Snow

by Sherman Ondine

  ‘I’m taking a little break, with Sky being here and everything.’

  ‘Can you afford that?’

  ‘I’ll make it up later.’

  I hear the familiar tone of my father’s phone. It stops after a second.

  ‘I assume that’s your client again, the one you’re avoiding,’ Mike says, his voice stern.

  ‘Please.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Adam,’ my grandfather barks. ‘One of your clients is calling; aren’t you going to answer? I simply don’t understand this lackadaisical approach to business. Alaska or not, this certainly isn’t the example I set.’

  ‘Okay, already, if it will make you happy,’ my father says, accepting the call. ‘Hello, Adam Black here.’ Pause. ‘Ralph. Bud. Sorry I haven’t picked up, been focused on my daughter, and now my parents are in town and …’

  Ralph? Oh no, it’s that horrible hunter we met at the restaurant. So much for feeling better about the day. I sit down on the stairs and continue eavesdropping, which seems to be becoming my new norm.

  ‘I understand, but …’ Adam stops to listen. ‘How much? … That’s very generous of you, but like I said, I can’t. I can refer you to a colleague at the Lodge, who—’ He stops again. ‘You already tried him? … Did you say double it?’

  How much money is Ralph offering my father? He won’t take it, he can’t, not when we’ve just made up. This would be the opposite of ‘working it out’ like he promised.

  ‘Triple? For one day? That’s some figure, Ralph.’ My father’s tone has changed. It must be hundreds of dollars, or even thousands. And he just told my grandfather he has to make house payments. I notice I’m biting my nails and stop.

  ‘Let me get back to you.’

  Back to him? He’s actually considering it, after everything we went through?

  ‘Who wants coffee?’ I hear my grandmother call from the kitchen. ‘Is Sky up yet? Shall I go wake her?’

  Adam finishes his call. ‘Within the hour, yes.’

  I walk back up the stairs as quietly as possible, and then, to give it a natural feel, skip down the stairs so when I appear in the living room I don’t look like I’ve been eavesdropping.

  My father jumps up, looking guilty. ‘Morning, Sky!’

  ‘Oh good,’ Miriam says. ‘Sleeping beauty. Would you like some tea, dear?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  My grandfather smiles at me. ‘How did you sleep? Come sit down.’ He moves up the couch, patting the space next to him. I plonk myself down in between him and my father.

  ‘Amazing,’ I say. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Me too.’ He pats my shoulder warmly. ‘Must be the clean air. I always sleep like a baby when I’m out of the big city. How’s the air in Sydney? I imagine the Pacific must blow some of the smog off the coast.’

  We compare notes about Chicago versus Sydney air pollution, and he asks me about West Creek and what it was like to move to a small town. It’s small talk, but it feels good to talk to him and I’m happy he’s interested.

  My grandmother swans in, elegant in cream pants and a grey silk blouse, with a tray of coffee and tea. I offer to help, but she insists I stay seated. I add some sugar to my cup and stir.

  ‘What did he offer?’ my grandfather asks my father, and I feel the room go still.

  ‘Not now, Dad.’

  Miriam returns to the kitchen.

  ‘Sky is old enough to be part of this discussion,’ Mike says. ‘You understand, don’t you, doll? Your father makes a living doing something you don’t agree with, I get it. But that’s not new. How many kids don’t like what their parents do? Think I liked my father being a janitor at my own school? That it wasn’t humiliating as a kid? Them’s the breaks, so they say. Can’t choose your family. Your father here, well, he had some words about my business dealings. Didn’t you, Adam? That was before he quit without notice, leaving my team in the high and dry.’

  My father sighs.

  ‘We had one development due to clear a few fields. Adam almost ruined it during the meeting with partners, started talking about some endangered lizard; what was it, a skink?’

  I’m not sure what to say. Ironic that Adam disagreed with his father about animals too. But this is totally different. I’m an animal lover and my father’s a hunter. Slightly more extreme than what he’s talking about. The chasm is massive, not small.

  ‘So, what did he offer?’ Mike presses.

  ‘He started with ten,’ my father says, clearly defeated.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Ended with fifty.’

  ‘Fifty what?’ I ask.

