by Jane Rawson
‘What’s wrong, sweetie?’
‘Nothing. I’m so glad you’re here.’
And for Harry, she thought, how must all this feel? He thought he’d seen her just yesterday morning. For him, the being together wasn’t the special part. For him, it was the not having a house, being homeless on the floor of a bar, being broke, being surrounded by strangers who treated his wife like an old friend. And looking at his shadow and knowing that something he really didn’t understand was going really really wrong. He was the one who should be crying.
She heard Skerrick jump off a chair somewhere at the front of the bar, the click of her claws on the tiles as she wandered over to the bed, the puff of her breath in Caddy’s ear as she climbed on to the pillow.
‘Hey kitty.’
Skerrick dabbed at Caddy’s eyebrow with her tongue, but apparently didn’t much like the taste. Clambering into the space between Caddy and Harry’s heads, she stepped in Caddy’s ear, then curled herself up and began cleaning her paws.
Caddy knew Peira had gone out and bought a sardine especially for Skerrick, even though Caddy had told her that rice would be plenty good enough. Skerrick purred and patted Caddy’s eyelid with a paw.
‘Yeah, thanks.’ She rubbed behind the cat’s ear with her thumb.
Caddy wanted to pull Harry tight against her, cram him against her belly, bury her face in his neck. But she’d only freak him out. He needed sleep. He was tired. All day his shadow had been wearing him out, its thickness dragging along the footpath everywhere he walked, slowing him down. Maybe in the morning things would be better. Maybe eight hours without a shadow would fix things up.
On the edge of sleep, she remembered the men in the laneway, the body they’d been carrying, the thick, dark shadow left behind.
Simon was imaginary, she thought, and he was fifty years old. He’d lived in this world for most of his life, being imaginary, and he was fine, right? It would be OK. In the morning, she and Harry would find some work, and they’d stay here for a while till they had some money, and then they’d find a place to rent.
Maybe she should go see Simon tomorrow. He knew all about this kind of stuff. It was a good idea. She kissed Harry’s cheek. ‘Good night beautiful. I’ll see you in the morning.’
KEEP THAT LONGNECK COLD FOR ME
In the morning, Harry could not get out of bed. Harry didn’t get sick; Harry had never got sick; there was no reason Caddy would have imagined a Harry that included sickness. She didn’t understand how this whole thing worked.
When Peira came downstairs he was still lying on his back on the floor.
‘Hey Peira. I’m sorry about this,’ he said, ‘I’ll be up in just a jiffy.’
But although he could lever himself up onto an elbow, he couldn’t get upright.
‘It’s just a flu, sweetie’ he told Caddy. I’m just a bit tired and weak. Peira, I’m sorry, really.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘I’m not opening up for another four hours. You just lie there. Maybe by lunchtime you’ll feel better.’
So while Harry lay in the cool darkness behind the bar and Skerrick scratched around in the alley outside the back entrance, while Peira went to the market for supplies and her mysterious husband listened to Bob Marley upstairs, Caddy went to find Simon.
‘Sweetheart,’ she said to Harry before she left, ‘I won’t be long. Simon should have something to sort you out, he’s good like that. I’ve lost my phone, so if you need me, send a moto down to Newell to find me, alright? You rest. I’ll be back soon.’
But it felt like someone had tied fishing line to the end of her intestines and attached the other end to Harry’s hand; she felt her guts unravelling behind her on the floor as she walked out.
Please let him still be here when I come back. Please.
She couldn’t just sit here and watch Harry stop existing.
At Newell, the UN camp was just a few stray tents and several loaded-up trucks. The first soldier she asked told her Sergeant Fisk had already left, so she asked a few more soldiers till she got one who said he was down by the river which, when she looked, he actually was.
‘Hey Caddy,’ he said. He’d been breaking a few sticks up and throwing them in the water, watching them float downstream. He stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. ‘How’s that husband of yours? Still not dead?’
‘Yeah, um look.’
