Snow

by Sherman Ondine

  While we’re waiting, I have messages to reply to. Lucy updated me on Malcolm and how she ended up asking him to the movie—she says if he rejects her, it’s all on me. I want to write back and tell her how proud I am that she did it, but my head’s all over the place. I don’t feel like looking at everyone’s happy snaps of their summer holidays in Australia; seeing their beach selfies while I’m freezing in a police station. Instead, I try to zone out by reading a year’s worth of local papers, getting acquainted with mayoral candidates, scandals and new businesses.

  Jaxon’s leg is still bouncing erratically, my stomach’s rumbling, my father’s pacing, and I’m just about to ask if there’s a snack machine when a door bangs shut and Jaxon looks up. A man is standing at the front desk, tall, pale and lanky, hair dishevelled and lips cracked. It’s my first time meeting Jaxon’s dad, even though I heard his voice shouting at Jaxon when I was in their house. He barely looks like the man in the photograph Jaxon was showing around the bars when he was searching for him. Jaxon jumps up and they embrace with a slap on the back. Doug puts his hand on his son’s shoulder as he signs the forms.

  Then Adam and Doug slap each other’s backs. ‘This is Sky,’ my father says and Doug nods at me.

  I can smell his body odour as we walk back to the car, and it’s a long way from rosebuds.

  We drop Doug home, and my father and I wait in the car as Jaxon grabs some clean clothes. It was agreed he’ll sleep at Adam’s again, just until Doug’s back on his feet and Jaxon’s finished his concert tomorrow night.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been so preoccupied,’ Adam says to me. ‘I want to continue working through all of this together. Can we talk later tonight? I’ll pick up some of those fudge brownies you liked.’

  I look at my father. He’s done as he promised and reunited father and son. He’s been Jaxon’s saviour, totally stepping up when he was needed. He is a good guy. Can I really have expected him to be exactly like I’d hoped? Isn’t it enough that he’s here, making an effort, trying his best to be my dad?

  More words circle my head.

  You can’t abracadabra the world.

  I’d give the skin off my back to have my father back, make amends.

  There’s no perfect parent.

  But how imperfect is acceptable?

  Chapter 19

  ‘Oliver?’ I say, as the video call connects.

  ‘Sky!’ He beams back at me. ‘Is it really you? My long-lost girlfriend?’

  ‘I’m super sorry. I have totally sucked at keeping in touch lately.’ I feel my eyes pricking and hope it’s not showing up on the screen.

  ‘Lucy says you haven’t replied to her either. Everything okay?’

  ‘Kind of,’ I say. ‘I have a lot to tell you.’

  ‘Like why you ran off to a festival and I had to track you down using a platypus?’

  ‘And a stolen car,’ I add with a smirk.

  ‘Borrowed.’ But then his grin falters. ‘And, like, how your dad is a …?’ He doesn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Paula came by Mum’s store to pick up some tofu and other stuff—she wanted to stock up before you get back. She filled me in.’

  ‘She was out?’ Paula’s meant to be on bed rest.

  ‘Dave was pushing her around in a wheelchair, said she’s going stir-crazy in the house.’

  Poor Paula. I feel bad I’m not there helping out.

  ‘Is it all right that I know your dad’s a hunter?’ Oliver asks. ‘Or was it private …?’

  ‘No, I want you to know. When we spoke before, I was still freaking out and … I just didn’t know how to, like, summarise everything that’s been going on in a text.’

  ‘You could have called. I’ve been here. Even now, in the middle of the night.’

  ‘I know.’ I clear my throat.

  ‘Have you met anyone else interesting over there?’ he asks suddenly.

  My mind whizzes—I haven’t mentioned Jaxon to Paula so there’s no way Oliver can know. ‘It’s Alaska, remember?’ I decide I can’t handle telling him about Jaxon now.

  He nods and there’s an awkward silence.

  ‘So we’re still good?’ His voice is tentative.

  ‘For sure.’ I give him a weak smile. Everything is getting to me. I’m starting to feel overwhelmed.

  ‘Because,’ Oliver says slowly, ‘I’d be kinda heartbroken if anything happened to you …’

  ‘Me too,’ I say.

