I’m glad he said that. I’ll go with Adam until I know more how I feel. It took me forever to call Paula’s husband, my uncle David, ‘Dave’, like all his mates and family do. I just needed time to get comfortable. Hopefully, this will be the same.
He opens the truck’s right-side door and looks at me expectantly.
‘I don’t have my licence, yet,’ I say, wrapping my arms around myself. The air is penetrating through all my clothes; I feel like I have nothing on.
He laughs. ‘This is the passenger side.’
I peek in and see the steering wheel on the other side. Embarrassing.
‘How was your flight?’ my father says as he jumps in and switches on the heating.
‘It was my first time on a jumbo and first time overseas,’ I say.
‘Wow, that’s special.’ He glances at my clothes. ‘We’ll need to get you geared up or you’ll turn into an icicle in a minute flat. I’ll take you down to the camping store later for some serious weather protection. Winter in Alaska is deadly but also stunning. Barely a tourist in sight.’
‘Oh, okay.’ He has a point. ‘There’s lots of wildlife in Alaska, right? But are there still animals around even in winter? I love animals.’
‘Sure, the wildlife here is—’
‘Have you heard of Jane Goodall?’ I interrupt, suddenly feeling full of words, things I want to tell him.
He raises his eyebrows, smiling as the wipers clear the snow off the front and back windscreens.
‘She’s my idol.’
‘Really?’ He releases the handbrake and starts to reverse.
‘She’s so amazing. Did you know she discovered animals could make and use tools?’
‘Yes, I did know that. Chimpanzees in Africa.’
‘Tanzania.’ This makes me happy. He may be a fisherman but he’s into animals just like me. ‘Will I see a deer?’ I ask, full of anticipation. Deer are my second favourite animal after pandas, and the documentary on the plane made me love them even more—I learnt they are smart, gentle, sensitive, stubborn … the best qualities, really, for human or animal. Bambi was also my favourite movie as a kid. I forced Mum to watch it with me many times, cuddled up on the couch. I loved it so much she found me the Disney pyjamas. They had Bambi on them, gazing at a butterfly on his tail, and his friends—the bunny, Thumper, and skunk, Flower—by his side. I slept in them until I was so tall the top was cropped and the pants became shorts.
‘We have black-tailed deer and even reindeer.’ He pulls out of the car park and veers onto a large four-lane road.
‘Reindeer? Really, like Rudolph?’
He laughs. ‘Fun fact: Santa’s reindeer should all be girls. Because the male’s antlers drop in the winter, after mating it would have been impossible for them to look like that at Christmas.’
‘Ha!’ I like that he’s quick to laugh. I wasn’t expecting such an apparently relaxed, chilled, happy guy.
‘Caribou and reindeer are actually the same species; the only thing that separates them is a fence.’
‘A fence?’
‘I mean, the difference is reindeer are domesticated, and caribou are wild. Caribou hooves are built for snow; they’re pliable and they spread out, allowing them to walk easily. Alaska’s also full of bears, brown and black, although they’re hibernating now. Moose, lynx, deer, Dall sheep, caribou, wolves … they’re all out and about. There are five hundred moose who live in Anchorage, actually. They like the city in winter because there’s less snow and—’
‘Why is there less snow?’ I look around. All I see is snow; it’s piled on cars, heaped onto sides of driveways, and sitting like hats on lampposts.
‘The snow gets ploughed, so it’s easier for them to walk around. Hope to show you a few. There are even polar bears in the far north, but that’s a million miles away.’
‘Really, can we? I’ve never seen any of those animals before. The last year has been full of firsts for me.’ Then I add, ‘Mostly terrible, though.’
‘Well, I want to hear all about it. I can’t wait for us to get to know each other.’ He smiles.
I smile back. This is going so well.
‘How about you, Melody?’ he asks.
She starts talking and doesn’t stop. Soon, the car’s overflowing with her words and there’s no room for me. Typical selfish Melody.
I know the story she’s telling, all about her mind-bending experience with a quartz crystal at a silent meditation retreat and her earth-shattering realisation that all life forms—animate and inanimate—are, in fact, one vibrational energy. She already told me the whole thing on the plane, so I know it’s going to be long. I suspect she’ll go into her theory on the chakras of the Earth next.
