He seemed oddly defensive, so I didn’t press it. We watched the ducks.
‘What do you want?’ asked Fox, after we’d been silent for a long while.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Out of life.’
I closed my eyes and let the sun turn the inside of my eyelids golden. ‘I want … I want my family back. I want my mum to get better. I want Dad to come home.’
Fox stroked my hand with his thumb. ‘That’s what you want for other people,’ he said gently. ‘What do you want for you?’
I opened my eyes and was surprised all over again to see how much colour there was in the world. The blue of the sky, reflected back in the pond. The green of the grass and the fresher green of the new growth on the trees. The pale pink blossom. The vibrant yellows and purples of the flowers. Had the world always contained so much colour? Had I just not noticed? Had I forgotten how to see it?
‘I want to feel whole again,’ I said. ‘I’ve lost so many pieces of myself. Anton. Dad. Mum. Sometimes I think I’m only flesh and bone, without anything real inside, you know? Just fragments, like the pieces of a broken china plate that don’t get swept up and thrown out with the others.’
Fox leaned sideways into my shoulder, and the warmth of him spread through me, even more than the warmth of the sun had.
‘What about you?’ I asked. ‘What do you want out of life?’ Fox didn’t reply for a long time. It was clear he was struggling with something, his brows drawn together and his jaw set. Finally he sighed, as if he was letting a heavy weight drop. ‘I know what I’m supposed to say,’ he said at last. ‘But I can’t lie to you, Ruby. What do I want? I want to never forget how beautiful the world is, and how lucky I am to be a part of it. I want to feel everything, see everything, experience every sensation that this world offers. I want to help people to see how extraordinary we all are.’
I wondered why that had been so difficult for him to say.
‘My friends want to meet you,’ I told him. ‘Do you think that would be okay?’
Fox’s expression cleared, and he grinned at me. ‘Really? I’d love to meet your friends. Can we go now?’
‘Are you sure?’
He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. ‘I want to know everything about you. And your friends are a piece of you. If we’re going to put your china plate back together, we have to find all the pieces.’
The Wasteland was an empty car park behind a long-abandoned pub. Minah liked it because she said it reminded her of the permanence of concrete in stark contrast to the entropy of humanity. Harrison had dubbed it the Wasteland after the TS Eliot poem, because it was full of disillusionment and despair. I decided not to share any of this with Fox.
‘So,’ I said to him as we made our way down the hill towards the dodgy end of town. ‘You might not like this place very much. Or these people.’
‘I like everyone,’ said Fox. ‘And everywhere.’
‘We might be challenging that today. This place is pretty ugly. It’s kind of the point.’
‘Ugly places often have beautiful secrets.’
It was true that if anyone could find any beauty in the Wasteland, it was Fox. The pub had never been a nice one – it was the kind that had pokie machines and a metal-barred, fenced-in verandah for smokers. I doubted it had ever been the kind of pub where interesting people met after work and sipped craft beers and munched hand-cut fries. It seemed scented with desperation. When it finally shut the doors for the last time and boarded up the windows, the car park became a dumping ground for rubbish. It wasn’t near anything else, so there were never any cars. Just junk, and my friends.
I tried to see them through Fox’s eyes as we approached, and I started to feel a little uneasy. They were sitting on an abandoned couch, surrounded by empty soft drink cans and rusted shopping trolleys. Minah was carelessly smeared with paint as usual. Ali was in his trademark skinny jeans and sloppy flannelette shirt, a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. Harrison wore an op-shop cardigan over an ironically cheerful Peppa Pig T-shirt, and Flick was all in black, her nose and eyebrow glinting with silver studs, teal slashes on her fingernails.
I took Fox’s hand as we approached, as much for myself as for him. It had been a long time since I’d been to the Wasteland.
‘Hey,’ said Minah, looking up. ‘You must be Fox.’
Fox ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it back away from his eyes, and for the first time I realised he might be nervous too. He smiled at Minah.
Minah turned to me. ‘I thought I’d exaggerated that face in my mind,’ she said. ‘But he really does look like an angel, doesn’t he?’