  ‘Because, well, the thing is …’

  ‘What?’ I ask, wiping a tear off my cheek.

  ‘Since you’ve been away, I’ve kinda realised … I am,’ he takes a breath, ‘in love with you.’

  I soak in the words, tears now streaming down my face. When I wipe them away, I see my mascara smeared everywhere.

  ‘Sky?’ he says.

  ‘Hold on.’ I jump up to grab some toilet paper from the bathroom.

  ‘Sorry, Sky … was that too much too soon? I know we haven’t been going out long but—’

  ‘No, it’s not too much.’ I wipe my eyes. ‘I love you too. And all I want to do is come home and be with you. That’s all I want.’

  His smile is huge. ‘We don’t have to wait too long, I’ll see you in a few days. And then I’m not letting you go. Literally. I’m bringing superglue.’

  I smile back, wishing I could reach through the screen and be wrapped in his strong arms.

  ‘Can you tell me about your dad?’ he asks gently.

  ‘It’s so complicated,’ I say. ‘I just don’t know how I feel. I mean …’ I search for the right words. ‘He’s a good guy.’

  ‘Well, that’s a start.’

  ‘And he’s been really thoughtful about everything … getting me veggie food and … but—’

  ‘He’s a hunter,’ Oliver says. ‘That’s a tough one.’

  ‘Yeah. And I just don’t know if I can handle it.’

  ‘But he’s your dad, your actual dad, flesh and blood. I would kill to see mine and have him actually want to hang out with me and … it doesn’t matter so much what he does as long as—’

  ‘It does matter,’ I say. ‘How can I have a relationship with a father who I don’t even respect?’

  ‘But, Sky, don’t you think—’

  ‘Look,’ I say with a sigh. ‘Let’s talk about it when I’m back. Only four sleeps to go. I hate this video thing, it’s so weird seeing you on a screen when—’

  ‘I know, I just want to touch you and I can’t,’ Oliver says.

  ‘We’ll be able to soon.’

  ‘Can’t wait. What are you up to today?’ he asks.

  ‘Lunch with my grandparents and then going to a band competition.’

  ‘That’s cool. Wish I could be there with you.’

  ‘Me too.’ I think of my worlds colliding, Pluto and Earth. Yikes.

  ‘Who’s playing?’

  ‘Just some local bands.’ Argh, I hate what I’m doing, skirting around the truth. But I’m just protecting Oliver’s feelings, aren’t I? There’s really no point telling him about Jaxon. What good would it do?

  ‘Any good tracks I should download?’

  ‘I’ll let you know.’

  He blows me a kiss and I blow him one back.

  My grandparents take me to a nice diner where I devour the most delicious veggie burgers I’ve ever eaten in my life. Now I know it’s all about the fried onion, pickles and mustard. Yum.

  I hear more about my grandfather’s work, reaffirming my lack of desire to ever study law, and my grandmother shows me clips of her favourite solo violinists on her iPad. I ask to see videos of her own performances but she swears they aren’t available online. When I come to Chicago, she promises she’ll show me the archives.

  A few hours later, sunlight faded, I’m all dressed up and standing in the performing arts centre. Alcohol-free zone. Teen mecca.

  ‘No,’ the lead singer of the band currently on stage sing-speaks. ‘That’s. Not. It.’ He repeat
s the words randomly in different orders like, ‘It. Not. That’s. No.’

  The club is packed and I’ve heard two performances while waiting for Jaxon to begin. The first one was death metal and consisted of mostly screeching and drum solos. The second was okay, folksy and a little boring but nothing offensive to my ears.

  Why is it so crowded in here? I thought it would be empty, it being Alaska in winter and all.

  ‘Not. No. That’s. It.’

  These guys. Yawn.

  Two people talk loudly in front of me, not even pretending to listen to the music. The girl’s right hand has a trillion bracelets and she touches the guy’s shoulder as she speaks. She has bright orange lips punctured by a piercing and is wearing a brimmed hat that’s blocking my view of the stage. She’s not short either. He’s laughing at everything she says, and I wonder if he can even hear what she’s saying over the music.

