Gravity Well

by Melanie Joosten

  Before she picked up the key, there was the argument. She knows this because Lotte had apologised for it profusely. But before that? It was an ordinary day. Which it wasn’t, of course. The only days to ever be described as ‘ordinary’ are the ones that don’t turn out to be that way.

  Tom was in the garden, binding twine around stakes, creating pyramids for the snow peas to climb. Mina was watching cartoons, lying sideways on the couch; then sliding to the floor; then flopping on to her stomach. All done without taking her eyes from the screen — her body itching for movement, while her mind was enthralled by the television. She’s inherited that from me, thought Eve, sitting at the kitchen table, idly flipping pages of the weekend newspaper, aware of all the other things she should be doing, such as clearing the breakfast dishes, mixing the museum’s soundscape of a parish hall (a racket of stamping feet, exuberant shouts, and the calls of a Saturday night dance in the early 1960s), wrapping the present for the birthday party Mina was to attend that afternoon.

  Lotte was still asleep, of course. Despite the reassurances, she had not turned up as arranged for dinner last night, and Eve’s heart near burst for Mina’s disappointment. Mina in her red dress, white polka dots scattered over its ruffled skirt, going to check the study again and again. Pulling Lotte’s own red dress from her suitcase, draping it over the sofa bed in readiness of her big sister’s arrival. But no big sister to be seen.

  You can wear your red dress again tomorrow for the party, sweetie, Eve had promised, putting Mina to bed and cursing Lotte’s thoughtlessness. Pausing briefly at the door of the study to check Tom wasn’t looking, Eve stepped into the room and draped Mina’s dress over Lotte’s where it lay on the bed. It had turned into a long night: there had been tears and a tantrum, Mina unwilling to relinquish her dreams of the evening, and Eve unable to forgive Lotte her absence. The lasagne waited in the oven, pasta sheets curling at their edges, until Tom had served it up, accompanied by excessive compliments and the comment that Lotte didn’t know what she was missing out on. It was almost eleven o’clock when Lotte did get home, Eve and Tom both alert as they listened to the scrabbling of a key in the front door, the clomping footsteps down the hallway. Eve braced herself for Lotte’s breathy apology or vague excuse, but it didn’t come, the footsteps turning into the study, the door closing.

  I’m going to bed, Eve said, leaving Tom in front of the television, annoyed at Lotte as much as herself. In bed she had fumed, going over their earlier conversation in her mind. Surely Lotte had seen the excitement in Mina’s face; surely she knew how her absence might be felt?

  Over an hour later, unable to fall into sleep and distracted by the murmur of voices, Eve got up. Tom had not come to bed. Inching up the hallway, tense and hoping the floorboards wouldn’t creak, an interloper in her own house, she paused at the entrance to the kitchen, confused by Tom’s sniggering laughter.

  I can’t believe I thought they looked good!

  Everyone must have been wearing them, said Lotte. What about Mum’s poncho — remember how it had those tassels and the orange fringe? All my friends thought she was the most fashionable mother. We must have a photo of her wearing that somewhere, she loved it.

  There was a photo, Eve knew, one where Helen was standing with her hands on her hips, smirking at the camera, the poncho spread square across her chest. Eve strode into the kitchen, flipping the light on.

  There it is! Oh God, she loved that thing. It’s hideous!

  Tom and Lotte were crouched over the dining table, photo albums strewn about them on the floor.

  Eve, sorry, did we wake you? Tom looked up, a smile still on his face. The kind of smile he usually reserved for Mina. Unabashed.

  No, just getting some water, she said. She took a glass from the cupboard. What are you looking at?

  Just some old family photos, said Tom.

  You haven’t shown me those before, Eve said. Not wanting him to know how many hours she had spent looking at them herself; that she had followed Lotte’s childhood, Tom’s marriage, from page to page.

  I didn’t think you’d be interested.

