Don't Leave Me Breathless

by A Kelly

  Summer had never told him about a sibling, let alone a twin brother. Scipio threw the question at Summer silently. She smiled and nodded to Scipio.

  Then Louise asked: ‘Are you two a couple?’

  To Scipio’s surprise, Summer passed the question to him. Hesitantly he said, ‘No. We’re just good friends.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Louise. Somehow she looked disappointed. ‘Scipio, I’d love to go to one of your shows one day.’

  ‘Ah, no, no, I’m retired. I run a pet shop now.’

  Louise smiled. ‘Oh, Summer, while I remember,’ she said. ‘You should see Mr MacMillan, love.’

  ‘He came to see me,’ Summer said. ‘Everything’s fine.’

  ‘Good,’ Louise said and sat down. ‘Scipio, you should sing at Joseph’s birthday next week. You haven’t forgotten, have you, Summer?’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Summer said leaning on Scipio.

  Scipio put his arm on her shoulder, quietly asking if she needed to take a break outside, but she discreetly shook her head.

  Louise took a diary from the shelf. ‘Oh my, I can’t even remember my husband’s age. When you’re past fifty you stop tracking.’ She laughed. ‘Oh yes, he will be fifty-three. I have kept track after all.’ She showed Scipio and Summer her records.

  2014 – 51

  2015 – 52

  2016 - 53

  2015 – 52

  2016 – 53

  Summer buried her face in Scipio’s chest, muffling her tears while Louise stared blankly at the diary.

  Scipio rubbed her back and whispered, ‘Tell me if you want to go.’

  Summer quickly composed herself.

  So, was fifty-three the age her dad had died? Or was it the age Louise began losing her memory? It was likely the former. He wished he could see a photo of her dad – the Joseph Summer didn’t want to remember. Did Scipio remind Summer of him?

  ‘Hey, Mum, do you still have the photo of us in Penguin?’ Summer asked, wiping her tears.

  Louise looked through the living room cabinet. ‘Where is it? I always put the photo album here.’ She pointed at an empty spot on one of the shelves.

  Summer got up and helped her search. She frowned when she found the album under the bedside table. Almost at the same time Louise saw it.

  ‘Here!’ Louise then opened the album to the page where the Penguin photo was. ‘Summer, Jake and me.’

  Summer was beaming in that photo, her arms up in the air as her mum crouched behind her, holding her waist. He didn’t quite know how old Louise was in that photo, but she looked exactly like Summer. And next to Summer was a boy, whom Scipio presumed was Jake her twin brother.

  ‘Your dad must’ve taken the photo,’ Scipio said.

  ‘Oh no, Joseph was in Paris at the time,’ Louise said. ‘I was sick of Paris, so I told him, “I’m taking the kids to Tassie.” I grew up in the Hunter Valley but I was born in Hobart, you know. And I’ve always loved Tassie. We had a two-week road trip. Summer and Jake had always been good with travel, especially Summer. She loved new places, always curious. When we arrived in Penguin, the kids were just bouncy, they didn’t want to leave. I think it was all to do with the Big Penguin. We had a good time there. For months, even years afterwards, they kept asking me when we’d be back there.’

  ‘Is that Summer’s brother?’

  Summer sat next to Scipio and rested her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Her twin brother, yes. Jake.’

  For a while Louise was in another world, staring at the photo blankly as she’d done the diary earlier. Scipio could imagine the three of them laughing, running on the beach, watching the penguins coming home at dusk in Burnie or Lilico – Joseph-free.

  ‘There are a lot of cute photos of Summer and Jake there. Have a look,’ Louise said and left him with the album.

  Summer’s parents in Paris; her parents, Jake and Summer at the Hunter Valley Gardens and various family photos in front of the White House and some monuments, must’ve been in Washington DC. So this was Joseph. It occurred to Scipio he might’ve reminded Summer of her dad because of his looks, but that clearly wasn’t the case. To Scipio, Joseph Rideau looked like a French aristocrat. A Vicomte – yes, Vicomte de Chagny.

