Gravity Well

by Melanie Joosten

  •

  Stretching her leg into the sun, Eve stood, body stiff, and picked up her bike. She’d come a cropper on a corner towards the end of a track that snaked its way through the hills and gullies of the national park: she banked too tightly, and the bike slid out from underneath so that she scraped her leg on a rocky outcrop. It hurt like hell, and while she’d rummaged in her backpack for water to clean up, her phone had rung. Lotte. A haphazard story of how she’d disgraced herself with her father’s new girlfriend, and how, despite the fact she had come all that way, he had now disappeared on holiday. Eve had let her talk, offering the right encouragements, flexing her calf and watching the blood trickle toward her ankle, and then dry and flake in the heat. It was only as they were about to say goodbye that Lotte had mentioned something more serious.

  Hang on, said Eve. So you had the tests done, but you didn’t get the results?

  She was incredulous. It was so unlike Lotte, who always needed to search out an answer for everything.

  There’s no point, Lotte had replied. I either have the mutation of the gene or I don’t. Knowing about it won’t make any difference. It’s not as though there’s a solution.

  But if you knew, you could try to prevent getting cancer, said Eve. She didn’t understand Lotte’s flippancy.

  The only prevention is major surgery; it would mean early menopause — can you even imagine what that might be like? I’m only thirty, Eve. Would you put your hand up for that? It’s not even about having kids, but think of what that would do to my body — hormones all over the place, hot flushes — it would be horrible.

  But you must, whispered Eve into the quiet.

  Look, I don’t want to live in fear; I don’t want to be making all my decisions based on the possibility of this one thing. I just want to get on with living. That’s what Mum always wanted — she hated how she became this sick person, how everything became about the cancer.

  Lotte talked on, and Eve stared out over the bush, her gaze running up the drip-bark trunks of the shedding gums to their canopy, green against a rude blue sky. She must make Lotte change her mind. After almost fourteen years of friendship, she could not imagine a world without Lotte in it.

  How long are you in Ballarat for? asked Eve. Maybe I’ll come down? I’m on the coast; I don’t have to be back in Sydney until mid January.

  All the way here? Only another day or so, said Lotte. Dad’s gone down to the coast anyway, but part of me just wants to hide out here; try not to antagonise Vin.

  It’s only about eight hours, maybe less, said Eve. I’ll leave early tomorrow; I’ll be there by mid-afternoon. She tried to hide the urgency in her voice, knew how flighty Lotte could be if she detected sympathy. But it wasn’t just that. In the back of Eve’s mind, she realised a trip down to Ballarat was the perfect excuse to stay away from Sydney and any surprise visits from Nate. She had let his calls go unanswered, but she wasn’t confident of her resolve should she see him in person. The further away she was, the better.

  Really? Lotte’s voice brightened as she thought about it. Only if you’re sure.

  Eve had bought the campervan years ago while still a student, finding it justified her desire to leave town at the end of every week and drive as far as she could, looking for anywhere to bike or to record new sounds. Sometimes Stu came with her, bringing his own bike; sometimes Lotte, with a stack of data that she would work through while Eve cycled, meeting up in the evening to eat and talk long into the dark, as moths and mozzies ducked and weaved in the lamp light.

  After she had explored the mountain-bike trails near Canberra, Eve took to taking a second bike with her, a road one, for all the times she couldn’t find any suitable mountain paths. Despite her initial hesitation, she came to like road cycling almost as much — it didn’t offer the thrill or adrenalin of mountain biking, but the exhaustion at the end of the day was the same, and it was only with that that she would be ready to face another week.

  One summer, she drove north into Queensland, zigzagging between the coast and inland rainforests. She strapped wooden planks to the roof racks and laid them down each night to drive onto, so she wouldn’t get bogged on the muddy verge. Sometimes, when she got to a part of the road that was too rough for the van, she’d pull onto the shoulder and unstrap her bike from the rack, fill a drink bottle and set off into the hills. The rain scored the road with turbid rivers that seemed to summon her tyres, the bike impervious to the application of brakes as she slid her way forward. She’d return to the van covered in mud and scratches, before driving back the way she had come and taking the smooth tourist highway to the next town.

  When she moved to Sydney, she thought about getting rid of the van. Each time she passed it on the way to work, she was reminded of how urban-bound her world had become. But it still gave her the means she needed to get out of the city, giving her the opportunity to mountain bike, to record new elements for her soundtracks, to keep busy with her projects so that she had no time to be lonely. No time to think about what Nate might have been doing, and who he was doing it with.

  Driving into Ballarat in the late afternoon, Eve felt the engine shuddering, the seat beneath her too warm. The van was due for a service, but it had always been reliable. She found Lotte’s street easily, trying not to think too much about the strange clunk as she switched off the engine; she would have to look into it tomorrow. Now that she was in Victoria she might head along the coast; take any road that would keep her far from Sydney, and from Nate’s push for answers.

