‘Jaxon’s waiting in the car, by the way,’ he finishes.
I look up at him, unsure how that makes me feel.
‘This is more debating than sharing.’ Bonnie slaps her knees. ‘But would anyone else like to say something?’
No answer.
She gets up, brushes off her cargo pants, mutters something under her breath, and sounds the gong.
The women all get up. Our circle, broken.
Chapter 11
It’s lunchtime and we pack up the tent, stacking pillows, blowing out candles and layering on clothes. Adam tells me how Jaxon begged him to bring him along, he was so worried about me. They’d shared the driving through the night. Melody insists they both stay and rest a little before driving back. With permission from the women, Jaxon comes inside too, so he can have a quick sleep and something to eat.
I’ve had enough talking. And I don’t know what to say to Jaxon—my feelings are all muddled. Is he also at fault for not telling me? Does he hunt too? I don’t know. Anyway, I leave Melody to handle it and follow the women to the food tent.
Melody joins me after a few minutes, and we fill our plates at the salad table and sit on a mat to eat.
‘Cutting people out of your life is easy,’ she says, chewing grated carrots and sultanas. ‘Keeping them in is hard.’
‘That’s very Dr Phil of you, as always,’ I say, and her face falls.
‘Being sarcastic is just a front for your hurt. It’s better to be vulnerable, Sky. That’s how you connect with people, really connect. And how you heal.’
I take a bite of my rice-paper spring roll. I have no comeback to that.
My phone buzzes in my pocket; it’s Oliver. I press reject—it’s impossible to talk to him now.
‘There’s no perfect parent,’ Autumn adds. ‘Gosh. You should have met my father. He had so many demons they were coming out of his ears.’
No perfect parent. It reminds me of what Ted said about his dad.
‘But I still loved him,’ Autumn continues. ‘I had to. And in his own crazy way, he loved me back.’ Melody squeezes Autumn’s leg and she smiles back at her sadly.
‘Why can’t there be a perfect one?’ I ask.
‘We are all flawed. I know I am, aren’t I?’ Melody says.
I don’t answer.
‘I should have been there for you in the months after Eli died. I know I should.’
‘It’s okay,’ I say.
‘No, it’s not. When I’m needed, sometimes, I run. My therapist says I have unresolved issues with my mother that have made me afraid of the pressure, the responsibility, of caring for someone because I’m sure I’ll screw it up. On some level I thought I was doing you a favour, that I’d spare you. I know I have to work on that.’
She moves a lock of hair off my face. I don’t move away as I did before.
‘It’s just …’ I swallow my carrot salad with difficulty. ‘I keep seeing the little fawn, crying for his mum, like me. Why can’t we just be kind and peaceful? Why do we have to be violent, treat animals so badly? You wouldn’t believe how horrible it was in that farm where I found Chirp. What’s wrong with people?’ I turn to Melody and then Autumn, genuinely hoping for an explanation. ‘Why is there so much cruelty? I can’t understand how people can do it.’ I bite my lips as tears well. ‘Do they not know animals feel? How can they not? Why would people feel but not animals?’
Melody puts her arm around me. ‘People aren’t all sensitive like that. And sadly, you can’t abracadabra the world the way you want it.’
‘I wish I could,’ I say.
‘Me too.’
‘Everyone would wear tie-dye in my world,’ Autumn says. ‘There’s way too little of that, and it’s so pretty, each piece unique like a fingerprint. And you can make it yourself.’ Her face is so sincere that Melody and I burst out laughing, and Melody nearly chokes on a carrot. Autumn whacks her on the back and they continue giggling together as I walk to the fruit bar to fetch us oranges for dessert.
‘Sky!’ Jaxon calls from the tent door and runs towards me as I’m standing by the fruit bowl. This time there’s no fist bump and his hug is so strong, I knock over the bowl.
As we scurry to pick up the oranges, I quickly ask, ‘Do you hunt too?’
‘No,’ he says, putting an orange back in the bowl. ‘I tried it once with Dad, but it wasn’t for me. Too gruesome. I prefer to watch the critters through binoculars rather than the barrel of a gun.’
Good answer.