  ‘Fifty grand.’ My father stares into his coffee cup.

  I feel my jaw drop.

  ‘To do what?’ Geez. Mike’s a veritable bulldozer.

  ‘Take him out for a day hunting. Says he doesn’t have the time or energy to start with a new lodge, and no one else’s available, and he liked me, we got along well. His wife has a massage or facial or something tomorrow, and it’s his only day alone before he goes home.’

  ‘That’s a helluva lot of money to give up,’ my grandfather says. ‘Nobody in their right mind—’

  ‘Who’s giving up which money?’ Miriam sets a tray of cut fruit, yoghurt, toast, peanut butter and jam on the table.

  ‘Adam’s been offered fifty thousand dollars for a single day’s work,’ my grandfather says.

  ‘Fifty?’ Jaxon chimes in, appearing at the bottom of the stairs, drying his hair with a towel. ‘You can’t be serious. Who is this dude? Hello Mr Black, Mrs Black.’

  ‘For goodness sake, I’m not an old headmistress, call me Miriam.’ Her tone is curt.

  My father answers Jaxon. ‘He’s a big deal down south, oil money, too much to know what to do with.’

  ‘When are you going, Adam?’ Miriam passes me a plate. ‘I can take Sky to the museum—we’ll have another girls’ day out, won’t we, dear?’

  ‘I’m not taking it,’ my father says into his cup, ‘the job.’

  Jaxon’s hand stops mid-motion, and with the towel still on his head he looks at me, and then back to Adam.

  ‘Fifty grand for one day’s work and you’re saying no?’ My grandfather’s face is going red. ‘I’ve honestly never heard of such a thing. I thought your irresponsible days were in the past, Adam. In all my years, and I mean years, of business, I have—’

  ‘Adam, dear,’ my grandmother says, ‘you’re going to give your father a heart attack. You know he’s on those high-dose pills; his cholesterol’s through the roof. Go. Sky will be fine. I have so many things I want to do with her. Give your mother a chance to get to know her granddaughter, won’t you?’

  My father looks at me. ‘But Sky and I have just reconciled, and—’

  ‘She knows what you do for a living,’ Mike says firmly.

  ‘She doesn’t like it,’ my grandmother adds, ‘but she’s not expecting you to suddenly stop, are you, dear?’ She looks at me.

  ‘Sky? You don’t have to agree,’ my father says. ‘Really, just say the word.’

  Jaxon looks at me. And so does everyone else.

  For a moment, the world stops.

  ‘I have to go to the toilet,’ I say and feel myself running upstairs.

  My face is red and I splash water on it. I stare into my eyes, blinking. I have no idea what to say to them, what to feel.

  That’s not true. I know exactly how I feel. Terrible.

  What should I do? I take a breath and sit down on the toilet seat. I see the scene in Bambi where he and his mother are running from the hunter. There’s a gunshot. Bambi calls his mum, thinking they made it, they’re safe, but she’s gone.

  But that’s childish. This is the real world, not a kid’s movie. Life doesn’t have happy endings; I’ve learnt that too many times recently. A happy ending would have Mum beating cancer. A happy ending would be my father fulfilling the fantasy I imagined. A happy ending would not be this. But fantasy and reality are oil and water. Fifty grand. I bite my n
ails. I can’t let my father piss off Mike, lose more of his respect, and give up so much money just because I don’t agree with his job. Isn’t that immature? And wouldn’t he just end up resenting me?

  I walk slowly back downstairs, and all conversation stops. Everyone watches me. I can’t meet my father’s eyes.

  ‘Sky,’ he says, ‘it’s okay, really, I don’t have to go. Your feelings are more important.’

  I take a breath and look at him directly. ‘Adam, it’s your work, and a lot of money. I’ve thought about it and … you should go. I’ll survive.’

  The irony.

  Chapter 15

  My father, grandparents, Jaxon and I pack into the car and head to town for lunch, and afterwards wander around the shops. We walk past the fur store and I pray my grandmother won’t go in. That would be the straw that broke the camel’s back—no, the icing on a cake that’s so gross, I’d have to throw the cake away.

