by Amanda Dick
I leant on the back of the seat and watched through the back window as he grabbed his surfboard off the deck of the truck and came back alongside the passenger window.
“Flick me a text when you leave Henry’s. Jas has some baby shower shit going on and I need to make myself scarce. If it’s not the baby shower, it’s the damn party lately. It’s doing my freakin’ head in, hearing about it all day, every day. I just wanted something quiet, y’know? Beer, food, music.”
I could sympathise. He was a man of simple tastes, always had been. Right now, though, I’d have given anything to be organising a birthday party like this for Em. Being around the two of them was sometimes bittersweet. They were about to become a proper family, and I was as jealous as hell.
“Meet you at the pub?” Vinnie asked.
“Yeah, okay.”
He tapped the truck’s roof and started down the driveway, surfboard under his arm. Then he paused, turned around and came back.
“Sorry if I came on a bit strong before,” he said, leaning in the driver’s window.
He didn’t hold grudges, and he was always quick with an apology if he’d overstepped the mark. Another difference between us. I was jealous of him for a lot of reasons.
“I miss her too, y’know. We all do.”
“I know.”
I knew a lot of things. I knew that I didn’t have the monopoly on heartache. I knew that this time of year was tough. I knew that sometime over the next two days, I was probably gonna go into the spare bedroom wardrobe, get out the box full of photos I’d hidden in there and cry like a baby.
BLOODY HELL, IT WAS HOT. I shoved my cap up and ran the back of my hand over my brow. Thank God this was my last job of the day. I’d had just about enough of this heat. It was just after three and the sun was at its most brutal.
I trudged with the lawnmower up the driveway towards my truck. I couldn’t wait to get these boots off. My feet felt like they were melting. I wasn’t cut out for boots. The first thing I did when I finished work was get rid of them. I was dreading having to dress up for the party tomorrow night. Anything that required shoes was a major commitment. Jas had no idea how much I was sacrificing for this thing.
Cutting lawns and maintaining gardens for the holiday homes in the area was a thriving industry, and it saved me from certain death sitting behind a desk somewhere, being slowly strangled by a pair of leather loafers. The freedom worked in my favour, especially if the surf was good. Thankfully, today was Thursday, the day I knocked off early and went to visit Henry.
I loaded the lawnmower onto the trailer, strapped it down and headed for the dump. The heat was sticky, and the high following this morning’s surf was fading fast. The cool morning air felt like a distant memory. It was the February from hell, hotter than usual and twice as humid.
I pulled into the dump, raked the grass clippings off the trailer and threw the tarp into the back of my truck. Finally heading for home, Vinnie’s voice was back in my head again. It’d been like that all morning.
I couldn’t fault his intentions, but I doubted he really understood. I doubted anyone did. How could they? People missed Em, yes. But family, friends – it was different for them. They didn’t have an empty bed as a reminder. Moving on wasn’t like choosing what shirt to wear in the morning or what radio station to listen to.
I kept the black cloud at bay, even though it was tempting to just hide out in my empty house with a few beers and my memories tonight. That would definitely not get the Vinnie seal of approval. In fact, it’d probably earn me the ‘moving on’ speech again.
I pulled up outside my house and drove down the incline to the bottom of the driveway. My energy was sapped, both mentally and physically. I made my way slowly up the back steps and unlocked the French doors. The heat from inside hit me like a wave, after being locked up all day. I peeled my boots and socks off and left them outside, opening both doors wide to help cool the place down. I wiggled my toes and headed for the fridge, grabbing the nearest beer. Downing it in three massive gulps, I tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin under the sink.
The shower was just as quick, and I didn’t bother towelling off. The water soon evaporated, and I felt halfway human again. Throwing on a clean t-shirt and fresh pair of boardies, I locked up again, leaving a window open this time, then ran barefoot down the stairs to the truck and headed into town. Shoes were not a requirement at Henry’s, thank God.
