In the Shadow of Satellites

by Dick, Amanda

He glances towards the kitchen.

  “Got any coffee? I find I can’t drink coffee unless it’s from my special mug lately. I blame Ana.”

  I nod, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. He heads for the kitchen, leaving me standing in the bathroom, reeling.

  “Want one?” he calls.

  It’s like it never happened.

  ***

  Luke takes great pains to show me over the next day or so that things haven’t changed between us. He gives me space, but he also keeps me on his radar. Geezer comes to visit, and Luke isn’t more than ten minutes behind him. I begin to wonder if he’s sending him over, if it’s some kind of plan. We share a couple of meals together. He finally takes his tea-towel and pillow-case home with him, but insists on leaving his coffee mug at my place. He clearly means to put the incident behind him.

  I’m still not sure I can. I don’t quite understand what happened between us. I don’t know if I was the one who initiated the kiss, or if it was him, or whether it really matters. I still don’t hear anything from James, or Kieran. I feel like I’m being pulled in different directions.

  Tonight we’re having dinner at his place again. Again, it’s a joint effort. I help him wash the dishes in a plastic basin, filled with lake water that he’s boiled over the fire, then we sit and watch the sunset together from the campfire. As I head back home through the trees, I can feel him watching me. It stirs something in me, something that won’t settle. It’s as if the kiss we shared has woken up a sleeping dragon.

  Companionship is all very well, and I’m grateful for his friendship, but I can’t stop thinking about how his lips felt on mine. I hate myself for it, but I can’t let it go, no matter how hard I try. Part of me rationalises it away as craving much-needed comfort. Part of me berates myself for betraying James.

  I pace the cottage, unable to sleep. I stare at the wall, at the lake, at the empty page in my notebook. I make three more paper boats and fold them carefully into my bedside drawer. I stand up and throw the glass of wine I never even touched over the side of the deck and onto the lawn. It’s not helping. Nothing’s helping.

  The lake is black as ink before me, and my head is alive with voices, but not the ones I’m waiting on.

  Wash your face. Freshen up. You’ll feel better.

  Nanna’s voice echoes in my ears, but I’ve already decided that I’ll go one better. Too wound up to run a bath, I decide it’ll be quicker and easier to have a swim instead. So I do. I walk down onto the lawn and strip off my linen dress, dropping it on the grass as I walk. The night is warm and still, but the thought of Luke’s hands on me yesterday raises goose bumps once again. I leave my underwear on and wade into the water, sand gritty between my toes, until it’s deep enough to dive under.

  The silence under there is heaven. It swirls around me, sucking out the restlessness along with all the other sounds of the night, surrounding me with blissful calm. I’ve never felt such relief, as if all the serenity of the universe has been channelled into me, filling the cracks and crevices where my demons hide, floating them out into the night air where they disintegrate into a million pieces, if only for a moment or two. Reluctantly, lungs burning, I push up to the surface.

  I wish I could bottle this feeling and take a sip of it when I need it, when all the noise in my head makes it impossible to think. I lie there, floating on my back, staring up at the stars and thinking about the satellites orbiting far above me. Then I turn onto my stomach and take a few lazy strokes further out into the lake before rolling onto my back once more, suspended in my inky oblivion.

  “Hey stranger!”

  I sink under the surface of the water, gasping and coughing out lake-water when I pop up again a moment later.

  “Luke?”

  “You okay? I heard splashing!”

  “I’m fine – just swimming!”

  Man, nothing gets past him. I turn in his direction, treading water. I can see the glow from his fire, but I can’t see him.

  “I thought you couldn’t swim!”

  I smile in spite of myself.

  “I didn’t say that – I said I swam sometimes, I’m just not that good at it! I’m doggy-paddling over here!”

  His chuckle carries over the water.

  “What’s the water like?”

  “Wet!”

  More chuckling. Then splashing, and barking.

  “What are you doing?” I call.

  “Joining you! Seems like the thing to do tonight.”

