Zy nudges my arm, and once again I look for words that aren’t there. I know what he wants me to do. What he wants me to say. It’s just now, here in the moment, the words are as elusive as they’ve always been.
“Ellie has something she wants to talk to you about.”
This time, I spin and glare at Zy. He shrugs, and pushes me forward again.
Dani looks on curiously, and I smile. “We have something we want to talk to you about.”
“You two? Together?” Her eyes widen. “That’s a first.”
“There are some things we can agree on.” Zy folds his arms across his chest, and I see the brief look of fear flash over Dani’s features. Zy isn’t the serious type. For him to be here with that kind of attitude, things really must be intense.
I look over my shoulder, checking to see if anyone is near, but we’re alone. “ You need to slow down. Stop drinking. Stop ... taking things.”
Her lip wobbles for a split second and then it stills. “I have this under control.” She laughs, but her laugh is too tight. Too tense.
“You can’t keep doing this. I think you need help, maybe rehab—”
“Rehab is the last thing I need,” she hisses. She leans forward, and the machine above her head flashes faster, her heart rate spiked.
“Then how come you’re in hospital, huh?” I challenge, trying to keep my face level on hers and not the panicked machine above her.
“I was just blowing off some steam.” She shakes her head and flops back against the pillows, as if the whole thing exhausts her. “I’m fine. Honest.”
Zy steps forward, gesturing up and down her prone body. “Fine, Dani? Because this doesn’t look fine to me. This sure as shit looks like you’re in hospital because you’re running from your problems. Again.”
Maybe it’s the fact he’s always so gentle with her, or perhaps it’s the fact that there’s a coldness in his eyes that frightens even me.
It breaks Dani.
Tears roll down her cheeks. “You don’t understand.”
“So tell us!” I spread my arms wide. “Tell me. Tell Zy. Just tell someone, Dani. Because you can’t keep going on like this.”
I turn and march to the door. Every step I take hurts. Every step I take feels like a step toward my sister’s funeral. Because right now, I’m doing exactly what Mum did. I’m walking away when times get tough.
It’s the only ammunition I have left in my case.
I reach the door to the room and still, certain she’ll call me back. That we’ll go back to being sisters who care for one another.
She doesn’t.
She doesn’t say a word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When I walk up to The View café three days later, Joel leans up against his car, two takeaway coffees already in hand. My body aches from weariness. It’s been three days of research. Research on the best rehab places in Sydney. Research on natural therapy cancer treatment. My eyes sting from staring at screens for far too long.
Joel passes one coffee over to me and pulls me close for a hug. I sink into his embrace. The smell of coffee and man and him washes over me, and I want to breathe it in forever. I want to bottle it up right there and then.
We hop in the car and start our drive out of Emerald Cove.
“So, how has your week been?” Joel asks.
I glance over at him, my lips twisting as I consider telling him. I haven’t mentioned it in the brief texts we’ve exchanged since we last saw each other. It seems so trivial to bother him with something like that when he has more than his fair share of problems to contend with.
His hand drops from the wheel and reaches over to my leg. He tucks it under my thigh, and shoots me a quick smile before looking back at the road. “Tell me.”
“Well ...” I search for the right words. “My sister ... she overdosed the other day, and wound up in hospital.”
“What?” Joel flicks his head to look at me, and the car swerves with him. My heart leaps in my throat, but I don’t panic. I don’t grab for the wheel, or try to control things beyond my doing. I just let it be.
Joel jerks back into an overcorrect with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says. “So what happened?”
I shrug and look at the fields flying past as we head onto the freeway that leads out of town and toward the hot-air balloon field. Green and browns blur as we pick up speed, the grey sky overhead casting a melancholy shadow over the earth. “She just ... I don’t know if it’s because she’s only just dealing with Dad’s death, or if she’s sad, or if she’s just ... I don’t know. At first I thought she was experimenting. Being ‘cool’. But hospital ...” I shake my head. “I told my dad I’d look out for her. I can’t handle letting him down.”
