I never regretted turning him down. And that realisation answers my question.
So many thoughts. So many memories.
And now it has all come to this.
The shadows gather in the room. There is a movement to my right. It might be a breeze finding its way through the slats of the blind. I turn my head. This takes time and energy.
There is a cabinet against the wall and next to it a chair. Narrow bands of sunlight leak through the blind and coat everything in stripes. Something else. On the chair. A pair of legs. They do not swing because they touch the floor. But … maybe it is the way the light filters. Maybe it gives the illusion of movement, of small legs swinging, swinging. Above the legs, a figure lost in shadows. I remember the group. I remember how one member detached himself. My heart flutters in my chest. It feels frail, a caged bird weakening with every struggling beat of its wings against bars.
‘Hello?’ I say. ‘Who’s there?’
My voice rings clear and true. There is no crack or tremor. There is no age. The sound is sharp with youth.
And that’s when I know.
‘Adam,’ I say.
The legs stop their movement, the dark shape rises from the chair. He turns the bar that hangs beside the blind and sunlight floods the room. I smell apples. He moves towards my bed, sits on the edge, takes my hand.
‘Adam,’ I say.
His hair is snow white, though it still curls. His face is a nest of wrinkles, jowls loose and drooping, skin parchment dry. But his eyes. His eyes are the same. Liquid with life and love. He smiles and squeezes my hand.
‘Hello, Leah.’
‘You’ve come back to me.’
I am ashamed of my words even as they leave my lips. They mock me. I have waited and waited. I have rehearsed a thousand times what I might say should he walk through a door, or appear within a crowd, or materialise one lonely night, sitting on a chair beside a chest of drawers, legs swinging. And now. Now the words desert.
‘Yes,’ he says. He grins as if he reads my thoughts. ‘I’ve come back. Though, if you remember, I never really went away. Did I Leah?’
He taps my head, then runs his hand down my cheek. I feel the warmth of his blood.
‘Adam,’ I say. ‘I am so glad to see you. I am so glad to see you.’
He smiles once more.
‘They say good things come to those who wait,’ I say.
‘They do not lie,’ says Adam.
A silence stretches.
‘Tell me a story, Leah. One last time. Tell me a story.’
Now I smile, for I know how this will end.
Our eyes lock. I search for words, but I do not pick them out like gems sifted from pebbles, as once I would. This story will be brief. I am ready for the end.
‘Once upon a time,’ I say, ‘there was a girl and a boy. They fell in love. But a shadow darkened them. A shadow of ignorance. Of intolerance. And though they fought it, it was too strong, for they were very young and their power was very small. Even when they were wrenched apart, however, they knew their love would survive. Somehow. Somewhere.’
My voice rises and it fills the room. Adam’s touch makes my hand tingle. And as my voice strengthens, the light fades, as if the one is tapping energy from the other.
‘They knew they would find a place where they could be with each other forever. And in that place there would be the people of the past, but now they would be transformed. A woman who understood, finally, that love is in the flesh and in the spirit, that it is infinite and cannot be diminished when others take a part. A man who no longer had to live in nightmares of mud and blood and the death of hope. They would all be together and a dog would rest on their verandah, flick flies away with a lazy tail and dream his dreams. That is the end of my story. And its beginning.’
Somewhere a clock slows. Adam smiles and puts his hand against my cheek once more.
‘I have seen that place,’ he says.
I grip his other hand tighter.
‘Show me?’ I say.
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Sixteen can be a tough time. And it’s almost unmanageable for a wisecracking boy whose temper is white-hot. When he is sentenced to a timeout with his reclusive grandfather in a primitive shack in the Tasmanian forest, the volatile city boy must manage a whole new set of challenges.
Table of Contents
COVER PAGE
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
DEDICATION
CONTENTS
THE END
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
THE MIDDLE
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
THE BEGINNING
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
Being Here Page 15