‘Hey look,’ he interrupted her, ‘we’re out of here in about half an hour. I think we pretty much got through all we needed to the other night, don’t you? Things are just the way they are.’ He pulled out his wallet and Caddy was about to protest, but he took a card from it and gave it to her. ‘If you find Sarah anywhere, or remember what you did with her, maybe call me, alright?’ He put his wallet away again. ‘I’ll see you round.’
‘Simon, wait up. This isn’t about all that.’
‘Well, there isn’t much else I’m that interested in talking to you about, to be honest.’
‘Please.’
‘What, you want to say sorry again? It’s kind of pointless. Things are how they are, like I said. Don’t worry about it.’
‘I am sorry. But I need your help. Yeah, I know,’ she said, as he started to say something, ‘fat chance. It won’t take long.’
Simon grabbed another stick and squatted down again. ‘Shoot.’
‘It’s my dead husband. He really is dead, Simon. That Harry you met? He’s a Harry I imagined.’
‘Maybe you should get a TV or something. You’re using your imagination way too much.’
‘Yes, I know. But I don’t know what he’s doing here. I don’t know how he got here. How did you get here, Simon? How are you here and OK? You are OK, aren’t you? I mean, you seem fine. You seem great, really.’
‘Don’t push it. I’m alright. I lost my sister and I live with a bunch of mercenaries. I’m alright.’
‘But healthy, I mean. I mean, you’re healthy. You don’t have any, you know, side effects. From being imaginary.’
‘You talk some crazy shit.’
‘Simon, Harry’s dying all over again. There’s something wrong with his shadow. It’s too heavy for him. Why didn’t that happen to you? How did you stop it from happening?’
Look. I only have your word for it that I’m imaginary. I don’t feel imaginary. You want to know how I got here? I don’t know. Seems to me I’ve always been here. You’re the expert.’
‘But you’ve never had any trouble with your shadow?’
‘My shadow is fine,’ Simon looked over his shoulder and checked. ‘Yep, fine.’
‘It’s darker than mine.’
‘Big deal. All shadows are different, right?’
‘Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t think they are.’
‘Well they clearly are. My shadow and your shadow are different. QED.’
‘What?’
‘Jesus, what do they teach you in Australian schools?’
‘Simon, seriously. Please. I know you hate me, but can you please just think. You never had any trouble with your shadow?’
‘Sarah used to talk about it sometimes, about how Oakland was the land of shadows. She had some story about how our shadows got sticky that time we went to Walnut Creek, and wherever we went they were picking up more and more blackness. But she talked a lot of crap. Kind of like you.’
‘Yeah, she is kind of like me.’
‘So is that it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘OK then. Like I said, I’ll see you round. Call me if you find Sarah.’
‘Seriously, that’s it?’
‘That’s it, Caddy.’
‘Oh. Hey. Um, you know I’m sorry right?’
‘I know you’re sorry, and I don’t really care.’
‘Yes.’
‘Bye.’ Simon walked up to the few remaining tents. She watched him for a while, talking to the other soldiers, then she flagged down a moto and headed back to Peira’s.
Ray was out the front, playing
cards with Jason.
‘Hey Caddy, how is it? Yeah, here’s your money, don’t spend it all on beer OK?’ He handed three dollars to Jason, who tucked the notes in the socks he always wore – toes cut out – under his thongs. Where’s Harry?
‘He’s inside. We stayed here last night.’ She sat down on the steps. ‘Siddown for a sec. Do you know anything about shadows, about The Gap and shadows?’
‘Well, there’s shadow storage and retrieval, you know that place, you been there. That what you mean?’
‘I don’t know. Where’d those shadows come from, do you know?’
‘All over, I think. Everything that goes – they’re leftover shadows from everything that doesn’t need a shadow anymore.’
‘Dead people?’
‘People, yeah. Cats. I saw a fish there, shrubs even. I guess anything.’
‘Hmm.’
‘We could go there, check if you want. I don’t mind going back there.’
‘Yeah, I know. You totally love that chick, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, pretty much.’
‘OK, thanks.’
‘Harry?’
‘Yeah. I think there’s something wrong with his shadow. What’re you doing here anyway? Place doesn’t open for another two hours.’
‘Waiting for you, I guess.’