  More splashing, and now I can see him.

  “Wait – don’t come any closer,” I warn, still treading water. “I’m not, um, suitably attired, let’s say.”

  He treads water not far from me, Geezer swimming around us both in a wide circle. He runs a hand over his hair, but he doesn’t come any closer. Thanks to the moon, I can see his face pretty clearly now.

  “Are you telling me you’re skinny dipping?” he grins.

  “No!” I don’t know why I’m so indignant. It’s not a crime. “I’m wearing my bra and undies. I’ve never been skinny dipping in my life, I’ll have you know.”

  “You haven’t? Wow.”

  I think he’s smiling, but I can’t be sure because the water is lapping his bottom lip.

  “Is that so hard to believe?” I ask.

  “No. Well, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought everyone did it.”

  Then it dawns on me.

  “Are you? Now, I mean?”

  He chuckles again, and the sound is muffled as he slips lower into the water. He spits out lake water and bobs back up again. I prefer him where I can see him.

  “Relax. I’m wearing underwear too. No bra though.”

  I grin. I can’t help it.

  “So, what brought this on?” he asks, turning to watch Geezer as he paddles around us again, then turning back to me.

  “I don’t know,” I lie. “Just felt like it. It’s warm tonight.”

  “Very true.”

  We tread water for a couple of minutes, but my arms are getting tired already. I’m not used to this kind of exercise. I’d forgotten how much effort swimming takes.

  “I’m gonna have to go in,” I say. “My arms are about to fall off.”

  “Okay.”

  I can’t see for sure, but he sounds disappointed. I don’t know where it comes from, but an invitation comes out of my mouth and I know it’s a dangerous one, considering the fragile state of our friendship at the moment.

  “Want to come over for a drink?”

  He doesn’t hesitate for longer than a second, although he makes it sound casual.

  “Sure, why not.”

  I start swimming away from him slowly, conscious that neither of us is dressed.

  “Grab your clothes and come over,” I call over my shoulder, in case he misinterprets anything.

  I can’t hear him behind me, and I pray he’s not watching me as I get closer to the shore and my clothes. Finally, as I get ready to stand, I can hear splashing behind me, and I turn to see him making his way back to the glowing fire, Geezer bringing up the rear. When I’m sure he’s out of sight, I stand up and jog up the lawn, swiping up my dress and dashing up the steps into the cottage. I’m dressed and towel-drying my hair when I hear him coming up the stairs. I poke my head out of the bathroom, combing my hair into submission, as he appears at the French doors. He’s barely towelled off, and his t-shirt is wet and sticking to him in places. It shows off his physique in a way I never noticed before, and I have to drag my eyes away.

  “Come in – beer’s in the fridge,” I say, by way of welcome.

  “Thanks. Can I pour you a glass of wine?”

  I think about the previous glass that I threw out over the lawn in disgust earlier. I wish I’d drunk it now. Suddenly, alcohol is sounding pretty good.

  “Yes please.”

  He knows his way around my kitchen as well as I do now, and by the time I emerge from the bathroom, he’s
coming out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

  He smiles, handing me the wine, and although it’s a smile I’ve seen a hundred times before, it feels different somehow.

  “Thanks. Shall we sit outside?”

  Inside feels claustrophobic right now. It always does when he’s here. It’s partly his size – he seems to fill any space he occupies, with little room to spare – and partly because I need to keep some distance between us, for my own sake.

  We settle into the deck chairs outside, and he puts his feet up on the railing at exactly the same time I do. It throws me. Has he always done that? I can’t remember. His knees are bent, and my legs are practically straight, given that his legs are so much longer.

  “Why are you staring at my knees?”

  I glance up at him, embarrassed enough to lie.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, you were.” He’s smiling at me. “Care to enlighten me?”

  I give in, because I’m not quick enough to think of anything clever to say.

  “I was just wondering how tall you were.”

  He nods, as if he’s not quite sure why I’m asking, but he’s willing to give me some leeway.

  “I’m six-three – and a half.”

