In the Shadow of Satellites Read online

  I nod, because there’s no point denying it.

  “Sorry. I just… I was just thinking.”

  “It’s okay, no need to apologise. I do that sometimes too.”

  His hand is still on my arm, and I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, as if he’s trying to figure me out. I don’t need another friend. I have all the people in my life that I can handle. As if reading my mind, he lets go of my arm, finally breaking eye contact so I can breathe again.

  “Shall we go?” he says.

  He lets me set the pace, and I walk as fast as I dare. He doesn’t seem to notice, calling ahead to Geezer every now and then to make sure he stays in sight.

  “How long does it take?” he asks after a few minutes. “From one end of the track to the other, I mean.”

  “It takes me about an hour, give or take, but I’m not exactly fit.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  He’s clearly being polite because he’s hardly broken a sweat.

  “You’re doing demo all day,” I say. “From what I’ve seen, I’m sure you could walk this in well under an hour. You could probably run it. I used to.”

  “Maybe, but where’s the fun in that? There’s something to be said for taking your time, stopping to smell the roses – or admiring the view, in this case.”

  I’m not sure if he’s just humouring me or if he really believes this. I guess if I was walking this track to admire the view, I’d think the same way. As it is, I’m walking it to kill time, because that’s something I have in abundance these days.

  “Geezer!” he calls, as the track narrows to the point where we can’t walk side by side anymore.

  Geezer appears again from out of the undergrowth and waits for us. Luke falls back and I’m obliged to take the lead, which is mildly annoying. Now I feel like I need to pick up the pace, which is the opposite of what I really want to do. I’m tiring fast, not used to exerting this much energy. Geezer waits until we’re almost to him, then trots off ahead again.

  “How old is he?” I ask, trying not to breathe too heavily.

  “Who, Geezer? I have no idea. He kind of adopted me, not the other way around.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. I was out at the Blue Lake, at the campground there, and he just rocked up one day and sat beside my tent, like he was waiting for something. It was weird. He didn’t have a collar or any kind of identification at all. I went to the office and asked if anyone had lost their dog, but no one had. When I left, he came with me. He’s been with me ever since.”

  Geezer stopped for a moment, as if he was listening, then turned and continued walking.

  “So how did he get his name?” I ask.

  “Well, we’re in Rotorua, famous for its bubbling mud and geysers, so…”

  It takes me a moment to understand.

  “Oh,” I say, as the penny drops. “Geyser. I get it now.”

  “You guys pronounce it –“

  “Guyser, not geezer.”

  He chuckles.

  “Over here, geezer means something else entirely,” I say, by way of explanation. “I think it’s an English thing. Over there, they say ‘that geezer’ like we’d say ‘that bloke’ or ‘that guy’. Part of our colonial heritage.”

  “I guess, either way, it works for him.”

  We fall silent once again, as the track begins its gentle decline down to the end, and the lake.

  Chapter 9

  I can’t find my pen. It’s not where I’m sure I left it, where I always leave it. I make sure I put things away, and everything has a home. Otherwise I lose things and that gets really bloody annoying. My pen was definitely here yesterday morning, and now it’s gone. I search all over, but it’s nowhere to be found.

  Sometimes things go missing here, and this time I’m sure it has nothing to do with me. My pen is the latest item in a grocery list of mysterious disappearances. I stand in front of the calendar, Wednesday mocking me.

  “Okay,” I say to the empty house. “Alright. I get it. I know you’re here, but can you please stop stealing my stuff?”

  They say that some spirits feel the need to remind you that they’re watching over you, so they take your things, and then they give them back to you later. I usually find the things I’ve lost – granted, not where I thought they’d be, but I find them. That’s how I know I put them somewhere strange. Keys in the fridge, milk in the pantry, my favourite shirt in the tea towel drawer.

  But when things disappear altogether, that’s when I know it’s not me.

  It’s James and Kieran, playing games. I can almost hear them giggling together. For the first time in a while, it doesn’t hurt. Instead, it makes me smile properly for the first time in days.

  “You guys suck.”

  I fumble around in the kitchen drawer for another pen, but all I come up with is a red one. I use it to mark off Wednesday on the calendar. The one red cross stands out markedly against all the black ones. An echo from somewhere deep inside reminds me that something like this would annoy James, with his need to keep things ordered and neat. Now, it just marks the day that he and Kieran stole my black pen. A red letter day, in more than one sense.

  I’m almost out of coffee, so I use my red pen to add it to the list that Ana and I made on Sunday, before she left. It’s getting urgent. I can do without some things, but I must have coffee. I need supplies, and I have to go today. Contemplating it for a moment, I decide that I can handle this. I can. Today is a good day.

  I grab my notebook and flip it open while I wait for my precious coffee to cool. Dangling the pen between my fingers, I take a moment to think. I’ve already written about the day Kieran was born, but today I want to write about the day we took him home from the hospital.

  It was strange, walking back into the house again after only being away a couple of days. When I left, it was in a hurry. I was in labour and things were frantic, despite my intention to keep calm, to keep James calm. Arriving home a couple of days later, a little bundle of joy in my arms, a proud but worried husband beside me, everything seemed different. It was like walking into a new dimension. I guess in a way it was. Nothing was the same after that.