‘But I just wanted to say I’m sorry about keeping the secret and all.’ He returns the last orange to the bowl and when I notice his cheeks are flushed pink, I realise I’m not angry with him at all.
Adam doesn’t wait to be invited in this time. He walks straight to me, eyes bloodshot. ‘I can’t sleep. I’m sorry, Sky. So sorry. I just can’t tell you how sorry I am.’
He looks so bereft as he hands me the beanie and gloves I left at the restaurant, I can’t help but soften. We sit together on the corner mat as Melody and Autumn make tea.
Jaxon asks me a hundred questions, between mouthfuls of food, about what I did after I ran from the restaurant. I tell him and my father everything just as it happened. They move between worry and relief as I recount the truck driver, police and bus ride, and my final freak-out at the bus terminal, cold and alone, before Melody arrived. I can tell from the spark in his eyes that Jaxon is a little bit impressed.
‘All that just to get away from me.’ My father sighs and puts down his fork, his plate of food untouched. ‘All I wanted was to get close to you. To have you in my life. And now I’ve ruined everything.’
I don’t know what to say.
‘Jaxon, bud,’ my father puts his hand on Jaxon’s shoulder, ‘would you give us a minute?’
Jaxon gets up and goes to join Melody and Autumn by the hot water.
‘I feel bad I made you drive all night,’ I say, wanting to take some small responsibility. ‘And, for the record, I don’t really think you’re evil.’ That’s all I’ve got, the only concessions I can make.
‘I brought something for you.’ He pulls a large box out of his backpack, wrapped in silver paper and tied with a pink ribbon. ‘I wanted to make sure you got it now, just in case, you know … I was going to give it to you in the restaurant, but then …’ He hands me the box.
I carefully unwrap it to find a photo album. Weird. He doesn’t have any pictures of me; I know Mum wasn’t in touch with him. Is he sharing photos of himself and his life before?
I slowly open the book. The first page holds a pastel pink card with a little baby and You’re One! in loopy writing. I take the card out of its sleeve and read.
Happy Birthday to my baby girl. Wishing you a wonderful year. I know you can’t read this yet, but soon we’ll be able to write to each other.
Inside the card is a photograph of my father by the ocean, clean shaven, hair windswept, young and fresh. This is me, it says. I return the card to the album and turn the page. The next card plays a song when I open it: It’s your second birthday, and you’re a big girl!
My stomach is starting to twist as I read. Two years old! A huge Happy Birthday hug from your dad, Adam. PS. I hope to have your address very soon so I can send this to you with your present.
I keep flipping the pages, taking out and returning the Hallmark cards. Fifteen in all. Each one has a short, sweet message. I close the album and look at him. Tears have wet my cheeks but I leave them there. All these years he’s been thinking of me, writing to me, waiting to see me. It’s true what he said. He did try.
‘I had no idea …’ I say.
‘Eli had her reasons, I’m sure. I just wanted to show you that you were always on my mind, always with me.’
‘And you’ve always been on my mind,’ I say.
Father–daughter. I wipe away my tears.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘Can we move forward from this?’
But my feelings are chaos again and my face is burn
ing. ‘The deer, now …’ But the words can’t get out. ‘The baby …’ Tears are flooding my eyes. I’m determined to finish saying, he has no mother, but I can’t.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Adam says. ‘We’ll work it out.’
‘How?’ I ask between sobs.
‘We just will. I promise.’
Chapter 12
We drive back from the festival, and the trip goes well considering how mad I had been. A good night’s rest helped everyone calm down, I guess. I haven’t accepted the hunting, but I’m trying to let it go for now.
In the car, Jaxon and I ask Adam about the music he liked as a teen. His taste was typical teenage boy—hard rock with lots of drums. As soon as he mentions one of his favourite songs from the nineties, Jaxon finds it on YouTube and connects to the speakers, and my father goes bananas. It’s hilarious. He remembers every word to one Metallica song, starts playing air guitar like a crazy man, and I have to grab the steering wheel. And that’s before the head banging begins.