I introduced Minah, and then the others. I left Ali until last. Seeing him brought back the taste of cigarette smoke, the false laughter of flirtation, the chilling pit opening up inside me as I answered the phone and listened to my mother’s shaking voice. I couldn’t even recognise the girl who had flirted with him. Who was she? Why was she taken in by his skinny jeans, his heavy-lidded eyes, his lazy grip on a cigarette? My voice faltered as I said his name, and Fox squeezed my hand and greeted Ali as politely as he had the others.
Ali didn’t look at me. We’d pretty much ignored each other since Anton died. I saw Flick glance from Ali’s face to mine, her expression tight.
‘I’m so pleased to meet you all,’ said Fox. ‘If Ruby’s friends are anything like as wonderful as she is, you must be pretty special.’
There was an awkward pause as we took our seats on a pair of milk crates. ‘So,’ I said, feeling jangly and exposed. ‘What were you guys talking about?’
Flick grinned, white teeth flashing under black-red lips, and swept a hand to indicate an ancient cassette deck, the kind rappers carried around on their shoulders in the eighties.
‘Listen,’ she said, and reached over to press play.
Music warbled out, muddy and twisted. The tape was so old and mangled that it was barely comprehensible, but I dimly recognised it as a croony eighties pop song that Mum used to listen to, in the days when Mum still listened to music.
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ Flick said, closing her eyes and swaying to the dull, slow hiss of it.
Fox leaned forward, fascinated. ‘It’s beautiful,’ he said, and I wondered if he’d ever heard recorded music before.
Flick nodded. ‘So warped,’ she said. ‘Like, you’re listening to something decay and die. Every time I play it, it gets worse, more distorted. I love it.’
‘Who is singing?’ asked Fox. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Who cares?’ Flick shrugged. ‘That’s not the point. It’s the act of death, the process of atrophy. The original source material is irrelevant.’
A flash of irritation passed over Fox’s features. ‘But he was a person,’ he said. ‘A person with a name and an actuality. A person who felt something, who turned his feelings into a song. Isn’t that worth caring about?’
Flick and Minah exchanged a look which spoke volumes.
‘Sure,’ said Flick. ‘I guess, if you’re into that.’
Flick definitely wasn’t into that. Was I? I wasn’t sure anymore. I’d been split in two. Half of me was ashamed of Fox’s naivety and childlike wonder. It was too much, too earnest, too open. The other half was embarrassed by my friends, their dark pretensions and obsession with death.
Minah glanced at me, eyebrows arching. ‘What do you think, Ruby?’
‘Um,’ I said. ‘It’s … very interesting.’
‘Isn’t it.’ Minah gazed at me for a moment too long, and I could guess what she was thinking. About Fox. About cults.
Flick’s lip curled and she turned to Fox. ‘Did you know that Ruby’s a musician? She plays piano, and writes her own pieces. She doesn’t like this sort of music, though. What do you call it, Ruby? “Tooth-rotting schmaltz”, I think is how you described it. Shallow. Empty. Worthless.’
Fox looked at me, confused. I wasn’t sure how to respond.
‘I remember Ruby once saying th
at she’d rather stick forks in both her eyes than listen to a love song,’ Flick continued, watching Fox like a predator stalking her prey. ‘I remember she once said that there was no such thing as love. Just something invented by greeting-card companies to civilise a primitive surge of hormonal activity.’
I glared at Flick. But what could I say? I couldn’t deny it – I had said those things. And if I told her I’d changed my mind about love … she’d eat me alive.
Flick leaned back, satisfied for now.
Ali tapped ash into an empty beer can, and Fox watched curiously.
‘What does it feel like?’ he asked.
Ali’s face wrinkled in contempt, as though Fox had said something unbelievably stupid. ‘What?’
‘Smoking. What does it feel like?’
Ali shrugged, and offered Fox the cigarette. ‘Try it.’
Fox laughed. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘I can’t do that. I’d probably die.’
He was smiling, but I knew he was totally serious. Fox didn’t exaggerate. Ali took another deep inhale. Fox shook his head, bemused and fascinated.