  She remembered the house from Helen’s funeral a few years before; an old-style bungalow with a deep porch and bright-blue front door. The funeral must have been held about the same time of year as now: the trees dropping their leaves in the heat, for all the world looking as if it was autumn; the front lawn faded and yellow. Despite having known Lotte for over a decade at a time, she’d only met Helen a couple of times: once when she visited Lotte in Canberra, and then at Lotte and Vin’s wedding, which had taken place a few months before she died. A fraught affair, the wedding joy had threatened to dissipate under all the undeclared emotion, each of the few guests knowing why it was taking place so hurriedly, none of them able to wish the couple happiness for the future without stealing a look at Helen, slouched in a chair, a too-bright scarf wrapped around her head, washing out her features.

  Eve brushed those memories away and rang the doorbell. And there was Lotte, dark hair dripping wet, wearing a pink dress patterned with bright orange lobsters, their claws snapping at the air. As a piece of clothing it made no sense — the colours clashed, the print was nonsensical and almost childish — but on Lotte it looked just right, hitched to her curves and flaring from her waist.

  I’m so glad you’re here, I was starting to get bored! Lotte embraced Eve on the doorstep, talking the entire time. I’ve just made iced tea. Dad has all this mint in his garden, I’ve been adding it to everything.

  Within moments they slipped right into their comfort zone, interrupting each other’s sentences with gentle jibes, miming disbelief at stories retold for maximum laughter. Lotte mocked Alison, and her own immature jibes from the night before, seeking Eve’s reassurance that she hadn’t behaved as badly as she knew she had.

  She was just so … prim! Lotte searched about for an excuse, laughing at her own childishness.

  Your poor father. All he wants is a lady friend, one that he probably knows doesn’t live up to Helen, and he gets you on his doorstep, making fun of him. Eve knew exactly what Lotte was like when she had opinions. She could barely remember what the father looked like — could recall only a tall, quiet man, politely accepting the multitudes of condolences after the funeral.

  I just know Mum would have found Alison ridiculous. And he knows that! Surely he could do much better.

  It’s a small town, said Eve, raising an eyebrow. Perhaps it’s slim pickings.

  The afternoon slipped into ev
ening, the iced tea was replaced with mojitos, and eventually, as she knew she would, Eve told Lotte about the re-emergence of Nate.

  No. Lotte pursed her lips, suddenly serious, shaking her head with certainty. No, Eve, you can’t go back there. He was a total cad to you! How long were you in Sydney before he went and found someone else? A month?

  It was five months.

  No way, you deserve better than that.

  He’s not that bad, said Eve. You just never liked him. Anyway, I’ve told him I’m not interested. That it’s been too long.

  As if that’s the only reason. I liked him well enough, Eve, I just think he treated you like dirt. Did you ever find out whether he was seeing Katie while you were still living in Canberra?

  No.

  Well, you don’t want to know. Don’t go and get involved with him now.

  I won’t! I’ve already told him it’s over.

  So you were seeing him?

  It was nothing; it was just a few times.

  Lotte rolled her eyes, and then smiled. Well, thank God you’re here, because I know exactly what you’re like. I can just see him turning up at your door again with two kids in tow and you taking pity on him.

  Eve knew Lotte was right. But Lotte didn’t know what Nate was like. What it felt like to have that impetuous energy turned on you. The way it was impossible not to go along with everything he said. She remembered so clearly the phone call that had ended their relationship years before. He’d helped her find a flat and move to Sydney; he travelled up from Canberra every weekend, the harbour-side city a new playground for his enthusiasms. He made friends there — friends that she could call on in the long weeks of loneliness, although she rarely did. And then, after four months, he called to say he couldn’t come that weekend, or the next. He didn’t return her calls for weeks; he wasn’t at home when she drove down to confront him. And then he phoned.

  Eve! I’m so glad to have caught you.

  For a moment she was convinced she had been the one who had caused the absence, that she’d been too busy and unavailable. But every word of the following conversation was etched on her mind, as clear as any recording.

  I wanted to let you know, I have news. I know it will come as a shock — it certainly did to me!

  Nate? Where the hell have you been?

  Eve’s tone, angry despite her apprehension, reminded her of her parents.

  That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Eve. It all happened so fast. I’m getting married — we’re having a baby!

  He spoke the words as though they were things that had happened to him, a passive receptor. For a tiny moment, she thought she was included in the ‘we’. All she could hear was his breathing; in the background, the squeaky rumble as a window sash was lifted.

  Eve? Say something. I know it’s a surprise, believe me; I didn’t plan any of it.

  She did believe him. Nate was a man who never needed to plan, whose untroubled future rolled ahead of him, yellow-bricked and gentle.

  You’re not joking, are you?

  Hoping against hope, her stomach dropping away.

  I wouldn’t joke about something like this, not to you Eve, he said with admonishment in his voice, so that she was forced to take on the role of the antagonist rather than the slighted. How easily it came to him: the righteousness that he knew she wouldn’t question.

  You can’t be too surprised, Eve. I mean, you left me, moved away — I was right here and willing. But you always wanted something more: Sydney, a career. It’s not as though settling down and having a family was what you wanted, we both know that.