We get home, shower and change out of the clothes we’ve all been wearing for nearly two days straight. Then Adam puts on the gas fire, and orders a takeaway Chinese feast. I make myself tea and join him and Jaxon, who are now sprawled on the couch, TV on, waiting for the food to arrive.
Adam’s phone pings with a message.
‘Good news, they’re coming!’ my father says.
‘Who?’
‘My parents. Your grandparents,’ he says. ‘They’ve booked a red-eye from Chicago, arriving tomorrow morning.’
‘Seriously?’ I put my tea down.
In my total meltdown, I’d completely forgotten he’d said they might come. Now I feel relieved I hadn’t caught an early plane home.
‘I can’t wait to meet them!’ I say genuinely.
‘So, you need my room back?’ Jaxon asks, reaching for the remote. ‘I—I guess Sky and I can bunk.’
‘Um, no!’ My father laughs as I feel my face flush. ‘Jaxon. You and I can share, and my parents can take mine.’
‘I don’t want to be any trouble,’ I say, realising the irony of that statement given the last twenty-four hours. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’
‘I’ll sleep here,’ Jaxon says, bouncing his fist on the couch. ‘Soft but not too soft. I insist. It’s right next to the TV, after all!’
Our takeout arrives, and when I open the door it’s already dark, snow falling heavily, my dad’s car sleeping under a white blanket. We choose a comedy and my father passes me the Chinese boxes, one by one, chopsticks sticking out. His eyes are smiling like he can’t believe I am still here.
I return the smile, but it’s not like before; my perfect-father-fantasy bubble has officially burst.
I check my phone where messages from Oliver wait unanswered. He’s sent a few asking how I am, asking to video chat, and then another video compilation he made yesterday after visiting Chirp at Lucy’s place. He’s taken clips of Chirp from different angles, from under her beak, and a bird’s-eye view, excuse the pun, and timed the cuts to an R&B song. It’s hilarious. In between mouthfuls of fried rice, I text him back but don’t have the energy to send a video. He feels planets away, and if he and his soft pillowslip neck are on Earth, I’m on icy Pluto. What I’ve been through the last few days is too big, too supersized, to explain to him in a text or over a video call.
Lucy tells me how Malcolm is still liking her posts and commenting with emojis on her Instagram.
Ask him out! I tell her.
She replies straight away: No way. He’s not into me, remember?
There’s a chance he didn’t get what you meant, I say. You were just waving, after all.
But what would I say?
Tell him there’s a good movie playing and see what he says.
Maybe.
Do it!
What movie?
I don’t know—just look online and find one that looks halfway decent.
OMG fine! Just so you’ll stop harassing me.
I send a laughing cat face.
Melody checks in on me too. We’ll see each other in a few days when the festival ends, but even though I’m not planning to use it, I have my passport in my bag just in case.
Adam makes up the couch for Jaxon and changes the sheets in his room, and we go to bed early. I change into my pyjamas, realising how excited and nervous I am about meeting my grandparents for the first time.
Curled up in bed, I try to imagine what they will be like. The perfect grandparents come into focus— kind, attentive, loving, sweet. No. I can’t allow myself to be swept up into another daydream only to wake up, disappointed. I turn abruptly to my other side and let my mind wander to worst-case scenarios, flashes of fairytale witches circulating in my head. But that’s the opposite extreme. So, I imagine the dullest, most unappealing people—bland, emotionless and vacant. Could it be possible they’re like that? New worries buzz; what if they take one look at me and I’m rejected? What will I do then?
Eventually, I sleep.
It’s still dark outside when we arrive at the airport. Adam spots his parents coming through the arrivals gate straight away.
My grandmother, Miriam, power walks ahead leaving her husband pushing the trolley. She makes a beeline for me. My heart’s beating fast.
‘I’m so happy to meet you.’ She hugs me first and takes my hands in hers. She’s certainly not bland. I notice her long slender fingers and manicured nails in a glossy charcoal. ‘My very own granddaughter, finally. Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.’ She gives my hands a squeeze.
She’s not emotionless either. A mocktail of warmth gushes into my heart and it comes with a splash of pure optimism. I have nothing to worry about.
Miriam has an easy smile with pearl-white teeth and is still young, maybe mid-sixties, with streaks of platinum-blonde hair. Pretty. She’s dressed well—black pants, cream turtleneck and small gold hoop earrings.