We merge onto the highway. My heart jumps and I brace myself before realising that we’re actually driving on the correct side of the road.
‘Nearly home,’ my father says.
Home. I repeat the word to myself, wondering, once again, what it means now Mum’s gone.
Chapter 2
The house is large and way fancier than any place I’ve lived.
Aussie homes are often made from red bricks with red roofs to match. But my father’s house has white wood panelling, elegant black shutters and a grey-tiled roof. The postbox looks straight out of a movie set—a miniature house with a raised red flag. I touch it as I walk by, to remind myself this is real, I’m here.
Wheelie bags don’t do well in snow, who knew? Adam carries mine and Melody’s up the porch stairs, unlocks the front door and we all go inside. The heater’s already on, thank goodness.
I follow my father’s lead as we hang up our coats and take off our shoes in the entry, before padding into the living room in our socks. The beige wall-to-wall carpet looks hardly trodden on.
A huge flat-screen TV takes up the living-room wall, the other walls bare and fresh. A centre column contains a fireplace with a heap of wood and kindling. Adam kneels in front of it and with a few quick movements it lights up. That explains where his smoky smell comes from, but what about the apples?
‘Have you lived here long?’ I ask.
‘No, it’s still quite new, moved in less than a year ago.’
An old brown sofa and chequered armchair clash with the modern, white-marble kitchen island. There’s a double-doored fridge, silver and shining, and all the latest kitchen equipment Aunt Paula would kill for. Everything is clean and orderly.
I wonder how he can afford such an expensive house on a fisherman’s wage but don’t want to ask too many questions too soon. I asked Mum a thousand times about him, a hundred different ways, but all she ever said was: ‘salmon fishing in Alaska’. And one other word, ‘loser’. And with that charming description floating in my head, I’d imagined a different scene: a small apartment smelling of fish, piles of dirty laundry, towers of dirty dishes, moulding pizza boxes and ashtrays spilling over.
He shows Melody and me the guestrooms—we each have one, complete with ensuite, although mine’s a little bigger.
‘Who’s ready for coffee?’ he asks when we return to the lounge room. ‘Jet lag will probably hit you later, and you’ll want an early night.’
‘Sorry, but do you have tea?’ I ask.
‘Tea, huh? I’m sure I have a box of that stuff somewhere,’ he says, opening cupboards. I follow him into the kitchen and perch myself on the steel stool by the kitchen island.
‘If it’s not herbal, I’ll just have a hot water with a little lemon.’ Melody runs her hand over the marble.
‘Found it. Sky, I bought you soy milk, or do you drink it black?’
‘Thanks, Adam,’ I say, feeling his name stick on my tongue. ‘Black is fine. But I’ll have the soy milk with breakfast, that’s great.’
‘I’m sure you two want time to talk,’ Melody says as Adam hands her a cup. ‘I’ll take this to my room. What’s your wi-fi password, mate? I need to check the details of the festival, see if I can get a ride with someone.’
After getting t
he password Melody retreats upstairs, and my father passes me a mug from the opposite side of the kitchen island before spooning coffee into his own cup.
I take a sip of the hot tea. ‘How did you know I’m vegan?’
Since I got his letter, months after he’d sent it, we’ve only exchanged a few brief emails and still don’t know much about each other.
‘Paula emailed, said she didn’t know at first when you moved in with her and didn’t want us getting off on the wrong foot.’ He smiles, sitting down across from me.
That was nice of Paula, to prepare him and all. After I lost Mum to cancer, Paula tried her best to be a substitute and my uncle Dave, too—he even showed up uninvited at father–daughter day at school, something that made me angry at the time, but I now know was really a sign he was trying to be there for me. Uncle Dave is not only supportive, but he’s also hilarious, and our banter keeps me laughing.