I pulled into a spare park down the street and made my way along the hot footpath to the air-conditioned comfort of the café. It was closed, but Bridget was behind the counter, cleaning up. She looked pre-occupied, as if her heart wasn’t in the job. She always got like this around Em’s birthday.
This time of year seemed incredibly cruel. It wasn’t Vinnie’s fault he shared a birthday with Em, but celebrating without her always seemed insensitive, somehow. Trying to ignore the issue felt like masking the problem. It cut me to ribbons every single year, and I know I wasn’t the only one feeling it.
Most of the time, Bridget put up a good front, but at certain times of the year, the mask was thin. Em’s birthday. Christmas. The anniversary.
I can’t imagine how it would feel for a parent, losing a child the way she had lost Em. No funeral, no body to bury, no answers. As if it wasn’t enough to lose one child, she then had to watch the path of self-destruction her only other child seemed determined to follow. I think that was one of the reasons I allowed Alex some leeway. It wasn’t the only reason, though.
Bridget seemed to deal with it by using distraction and sleight of hand. She’d offered to host Vinnie’s birthday party here, in the café. She said it gave her something to do, and she liked to see everyone happy and enjoying themselves. She said that was the way it should be. She also said it was better than sitting around at home, feeling sorry for herself.
Christ almighty, I wish I had half her strength. His birthday shindig last year had been a disaster. The black cloud had hung over me for days beforehand, like a gathering storm. I felt it brewing deep down inside me, like I was drowning. I’d succumbed to the suffocating grief, taking myself down to the beach, drinking a bottle of vodka, throwing up and passing out. Selfish bastard. I hadn’t given a second thought to Vinnie, Jas, Bridget or anyone else. I’d just wanted to get away from the party. Celebrating seemed a thousand different kinds of wrong. I didn’t want to have a good time, I didn’t want to forget. I wanted Em back.
But that was last year. This year I was going to try harder. Vinnie deserved better, and God knows I owed him.
Bridget spotted me loitering outside the door and I smiled, trying to pretend I hadn’t been spying on her. She smiled back, walking over to unlock the door and let me in.
“Sorry darling, I didn’t see you there. I was in a trance, apparently,” she said, taking my arm and leading me over to an empty table. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Really? Why, what’s up?”
I grabbed a seat and she sat down opposite me. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was wavy and wild, just like she was. She’d seen a lot of things in her fifty-two years on this earth, and most of that was caught up just behind her blue eyes. She clasped her hands in front of her on the table in a business-like manner, as if she were about to deliver some bad news. A bad feeling fluttered up from deep down in my belly.
“I wanted to catch you before you saw her,” she began. “Because this might come as a bit of a shock.”
I frowned. “You’re doing that thing again, where your mouth moves but you don’t make any sense.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right,” she sighed, as if her patience was wearing thin. “I hired a new kitchen helper today. Her name is Maia. She’s from out of town. She just… kind of arrived on my doorstep this morning. Literally.”
“Okay. Well, that’s good, since Lydia buggered off and left you in the lurch.”
She was nodding, but she still looked anxious. Strange. She should be happy. She’d been rushed off her feet
for a week now.
“I think it was a sign.”
It was my turn to nod. Bridget was big on signs, so this was no surprise.
“Here’s the thing, love,” she said. I braced myself. I had no idea what was going on but the vibe was weird. “She’s the spitting image of Em.”
I COULDN’T STOP STARING at her. The air seemed to swirl up from the floor and engulf me, sucking the breath from my lungs.
Emily.
She looked so much like her. The same height, the same slight frame, the same big eyes, almost too large for her face. Her hair was different, though – brown, not blonde, and longer than Em’s, sitting just below her shoulders.
“Are you sure?” I breathed.
“I’m sure.”
“I mean, are you really sure?”
Because she had to be sure. I needed to know. If there was any chance this was Emily, I needed to know.