‘So, Fox,’ said Flick, ready for more blood. ‘What’s your deal?’
‘My deal?’
‘Yeah. You’re in a cult, right? A bunch of kale-eating hippies? Do you dance naked under the moon? Commit ritual sacrifices? Worship alien lizard-gods?’
Fox chuckled. ‘You’re funny, Flick. I see why Ruby likes you. To answer your questions, I’ve never done any of those things, except eat kale, I suppose. Although dancing naked under the moon might be quite an experience.’
Ali snorted, and stubbed out his cigarette. Flick’s eyes flashed with triumph, and I realised that she liked him. She’d always liked him. I remembered her barbs and jibes at me, when I’d been flirting with Ali, and Ali had flirted back. With a wave of sadness, I realised that even if Anton hadn’t died, our little friendship group would have imploded anyway. I hadn’t seen it before, but now … now everything was clear.
I didn’t belong with these people. Not anymore.
Ali lit another cigarette, and narrowed his eyes at Fox. ‘So, dude,’ he said. ‘You and Ruby, hey? What’s up with that?’
Fox met Ali’s gaze with a cool expression. For a moment they just stared at each other, as if something primal was happening. Some unspoken battle. ‘Ruby is amazing,’ Fox said at last, his voice calm. ‘I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s very wise.’
‘Wise?’
‘Yes. She’s full of knowledge. And kindness. And love.’
Minah had pulled out her phone and was pretending not to listen, her face a mask of disapproval.
‘Have you filled her up with your love, then?’ said Ali.
Flick giggled nastily.
Fox’s coolness didn’t waver. ‘I’m trying to.’
‘Fill her right up?’ said Ali. ‘Right up to the brim? Until she’s overflowing with your … love?’
Harrison choked back laughter. Ali had a cruel, sarcastic look on his face. I knew I should speak up. Defend Fox. Protect him. Take him away from my vulture friends. But I was frozen. The sun had disappeared behind looming clouds, and here in the Wasteland it didn’t feel as if spring would ever come. Here, it was always winter. Always cold. Always dark.
Fox pursed his lips, and I realised that he understood Ali’s crude subtext. He almost looked like he felt sorry for Ali. ‘Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?’ he asked. ‘Fill each other up with love? What’s the point of feeling love, if we can’t share it with others?’
I didn’t think I could be strong like Fox. I couldn’t be brave and vulnerable and try to see the good in everyone. That wasn’t who I was.
‘So, Fox,’ said Ali, leaning forward. ‘How many people would you say you’ve filled up with your love?’
‘Ali, cut it out,’ said Minah. ‘It’s not worth it.’
Minah. Thank goodness for Minah. Minah, who was braver and stronger than me.
Fox turned to her, the furrows on his brow deeper than ever. ‘Minah, everyone is worth it. Every human being on this planet is worth everything. Worth whole oceans. Worth galaxies.’
Minah rolled her eyes, then looked back at her phone. ‘Sure, whatever.’
Fox tilted his head to one side. ‘Don’t you think you’re worth it, Minah?’ he asked gently. ‘Don’t you think you’re worth a whole galaxy of stars?’
Minah’s detached expression faltered for a moment. She slipped her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, one eyebrow raised. ‘You know, Fox, you’re very pretty. I’ll give you that. But you sure do talk a lot of bullshit.’
I expected him to flinch, but Fox just gazed at her thoughtfully. ‘Sometimes I think I’d like to be normal,’ he said. ‘To go to school. To have a birthday. To live in a normal house with a normal family. But then I meet people like you, and I realise that Daddy is right. You have everything, right at your fingertips. And you’re wasting it all. You’re not even really alive.’
‘Daddy?’ Flick’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her fringe.
Fox ignored her and turned to me. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said.
I stumbled to my feet.
‘Nice meeting you, Fox,’ Flick called after us, her voice dripping with scorn. ‘Come back soon.’
‘Are you okay?’ I asked, as we walked away.
Fox looked at me, pity in his eyes. ‘How do you do it?’ he said, shaking his head slightly.