“You won’t.” Joel’s words come quickly. I look across at him, and his expression is deadly serious. “You could never disappoint him. You have to realise that.”
“But I told him I’d—“
“He was sick, Ellie.” Joel’s brow creases, but he quickly shakes it off. “I’m ... I’m angry he put so much on you.”
“He was dying.”
“He was wrong!” Joel roars, and my eyes widen. “How dare he make you feel as if every sin your sister commits is on your head? How dare he?”
“That’s not what he meant!” I fume. Anger burns in my chest and I can’t quash it. “You don’t get to say things like that.”
Joel opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, his face twists in a grimace. His hand falls from the wheel and the car veers left. My heart hammers, my breath lodged in my throat.
“Joel!” I scream.
One second is all it takes. He grabs the wheel with two hands, his eyes wide, his back rigid.
My breath comes short and sharp. My heart thuds so loud I hear it over the talkback radio softly sounding from the car’s speakers.
“Sorry.”
His voice is so quiet, I’m almost unsure he spoke.
“Are you ... okay?” I ask, my voice wavering.
“Yeah. I just ...” He rubs his hand at the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I’m fine.”
But something tells me he’s not fine at all.
***
Just shy of an hour later we drive past the hot-air balloon field, and I give a small sigh of relief that quickly turns to panic when we pull into a driveway a few blocks up. A giant white sign greets us as we pull in.
A giant white sign with a picture of a girl with her mouth open.
Jumping out of a plane.
“Uh-uh.” I shake my head. “No. No way.”
Joel pulls in to park next to one of the cars in the lot, and turns to face me. “I know you said you were afraid of heights, but I thought since I was going anyway ...”
“That you would try and force me into it?” I place my coffee down in the cup holder and my nails dig into the leather seat, just in case Joel decides to try and pry me out of the car and throw me into the plane.
“No.” Joel shakes his head and smiles. “Of course not. But I’m diving today, and I’d love to do it with you.”
He bats his long lashes at me as I unclip my seatbelt. “No. No way. No how. And also? Worst date idea ever.”
Joel laughs. “It is kind of horrid, right?”
“Yes!” I agree, hopping out of the car. The dawn light stretches across the parking lot, that warm yellow gold colour that highlights every peak and trough of brown country earth. “I’ll come in, but there’s no way in hell I am jumping out of a plane today. None. Zero.”
Joel just gives a small laugh, and we walk toward the tall building together. A plane sits behind it on a runway that stretches off into the distance.
My mind whirls at a million miles a minute. What the hell was he thinking? I don’t like heights; he knows this. And yet, despite that, he’s brought me to a sky-diving centre.
And not only that, but isn’t he sick? Is this really safe?
When we reach the building doors, Joel turns to face me. He
reaches out and clasps my hands in his. His hands are soft, gentle. Kind.
“Still not jumping out of a plane,” I say, before I can get far too lost in those damn eyes again.
Joel laughs. “I have a confession to make.”
“Go on.” I narrow my eyes.
“We’re not here to go skydiving.”
Before I can ask anything further, Joel turns and walks into the building, the door sounding a chime as he opens it. I scamper in after him and stand beside him at the desk while Joel speaks to the lady there. He fills in some paperwork, then takes my hand. A huge grin stretches his face, and there’s a boyish excitement to him.
“Come on.” He pulls me past the desk and down a corridor till we reach a large space. The roof opens up, and there’s a glass enclosure in the middle of the room. Suspended in mid-air are two people in ridiculous onesie costumes, all blue. They balloon about their bodies as an invisible force holds them horizontal in the air as if they’re impersonating superheroes.
“What the hell?” I turn to Joel.
He’s still smiling, and when he turns to face me, I catch the force of his joy. “Indoor skydiving. It’s on my list,” he says. “I know you said you don’t like heights now, but I thought maybe this would be a good middle ground for you. I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to counsel you, or change you, or ...” He heaves in a breath. “I just think you’re so much more than you let the world believe. Life’s too short to spend being afraid. I know you can take on anything. This is just a small step.”