  My feet are aching and I shift my weight. I’m more dressed up than I’ve been since my birthday dinner— high-heeled boots, new jacket, hair washed and pulled into a messy bun, and I even put on lipstick. But I can’t get my thoughts straight, don’t know what to think or feel about my father, and I’m leaving in a few days. He didn’t end up buying the brownies and we didn’t end up talking. We arrived at the concert hall together, but just as we were parking Doug called. So instead of me having a night out with my father, he dropped me off at the entrance and said he’d be back after talking Doug off a ledge, so to speak. Meanwhile, Melody is on her way back, hitching a ride with one of the festival women. She said she’ll meet me at the house later.

  This is Jaxon’s big moment, but I can’t concentrate on anything.

  ‘To hell and back. No. That’s. Not. It.’ What does that even mean?

  The singer and lead guitarist are twinning in black skinny jeans, chunky black Doc Martens, and blue-black hair. The electric guitar is jarring and I can’t help but put my hands over my ears.

  Now the lovebirds are kissing, her eyes open and his closed, and they’re seriously right in my face.

  I could find an exit but going outside wouldn’t be a good idea. It’s so cold my eyelashes formed ice sculptures as I walked in from the car. The toilets would be quieter but they’re across the room with a crowd of people blocking the way.

  Someone bumps into me from behind, and I turn around angrily, but they apologise and give me a bucktoothed smile.

  I join the clapping as the singer screams ‘NO’, the guitar completes a final screech and the band leaves the stage.

  They announce Jaxon’s band coming up next and I push through the crowd to get closer.

  I’m halfway to the stage. Is that Jaxon? I see his shape by the backstage curtains.

  He peeks out from behind a curtain, scanning the audience. I wave but he doesn’t see me. We’ve barely spoken since the police station, even though he’s been staying in the house. I get it. If I were in his position, I’d be pretty upset too. He was so worried about his dad, and when Doug finally got home he was so drunk he ended up in the police station. And then, instead of his dad making it up to him, Doug’s spent all his time crying to my father on the phone and begging him to come over to talk to him. Doug doesn’t want to be alone, Jaxon doesn’t want to be with him while he’s in this state, and Adam doesn’t want Jaxon to be with Doug and get caught in the firing line as he sobers. I heard them talking about it.

  So, instead of me spending my final three days with my father and trying to work out our Mount Denali— the tallest land mountain on Earth—sized problems, he’s hanging with Jaxon’s dad. And even though I know it’s good to take care of someone in need, neither I nor Jaxon have fathers to talk to.

  To make things worse, I’ve been dreaming about the moose every night, each time managing to save him, stop Ralph in time, or make a noise to drive the moose away. Once I woke mid-dream just as he was about to die, and then imagined a new way he could have survived and wove it into the ending of my dream. When I woke, I remembered the blood-streaked snow and realised it was all a lie.

  Jaxon’s excitable puppy-dog spirit has disappeared. I miss seeing the spark in his eyes. He’s been lower key, working on his music, speaking to his band members, making last-minute changes, and I even heard talk of a new song he wrote. He kept asking if I was coming tonight so I guess he’s feeling insecure and stuff. But I’ve seen a dozen people around him, clearly good mates, so it’s not like he’s alone or anything.

  People rush back and forth on stage, moving cords and plugging and unplugging instruments. The crowd’s even noisier.

  I see an opening to my right as someone pushes through the crowd, going to the bar. I follow their tailwind and then cut left towards the stage where there’s a tiny space I can squeeze into to see the band properly. I make it to the empty spot, and the crowd closes around me so we’re elbow to elbow.

  Trent’s now on stage, plugging in his guitar and tuning it, biting his bottom lip. Jaxon spots me from behind the curtain and waves. I can see his eyes from here, finally sparkling again—the puppy is back, and he looks beyond excited. I wave again, mouthing, Good luck.

  The crowd quietens a little as Jaxon and three others walk on stage. He takes the centre microphone, adjusting it so it’s in line with his mouth.

  The drums start. One deep beat at a time, they begin slowly and speed up until they’re in time with my heartbeat. The rest of the band keep their heads down, and Jaxon’s hair is flopped over his eyes. He looks cute. But it’s hard not to look cool when you’re the lead singer in a band.