  We go into a large store and I find souvenir oven mitts and tea towels, and an apron for Paula in a retro design even my grandmother thinks is cute. Paula and I have been sending voicemails back and forth ever since the ‘incident’ as she calls it, and I am really missing her. A Love Alaska penknife seems a perfect match for Dave as he’s always got ropes to cut (must remember to put it in my big bag so it doesn’t get confiscated). I see a crotcheted scarf Melody would go crazy over, and even if she can be super selfish and I still have moments of feeling angry at her, she did have my back at the festival. Months after I needed her, but she was there in the end. And I haven’t actually thanked her for flying across the world with me.

  My father tries to keep by my side, but I ignore him. He does point out a book on birds of prey that I know Lucy will appreciate. She’s replied to my message with a happy snap of Chirp pecking on a piece of watermelon. Her favourite treat. Lucy’s the best!

  Did you mention the movie? I ask her.

  Yep—told him there was an old film I like playing next week.

  And?

  He said he hasn’t seen it.

  And?

  That was it!

  OMG Lucy! Ask him if he wants to go!

  No!

  Yes!

  If he wanted to, he would have said so. Lucy adds a sad face.

  Maybe he’s shy?

  Argh!

  I smile and put away my phone. My father flips through the bird book, explaining the local species, and I don’t think he notices I’m still avoiding his eyes. When he gets back from the trip, I’m sure I’ll feel better. It’s just knowing he’s about to go that’s stressing me out.

  I pick out a hoodie with a cool graphic of mountains that will look hot on Oliver. Wish I could wrap myself up in his arms. At this thought, I feel bad once again for not mentioning Jaxon to him, but it’s too late now and it will seem way too weird to bring it up now. We’ll talk when I get home.

  My father offers to pay, but I refuse, whipping out some American bills before he has a chance. I carry the big bag out of the store.

  Jaxon’s waiting for us outside, on the phone, and he gives me a wave. We continue down Main Street and I pause at a trendy shop window, surprisingly hipster for Nowhere-Ville.

  ‘Sky dear, my feet are killing me,’ Miriam says. ‘You continue on and we’ll stop for a hot chocolate.’ She points to the cafe across the road.

  ‘No, it’s okay, I don’t need to,’ I say with a longing glance at the store.

  ‘Don’t be silly. We’ll meet you there.’

  ‘Yes, come on, Sky, let’s go in.’ My father opens the door for me.

  We leave Jaxon still on the phone, waving his arms excitedly as he discusses speaker quality with Trent for their show.

  Inside the store, I run my fingers over the racks of shirts and jackets, pausing to take a few out. The shopkeeper comes over to explain that it’s a local brand, eco fabrics, made in the USA, now selling in ten cities across the country. She points to a framed article on the wall. The New York Times: Alaskan sisters take their coffee-table designs to the world. They’ve moved to LA now, of course.

  ‘Is this leather?’ I ask, pulling out a worn-looking brown jacket.

  ‘Recycled rubber. Wouldn’t believe it, would you? The entire line is vegan friendly.’ She points to a leafy symbol on the windowpane.

  Unbelievable.

  I put on the jacket; it’s lined and slips on easily. I do up the zippers and dig my hands into the pockets. Nothing I’d usually wear, or that I could find anywhere in West Creek. I could return to town looking like a hipster or an MTV star; how awesome would that be? But seriously, I do need a slight wardrobe update; I’ve been wearing the same cut-off jeans in summer, long jeans in winter and various T-shirts my entire life. I’ve never been interested in fashion—luckily, since Mum never had the extra money. And then, after she died and I moved in with Paula and Dave, I found out that they were broke and struggling to support me. But now, all the kids in my year are upping their fashion game and it feels like all the girls, minus Lucy, are obsessed. They even take the bus to Sydney, which is hours away, just to go to the mall.

  I play with the collar, putting it up and down. Looks good both ways. It’s summer in Australia now, but still.

  I swivel around, checking myself out from all angles. This may be the coolest thing I’ve ever worn.

  ‘Do you like it?’ my father says.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Sky!’ He takes off his beanie and runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

  ‘What?’ I fiddle with the zip.

  ‘You haven’t looked at me the whole day.’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘No. You haven’t. I thought you were okay with the trip tomorrow?’