I let his words sink in, stew in my brain, and even though heights terrify me—terrify—I feel as if maybe I can do this. After all, my efforts to keep my family safe so far haven’t exactly succeeded. Out here, in the middle of nowhere with no one but Joel to see me fail—what have I got to lose? After all, the divers in the ring in front of us don’t appear too high off the ground.
The machine changes gears, the engines turbo charged, and the two divers shoot up toward the roof of the building.
Crap.
What the hell am I getting myself into?
Before I can overthink it, I swallow and turn back to Joel. “Yes,” I say. “I’ll ... I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure?” His face is serious. “I don’t want to force—”
“I’m doing this.” There’s conviction in my voice, and it seems to shut Joel up. He nods and turns, heading back toward the reception desk, and I follow him.
“She’s in,” he says to the teenage girl behind the desk.
She smacks her gum and looks at him, then at me, and I can just tell she’s wondering how the hell I landed here with a guy like that. “I’m gonna need you to sign here.” She spins a clipboard around and points it toward me. “You guys are about half an hour away.”
After signing up and changing into the ridiculously unflattering flight gear, Joel and I sit on the chairs to the side of the chute. We watch as a young boy gets in and flies, and seeing this small human who can’t be more than three or four spinning happily in the air helps calm my nerves somewhat. After all, if a toddler can do it ...
We receive a briefing from a flight instructor, and then it’s time to go in. We have the option of going separately or together, and I’m just about to say I’ll do it by myself when fear kicks in. It lurches in my belly and claws its way through my body. My heart hammers at my chest, and I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I said yes because it seems as if every pulse of blood sends a screaming, resounding no to each part of my body.
“You don’t have to do this,” Joel says softly. “I know I kinda sprung it on you—but this is your call. Really.”
I swallow, thinking of everything that has happened this week. I need to change. I need to do something for me. Badly.
Mutely, I nod, and follow him toward the tube. Just before we get there, Joel turns back to me. He clasps my hands in his, a gesture I’m becoming all too familiar with, and says, “I believe in you.”
I give a nervous giggle. “Thanks.”
He shakes his head. “No, Ellie. If at any moment in there you’re doubting it—know that I’m not. I know you’ve got this.”
I open my mouth to reply, but the instructor interrupts the moment with some safety information. He briefs us again, giving the rundown, and then it’s happening, and the air is a wall of vertical movement in front of us. And Joel is flying.
He wavers for a moment, his body not quite maintaining the Superman-like posture required, but then he straightens and he’s doing it. A giant smile warps his face, his cheeks round and almost wobbly as the air presses against them.
The instructor smiles at me, I purse my lips. Now that it’s right here, right now, I don’t know that I can do this. I don’t know that I can—
Don’t think.
Just do.
I run forward and launch, my arms outstretched, and the air captures me, lifting me buoyant.
In an instant, my heart lurches. The ground wavers beneath me. My heart leaps to my throat, and my legs kick out, my body flipping. The air thickens, and I can’t breathe. I need out. I scramble toward the door with my arms, but the world spins, turns, or maybe I am. All I know is I’m lost. And I’m scared. And I hate this, hate it more than anything. My chest rises and falls ultra fast. I’m not in control. I need to be in control. I can’t do this.
A feeling worse than fear, worse than dread, consumes me until it’s everything I am. I’m going to die. The ground is so far away.
And then there’s Joel.
One hand grips my own, tight in its grasp.
Blue eyes bore into mine, and there’s so much peace in them.
The rise and fall of my chest slows. My legs scrabble about, and Joel gives a gentle smile, a small nod. It’s as if he’s saying you can do this. You got this.