  Jaxon lifts his head, presses his lips to the mic and starts to sing, words flowing one into the other like rivulets forming a stream. Trent joins in as backup, his guitar chords accentuating the rhythm and pace. After a minute, the keyboard and saxophone (or is it a clarinet?) have joined in and the crowd has gone silent, nodding their heads to the music.

  It feels like forever since I last smiled this much.

  The band plays song after song, each as good as the last, and the crowd is engrossed, arms above their heads, bodies moving, and I’m swaying my hips to the beat. The drummer’s awesome. Can’t see his face, though, with his hoodie pulled over his head, covering everything except his nose. Jaxon’s a natural, not nervous at all like Trent, who’s either had his eyes mostly closed or has been staring at his strings, only peeking out at the audience briefly before closing his eyes again.

  ‘This final song,’ Jaxon says once the drummer finishes his riff, ‘is dedicated to someone I met just a couple of weeks ago but feel like I’ve known way, way longer …’ He takes a breath and looks straight at me. ‘Someone complicated, courageous, a little crazy, and not from around here. You know who you are.’

  Hold on.

  The song begins. His voice is out of this world, and some of the girls in the crowd start screaming like groupies. When he hits the chorus, it’s clear. This is a love song.

  Oh no.

  Chapter 20

  Jaxon’s band wins the competition, and as he holds the trophy on stage I’ve never seen him so happy. Trent shakes the judge’s hand and takes the cheque for $500. They also get a bunch of other freebies from various shops in town.

  As the crowd slowly thins, I find a spot on the floor and sit down with my back to the wall. I have no idea how I’m going to handle this. And to make things worse, my father never even showed up—I text him, but there’s no answer. Now I have to rely on a lift with Jaxon or Trent to get back home.

  Just as my bum is getting sore from the hard wooden floor, I see Jaxon appear from behind the curtain. My heartbeat accelerates as I get to my feet and go to meet him at the bottom of the stage. He’s holding his trophy and carrying a huge smile.

  ‘You were awesome!’ I say, hoping we can just ignore the whole song-dedication situation. Maybe I misunderstood; he didn’t exactly say my name. ‘You totally deserved to win. What is that instrument anyway, a clarinet?’

  ‘Soprano saxophone.’

  ‘Right. And the
other bands, I mean … Yikes. Didn’t love most of them …’ I’m rambling as I study the miniature guitar on his trophy. I lift my eyes and peer into his face. ‘Is that eyeliner?’

  ‘Told you so.’ He’s smiling at me strangely. ‘What do you think? Good look?’

  ‘Sure. Very eighties rock star. What are you going to do with the money?’ I ask, still speaking too quickly. ‘Shopping spree or what?’

  ‘Yeah … no …’ he starts. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Hey, would you mind giving me a lift back? I don’t know what happened to Adam. Are you driving with Trent?’

  ‘No. What I wanted to …’ He stops, suddenly fascinated with scraping a piece of gum off the floor with his shoe.

  Okay, this is officially awkward. ‘Or are you going out now to celebrate or something?’ I say. ‘That’s okay, I can find a lift or catch a cab.’

  ‘Sky.’ He puts his hand on my arm. ‘Hold on. I want to tell you something.’

  Uh-oh.

  He looks at me intently. ‘It’s just that …’

  Is this really happening?

  ‘Ever since the first moment I saw you—I mean …’ He takes a big breath. ‘You are weird, like, you love snakes, and your mismatched eyes … you know how incredible they are …’

  He looks so earnest and sweet as he babbles that I find myself smiling.

  ‘You’re awesome. I just wanted to get it out there. And I like you.’ He’s speaking fast now. ‘Really like you. You’re brave and a bit crazy, but in a good way, and pretty …’

  It isn’t the worst feeling in the world being enveloped in compliments. No boy had ever expressed much interest, until Oliver. And now here’s another one, and he’s super cool. But at the same time, I don’t know how to react.

  Jaxon continues. ‘Not that that is so important, but you are, and inside too, not just outside. You’ve been so supportive with my dad and everything. You didn’t have to do all that, come with me to his house and then go looking for him, and to the police station. You’re just a kind person. And you do like me too?’