  Like he really needs that half inch.

  “And a half?”

  “Don’t forget the half.”

  “It’s that important?” I ask, smiling hesitantly.

  As much as I’m second-guessing myself and everything I do and say around him, he seems to be perfectly comfortable. He really is pretending like nothing happened between us, and he’s doing it so well, it’s making me wonder if it really did.

  “Did you just ask me if size was important?”

  “H-height,” I stammer, cheeks burning yet again. “Not size.”

  “Same thing,” he grins, taking a sip of his beer. “What about you? Wait, let me guess. Five… five?”

  “Five-seven!”

  He laughs – a full-bodied, no-holds-barred laugh. It’s deep and throaty, and I like it.

  “Do you want to have the size conversation again?” he asks.

  “No!”

  “Well, alright then.”

  I take a sip of wine. I’m used to people towering over me. James was six-one, but like Luke, he was proportionate. Except his ears. James had tiny ears. They fascinated me. We measured them once, and they were a full four millimetres smaller than mine, even though he was larger than me in every other way. That feels like a lifetime ago now. I guess it was.

  “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

  I look over at Luke, blinking.

  “Hmm?”

  “I said your name twice. You didn’t even register,” he says gently.

  I shake my head, embarrassed.

  “Sorry.”

  But I forget. He reads me pretty well.

  “James?” he asks gently. “Or Kieran?”

  I rest my glass of wine on my thigh, staring at it.

  “James.”

  “And? Tell me.”

  I don’t want to, but I do anyway. It can’t do any harm. His playful mood is rubbing off on me.

  “He had little ears, smaller than mine,” I say. “He was six-one. I always thought it was weird that he had such small ears, considering everything else about him was totally in proportion.”

  “Ah,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “The size thing again. You’re obsessed, lady. I never knew that about you.”

  I roll my eyes, smiling over at him.

  “Can we just not do that please?”

  “Fine,” he holds a hand up. “Whatever you say.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence, one of the things I really like about spending time with Luke. It should feel weird, talking to him about James after what happened between us, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t seem concerned. I wonder how much of that is Luke’s attitude towards grief, being that he’s been there, and how much of it is just his personality.

  “Does it bother you, when I talk about James?” I ask, giving voice to my musings.

  “Of course not. Why would it?”

  There is no hesitation at all on his part, and my stomach does that little fluttery thing. I think it’s relief. Maybe gratitude too. He turns to me, and I can see that he means it.

  “I don’t know,” I say, choosing my words carefully. Things are settling in really well between us. I don’t want to mess it up again. “I just thought it might be… weird.”

  “He was your husband. Kieran was your son. Please don’t feel like you have to hide them, least of all from me. They deserve better than that.”

  My heart swells and I tell myself I don’t want to cry. I do want to, really, but not from sadness. A myriad of emotions, all mixed up inside me, vie for precedence. The overwhelming winner is harmony. I feel as if I’m in the right place, at the right time, with the right person. It’s like hope, only it’s more solid than that, more real, more tangible. It’s like faith, only there’s no leap involved, no stepping into the abyss. It’s beyond all that. It’s certainty, surety, absolute belief.

  I’m exactly where I’m meant to be, and Luke is beside me, staring at me with such understanding and conviction, that for several long moments I’m speechless. Speechless and happy. And then I realise.

  It’s joy that fills me.

  Chapter 19

  Luke has gone into town again, something about roofing materials. He’s taken Geezer with him, so this morning I’m truly alone. It’s not like I haven’t been alone before, but this feels different. After last night’s epiphany, this feels like an anti-climax.

  I want to show him how much I appreciate his patience and his kindness. I’m not sure what, but I should make some kind of gesture. He deserves that, after what he’s done for me. For his part, while I was flooded with an emotion I haven’t felt for so long it took me a while to recognise it, he seems completely oblivious.