I take a deep breath and remember his words from before. I have this. It takes every ounce of my strength, but I close my eyes for a moment, focusing with all I have not on the empty air beneath me, but on my body, and what it’s doing. I concentrate on each limb, every muscle, and try and force them to relax and just seep into this activity, into this sensation.
When I open my eyes again, Joel smiles at me. And I know without even looking at him that I’m doing it. That I’m flying.
I’m freaking flying!
I laugh, but I can’t hear it above the roar of the engines, and from the look on Joel’s face he’s laughing along with me. Weightlessness propels me, and it’s so light and freeing. I can’t believe I’ve gone from despair and worry to this beautiful sensation of peace. Of flying.
When the instructor motions that we can go further up, making the hand symbols to ask if we want to, Joel looks at me. Regretfully, I shake my head. I want to, so badly, but the reality of the fear that hit me just a few minutes ago is still fresh on my tongue. I don’t want to push it.
Joel doesn’t miss a beat. As soon as I shake my head, he reaches out for my other hand. We hold hands and float on air, pushing the limits but not breaking them entirely, and in that moment, I know.
I’m better than the scared, careful girl I’ve been. I have the feeling that I can do anything.
And I never want to let go of that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Adrenalin runs through my veins as Joel parks the car outside The View and we walk to the beach. Storm clouds scud over the ocean, painting the waves a dark grey-green.
We sit on a bench, and even though I’ve just had one of the most amazing moments of my life, even though I’ve finally pushed myself to really try, we have to talk.
It’s as if pushing myself to take that risk has shown me how much I have to lose.
And how much fun falling really is.
I nestle into Joel’s side and he wraps his arm around my body. “So ... tell me what happened.”
Joel’s chest heaves up and shudders down, as if the weight of the world is compressed against it. “Well ... when we moved to Sydney, all those years ago. When I d
eleted all my social media? That was when ... when I was first diagnosed.”
My brain ticks at a million miles an hour. How must that have felt? Discovering you had such a horrid illness at such a young age ... I shudder.
“I just couldn’t face the questions. The best surgeons were all in Sydney, and I ...” He turns to face me. “I was young. Embarrassed that you’d see me at my worst. That something bad would happen and I’d ... die.” The word is quiet. “I didn’t want you to go through that with me.”
“That wasn’t your choice to make.” Anger flares within me.
“It was, Ellie.” His words come quick. “I know you’re mad, and I know that hurt, but it was me. My body. My choices.”
I tighten my grip on the bench, but nod. It doesn’t make it okay, but who am I to say I would have done it differently?
“They tried all the therapies—chemo, radio ... Dad even wanted to try hypnotherapy.”
“Really?” I frown.
“I know.” Joel laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “But eventually, I beat the odds. They couldn’t find it anymore. It looked like I was ... free.”
A seagull calls overhead as it floats on the breeze, bouncing toward the waves. That’s free. It’s strange to think of the word in terms of a human. A human who is now dying.
“I ended up going to TAFE and finishing school there, then I got into uni. That’s where I met Fiona and everyone. They didn’t know about the cancer thing, and I didn’t want them to. It just ...” He shakes his head and runs his hand over his skull. “It’s not who I am. Or who I was. I don’t want my past to define me.”
I nod slowly, thinking of Dani earlier in the week. Is that what she’s doing? Living life to the fullest so the past doesn’t define her?
“Then six months ago I had to go back in for a check-up. I’d been having headaches—nothing serious, but I think somewhere deep inside, I knew.” He pauses and looks me dead in the eyes. “I think somewhere inside we all know when we’re dying.”
I touch his arm. “Don’t say that.”
He shrugs me off. “The cancer is back. They did another few rounds of chemo, but it didn’t work. It was too aggressive. Impossible to operate on. They told me that even though things seem okay now ... I only have ...” He blinks, and a tear trickles over his cheekbone. My heart aches seeing him like this. It aches knowing the pain he’s going through. “I only have one year to live.”
The Twenty-One (Emerald Cove #2) Page 16
