In the Shadow of Satellites Page 10

  I don’t tell her that he was over here with Luke yesterday as well.

  “Aw, cute,” she grins, as we make our way up the steps onto the deck. “It’s funny – I never figured you for a dog lover.”

  “I’m not. I mean I wasn’t, before. Geezer’s a good boy though, aren’t you?” I lean down to give his head a good scratch and he stares up at me with those big brown eyes. “He seems to like coming over to visit. And I think he knows I have treats for him.”

  She laughs as we make our way into the kitchen, Geezer at our heels. He sits at the doorway and waits patiently as we unpack the groceries, taking the dog biscuits I offer without hesitation. For a big dog, he takes his food from my hand very gently. Someone has trained him well.

  I pour us both a glass of wine and Geezer follows us out onto the deck, lying down beside my chair.

  “Looks like you have a new fan,” Ana smiles.

  I’m glad she’s here. Between her and Geezer, I’m trying really hard to forget about yesterday’s meltdown. Sitting in the sun, hiding behind sunglasses and one of Nanna’s floppy straw hats, the conversation turns to Chris.

  “Have you heard from him?” I ask.

  “Just a couple of texts. He’s doing okay. His Mum’s driving him crazy. He talked about heading back to Wellington sooner rather than later, but I don’t know. You know him. We’ll just have to wait and see. He’s had a couple of good nights out with friends, so that’s good. He’ll be letting off some steam and catching up with mates.”

  “Has he said what he’s going to do when he gets back down there?”

  “Reckons he has a job lined up.”

  He’s moving on, just like everyone else.

  As the thought lights up, I’m torn. They all get to go on with their lives. I know I should want that for myself, but it still doesn’t feel right. I don’t know if it ever will. I can’t see how it can. Do they even know what a privilege it is? I want to be angry with them but I can’t. They have a choice, which is something that I don’t.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  I look over at Ana, who’s staring back at me from beneath her floppy red straw hat.

  “What?”

  “You zoned out. Do you even know when you’re doing it?”

  I shrug.

  “I’m not sure,” I hedge, because I know outright lying is wrong.

  She turns towards me a little more, and I can tell this conversation isn’t going to go away this time.

  “Where do you go, when you do that?”

  I can see myself in the reflection of her sunglasses. I don’t even look like me. Yellow straw hat with a huge brim, large sunglasses covering half my face, pale lips. At what point did I disappear and become this woman, the woman who zones in and out of conversations with startling regularity? The woman who hides?

  “Nowhere. I don’t go anywhere.”

  She regards me carefully through the polarised lenses. I can’t see her eyes, but I know.

  “Yes you do,” she says finally. “Tell me. I won’t judge, you know I won’t.”

  I sigh, because I know she won’t, but it hurts just the same to say it out loud. It’s like writing down my failings in private, only to have them tattooed on my face.

  “It’s just, y’know. Thinking about stuff. About James, and Kieran. About what we used to have, how life used to be… before.”

  I suck in a deep breath and turn away from her, looking out over the lake instead. My heart hurts so much that it radiates pain throughout my body. I feel so heavy and so light at the same time, like I’ll just float away into insignificance unless I tie myself down. The strings I use to do that lead straight back to James and Kieran. Without them, I’m lost.

  “I can’t begin to understand,” she says gently. “How could I? I haven’t lost anyone like that. I don’t blame you for wanting to live more in the past than the present – I think I’d probably do the same. It was a happier time, somewhere you felt safe.”

  I nod, but I still can’t look at her.

  “But you can’t stay there, babe. Even if it’s a little bit at a time, you have to keep moving forward. I’m not saying giant leaps, but just tiny steps. Inch forward if you have to, but keep moving. There’s a place where you can hold on to your memories without letting them pull you under. You just have to look for it.”

  ***

  We’re on our second bottle of wine when Luke appears. I’m in the kitchen throwing together a salad when I hear his voice. I freeze, my heart racing. I don’t want him telling Ana about yesterday. I don’t want to have her see, yet again, how much of a mess I am. I can hear them talking about Geezer, and then she tells him she has something for him.

  She comes into the living room, on her way through to her bedroom.

  “Luke’s here.”

  As if I didn’t already know. I take a deep breath and put the salad into the fridge. When I turn around, he’s standing in the kitchen doorway.

  “Hey.”

  He’s smiling, as if yesterday never happened – for him anyway. I’m not sure quite how to react to that. It’s still far too fresh in my mind.

  “Hi.”

  “Nice hat.”

  “Thanks. Did you come to collect your dog?”

  I lean with my back against the kitchen bench, trying to look as casual as he does, despite the fact that every fibre of my being is on high alert now.

  “Something like that.” His smile fades. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “I’m good.”

  I don’t want to talk about yesterday. I don’t want to give him the opportunity to either, considering that Ana is only in the other room, still digging around for the mystery gift.

  “We were worried about you,” I say.

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “We couldn’t see you, when we were coming back in.”

  “Oh,” he nods. “Right. I was in the tent, doing some paperwork. I need to go back into town sometime during the next couple of weeks for more building supplies. Have to figure out what I need and what the boat can handle. It’s a delicate balancing act.”