At first, as much as Aunt Paula tried, her house felt like the opposite of home, I missed Mum so much. And it didn’t help that Paula had forgotten what I’d told her the Christmas before Mum died. That I loved animals, and when I found out how they were being treated in factory farms, and the horrible things that happen to baby chicks—even in the free-range egg industry—and baby calves in dairy farms, I cried for two days straight and decided to stop eating meat. I was too angry to tell Paula again, to go over the whole story only days after the funeral; I was disintegrating from grief, and being a vegan is a super personal and sensitive subject for me. Sometimes I have no energy to deal with haters at school, let alone adults with their countless questions and concerns. So, I hid it and refused her offerings and secretly threw away food. Which I’m not proud of now. Especially because Paula let me keep my dog Bella, despite her financial struggles. We found Bella when I first moved to West Creek—well, Paula nearly ran her over. Bella was skinny, scared and filthy.
I only told Paula recently about being vegan and, big relief, she was totally onboard. She’s also fallen in love with Bella, but I mean, who wouldn’t? Bella’s a little plump due to the endless scraps Paula feeds her while we’re cooking together.
I think of my room back home—lavender sheets and white shabby-chic writing desk—girly but not overboard. The first day I arrived, Paula had decorated it with cut flowers from her garden. Today, Paula and Dave’s home is my home too—and, Bella would agree, our favourite place in the world. I can totally be myself with Paula and Dave, animal-crazy and everything.
I look around my father’s house and wonder if he will ask me why I don’t eat animal products? If he does, I’ll tell him my story like I did Paula. No lies. Simple as that.
My father stares into his coffee cup, stirring in the sugar rhythmically. Looks like it’s up to me to continue the conversation.
‘I love how Jane Goodall cares about all animals, not just wildlife. Have you seen her film? I haven’t yet, but I really want to. I borrowed one of her books from the library last year, though. It was so awesome …’ I leave this as an opening for him to ask me more.
He continues to stir his coffee.
‘How come you know about caribou and all that stuff?’ I ask, trying not to feel awkward about the silence. ‘You fish salmon, right? Is that your main job or are you a biologist too?’
‘You really love animals.’ He pauses. ‘Jane Goodall. Huh.’ Now he’s speaking more to himself than me. ‘I wonder how you would feel about …’ He stops and looks at me for a long moment before putting down his teaspoon.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Nothing.’ He takes a big gulp of his coffee. ‘I just never did well at science, that’s all. Wish I could have been more like Dr Goodall. Maybe you’ll be a researcher one day. It’s a great profession. But my horrible high school teacher ruined it for me. Don’t you hate it when that happens? Who’s your worst teacher?’
I can’t help feeling like there was something more he was going to say as I describe one of my dullest teachers—the history teacher who no one in my Year Ten class could bear. Then I ask, ‘So, what do you do?’
‘First,’ my father gets up, ‘let’s decide on dinner. You must be famished, that flight is skimpy on the food, I know. I have to confess, I’m not the best cook, never even turned on this oven. How do Chinese noodles sound?’ Is he avoiding my question? He picks up a box of takeaway menus. ‘This place has the best—’
The doorbell rings.
‘I wonder who that could be,’ he says, putting the menus to the side and striding to the front door.
I can glimpse the entrance from where I’m sitting on the couch. My father opens the door to a tall young guy.
‘I tried calling first,’ the guy stomps his boots before entering, snow flying everywhere, ‘but your cell’s off. Just finished rehearsal and, don’t know, couldn’t face going home. Hope this is okay?’
‘Sure. Come inside, bud, out of the cold.’ Adam takes his phone from his pocket. ‘Damn battery’s dead.’
The guy leans a guitar case against the wall, takes off his coat and bends down to untie his shoes, his black skinny jeans hanging so low I can see the top of his undies. He wears an old black hoodie splashed with red letters—the name of some band, I guess.
‘Sky, this is Jaxon. Jaxon, Sky.’
‘Hey, what’s up?’ He walks towards me, pulling off a grey beanie to reveal a mop of dark hair. Before I can answer, he puts out his fist. I have no idea what to do so I put my fist out too, and he bangs his into mine, making a little explosion when they touch. Must be an American thing.
