nearby desert had long ago covered Cairo’s buildings in dust and sand.
Though the streets below the hotel were inundated with throngs of people and battered and beeping cars, from up here the city seemed still, perhaps paying its respects to the pyramids, which stood only a few miles away. Where modern-day Cairo ended, the desert began, and the pyramids rose, overlooking the city, seemingly impervious to the elements of time that besieged steel, glass, and cement.
Mattie and Ian sat on a pair of faded wooden chairs, watching the sun set over the Nile. Ian lifted a bottle and poured a half inch of wine into a glass that Mattie held. “Most people,” he said, “would call me a scoundrel for doing this. But you deserve a sip or two.”
She smiled, remembering how he had often filled her mother’s glass. “Does it taste like juice?”
“I reckon not, Roo. It’s a heap more bitter.” He raised his glass to hers. “Cheers, luv. To you. And to Egypt.”
Her lips touched the wine and she took a sip, surprised by the strength of the drink. She started to grimace but stopped herself, knowing that her mother had loved wine. “It’s . . . good,” she said, setting her glass on a table.
He grinned. “You’re not much of a liar, luv.”
“No. I like it.”
“You do?”
“It’s kind of . . . tangy.”
“Tangy?”
“It makes my tongue tingle.”
A jet entered Ian’s field of vision, directing his gaze to the south, where the Nile began. He stroked the soft silk of a violet-colored tie that Holly had snuck into his backpack. He wasn’t sure when Holly and Georgia had bought it or the compact binoculars that hung from Mattie’s neck. Holly had written them each a note and hidden her gifts within the folds of their clothes. They hadn’t found the tie and binoculars until landing in Egypt. “I’m glad, Roo, that you’re feeling a bit better about Holly,” he said, studying the tie, smiling at the thought of Holly picking it out for him, of her sneaking it into his backpack.
“We will.”
“Pinkie swear?” she asked, sticking out her finger.
He wrapped his pinkie around hers and squeezed tight. “Pinkie swear.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Watching her face, he realized that it was tan, like the city and river below. “Your skin is getting dark. Too dark. Tomorrow I’m going to cover you in sunscreen. And you need to wear your sunnies.”
She sipped her wine. “Did you ever have to say good-bye to your friends?”
“Sure, luv.”
“When?”
“When I was eighteen, I left the bush, left my family and my mates. I moved to Sydney and went to a uni there. Then, after graduating, I buzzed off for Japan.”
“Wasn’t that hard?”
“It was hard on my mum and dad. They’re still as cross as a frog in a sock about it.”
“A frog in a sock?”
“That’s right, luv. They aren’t too pleased.” He watched birds ride on an updraft, soaring above a nearby building. “Change like that, like saying good-bye to Holly, can be a real kick in the teeth.”
“It is.”
“I agree, Roo. But do you know what?”
“What?”
“Those changes, the ones I made, led me to your mum. They led me to you. If I had never left the bush, you wouldn’t exist. And I wouldn’t have created the loveliest thing to come out of my life.”
“But you might have had another girl.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I reckon that doesn’t matter. Because there’s only one you, and I don’t fancy anyone else.”
“And I don’t fancy another daddy.”
“You won’t have one, luv. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid. Like a dingo with his looks.”