  There was hurt in his voice, but she shrugged it off, aware of Lotte’s eyes, watching. Always watching.

  You never asked me.

  It was a childish argument, and she hated the way she fell into it.

  Come and see, said Lotte, moving over to make space. I’m sorry about dinner, Evie, I completely forgot. I ran into this man Mum used to know. We were reminiscing and I lost track—

  It doesn’t matter, Eve said, cutting Lotte off. Goodnight.

  Head down as she marched back to the bedroom, careful not to slam the door. Lying in bed, listening out for their voices, itching with annoyance the provenance of which she couldn’t face. She had pushed herself into this family; she was the one who deserved to be on the outer.

  And the next day — the ordinary-seeming day — Lotte had slept in. Mina had discovered the abandoned photo albums as she ate her breakfast, flipping through them, enthralled by the mysterious little girl and confused about Eve’s absence.

  Where’s you, Mum? Is that Dad? Who’s that?

  And Eve had gathered up the albums, ignoring Mina’s pleas, and tried to distract her with pancakes and television, tried to return the house to what they knew, ignoring Lotte’s invisible presence. Tom had begun to build his pyramids in the garden, winding wire around the base, giving the vines something to cling onto.

  It was Lotte who started the argument. Eve had just let Mina into the back yard when she heard the door of the study open, and she dove towards the table, yanking her headphones on and pretending to be absorbed in her laptop, though every part of her body was attuned to Lotte’s movements around the kitchen. It had sometimes been like this when they’d lived together. An argument about late rent payments or Lotte’s inability to wash dishes would result in a stand off; early morning frost, the two of them overly polite and extra careful, apologising for being in the way in a tone that implied they weren’t sorry at all. There had been the disagreements about Nate and then Eve thinking Lotte was stringing Vin along; the times they grew tired of the other’s indecision about a situation that seemed so clear-cut from the outside. It was almost always Lotte who would crack first, reaching over to give Eve a back rub, or depositing a cup of tea on her desk with a smile, and soon they would be back to normal. It seemed like an ordinary day.

  I am sorry, you know, Lotte said, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite Eve. I didn’t mean to stand you up last night.

  Eve tugged her headphones from her ears, tried not to catch Lotte’s eye.

  It doesn’t matter.

  It does matter. You don’t believe me.

  Eve sighed, making a show of closing her computer.

  I don’t have to believe you, she said. Mina believed you. She thought you would be there for dinner.

  Even as she said it, Eve recognised the facade for what it was. Mina cared about wearing a pretty dress, about getting attention from someone new. It was Eve who’d thought Lotte would be there for dinner, who’d been disappointed when she was not.

  I’m not just thinking about myself, Eve continued. I’ve got other people to think about now. You’re not used to that. There are repercussions.

  She was horrified at how easily the words came out, desperately hoping Lotte wouldn’t hear the patronising tone of them.

  Well, what would I know? Lotte smirked. I’ve got no one, that’s what you’re trying to say. You’ve got my father, and you’ve got Mina, and I’ve got no one else to think about.

  You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just that Mina was really looking forward to you being there when we invited you, and then you didn’t turn up. She was disappointed.

  I’m just a guest, mused Lotte. I’m someone who gets invited to dinner. In my own house.

  It’s not your house, snapped Eve, ti
red of the game.

  Lotte laughed, looking around the room. Mina’s toys scattered everywhere, photos of her plastered all over the fridge.

  No, I don’t suppose it is. Don’t you think it’s a bit strange, Eve? That I end up with no home, and you end up with mine?

  That’s not fair! Eve could feel the tears pricking at her eyes. It’s not like I meant for any of this to happen, Lotte. You left!

  So you thought you’d stay?

  Eve shook her head, pushing her chair from the table.

  We invited you back. You wouldn’t come. What else were we supposed to do? You know I didn’t plan any of this. And I tried to talk to you about it. I called you, I emailed you. But you weren’t here. You were off making all your big scientific discoveries, as though you’re doing something more important than the rest of us.