‘You think I live here or something? Oh, wait …’
Caddy stood up, pulled a handful of junk out of her pocket and looked through it for the key.
‘So you want to go back to The Gap soon?’ Ray asked her.
‘I thought you were moving there, going to live in San Francisco.’ Caddy started looking through the junk from her other pocket.
‘Yeah maybe. Y’know, I did that whole deal with Farren, told him about the maps and stuff. He’s keen to go, to get this thing going.’
‘Hey, that’s great Ray!’ She had the key. ‘Are you going to be rich?’
‘Richer, definitely.’
‘Can you get me a bottle of champagne?’
‘I can get you a bottle of Passion Pop.’
‘Yeah, champagne, right?’
‘Sure, if you say so.’
Caddy wanted to go in, but Ray was looking like he had more to say.
‘So does that mean you’ll go or that you won’t go?’ she asked him.
‘Cad, I don’t know if I want other people going there. Imagine if hundreds, thousands of people a day fall in there, all wandering around, walking into people’s imaginums, drinking up all the coffee at the café.’
‘Your coat-check chick might meet someone she likes the look of.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Ray, don’t worry about it so much. Hey, I have to go. I’d ask you in but, y’know, it’s not my place …’ She shrugged. ‘But can we talk about this some more later? This afternoon?’
‘Sure Cad, it’s fine. Say hi to Harry for me.’
Caddy kissed him on the top of his red, curly head and went inside.
‘Caddy?’
‘Yeah, it’s me. How’re you feeling?’
‘Weird. OK, just weird.’
‘Weird how?’ She sat down on the mattress next to him and felt his forehead, because that seemed the thing to do. It felt like any other forehead, as far as she could remember. She stroked it a little, because that seemed the thing to do too.
‘Um, weird like flimsy.’
‘Flimsy?’
‘I think that’s the word for it. I feel a bit like wet toilet paper. It’s fine to be wet toilet paper if you’re just lying on the toilet floor but, man, you’re in trouble if someone steps on you or some kind of gale blows up.’
‘OK. So we should avoid having anyone step on you.’
‘That’s about the size of it.’
‘Perhaps getting off the floor would be a good idea then. Do you reckon you’re up for it?’
‘Sure. it’s only a flu, yeah? Getting off the floor should be fine.’
And it was fine. He seemed stronger than he had when she’d gone out this morning. Maybe it was just a flu. Caddy kissed him on his cheek.
‘Watch out!’ he said. ‘You don’t want to get germs.’
‘I’m not scared of your germs.’ She smiled and kissed him on the mouth, held the back of his head so he couldn’t politely back away. ‘See?’
‘You’re a big brave girl.’
‘You bet I am.’ She kissed him again to prove it. ‘Y’know, I quite like kissing you. We should do this again in the future.’
‘I’ll check my diary. Man, it’s hot in here.’ Harry was crouched down in front of the fridge. ‘Where’s Peira keep the ice?’
‘If you’re hot, maybe you should take your pants off.’
‘I thought you said you wanted me to get off the floor. Hey! Get your hand out of there!’ Harry smacked her on the bum, so Caddy bit his earlobe.
‘Yeah, you want a fight?’ he said.
‘Wrestle! Let’s wrestle!’
‘You have so had it!’ Harry squeezed her tight and lifted her off the floor, pushing all the air out of her lungs and making her squeak. ‘Squeak again, piggy! Go on, squeak!’
But she was giggling and squirming too hard to squeak. She tried to pinch him, but she couldn’t quite get her hands free.
‘OK, OK! Hang on a minute!’ Harry was trying to put her down without getting pinched. ‘Hang on!’ He sat on a chair. ‘I have FLU remember. I’m DYING!’
She pinched him anyway, then kissed the pinch better.
‘Could you be any more loud?’ Peira was switching on the fridges at the back of the bar.
‘Sorry, Peira,’ Caddy sat down next to Harry, then jumped up again. ‘Do you want some help?’
‘I see you’re out of bed young man. Feeling any better?’
‘Yes thank you, much. Can I do something?’