  I spent the morning tidying up the place in preparation for Ana and Chris’s arrival this afternoon, and writing in my notebook. I flip through it when I’m done, reacquainting myself with the memories. The lingering sadness doesn’t linger so long this morning, which in itself is a kind of miracle. I tell myself it’s because I’m looking forward to seeing Ana and Chris, but deep down, I know it’s more than just that. It feels as if there’s been some kind of cosmic shift in the universe. I don’t know how, but I think I know why.

  As I sit at the small table, my gaze wanders, settling on my bedside table. I want that box of matches so badly. I need to send up a prayer, or a wish, or a thought into the universe, in gratitude, as payment, or just in acknowledgement. I need to mark this turning point in some way. It would be remiss of me not to. I beg patience of myself. Ana will be here later, with the matches. I can do it then.

  Lunchtime comes and goes, and Luke is still not back. I sit on the deck with a glass of water and watch for him, knowing how ridiculous that is, but unable to pretend otherwise. At least I’m honest about it. Ana calls earlier than usual, and the ringing phone nearly gives me a heart attack.

  “Hi!” she says, the customary car sounds absent.

  “Hi – where are you?”

  “I’m over on the shore, with Chris and Luke. We bumped into him in town, when I was grabbing some stuff from the supermarket.”

  I’m jealous. It’s not a logical emotion, but I struggle to push it aside anyway.

  “Oh, right.”

  “We’re getting a ride over with Luke, so you don’t have to come and get us. He needs a hand with all this stuff he’s bought, so we’re paying for our passage with manual labour.”

  I hear a laugh in the background. Luke or Chris? I can’t tell.

  “Okay. No worries.”

  “We’re leaving now, so keep an eye out for us. Come and meet us over at Luke’s? We might need a hand to unload. He’s got a shitload of stuff.”

  I don’t tell her I’ve be
en keeping an eye out for him all day.

  “Okay. See you soon, then.”

  “Catch ya!”

  There is more distant laughter, and then she’s gone. Considering the world has happily been turning without me all this time, I shouldn’t be feeling this removed from it, but that’s exactly how it does feel. I want to be part of it again, the world. I want to have plans, run into friends at the supermarket and in town. I want to do all of that, but I want to be able to do it from here, where it’s quiet and peaceful and I can run and hide if I need to.

  Is there something between what I want, and what I can handle? I really hope so.

  I spy the boat as it crawls across the lake, and make my way next door, watching as they pull into the little jetty that’s almost identical to mine. Everyone seems to be in high spirits, and it’s infectious. Chris makes a beeline for me and envelops me in a bear hug as soon as he steps off the boat. Just having him here makes me feel lighter.

  We help Luke unload the boat, and Chris has a thousand questions for him. They really do appear to have hit it off, and watching them from a distance I’m reminded of Chris and James. Luke seems pretty relaxed around Chris, but then Chris has that effect on most people.

  Ana and I sit on the steps of the old cottage, watching them stacking timber and boxes.

  “So, how’ve you been?” she asks. “You look good. Did you have a good week?”

  I want to tell her everything, but I also don’t. I want to keep some things to myself, especially the stuff about Luke. I play it safe instead.

  “Yeah, it’s been a pretty good week. How are you feeling? Over that bug you had last weekend?”

  “Yeah, it took a couple of days but I’m back to normal now, thank God. Work is a pain in the ass, but apart from that I’m good. I remembered the box of matches by the way, along with the other stuff. And wine – I bought a few bottles of wine. After the week I’ve had, I think I deserve it.”

  She leans her head on my shoulder, and that simple gesture speaks to me so loudly, it’s as if she’s screaming in my ear.

  It’s been a really long time since she’s leaned on me, either literally or figuratively. It’s usually the other way around. It makes me want to cry. She’s been my rock, my saviour, my friend, without ever asking for anything in return. I know this is how friendship works, in my head I know this. But in my heart, it’s different. I get an unexpected and sudden surge of love for her and for everything she’s been through with me. Because she has been though this with me, from the beginning. She’s still here, looking out for me, listening to me, guiding me.