‘Do what?’
‘Be like that. Every day.’
‘Be like what?’
‘Like them. Shutting your heart away and letting bitterness and emptiness rule. Pretending that decay is to be celebrated, and ignoring everything that really matters. Don’t you feel yourself disintegrating when you’re around them? Feel as if you’re getting sucked into their swamp of narcissism and hatred?’
My skin prickled defensively, but Fox was right. They were shallow and bitter. I was shallow and bitter.
Fox took my hand. ‘You’re worth it too, you know,’ he said quietly. ‘Worth a million galaxies.’
I wasn’t.
‘Don’t you feel it? That there’s more to be? That you’re on the edge of something astonishing? Something so vast and beautiful that every cell in your body is aching to be a part of it?’
I’d felt that way, before Anton. Not anymore. I plunged into blackness, wrapping myself up in it, but I couldn’t block Fox out. His words penetrated the dark tide like beams of golden light. I could feel his living warmth against my palm.
‘I’ve seen the other side, Ruby. I know what’s out there. It’s … it’s everything. It’s joy. It’s peace. Don’t you want to feel peace?’
Peace.
‘Ruby.’ Every time Fox said my name, a little piece of the darkness evaporated, rising like wisps and whisking away into nothingness. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to be healed. I wanted to be healthy and pure and full of peace and joy and wonder.
But I couldn’t.
‘Ruby.’
Could I?
Fox leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine, and I was undone.
6
‘I have to go back to the Institute,’ Fox told me, as we wandered through the park the next morning. ‘We’re only allowed to be away for two weeks at a time.’
My stomach felt suddenly hollow. Was it because he’d met my friends? Had he realised the kind of person I really was? That he’d been wrong about me? Or had it been the kiss? I felt sick with a wave of self-loathing.
‘Come with me,’ he said.
I stared at him.
‘Come with me to the Institute. I just found you, Ruby. I don’t want to lose you already. I …’ He frowned, his eyes intense. ‘I don’t know what this is, between you and me. But I know it’s important. You feel it, don’t you?’
I did feel it. So much I thought I would break apart.
‘Sure,’ I said at last. ‘I’ll come and visit you. Is it far?’
Fox looked away, his frow
n deepening. ‘It doesn’t work that way,’ he said quietly. ‘The Institute is … things are different there. You can’t visit. You have to commit.’
‘You want me to move there?’
He nodded. I could see tears in his eyes.
‘Fox, I can’t. I can’t run away. My mother … she needs me. She has no one else.’
Aunty Cath didn’t count. She wasn’t going to stay forever, and when she left it’d just be me and Mum again. Alone in our cold, empty house.
‘I need you too,’ said Fox. ‘And you need me. I can’t let you sink down into the darkness again.’
I swallowed, my grip already faltering. The black tide was chokingly close. I didn’t want to go back there. But I couldn’t leave.
‘So stay,’ I said. ‘Don’t go back. Stay with me.’
‘I’m not allowed.’
‘Says who?’ I demanded. ‘Your father? You can’t let him tell you what to do forever. Just walk away. We could …’ I trailed off. What was I suggesting? That Fox and I live together? I took his hand. ‘Don’t you want to see the world?’ I asked gently.
I could see longing on Fox’s face, but it was quickly replaced with something else. It looked like fear.
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I have to go back. The Monkeys need me.’
Monkeys?
‘Where is it?’ I asked. ‘How far?’
‘I don’t know. We go in a van, but only Lib and Stan know the way.’
‘And there are others who live there … like you?’
Fox nodded. ‘There are twenty-two members of the Institute,’ he said. ‘Eight men and fourteen women. Plus some Monkeys.’
Fox kept mentioning monkeys. Was the Institute some kind of research centre?
‘Do you want to go back?’ I asked.
‘Of course I do,’ said Fox, but I didn’t believe him.
For a moment I imagined going with him. Really belonging somewhere, not just visiting. Being with Fox every day. After all, if I didn’t like it I could always leave, and maybe after a little while I could convince Fox to leave with me.
The Boundless Sublime Page 6