  I never said that. Lotte gestured dismissively at the room, and, once again, Eve saw her life through her friend’s eyes. The smallness of domesticity, the minutiae of everyday life — undeniably insignificant in comparison to the machinations of the universe.

  Do you think you can bring her back by working harder? asked Eve.

  Don’t you dare.

  She’s gone, Lotte. She’s not here, and you’ve got to stop treating me as though she is.

  You don’t know anything about my mother. She was an incredible woman.

  She was just a woman! Eve felt her anger ricochet about her chest. You think she was so perfect? Helen wanted out of the marriage. Did you know that? She wanted out of the family. Nothing you could have done would have made her stay, don’t you realise that? You’ve been chasing this career, thinking it’s what she wanted, and she couldn’t have cared less. She was having an affair, Lotte. She had left Tom; she’d left you.

  You have no idea what you’re talking about.

  She only came back because of the cancer, said Eve, horrified by the words coming out of her own mouth, but she kept going.

  She knew she couldn’t cope on her own. But until then she was seeing some man for years, that’s what all her nights out were. Years, Lotte. It was nothing to do with astronomy. You think she was perfect, she was everything, but she was just like us.

  Stop it! You have no idea what you’re talking about!

  Ask Tom. Ask your father. Eve stood up from the table, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Tom was bent over in the garden, reaching for something. She shouldn’t be saying any of this; it wasn’t her story to tell. But Lotte needed to know; Lotte who always prided herself on knowing everything.

  She would have told me, Lotte said. Something like that. Or Dad would have said.

  Why would he? You’re never here. You couldn’t give a toss about him.

  That’s not true. Lotte’s face was red, tears forming in her eyes.

  Helen’s not even here any more, Lotte. Who are you trying to prove yourself to? Even Vin didn’t want to stick around, you’re so selfish, you’re so obsessed with your work.

  Lotte shook her head.

  Vin’s happy. He’s happier now than he ever could have been with me. Is that selfish?

  And I suppose you’re happy, too? Is that why you’re here, hanging around with nowhere to go?

  I was visiting my father. Is that so wrong? Did you ever think maybe he likes me to be here? That he likes being able to remember Helen? Dad loved her like nothing else, Eve. You can’t love like that more than once. But you know that, don’t you? You know he’s doing all of this for the second time; that he’s just trying to fill the gap Mum left.

  Lotte stalked out of the room, into the study. Eve felt her chest tighten, the distress pushing at her skin, searching for a way out. In that moment, she rued their years of friendship. Lotte knew everything about her; how much they had observed each other all those years.

  Eve walked across to the hallway. From the side table she picked up the key, the pineapple keyring tickling at her palm.

  Take the campervan, she said.

  In the spare room Lotte stood with her hands on her hips, looking at her bag, the red dress that lay across it.

  You can have it; it’s yours, said Eve. Take it wherever you want. Just as long as you leave. You shouldn’t be here right now. We can’t have you here.

  She held the plastic pineapple, dangling the key in front of Lotte like a carrot.

  No.

  Lotte sat back down on the bed, like Mina when she was tired, claiming her ground.

  Yes, said Eve, dropping the key in Lotte’s lap. They both watched it slide to the floor.

  For fuck’s sake. Eve bent down, picking up the key. Get your stuff.

  The flyscreen door banged shut as she thumped down the steps to the garage. She hauled up the roller door, the dust coming alive in the sunlight. The campervan was faded, a memory of itself; the stickers on the bumper showed the kind of things people used to care about: Keep Australia Beautiful. Be Safe, Be Sure. Give a Damn, Vote Democrat.

  Squeezing into the narrow space between the wall of the garage and the van, Eve eased the driver’s door open and pulled herself into the seat. Vinyl cool against her bare legs, with a towel handy to sit on — it will burn hot if the van is parked in the sun for a few hours, she must remember to remind Lotte of that. No, it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t actually expect the battery to start, but when she turns the key, the engine coughs into service.