“I’m sure, love.” Bridget’s calm words cut right through the confusion, but still I couldn’t take my eyes off the girl. “The resemblance is uncanny though, isn’t it?”
My brain dipped and soared. I felt seasick. Uncanny? Uncanny was not the word. Cruel, disturbing, unfair – those were words, and all of them applied here. This girl, this… woman. What the hell was the universe playing at? Was this some kind of twisted joke? The day before her birthday.
We stood at the end of the counter, watching her in the kitchen, checking off inventory, completely oblivious to the chaos she was causing out here.
Bridget steered me away from the counter and around to the other side, out of sight.
“I reacted the same way you did, when she came in here this morning. She probably thought I was crazy. I couldn’t stop staring.”
“It’s... she’s… “ I couldn’t even make a full sentence, never mind sense of any kind. I cleared my throat. “Jesus.”
“I know. Believe me, I know,” Bridget said calmly. “But once you talk to her, get to know her a little bit, it’s obvious that it’s just a physical thing, that’s all. She’s lovely, but she seems… I don’t know. Lost, somehow.”
That actually made sense. Bridget had always had a thing for waifs and strays. I used to joke that she had an invisible neon sign above her head, attracting anyone within a one hundred kilometre radius. It didn’t seem so strange that this girl, who looked so much like Em, should find her way to Bridget, today of all days. Coincidences didn’t exist in Bridget’s world. I’d known her long enough to see a lot of weird things happen around her. Strange twists of fate seemed to follow her, and she didn’t seem to mind. She was an old soul. She was comfortable with it, she accepted it. I think that’s why I was so surprised that Em hadn’t been found yet. If anyone was to attract that kind of luck, that kind of peace, it was Bridget.
I tried to focus, to work through the details. “What did you say her name was?”
“Maia. I was trying to hump in the party supplies for tomorrow night from out the back, and she just… appeared. We got talking, and she has kitchen experience. I need someone, she needs a job. It just all kinda fell together.” She gave a small laugh. “I know. You probably think I’m mad, but you know how things can be.”
Yes, I knew.
“She seems trustworthy,” she said. “She’s not sure how long she’ll be here, but she’s willing to stick around as long as I need her, until I can find someone permanent, anyway. She’s working her way around the country, having a bit of an adventure before she heads off overseas.”
Jealousy reared up and stabbed me in the gut. Em and I had planned something very similar, but after she disappeared, the wanderlust had shrivelled up. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to be here, just in case. I could never leave, not now. My heart was here, my life. I didn’t think there would be anything I would ever see out there in the world that I could care that much about. The only thing I really wanted to see was Emily, safe and well and home again.
“She told me she wouldn’t mind learning to surf.”
I knew what she was suggesting, even before she said it. No way in hell. I wasn’t doing that – not with her. I couldn’t. The similarities were too much, my brain couldn’t handle it. It’d be like some kind of slow torture.
“Maybe you could teach her? It must be lonely for her, not knowing anyone here. You guys are about the same age.” She paused, raising an eyebrow at me. “Don’t give me that look, love.”
“What look?” I sputtered.
“She’s a nice girl, and she doesn’t know anyone here. I’m sure she could use a friend – that’s all I meant, honestly.”
That big heart of hers had gotten me into trouble before, but this was beyond compare. Didn’t she realise what she was asking me to do? I was going to be lucky to even string two words together in front of this girl.
“Just think about it, okay?”
That was generous, making me think I had a choice. At least my manhood was intact. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Listen, about tomorrow. With the party tomorrow night, we’re all going to be busy. I was thinking we could go out to Whale Bay at sunrise instead of sunset, for Em’s birthday memorial. Is that okay with you?”
I nodded blankly. Em’s birthday memorial. She should be here. If she was, we wouldn’t need a memorial. We’d be having a party instead. Maybe even a joint party with Vinnie, like we used to.