  I write down everything I can remember about that day, from what I had dressed Kieran in for his first ride in a car, to what James made for dinner that night. I mention my engorged boobs and the 11pm, 2am and 5am feedings. I even mention the tears, of gratitude, anxiety and happiness that sneak up on me at some point between feedings, while James is sleeping soundly beside me and Kieran is finally sated. That night seemed like the longest in history. At the time, I remember begging for more sleep. Now, I’d give anything to have that night over again. I wouldn’t have put Kieran back into his cot. I wouldn’t have slept. I would’ve held him in my arms all night, committing him to memory, every inch of him, from his dark downy hair, to his chubby little toes. I would’ve relished the weight of him, the feel of him against my body, his skin so soft and sweet-smelling.

  I look up from my notebook bleary-eyed. Sometimes the memories hurt more than they heal. Staring at the French doors from my place at the table, it takes me several seconds to realise that Geezer is sitting there, on the other side of the glass. He appears to be watching me. I close my eyes. Maybe he’s an apparition. It’s not the first time. I open my eyes again slowly, but he’s still there. His tail begins to wag, slowly at first, and as I get up to open the door he stands too, his tail beating a swift, silent drum.

  “Hello,” I say, opening the door to him.

  I’m probably imagining it, but he looks like he’s smiling, which makes me smile in return.

  “Do you want to –”

  Before I can finish my sentence, he’s strolling past me and into the living room.

  “– come in?”

  He lies down on the floor in front of the couch, looking every inch at home. I glance out the door and across in the direction of Luke’s place, but it’s clear Geezer has wandered over here of his own free
will. I can hear Luke hammering in the distance, oblivious.

  “Okay,” I say, to him or to me, I’m not sure. “You might as well stay for a little while.”

  He looks up at me, then drops his head on his paws again, quite content. I prop open the French doors and go back into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, filling up a small bowl as an afterthought.

  “This is for you,” I say to him, setting it on the floor by the kitchen door. “In case you get thirsty.”

  His eyes follow me, but he doesn’t move. It’s very clear that he’s not intending on going anywhere anytime soon. It’s an unexpected pleasure, having company that will keep my secrets.

  I sink down into the armchair across from him and take a sip of water.

  “Does Luke know you’re here?”

  He raises his head to look at me, his tail wagging slowly. I take that as a no.

  “So you snuck out, then? I don’t mind, as long as he doesn’t.”

  He gets up and comes to sit at my feet, and I sink my hand into his long, soft fur.

  “I don’t mean to make you feel awkward,” I say. “But Luke says you have a crush on me. I just want you to know that I think that’s really sweet. And as long as you’re not planning on eating me, I think we can probably work with that.”

  He turns to lick my hand in reply. I’m not sure if that’s meant to warn me that he’s thinking about it, or reassure me that he’s not. Taking a punt, I decide that it’s a reassuring gesture, because he seems very relaxed in my presence.

  He stays by my side until lunchtime, watching as I check my meagre-looking pantry for something to eat. I toss him a couple of leftover pieces of ham that Ana brought with her on the weekend, and he catches them, inhaling them in seconds.

  “Hungry?” I say. “Yeah, me too.”

  There is no milk, eggs or cheese left, and precious little in the way of snacks. I really need to get my supplies from the store or it’s going to be a really long couple of days. I have meat in the freezer and cans in the pantry, but I need the basics.

  “What do you say – time you went home for some real food?”

  He sits and stares at me, not blinking. It looks like he’s waiting for something. I walk over to the French doors and point over in the direction of Luke’s.

  “Come on boy, off you go. I have stuff I need to do.”

  He doesn’t budge. I really don’t want to, but I can see that I’ll have to take him back over to Luke’s.

  “Alright,” I say. “Let’s get you home.”

  He hesitates for a moment, and it flashes through my mind that I might be stuck with him. But then he gets up and pads towards me.

  “Come on,” I say, patting my leg. “Let’s go.”

  He trots along beside me as we take the steps down off the deck and over the lawn to Luke’s.

  ***

  As Geezer and I make our way through the trees to Luke’s place, we’re greeted by a torrent of verbal abuse. I pause for a moment, although Geezer doesn’t seem concerned, trotting on ahead. I can’t see Luke, but I can sure as hell hear him. He’s swearing like a sailor.

  “Hello?” I call, pretty sure I’m the last person he wants to see right now.

  “Sian?”

  “Hi. Is this a bad time?”

  There’s a momentary hesitation, before he appears around the side of the cottage, holding his shoulder. His face is red and he looks as pissed off as he sounds.

  “No, no,” he says quickly, then pauses. “I suppose you heard that?”

  I nod, holding my ground.

  “Sorry,” he sighs. “Stupid… the perils of demolition.”

  “What happened?”

  I’m not moving any closer just yet. He still looks pretty pissed off.

  “I wrenched my shoulder. It was either cuss a little or launch the crowbar into the lake.”

  He makes an effort to shrug, but it clearly hurts.