‘No, you just sit. Caddy, help me unbolt the roller door will you?’
‘Hey Cad,’ said Harry, as she slid the last of the four bolts back, ‘did you find that Simon guy?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He have any ideas?’
‘Nah, he was busy trying to pack. They’re leaving today.’
‘Oh, that’s a pity. He seemed like a good bloke. Probably had some great contraband too,’ Harry grinned at her.
‘Oh, I can get you contraband.’ Caddy said it as though contraband was a euphemism for something, but if you’d asked her she couldn’t have told you what. She bent over and kissed him and ran her hand up his thigh.
‘Caddy, leave that boy alone and help me get this door up.’ Peira was struggling with the roller door. Caddy put her energy into it and the door clattered up, banging against the roof. Hot, white light flooded in.
‘Don’t know my own strength!’ Caddy slapped her hands together to get the dirt off and turned to Harry, who was dead.
Caddy didn’t know it at first. Harry was soaked in light, staring into the sunshine. His eyes filled up with it, but he didn’t blink, didn’t raise his hand to shade his eyes or duck down behind the bar to grab his sunglasses. He just stared.
‘Harry?’
He didn’t turn towards her or complain about the brightness. He sat quite still.
‘Harry?’ She touched his cheek. Nothing. She shook him a little. Nothing. She pinched his belly fat, but there was nothing.
‘Peira!’
‘Hang on a minute, I have to latch this open.’
‘PEIRA!’
Peira turned around but by then Caddy was lying on the floor. Peira thought she’d fainted, but Caddy’s eyes were wide open, staring at the lushness, the velvety richness, of Harry’s black, black, black shadow.
Skerrick padded out from behind the bar, stopped to stretch, jumped into Harry’s sun drenched lap and began cleaning between her claws. Caddy rolled herself up to sitting, then scrunched Harry’s shadow into a bundle and put it in her lap.
‘Come here Skerrick,’ she said. ‘I’m taking you home.’ But Skerrick curled up, put her tail over her nose and w
ent to sleep.
‘Peira, can I use your phone? I need to call Ray.’
For once, Ray answered.
‘Ray, it’s Cad. Harry’s dead. I want to take his shadow back … I’ll tell you how I feel when you get here … Make it three hours, have to do something with the rest of him … No, I’m fine, I’m OK … No, I can do it.… Yep, three hours. Bye.’
She called out to Lucius, who was squatting by the gutter, sifting through some rubbish that had banked up in the last rain. ‘Hey kid, can you get me a shopping trolley?’
‘What’s it worth?’ He was looking more at the square of foil he’d found than at her.
‘I could beat the shit out of you for stealing my sunglasses that time.’
‘Oh hi! Caddy. You got em back, right?’
‘Yeah, you sold them to me. Listen, I’m in a hurry here. This guy’ − she couldn’t bring herself to say his name − ‘is dead.’ I need to move him. Can you get me a trolley?’
First rule, never admit you’re desperate. Dammit.
‘Yeah, I know a guy who has one. Reckon he’ll rent it to you for two dollars an hour.’
‘Tell him I’ll give him five and it’ll be back before dark.’
‘Hey Jason!’ Lucius went to the corner of the street and yelled again. ‘Jason! Caddy wants to borrow your shopping trolley till tonight. Yeah. I told her five. Yep. Cool.’ He stepped back into the shade of a four-wheel-drive parked outside the bar. ‘No problem, he’ll have it here in a minute.’
Peira was behind her, pushing a chair over and holding a glass of something cold.
‘Here. You should wait for Ray, for him to help.’
‘I have to get Harry away from here. It’s bad for your business.’
‘No one but you comes here most days, I don’t mind. Makes me look popular having someone here all day, even if he’s not drinking much. Sorry. Not a time to joke.’
‘Hey, this is gin!’
Peira shrugged.
‘Thanks Peira. Don’t worry, when Jason gets here I’ll take Harry for a walk, let you have your place back.’
‘You don’t have to be so tough, you know.’
‘Really, it’s alright.’
‘OK. But leave kitty here with me.’
‘OK. Can you sell me a longneck?’
