Living On Air

by Susan Mac Nicol

  Somewhere, a bird chirped, as if agreeing with that action. “And when I feel the need, I try to talk to Julien first. He’s great about it. Sometimes it works, other times not, but that’s okay. I’m getting better. I’m not performing yet, but I will be in a week.”

  I sighed and lay back on the blanket staring up into a blue sky, enjoying the early July sun on my face. “I haven’t heard from Rhys, and I haven’t contacted him. I wanted to get my head right first. He deserves that.” I grinned. “He will be pissed as fuck when he hears I’m getting better without him being here. I think we always thought it would be his influence that drove me to that.

  “The thing is, I needed to be the one deciding to get better for myself, but I needed a reason for it. He’s the reason, not the instrument. That would be dear Greta. Your dear friend who is bossy and tough, and the mum I never had.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “I miss you, Marco. I hope you’re happy where you are. I wish you were here to see what your letter did because it was the catalyst to drive me to this point. I hope you know somehow your words from the grave made a difference. I’m trying, I truly am.”

  I drained my beer. “And now, I’m going back to my place to call Rhys and find out what the situation is. It’s been six weeks since I saw him and I’m nervous as fuck about speaking to him. I need to know though whether he still wants me around.

  “The family say I’m being foolish expecting anything else, but I don’t know. You didn’t hear his heart break like I did the night I turned him away—again.”

  I sat up, got to my feet, and looked up into the trees. “Wish me luck, clown. I think I might need it.”

  *****

  Ring. Ring. Ring. I held my breath as Rhys’s home phone rang again and again. His mobile went directly to voicemail, and I hadn’t wanted to leave a message.

  A strange voice answered the phone. “Hello? Stuart here.”

  Stuart? I mouthed to myself. What the fuck was he doing in Rhys’s home? I was thinking of putting the phone down when Stuart spoke again. “Hello? In case you’re wondering why this isn’t Rhys, I’m house-sitting. He’s away.” He chuckled. “Come out, come out, whoever you are.”

  I steeled myself. “Stuart, this is Cary Stilwell. Rhys’s—other friend.”

  His tone changed to one of disdain. “Oh. The bluidy bastard who broke his heart.”

  Oh, fucking great. A best friend with a grudge. “You said he’s away. Can I still get hold of him? I need to talk to him.” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, feeling like a teenager ringing for a date.

  Stuart sighed. “Not possible. He’s on assignment in Quintana Roo, Mexico somewhere.”

  Panic seized my chest like the claws of a raptor. “Isn’t that where they’re having all that trouble with those vicious drug cartels?” I’d heard the news stories about the gang wars and violence going on over there right now. There’d already been many fatalities. “What the hell is he doing there?”

  “Working, lad. Trying to keep his mind occupied the only way he knew how. With his photography.” Stuart’s voice was both scathing and compassionate at the same time. “He’s been there three weeks, due back soon. I’m house-sitting because I have business in Edinburgh.”

  “Oh, I see. He isn’t answering his mobile either.”

  “Nah, he’d not do that. When he goes abroad, he’s focused and ready for the job. Besides, where he is, the signal over there is terrible what with all the CIA jammers and the shit they use to track drug shipments and gang leaders. It’s difficult to get a signal anywhere in that godforsaken place.” Stuart’s voice changed into something more curious. “He calls me from a satellite phone when he can though, to let me know he’s okay. You want me to give him a message?”

  Damn it. I guess that’s the only option.

  “If you don’t mind. Please tell him I’d like to talk to him when he gets back. He has my number.”

  “Give it to me again in case he got rid of it.” The words were like cold water flung on my head. Stuart didn’t sound bitchy, just matter-of-fact. “I’ll give you mine, if you like, then you can keep in touch with me, in case I hear from him and things change.”

  He rattled off a number, and I wrote it down.

  “Thanks. When do you think he’ll call you again, any idea?”