  It’s my turn to nod and then thankfully, Ana appears behind him, grinning.

  “Here you go,” she says to him. “Happy birthday, Merry Christmas and all that. I spotted these in town and thought you might like them. Don’t laugh – they’re pretty naff.”

  He turns and takes the offered paper bag from her.

  “Naff?”

  “Yeah, y’know – dumb. It’s a novelty thing, don’t get all excited. It’s not like you have to name your first-born after me or anything.”

  She’s still grinning, and my curiosity is piqued. She hasn’t told me what’s in the bag, but I know her. This should be good.

  He turns around, heading for the small table, and we both follow him.

  “I just couldn’t resist,” she says.

  “Do I need to establish a safe perimeter before I open this?” he asks, holding it up to listen to it, as if it’s a ticking bomb. “Any special equipment required?”

  “Only if you consider a sense of humour to be ‘special equipment’.”

  He smiles at that, teeth flashing. Then he sets the paper bag down on the table and rips open the end, peering inside.

  “Be careful,” she urges. “Part of it is fragile.”

  “The plot thickens,” he murmurs, reaching inside.

  He pulls out a mug first, emblazoned with the American flag.

  “Very cool,” he says, grinning up at her. “Thanks.”

  I look over at her and she’s like a kid at Christmas.

  “There’s more,” she says, practically bouncing.

  He pulls out two pieces of cloth, unfolding each one.

  “It’s a tea-towel,” she says, stating the obvious. “It lists all the US states. It’s second-hand, but I washed it and stuff. It’s clean, it’s just not new. I found them both at this op-shop in town.”

  “That’s pr
etty cool actually. What’s this?”

  He unwraps the other piece of cloth, and I can see it’s a pillow-case, red, white and blue, with an eagle on it. His smile widens.

  “Another op-shop find?”

  “Yep. Cool huh? Thought you might like a taste of home.”

  He’s considerably impressed, I can tell, his smile widening as he goes over to give her a hug.

  “Thanks, Ana, seriously. Really thoughtful of you.”

  She looks both embarrassed and flushed as she stands up on tiptoes to hug him back.

  “You’re welcome. I just saw them and thought of you. It’s not like I spent a fortune.”

  “It’s not how much they cost that matters,” he says, releasing her.

  It’s one of those moments where the universe seems to be so much in sync, it fills your heart with a kind of cosmic helium.

  He turns to pick up his mug again, admiring it, and I link my arm through Ana’s, resting my head on her shoulder. She really is one in a million.

  “Let’s test it,” she says, squeezing my arm. “I brought some beer with me. You can have one, if you drink it from your mug. Up for that?”

  His gaze flicks to me briefly, as if asking permission.

  “Seems reasonable,” I smile, reassuring him. “Let’s call it a test drive.”

  “And stay for dinner,” Ana added. “We’re just having salad and ham steaks with pineapple, but I brought extra, just in case. I mean, unless you have anything better to do?”

  “Yes, I’ll take that action. Yes, I’d love to stay for dinner, and no, I don’t have anything better to do. Thanks.”

  Unlike last Friday night, I find myself happy with these dinner plans. It’s a chance to repay him for yesterday. It might not be with mugs or tea-towels or pillow-cases, but it’s all I have to offer right now.

  Chapter 13

  Luke and I sit side by side on the deck chairs, while Ana dozes on the couch inside. I think she’s coming down with something because it’s not like her to have a nap after dinner. Our plan of simple salad and ham steaks with pineapple turned into much more, including dessert, and now I’m full and content. More content than I’ve felt in a long time.

  “It’s just common sense,” Luke says, staring up at the stars.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, just look at it.”

  He points up at the stars and I lean my head against the back of the chair to take in the black and deep purple of the night sky. It feels like we’re under a huge, black bowl, and the stars are holes, letting the light in. It’s quiet out here, and the longer I look up, the more I get this strange feeling that someone is out there, somewhere, looking back at me.

  “How can something as large as that, as dense and as endless, have just one planet with intelligent lifeforms? There has to be more. There just has to be.”

  He has a point. We sit in contemplative silence for several long moments.

  “The stars are the one true thing we can count on,” he says eventually, his voice low. “They can help us navigate, find our way home, no matter where we are. You just have to know what to look for.”

  I stare skyward, making a thousand wishes on a thousand stars.

  “Just think,” he murmurs. “There are satellites flying around up there, clocking our every move. Big brother is watching. While we sit here staring up at them, they’re up there, staring down at us.”

  It was as if he could read my mind, and I turn to find him looking back at me.

  “That’s kinda creepy,” I say.

  He starts to object, then squints, thinking.

  “I don’t know. Is it?”

  “Don’t get all philosophical on me. It’s far too late in the evening for that kind of thing.”

  “You’re safe. I can’t even spell philosophical.”

  I can’t help smiling. It’s been so long between genuine smiles it feels really good. I actually feel lighter. His teeth flash in the dim light borrowed from the living room behind us as he smiles back at me.

  “You have a really nice smile,” he says. “You should try to do it more often.”

  I duck my head, embarrassed. I don’t know what to do with compliments anymore.