  “A little?”

  That makes him smile.

  “Compared to what was going through my head, that was a little, believe me.”

  “Are you okay?”

  I venture closer, while Geezer lies down beside the tent, watching us.

  “Yeah, I think so. It’s just gonna slow me down a little, which is kinda frustrating.”

  He smirks at that, and I find myself feeling relieved that he hasn’t hurt himself seriously.

  “I bet.”

  He tries to roll his shoulder, flattening the palm of his hand against it, wincing.

  “What brings you over here?”

  I glance over at Geezer, who doesn’t seem upset at either the fact that his master is hurt, or the fact that he was just screaming bloody murder moments ago.

  “Geezer came for a visit this morning. I was just bringing him home.”

  Luke looks over at Geezer, then turns back to me.

  “Did he? I hope he wasn’t a nuisance?”

  “No, not at all. We had a very relaxing morning together, actually. It’s just that I have to go over to the store and get some supplies, and I didn’t want to leave him alone in the cottage. I thought you might be wondering where he was.”

  “I didn’t even know he was gone, to be honest. He wanders in and out of here all day. But thanks. If he’s getting in your way, I can keep a closer eye on him.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. It was nice to have some company.”

  He smiles, nodding.

  “Yeah, he’s not much of a talker, but he’s a good listener, aren’t ya boy?”

  Geezer doesn’t even lift his head, just watches us from his spot by the tent.

  “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll get going then,” I say, running out of small-talk.

  He takes a couple of steps closer, still holding his shoulder.

  “You heading over to the store, did you say?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you mind picking something up for me?”

  It’s impossible to say no, but for some reason I want to. I don’t want to get too close to him, and running errands for each other is way too close.

  “What do you need?”

  “Dog biscuits. I’m running low but it’s the only thing I really need, and I’d rather not make a special trip across the lake if I can help it.”

  Now I feel like a real shit. He’s not asking for himself, he’s asking for Geezer.

  “Right. Yeah, that’s fine. I can do that, not a problem.”

  His relief is palpable.

  “Thanks, that’s great. Just hang on for a sec?”

  He makes a brisk retreat, digging into a box beside the tent, and comes back with an almost-empty bag of dog biscuits, which he hands to me.

  “He likes these ones. I’ve bought them from the store before, so they should have them. If they don’t, don’t worry about it. I’m due to go over to town in a couple days, I can grab some from the supermarket while I’m there. I’ve got plenty of dog meat left, so he won’t starve. It’s just, well, he likes to have biscuits as well. He’s kinda spoilt.”

  He looks embarrassed, but it’s sweet. I take a look at the bag. There’s a good chance I won’t remember the name by the time I get over to the store. It’s been a long time since I trusted my memory.

  “Do you want to take the bag with you?” he asks.

  I wonder if he can read my mind, and my cheeks immediately burn hot at the thought.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, folding it up, avoiding his eyes.

  “And take this,” he says, handing me some money.

  “No, no, it’s fine,” I say, pushing his hand away. “My treat.”

  In reality, I’ll say just about anything to get me away from here quickly.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Okay. Thanks for this. Really appreciate it. I know he will, too.”

  I look up and he’s smiling at me. There’s no trace of judgement or pity.

  “No worries,” I say, ba
cking away with the bag. “I’ll see you later.”

  I can feel him watching me as I retreat into the bushes, and when I pull out onto the lake in the boat a short time later, I look over and he’s still watching. He waves at me from his settlement amongst the trees. I wave back, then open up the throttle and head across the lake, my stomach still churning from our little exchange. Does he notice how ill-equipped I am to deal with things like remembering a brand of dog biscuits? I’ve left the bag at home, but jotted it down on my list instead.

  The jetty is quiet when I pull in at the other side of the lake, just me and two other boats moored there. I walk past the back door of the café, across the grass and up the gravel driveway beside the small row of buildings that service both the passing road traffic and the lake-dwellers like me. There’s a petrol station, a small, independently-owned convenience store, the café, and an off-licence where I buy wine.

  Thankfully, the store isn’t busy either, and I keep my head down as I gather my small list of grocery items together in the red plastic basket I pick up by the door and carry over my arm. There are only a half dozen things, but I still need my list, just in case. I find the dog biscuits that Geezer likes, and add a second bag on impulse. If he comes visiting again, I’d like to be able to give him a treat.

  I pay for my supplies and am walking past the off-licence when I spy the sign in the window. It’s an innocuous sign, but it hits me like a freight train. I stare at it until the words and letters are swimming in front of me.

  James’s favourite beer is on sale.

  Not the beer that Chris brought with him on the weekend, but the beer he and James used to drink. On impulse, I buy a six-pack to lug back to the boat with my bag of groceries.

  In the swirling chaos of my brain, I wonder if Chris purposefully didn’t bring this particular brand of beer with him last weekend. I wonder if he’s avoiding the memories. That’s where we’re different. I’m not avoiding them; I’m embracing them, relishing them.

  The memories are keeping me anchored to them.

  Chapter 10

  I didn’t go for a walk yesterday. Somewhere between the off-licence and the cottage, things went south.