  I could almost hear the shrug on the other side. “Sorry, can’t say. It’s a tricky situation he’s in, so it’ll depend on when he can find a suitable safe place to ring in from.”

  God, he sounded so laissez-faire about the fact Rhys was in danger. I supposed they’d been through a lot together as best friends and photographers.

  “I understand. Thanks, Stuart.”

  “Cary, can I ask you something?”

  “Yes?”

  He sighed. “Are you going to push him away again? Because if you are, I’d rather not pass on the message. He’s been through enough hurt with you, no offence.”

  I supposed I deserved that. “That’s not my intention, no,” I muttered “The opposite in fact.”

  “Good. Then I’ll let him know you called.” The phone went dead.

  From that night on, I set my phone to record the news and feasted on any new updates from the troubled region. I read the newspapers, trying to get a sense of what Rhys was facing out there. It wasn’t a pretty story. It looked as if he was part of a contingent of photographers charting the current negotiations between two drug cartels and travelling around the ravaged area to document the evidence of atrocities and the occasional positive stories.

  The newspapers said the photographers were guarded by the army, but still I worried.

  I went back to being Air Dancer again, subject to close observation from Greta and Julien. It was like being back at school, but I knew they were only looking out for me.

  Getting back in the air without the old pain, and feeling more hopeful than ever before, was a celebration of how far I’d come in the past few weeks.

  I was proud of myself for the first time in many years and I needed to tell the man I cared for how he’d helped.

  *****

  It all came crashing down one night as we all sat in the circus pub where we still camped in Nottingham. We were travelling north to Harrogate in three days’ time. I had heard nothing from Rhys. My fingers itched to text Stuart and find out if he’d been in touch with Rhys, but I didn’t want to seem too needy.

  I was drinking a beer, watching the television out of the corner of my eyes, when I heard the words “Mexico” and “fatalities.” I jumped up and shot over to the small telly in the corner we kept on for news and the football scores.

  “Everyone, can you shut up?” I yelled, turning up the volume and waving at everyone to keep quiet. “There’s something on the news I want to hear.” The noise carried on, but had abated, until I could hear the newscaster’s solemn tones.

  “We can’t say for certain yet how many are injured or killed in Quintana Roo, but it’s confirmed that two photographers were fatally wounded, as were several civilians. The gang warfare erupted in the middle of the day as rivalry between Los Crocodillos and The Gunslinger Cartel escalated when one of their members was found decapitated in the village square. News is sketchy out of the area as communication is poor, but we hope to bring an update to you soon.”

  Julien walked over and frowned. “Cary, are you all right? You are deathly pale.”

  I struggled to speak as my heart beat too fast with dread. “Rhys…” I gasped out and motioned toward the telly. “The shootings. Rhys is there on assignment.”

  Julien stared at the headlines across the bottom of the screen with horror. “Sacre bleu,” he whispered. “They say two photographers have been slain.”

  “I know,” I croaked out through a dry mouth. “I need to call Stuart, see if he’s heard anything.”

  My hands trembled as I dialled Stuart’s number. It rang, but sounded strange, as if he were out of the country. It went to voicemail, and I dialled him again. This time he
answered with urgency in his voice. “Cary, it’s fine, Rhys is safe. He called earlier to let me know. I guess that was why you were calling. I’ve been watching the news too.”

  I slumped down into a chair, palms sweaty and legs like spaghetti. “Thank fuck. I thought…”

  “I worried too, but he called about an hour ago. He’s tired, pissed off he was in a gun battle again, and I think he knew the men who died, so there’s that too. But he’s okay.”

  I said a silent prayer to the universe for looking after Rhys. “That’s all I needed. Thank you, Stuart.”

  The line crackled then Stuart came back on, his words jagged and full of static. “Cary, I’m in the Alps now on a ski trip. I needed to let you know before I lose signal. He’s coming home. Tomorrow morning. I—”

  The line went dead. I shook the phone in frustration. “Fuck it.”