He looks a couple of years older than me. His skin is pale, like mine would be if it never touched a ray of sun. Who is he? My mind starts racing: my father’s secret son? My half-brother? No, he can’t be—he’s older than me, so that doesn’t make sense.
‘Sorry to crash your reunion, Adam.’ He flops down into the armchair.
‘No problem at all. What’s happened, have you spoken to your father?’
‘Still no.’
‘What’s it been, three days?’
‘When I ran into you Wednesday he’d been gone for three, now it’s six. I’m not sure what to do, sorry …’
‘Don’t be sorry. I told you I’d be here to help. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
‘But, you’re busy and whatever.’ Jaxon looks at me.
‘Six days is a while to leave without a word. The next step is notifying the police,’ my father says.
‘No way,’ says Jaxon. ‘With his track record … anyway, I’m sure he’ll be back.’
‘So who’s staying with you at the house?’
‘No one.’
‘You’re all alone?’
‘It’s totally fine.’ Jaxon puts his fingers through his hair; they get stuck halfway and he pulls out his hand. He looks at me again. ‘Your dad was insanely excited to see you, you can’t even imagine.’
Adam talked about me? I think of my father bumping into this random guy and telling him his daughter was arriving. I feel flattered.
I wonder where Jaxon’s mum is, but don’t want to ask.
‘No, bud, it isn’t fine,’ my father says. ‘Let me try him from my phone, just in case.’
Jaxon and I wait as my father puts his phone on speaker—I hear the call go straight to voicemail, an automated message saying the inbox is full.
‘I’ve left, like, ten messages already,’ Jaxon says.
My father scratches his beard, looking at me and back at Jaxon. ‘Do you want to start searching around town? We can go now.’
‘I’m sure he’ll turn up,’ Jaxon says to his socks.
‘Okay. Well …’ He glances at me once more and turns back to Jaxon. ‘I’ll make up the couch; you can stay here for now. Melody’s leaving in a couple of days anyway and there will be a spare room.’
Here? Is he kidding? I’ve just flown 12,000 kilometres to meet him for the first time, not hang out with a random guy.
‘But, you’re going camping, aren’t you?’ Jax
on says.
‘That was supposed to be a surprise, bud.’ My father shakes his head. ‘Anyway, that’s not for another week. Sky needs a moment to settle in.’
Camping? It’s literally minus a billion degrees outside.
‘Sorry, forgot. But you know the lights are coming out now?’ Jaxon says. ‘The last of the season.’
‘Right now?’ my father asks.
‘Totally. I got the app and it’s on high alert, see?’ He shows Adam his phone. ‘Wednesday morning it’s the clearest.’
I have no idea what they’re talking about, just that my time with my father is in jeopardy.
‘Now that the cat’s out of the bag, Sky,’ he turns to me, ‘how would you like to go camping?’
‘In the freezing snow?’ My mouth’s hanging open. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘Don’t worry,’ my father says. ‘We have heavy-duty equipment; no one will freeze. Once you see the sky, it’ll be worth it.’
‘Sky seeing the sky. Funny.’ Jaxon smirks.
Hilarious.
‘Have you camped before?’ my father asks. ‘Are you into hiking? You like the outdoors?’
‘Sure,’ I say. I’ve camped a couple of times with Mum and Melody at music festivals. And I walk my dog Bella, and there’s sport at school—we run around the grounds. That counts, right?
‘But, Jaxon—’ my father starts.
‘Go, Adam. I’ll head home, I’m fine,’ Jaxon says. ‘My dad will be back soon, unless …’ He looks at his feet and wiggles his toes in his socks.
‘Bud, I don’t know …’ My father sighs.
Jaxon’s eyes spark up again. ‘Are you heading northeast towards the valley? I’ll tell you exactly where the wolf dens are. I was out there a few weeks ago recording data. If you have the topographical map, I’ll try and find it, although it may be tricky with all the fresh snow, but—’
‘Dens? We can see wolves?’ I’ve forgotten about being annoyed for a moment. ‘Oh my God. Seriously, I love wolves. I’ve only ever seen a kangaroo, oh and the bum of a koala, but it was too high in the branches to get a good look.’
Snow Page 2