  She would always regret that she didn’t hang up on him then. Her wants were something they had never talked about. Dumbfounded, she let him continue for almost twenty minutes, listing his reasons and excuses. All the while small, fluting sounds nudged involuntarily from her throat, encouraging him on.

  It’s been really nice to talk to you, Eve.

  A big breath then, as though he’d been holding it all this time.

  I told Katie you would understand — I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about making this call, but you’ve made me feel alright.

  In the eight years they’d known each other, it was exactly what she’d always done for him. Eve was devastated, even as she felt she should have seen it coming. She was almost too embarrassed to tell anyone, but when she called Lotte, her words nearly incomprehensible amongst the tears, Lotte had driven up to Sydney immediately and stayed a week on Eve’s couch. Letting Eve cry, then pushing her to rage, and finally to laugh.

  Sitting in the blush of summer dusk as Lotte refilled her glass, Eve knew she couldn’t go through that again.

  Just let him go, Eve. There’s nothing for you there.

  I know, I know. Eve stirred at her drink, trying to dissolve the sugar. But when I saw him, Lotte, he was just so real. You know? He was so familiar, he was right there and everything was easy. I mean, I’ve seen loads of guys in the last five years and not one of them has made me feel like that. What if he’s the one? What if he really does need me?

  That doesn’t mean he gets to have you. Lotte snapped her glass down on the table, a judge’s gavel. Don’t do it, Evie. You just can’t.

  While Lotte cooked, Eve watered the garden, methodically stepping up and down the rows, marvelling at the vegetables and their simple optimism: ready to take on the next day, to grow a little larger, a little firmer. She pulled leaves off each of the herbs: pungent basil, tart lemon mint, dusty thyme. Was it possible to just move out of Sydney to the country? Some place Nate had never been, and would never go? Somewhere she could build a life that he had never touched? How could she still not know what she wanted? The one life she possessed already had him in it; for better or worse, all future men would be comparison studies. So why not return to the original, the one she knew best? That’s the thought she had kept returning to over the last few weeks as Nate had kept returning to her bed.

  After dinner they sat on the back deck. The full moon kept the night at bay; they could hear the neighbour’s dog snuffling along the fence line.

  So you got the tests done, but you haven’t found out the results. Eve returned suddenly to yesterday’s conversation, knowing it was best to catch Lotte off-guard. Lotte sighed, her annoyance clear, but Eve wouldn’t let it go.

  It’s not like you, Lotte, to leave it up to chance.

  It is still chance — knowing doesn’t change the result, it just changes what I do about it.

  Isn’t it best to do something?

  That’s what Vin says. Lotte reached over to the fuchsia bush and popped open the bulb of a flower, its scarlet petals spreading to reveal a purple interior. Look, she said. It’s like a planetary nebula, all colour and fireworks.

  Eve watched her pop one bloom after another.

  What does Vin think about you going to Chile?

  He doesn’t want me to go.

  Really? Eve was surprised at this: Vin had always been so supportive of Lotte’s career. Of Lotte.

  Lotte shrugged, carrying on popping bulbs.

  He thinks I’m putting things off, she said, eventually. Life things. Buying a house, having kids. But it’s such a good opportunity — I can’t turn it down. We never know if there’s going to be funding for these kinds of projects; we have to jump on it when we can.

  She spoke at length then of planets near and far. Of the way the solar system had been searched for clues of life: inaccessible oceans discovered on the moons of Jupiter beneath kilometres of packed ice; ancient river beds on Mars; geysers of water vapour and ice on Saturn’s Enceladus moon. She told Eve about the missing planet: how the rock and debris of the asteroid belt followed an orbit as definite as any planet’s but was never allowed to become one, because the gravity of the sun pulled at the broken pieces from one side while the mass of Jupiter tugged from the other. Like divo
rced parents whispering in a child’s ear: Come this way. No, come this way, until undecided became unformed, a planetary dream unrealised.

  She told Eve how astronomers now had to look further afield for life, counting exoplanets in other systems and considering their chemical makeup to see what could be learnt. Another planet that could support life, if it came to that. It seemed ridiculous to Eve, too far away and unlikely to bother with. Concerns of the future, not the reality of the present. The world couldn’t even recognise the Earth was dying, let alone coordinate a shift to a planet light years away.

  Is Vin right though? Eve interrupted Lotte’s talk, turning to face her. Are you putting things off?

  She let Lotte see her smile; they’d always been good at pulling each other up in conversation, holding their answers up to interrogation.

  The house, kids? Eve continued. All those things that people do. The things Vin wants to do?

  She waited for Lotte’s laugh, her recognition at being caught out, but her friend took a long time to answer, and when she did she spoke slowly, rising awareness in her voice.

  No. No, I’m not putting things off. The words dropped out of her, heavy with reticence. The thing is, Evie, I don’t actually want any of that … I don’t think I’ll ever want it.

  Kids?

  Lotte shook her head. I don’t. Definitely not now, and I don’t think I ever will. A smile grew from her bemusement. You know, I’d never properly thought about it. I guess I just thought I would want them one day. That my biological clock would kick in.