  I wanted to know what he’d been about to say. I hoped it had been that he’d told Rhys I wanted to speak to him, but given the situation, it hadn’t been the right time.

  Julien stared at me. “Is Rhys all right? I guessed he was, but your face…”

  I nodded. “He’s good. He’s coming home tomorrow, so thank crap for that.”

  “That’s excellent news. Perhaps you can call him when he does, I think it would be a reasonable thing to do considering the situation over there.”

  Julien placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, then moved away. I sat, eyes closed, and took deep breaths to still my beating heart.

  Rhys was safe, and he was coming home.

  *****

  The following morning, I was up with the birds, showered and breakfast eaten before eight am. I’d figured if Rhys was on his way home, it would be a ten-hour flight. I hoped he’d left around seven am, so I’d call him when he touched down later this evening. I needed to hear his voice.

  I kept busy with practice sessions, readying for tonight’s show. Lucy and I worked out on some moves together in the afternoon as I guided her on perfecting her Russian Climb.

  “Keep your upper knee a little bent,” I instructed, “and keep the rope between your knees. This stops them twisting.” I watched as she ascended the rope. “Keep those lines straight, arms firm and tighten the stomach. Looking good, Luce. Superb.”

  We went through more moves and stopped, sweat dripping off her face. She wiped it with a towel and swore. “That’s one tough move I always have trouble with. You make it look so easy.”

  I chuckled. “Practice. I’ve been doing this much longer. Watch.”

  I swung onto the pole, climbing the rope easily, gripping the silk as I moved higher. I descended with a twist of the silk, and then touched down on earth, both feet splayed, landing gently. If there’d been water beneath me, I prided myself on barely making a ripple; it was that smooth and soft.

  “See? Not that hard when you practice.”

  She wasn’t watching me, and I pretended annoyance. “Oi, I just did a great move, and you didn’t even see it? Shall I do it again for you?”

  Lucy grinned widely. “Cary, I think you have more important things to do.” She kissed my cheek. “Good luck, honey.”

  She walked out of the arena into the side area and disappeared.

  I frowned at her mysterious comment, not really taking it in. I towelled my face dry and cricked my neck, easing the kinks out of it. That was when I felt someone behind me. I knew who it was without even turning around.

  Rhys’s presence was a familiar shadow, falling across my skin and embracing me. I turned around and, like the old overused saying, my heart sang seeing him standing there, silhouetted against the opening of the Big Top.

  His beard was longer, and his green eyes were rimmed with red. He was thinner than I’d remembered. Even dishevelled in his khaki trousers and a white tee-shirt, wearing what looked like an old army jacket, and looking like a disreputable explorer, he was everything I needed.

  I acknowledged him with a nod of my head. “Glad to see you’re okay. I was worried.”

  He shrugged. “I was one of the lucky ones.” His face shadowed. “My buddies weren’t so lucky. But I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

  I nodded, appreciating it was still a little raw for him. “How did you get here so soon? I planned on calling you later tonight.”

  He smiled, and I saw a glimpse of the old Rhys there. “I know. Stuart told me you’d phoned.” He moved closer, his eyes flicking over my body. “You look well and rested. You’re not the same man I saw back in May. It suits you.”

  I moved forward too, conscious I was dressed in my usual training pants and sweaty cut-off tee-shirt. “Things have changed a lot since you—” I’d been about to say “left” but decided he deserved better than that, “since I chased you away. Good changes though.”

  “Yeah?” Rhys smiled. “I’m pleased for you. I knew you could do it. You’re stronger than you think.” He looked sad though, and I thought I might have known why.

  “So how did you get here so soon? I didn’t think you’d be here until later tonight.”

  He walked into the ring, casting an eye around as if taking it in for the first time. “I left one am this morning, ten-hour flight, touched down, chartered a private plane to Nottingham Airport, and then took a taxi here.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You what? How the hell did you afford a private plane? No, ignore that, sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  I’d always known Rhys had made a fuck-ton of money doing the stockbroking thing years ago, and that he was well paid for his photographer work, but hiring a private plane?