  ‘I am. I said I am, didn’t I?’

  ‘Well, the facts on the ground seem to be pointing in a different direction.’

  ‘That doesn’t even make sense. Facts can’t point.’

  ‘Sky.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve completely closed up. Tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘Nothing.’

  I take off the jacket, take a look at the tag and return it to its hanger. Where do they get off, asking for hundreds of bucks for some stupid jacket? I put the hanger back on the rack, but the jacket slips off.

  Before I can pick it up, my father does. ‘You like it, right?’ he says, holding it up.

  ‘It’s stupid expensive. This is friggin’ Alaska not Manhattan.’

  ‘Do you like it or not?’

  ‘What do you think?’ I open my eyes wide and stare at him. I know I’m being rude. But, whatever.

  Next thing, he’s passing his credit card to the checkout girl and I have a recycled tote bag in my hand.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say grudgingly, but I’m secretly pleased.

  He puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘When you’re ready to talk, I’m waiting.’

  We meet up with the others at the cafe and then all head home.

  My father makes one last attempt to wrangle information out of me before he goes to pack for his hunting trip. Tomorrow he’s leaving pre-dawn.

  There’s a snowstorm on the horizon, and it’s unclear if it’s going to come this way or not.

  Jaxon watches TV and Mike takes a conference call. My grandmother and I go to the market to pick up groceries. I want to call Oliver, but by the time we’re home it’s late already, Jaxon’s lingering around, and my grandmother wants to cook with me. And how am I going to tell Oliver everything that’s happened in the last week? It feels impossible. So I text him, Sorry, let’s try tomorrow.

  My grandmother shows me how to steam asparagus while I make a garlic soy marinade for the tofu. We listen to Mozart and she takes out a bottle of wine; I sneak a few sips straight from the bottle but feel tipsy almost immediately. By the time I plonk down onto the couch to join Jaxon for a movie, I’m not thinking about Oliver or my father carrying guns to the car— not at all.

  The next morning Jaxon and I are up before
Miriam.

  ‘Snowman?’ He looks out the window. ‘Check out the fresh powder! Have you ever made one?’

  ‘No, no more snow!’ I laugh, although it does sound fun. I’ve seen a million movies of people making snowmen, but freezing my fingers off again? Just no. ‘Where’s the museum we’re going to? Downtown again?’

  ‘Yeah. And we can check out a few of the back-alley galleries too.’

  My grandmother appears, elegant as usual, and smacks a kiss on my cheek. She ties on a fresh apron—she must have brought a stash of her own—and together we make the vegan pancakes I told her about yesterday. Before I take a bite, I send a picture to Paula. She’ll be impressed.

  Miriam tells me Mike isn’t coming; he has board papers to go through and a conference call later on.

  ‘Are you going out like that?’ My grandmother looks at Jaxon—and it’s true, he’s pretty dishevelled.

  ‘I can go home first and get clean clothes.’ He sniffs his armpits, making a horrified face.

  ‘Gross!’ I laugh as my grandmother turns away, unimpressed. I think Jaxon’s been wearing the same black T-shirt and hoodie for three days.

  We take a taxi and ask the driver to stop at Jaxon’s house on the way to the museum. As we pull up, I see the postbox has been knocked over and there’s a truck parked on the lawn, totally missing the driveway.

  ‘My dad’s back,’ Jaxon says, flying out the taxi door and breaking into a jog.

  ‘Hold on,’ I say to Miriam. I run after him and catch him lingering by the front door.

  It’s ajar and we go inside.

  ‘Dad?’

  No answer.

  Something crashes overhead. Jaxon runs up the stairs, two at a time, while I wait by the door. I hear talking but can’t make out the words.

  ‘I told you to go, stupid,’ someone screams. It must be Jaxon’s father, Doug. ‘Take the damn car and get out of here. Now. Are you deaf?’

  Jaxon walks downstairs, car keys in one hand and a wad of cash in the other.

  Out the front door, I see my grandmother walking towards the house, rubbing her arms to keep warm.

  We meet her on the front path. ‘Sorry, Mrs—I mean Miriam, my dad’s home. I need to go.’ Jaxon’s voice sounds dead.