  “What do you mean? I smile all the time.”

  “Not like that.”

  It must be as obvious as it feels.

  Although I feel like I’ve repaid him for yesterday’s kindness, I’m still far from capable of letting him get any closer. I’m grateful for his company, though. In some strange way it helps. Maybe it’s the distraction. Silence falls over us once more, and out of the corner of my eye I see him taking a sip of beer out of his new mug.

  “I spent some time in Iraq and Afghanistan,” he says, out of the blue.

  I look over at him, because he sounds different. Pensive, guarded. He’s looking up at the stars again.

  “And knowing that there were satellites up there, keeping watch over me, made me feel… I don’t know. Not safer, exactly, just… not so isolated, I guess. It was like a connection to home, in a weird way. I can’t really explain it. You’d think the sky is pretty much the sky, wherever you go, but the sky over there is different.”

  He’s not looking at me, but I can’t drag my eyes away from him. I want to ask what he was doing in that part of the world, but I’m not sure I want to know.

  “Different how?” I ask instead, testing the water.

  He sighs, so quietly I barely catch it. For several long moments he stares skyward, and I give him time because it seems like he needs it. I know that feeling. Organising your thoughts is never an easy process, much less a quick one.

  “I’ve never quite been able to figure that out,” he says finally, glancing over at me. “The landscape, the situation, knowing how far away from home I was. Maybe it was all of those things, maybe it was none of them.”

  Once again I want to look away, but I don’t. It feels like he’s holding me down. His eyes, dark blue in this light, burn into mine and I swear I can see myself reflected in them. It makes my stomach sink, then rise up to meet my racing heart.

  He looks lost. Or maybe I’m the one who’s lost. It’s almost impossible to tell.

  “I should get going,” he says, sitting forward and running his hand through his hair with a sigh. “Thank you for dinner. I really enjoyed myself.”

  Geezer stirs from his place at my feet, stretching and standing, reading his cue perfectly.

  “You’re welcome.”

  We both stand simultaneously, but I hang onto my wine glass so that I have something to do with my hands.

  “Goodnight,” he says, reaching down to rub Geezer’s head, before standing up again and turning to me. “Sleep well.”

  “You too.”

  I watch them walk over the grass in the dark, the living room lamp casting long shadows across the lawn. A moment later, the treeline swallows them up and they’re gone.

  I pick up his empty mug and take it inside with me, along with my wine glass. He forgot to take his gifts from Ana.

  ***

  Ana has been quiet all morning. She didn’t drink much last night because she said she was tired. Today she looks worse, sniffling and mooching about.

  “I must be coming down with something,” she says, swallowing another paracetamol tablet with a big slug of water. It’s her third glass this morning.

  “Are you sure you’re not hungry?” I ask, putting the finishing touches on a cheese sandwich.

  “Positive.”

  She grabs one of Nanna’s floppy straw hats and puts on her sunglasses, then picks up her glass of water and heads out to the deck.

  “Well, look at that,” I hear her mumble. “Hey, we’ve got a visitor.”

  At first, I think she means Luke, but when I walk out onto the deck it’s Geezer who’s waiting patiently at the bottom of the steps.

  “Hello there,” I say.

  He takes that as an invitation, and bounds up the stairs to greet me. He’s rewarded with
a decent head-rub, as I draw his silky ears through my fingers.

  I settle down in the chair next to Ana and eat my sandwich, giving half of it to Geezer, who wolfs it down appreciatively before settling down on the deck beside me.

  “His shoulder must be feeling better today,” Ana says, indicating Luke’s place with a wave of her hand.

  He’d been hammering all morning.

  “Yeah, I heard him start up when I was having my coffee earlier.”

  “I bet he’s relieved. I can see how camping out might be fun in the summer, but winter’s gonna roll around soon enough and I wouldn’t want to be in a tent then.”

  “Do you think he’ll be in the cottage before the weather packs up?”

  “I don’t know. For his sake, I hope so, although he seems pretty resourceful. Something tells me nothing much would faze him.”

  I scratch Geezer’s head absentmindedly, thinking about the cooler months to come. There’s no way I’d want to spend them in a tent either.

  “He told me last night that he spent some time in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

  This gets her attention.

  “Really? So is he ex-military, then?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

  “He must be. Why else would he be there?”

  “I don’t know.” I think about our conversation about the galaxy, and satellites. “He could be. Maybe he’s a scientist. He could be a journalist or a photographer. Maybe he was just passing through. He could be a million things.”

  “Didn’t you ask?”

  “I didn’t feel comfortable.”

  “What, asking him?”

  “Yeah. I mean, he was… I don’t know. It felt too personal.”

  “And you weren’t ready to play quid pro quo, Clarice?” she says, adjusting her sunglasses.

  I bow my head, giving Geezer more attention than he probably wants.

  “I don’t want to talk about that stuff with him,” I mumble. “So it’s not fair to ask him questions when I don’t want to answer any in return.”

  I scratch Geezers head, and sink my fingers into the long fur on his neck.

  “I get it,” she says.

  I expect more, but it doesn’t come and I’m grateful. I don’t want to talk about that now.