  Lotte will leave, and everything will return to normal. The little family: one, two, three. Releasing the handbrake, Eve put the van in reverse. Threw her left arm over the jump seat and looked back at the driveway. After the dark of the garage the bright sun flared, and she clenched her eyes shut, put her foot to the floor. The van leapt backwards, she didn’t want it to stall. Gave it some more petrol and pushed out into the day.

  And then everything stopped.

  •

  On Len’s couch, Eve curled on her side, sobbing. Mina’s face as it was that day: eyes closed, as though she might be sleeping, but also looking a little cross. Eve struggles to draw ragged breaths, her hands clasping at her head as if to stop the thoughts from pooling there. For over six months her mind has not been able to dredge these moments up; she has not even allowed herself to try. But now.

  Mina was asleep. Her breaths were quiet. Eve tried to breathe in time with her daughter, small breaths, small lungs. Tom, bending down over her, tipping back her head. Puffing air into her body, her chest big, then small again. Already filling with blood, already the bruises forming beneath her T-shirt.

  Eve breathed with Mina, and Mina kept breathing. Mina, so small on the stretcher that Eve did not know how to look at her. Her own heart swelling, too big for the shell of her body, so that she just wanted to excise it, throw it away. She did not deserve to feel that way, to feel at all. She had caused this.

  The paramedics spoke calmly to each other; they did not seem to work fast enough, but already there was a tube forced down Mina’s throat, her tiny shell teeth clamped around it. And that’s how Eve knew it was too late, because if Mina was still there she would be fighting it. I do it myself! How many times had she told Eve that? How proud had Eve been of her daughter’s determination, even as she was infuriated by it? The thought came at Eve with complete clarity. I have stopped my daughter being able to do it herself. I have stopped my daughter being.

  She knew as soon as she felt it. A bump, a small resistance. No, it wasn’t a bump, not really. It was a dull misgiving. As though the air behind the camper van had suddenly solidified. A wall built just where the camper happened to be. No crash or impact. One second everything was flowing, the next a bell jar of still. It just all stopped, with the lightest of touches. And Eve floundered about in this broken world, stamping down on the brake, fear jolting through her. Jerking the handbrake up. Flinging the door open, but the van was not quite out of the garage, the door hit the brick wall and banged back towards her, slam
ming her elbow. Did she feel it then? Or did she only know because her elbow was sore for days, a mockery of Mina’s absolute pain? She pushed her way out, running to the rear of the van. Didn’t want to see her. Knew that she would. How could she know what had happened and still have let it happen? Mina, lying on her back, arm flung up as though she was protecting her eyes from the sun. Body too loose, too small. Too still.

  No!

  She screamed. She was bending over Mina, she was lifting her, she was putting her down. Too limp. Too broken. Her shoulder jerked back, Tom was there. Tom would make it alright, he would fix it.

  Mina? Mina, can you hear me?

  Placing her arm by her side, tipping her head to the sky.

  Call an ambulance!

  She yelled it, didn’t she? Standing, kneeling, reaching for Mina, unable to touch her. Her eyes closed, her hand loosely splayed open.

  •

  The tube had been removed. There was a white sheet pulled up over Mina’s chest, and Eve knew that if she lifted it, she would see her Dora the Explorer T-shirt cut away, her bare chest exposed. Mina’s hands lay on top of the sheet, the fingertips stained red and purple with texta. It was not possible, and yet it had already happened. Her daughter had died.

  How long did they stay in the room with her? Tom was holding Eve’s hand, and then he wasn’t. He went to stand up, but then seemed to collapse further into the seat. He was crying, and he was trying not to cry, holding the sobs up near his shoulder, swallowing furiously.

  I’m so sorry, Tom. I don’t know what happened.