“I just think it’d be better that way,” she shrugged, smiling half-heartedly. “It’s a special birthday for him, even more-so than usual. By the time his next birthday comes around, he’ll be a father.”
Yes, he would – an official one this time. No more of this surrogate shit. I could see him with a baby so clearly, I had to remind myself that Jas hadn’t yet given birth.
Bridget was right, as usual. He deserved a birthday party that was devoid of any of the usual drama, my own included.
“Okay, if that’s what you want.”
“Thanks, love. And I’ve asked Maia if she can give us a hand setting things up tomorrow night, too. Jasmine’s taking on far too much at this stage of her pregnancy. All she needs to do is point at what she wants us to do, and we’ll do it. She needs to put her feet up before the party. All this standing around isn’t good for her.”
I could imagine what Jas would say about that. A chorus of ‘I’m not ill, I’m just pregnant’ and ‘I’m fine, don’t worry!.’ But I’d let the two of them duke that one out, I was staying well clear.
Just then, Maia walked out of the kitchen, eyes on the clipboard in her hand.
“Over here, love,” Bridget called out.
She looked up and our eyes locked. I swear I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. My first instinct was to bolt, but my feet were glued to the floor. That face, those eyes, that familiar buzzing through my veins. She wasn’t Emily, but she reminded me so much of her, I had trouble remembering my own name, much less hers.
The seconds seemed to drag. I didn’t know if it was my imagination or not, but she seemed to have a similar reaction. She just stood there, clipboard in hand, staring at me. It was unnerving. I felt like the room was tilting, like everything was spinning out of control. Again.
She recovered faster than I did. She smiled, thinly, but it was more of an effort than I was capable of making at that exact moment.
“Sorry to interrupt, I thought you said the café was closed,” she said.
Her voice had a familiar edge to it, yet at the same time, it was vaguely distant. As if heard through a tin can, at the other end of a piece of string.
“It is,” Bridget said quickly, gesturing at the spare chair in front of her. “Maia, this is Heath. Grab a seat, love. You deserve a break, after all your help today.”
I shoved my hand towards her, desperate to appear normal, even though that was the opposite of how I felt. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
“Hi.”
She slowly reached out to take my hand. The moment we touched, I had the weirdest sensation. It was as
if time had frozen, stopped completely. The world shrank and floated away, taking the café and Bridget with it. Her eyes seemed to reach inside of me, as if she were searching for something. It was unsettling, this stranger with Em’s face staring at me like that. I felt exposed, as if I had just given her something, a piece of myself, and I immediately wanted it back.
“Nice to meet you,” I repeated, releasing her hand quickly.
I wished I wasn’t barefoot. I felt under-dressed and definitely under-prepared. Crazy to think that having shoes on would make me feel more capable, more protected from whatever was happening, but it was the truth. Something about having this girl in front of me made me feel vulnerable.
Bridget shuffled us over to sit down at the nearest table. I could feel the back of my neck heating up as I struggled to think of something else to say, but thankfully Bridget beat me to it.
“So, you’re heading over to Dad’s, are you?” she asked.
I didn’t dare look back at Maia, not until I’d gotten my head under control. It was too risky.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get your coffee and his chocolate éclair ready, then,” she said, standing up and walking over to the coffee machine behind the counter.
I panicked. Alone with Maia, my brain shut up shop. She was even more like Emily up close. Those eyes – round and hazel-coloured, just like Em’s, only with more of a green tinge to them. Em’s eyes had been more hazel, mostly brown. The memory of Maia’s hand, small and delicate, was burned into mine. I swallowed down the lungs that were now sitting in my throat and forced fantasy aside, dragging logic forward.
It’s not her. She looks like her, but it’s not her.
I agonised over something normal to say, something conversational. Small-talk. Something other than ‘I don’t know if Bridget mentioned it, but you look a hell of a lot like her daughter.’
“So, Bridget tells me you want to learn how to surf?” I said instead.