  “You came here to see me? Because you knew I wanted to talk?” I couldn’t believe he’d done all that to be here now.

  He chuckled. “It’s okay. Danger pay has its merits, and Renaldo Inc. paid for it in the fee they gave me. I wanted to put it to good use, and this seemed like a good one.”

  I towelled the sweat from under my arms and off my chest and his eyes followed my every move with appreciation.

  A warm flush ran through me. He still wants me.

  He moved closer, and my fingers itched to reach out and draw him into me. I resisted because I had something I needed to say first.

  “I have stuff to tell you. Can we do it at my place though? This place is a little…public.”

  I picked up my towel and walked over to the exit. He reached out and caught my arm and that touch flicked like fire against my skin.

  “Cary, I—”

  I reached up and clasped his hand, which tightened around mine. “I know,” I said. “Come on.”

  We walked across the green grass and Rhys gasped when he saw the burnt-out shell of his old caravan.

  “Oh God, what happened? I loved that little place.”

  “Electrical fire. No one was hurt. They’ll be coming to take it away sometime, bloody council always takes forever.”

  His shocked eyes met mine as I opened the door to my place and went inside. “Thank fuck there was nobody in it. That could have been nasty.” He followed me in and stood in the doorway. “Nothing much has changed here,” he murmured as he took in the interior. “You still leave your condiments out all over the kitchen top, and that dishcloth? I’m sure it was in the same place when I left.”

  I didn’t want to talk about condiments or my tea towels. I gestured to the bunk. “Have a seat, I’ll make us some coffee and we can talk. I’m performing tonight, so I need to get ready in a little while. Are you staying over?”

  He hesitated. “I would go see Greta and ask her if I could, but I’m not sure there’s room now with…” he waved to the outside, “with the fire and all.”

  I took a deep breath. “That’s okay. You can stay here with me.”

  He shook his head and my stomach plummeted. “Cary, I’m not sure that’s a wise move. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to talk about but I’m not into starting anything that will go to hell again.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’m a little edgy right now and I need no more damned stress.”<
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  “I won't cause stress,” I promised. “Come on, sit down. Take a load off. You look exhausted.”

  He sat down, groaning in pleasure as his backside touched the seat. I bustled around making coffee then handed him his drink in his favourite mug—one that said “Yeah I’m a pacifist. I’m about to pass my fist across your face.” Julien had bought it for me.

  “I wanted to ask, what’s happened to Leo?” Rhys took a sip of his drink. “I know you tried to speak to him, did anything ever happen?”

  I shook my head as I sat down next to him. “No. Mayhew tried his best, but the authorities weren’t having it. Leo is undergoing psychiatric evaluation in a home in Devon. At this stage, I’ve no idea whether they’ve charged him with anything or where it’s going. Mayhew said he’d let me know as soon as he did, but it could be months.”

  Rhys sighed. “I know he killed that bastard, but I feel sorry for him. It’s like someone brainwashed him.”

  I nodded. “Kids are conditioned. They’re groomed by their abusers so they come to trust them, even love them in their own twisted way. I was lucky. I fought back with everything I had, and it was only his threat to kill my family that made me keep quiet for so long.” I stopped. “Not that that worked out.” I tried to keep the grief from my voice, but I wasn’t sure I’d succeeded.

  Rhys took my hand in his. “I know this is small comfort, but nothing you could have done would have stopped him. The man was insane.”

  “I try telling myself that all the time. Thanks for saying it anyway.”

  He stared at me with wonder in his eyes. “What happened to you? You’re different.” I hated the sadness in his eyes. “Looks like me leaving you was what you needed.”

  I regarded his earnest face. “I ’spose that’s what it looks like to you. It was more about me sinking to the bottom and finding I had someone to get up for. Realising I needed people—you, Greta, Julien—and then admitting it to myself was the key.” I drew a deep breath and leaned back on the bunk. “The night of the fire, Greta found me cutting—”