Mike hugs me next, his knitted sweater soft as a bunny. His hair is wavy and grey, not too long, not too short. Celebrity doppelganger, George Clooney.
‘Isn’t she lovely?’ Miriam looks at Adam, stroking my hair, before giving my father’s beard a yank. ‘Adam, for heaven’s sake,’ she says. ‘Can’t you shave? But let’s talk about that over breakfast; how about that place we had lunch last time?’
My father doesn’t acknowledge the insult, but strokes his beard like he’s comforting it. ‘Uh, we had a little incident there the other night.’ He gives me a funny grimace. ‘Long story. How about that other restaurant you like?’
‘With all the gaudy artwork? This town. Heavens. Well, if it’s the only option,’ Miriam says. I adapt my quick appraisal—she’s lovely but feisty.
We drive to the restaurant as light fills the sky. True to Miriam’s warning, sculptures of moose heads are mounted on the walls, splashed in gold. Chandeliers are made from antlers instead of crystals. Creepy. I ask the waitress to take a picture of all of us in front of the moose and quickly send it to Aunt Paula, Lucy and Oliver with the caption, Lunch with my very own grandparents. Check this out, crazy Alaskans!
‘Gluten-free options?’ Miriam asks the waitress, who shakes her head. ‘Adam, I can’t believe it,’ Miriam huffs. ‘What decade are they living in?’ She settles on a fruit salad.
‘What’s a Yak Burger?’ I ask.
‘You probably don’t want to know,’ my father says. I order the same as Miriam but ask them to hold the yoghurt.
‘So Adam tells me you’re a vegan,’ Miriam says. ‘Well, good for you, dear. I just read an article in The New York Times that it’s the new fashion for Generation Z and meant to be the best thing you can do for the environment. Something about climate change and cow digestion, isn’t that right, Mike?’
My phone starts vibrating—it’s Oliver on video chat. Must be the middle of the night there; why is he up? But I can’t talk now, so I quickly press reject and put my phone away.
‘Yes, very admirable.’ Mike spreads a serviette on hi
s lap. ‘Have you travelled before, Sky? Is this your first time in the US?’
‘My first time out of Australia,’ I say. ‘And first time seeing snow, too.’ I won’t tell them my whole list of firsts.
‘Once you have a taste for it,’ Miriam says, ‘travel, not snow, of course—you can’t go back, can you, Mike? We were in Paris last June and Berlin the summer before. Now that Mike’s retired—’
‘Not quite,’ he says.
‘In any case. Next trip, you’ll have to join us,’ she says.
‘Yes, you must,’ Mike says.
‘Sounds amazing,’ I say. European trip with my grandparents? Sign me up!
Our food arrives, and I feel Miriam staring at me.
‘Look at her gorgeous thick hair and her skin, porcelain like a doll,’ she says.
I touch my face without thinking. I have pale skin with smatterings of freckles. Never thought of it as gorgeous—just easily sunburnt.
‘Sadly, I never met your mother, Sky. But I can see from looking at you that she must have been a beauty.’
I bite my lip. My mum was beautiful, it’s true.
‘Now, Sky, you protect that gorgeous skin of yours. Did you know that even snow can bounce UV rays? Hopefully by the time you’re—’
She stops talking as my father’s phone rings loudly. He’s mid-bite, and maple syrup drips from his pancake onto his shirt. He looks at the number and presses reject.
‘Take the call outside if you need to,’ my grandfather says. The diversion gives me a second to check my phone again. Oliver’s sent more messages. What’s happening? You haven’t sent any clips and you’re not answering me! What was the drama with your dad? That’s awesome about grandparents—what are they like?
I see he’s sent a clip—I’ll watch it and reply to him later.
‘And use a napkin, for goodness sake, Adam,’ Miriam says.
‘It’s just a client, nothing important,’ he replies.
‘A client isn’t important? Who is important if not a client?’ Mike asks.
‘It’s fine. I’ll worry about it later.’ The phone rings again, and Adam puts it on silent and turns it face down.
Snow Page 11