  Summer suddenly rose and stood in front of Louise. ‘Mum, did you show these photos to anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You said you always kept the album on that shelf. Are you sure you haven’t shown this to anyone else?’

  ‘Of course I am, love.’

  ‘Mum, you can’t tell anything to anyone, okay?’

  Scipio got up and said, ‘Summer, your mum might’ve just misplaced it.’

  ‘No! She never misplaces anything. Look! Her books, sorted alphabetically by author, same with her CDs. And look at these ornaments. The girl with the sheep from Amsterdam, they’re always here. The Copenhagen mermaid, Milan cathedral, the Liberty statue, and this mask, from Noumea. Eiffel tower. The Capitol Washington DC. Alphabetically sorted. And look! Look at the gap on this shelf, it is exactly the size of the photo album!’ She then abruptly turned to her mum who was standing behind Scipio. ‘Did you tell anyone about 45 Aberdare Street?’ She took the album from Scipio and showed Louise another photo: Summer, holding a German shepherd in front of a country house. She grabbed her mother’s shoulders.

  ‘Summer.’ Scipio gently pulled her away from Louise.

  ‘And, mum, remember there were a pair of glasses that someone had left here? You said it could’ve been Mr MacMillan’s? Where are they?’

  ‘I don’t know, Love.’

  Summer dropped the photo album. Scipio picked it up and put it in the spot where Summer had insisted it belonged.

  ‘Sorry… I’ve gotta go,’ she said. Her face turned pale. ‘It’s lovely to see you.’ She kissed her mother on the cheek.

  ‘Joseph!’ Louise said. ‘Your daughter is leaving. Don’t you want to come and say goodbye?’

  ‘I'll miss you, Mum…’ Summer whispered. With that she blinked ferociously and her breathing got erratic.

  Scipio immediately guided her out. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  Summer walked tall and wiped her tears. On the way out she went into the ladies’ room.

  Scipio stood right in front of the door. Some nurses glared at him, but he wasn’t taking any chances; the slightest noise and he would barge in. Even thinking about it made him worry, so he went in anyway.

  Inside, he found Summer washing her face. He stood behind her.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she whispered and leaned on him.

  Scipio bowed and gave a peck on her crown. She looked up. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.

  They left the nursing home with Scipio’s arm wrapped around her. She led him to a small park in a nearby side street.

  ‘Can we sit here a while?’ she asked as they approached a bench. ‘I want to tell you so many things, Scipio… but I’m not sure if I should.’

  She stared at the ground, pondering.

  When she shook her head, he almost said out loud: tell me everything, I love you.

  But knowing he reminded her of her dad, not just the name but the age he’d died, Scipio wondered what Summer really saw in him. For now, he decided to keep his feelings to himself.

  ‘What is it like to have a daughter?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s magical.’

  ‘Cornelia is lucky to have you.’

  ‘I think it’s the other way around.’

  ‘I wish my father felt lucky to have me.’

  Scipio reached for her hand. ‘I’m sure he did.’

  She shook her head. ‘Could you drive? I’m exhausted…’ She sighed.

  They’d flown in from Sydney this afternoon and took a taxi from the airport, so where she wanted him to drive to, he didn’t quite know. He resisted asking her to clarify what she meant and let her snooze on his lap. Just before she woke up she murmured one name –– Pierre.

  21

  Don’t leave me breathless

  He
was getting old, Scipio concluded when his left calf cramped up. He had only managed to swim 1km today and he felt like he was going to die.

  Scipio emerged from the water and noticed Caine running in the sand with his border collie, Florida.

  ‘How’s the water?’ asked Caine when he saw Scipio.

  ‘Perfect. Cold.’

  ‘You still swim topless?’

  ‘Open water pants are enough.’

  ‘Such a show-off! Don’t you catch pneumonia!’

  Florida wagged his tail; transfixed by Scipio, hoping his second human would throw something for him to fetch.

  Scipio picked up a branch and Florida lowered his head, his body in full anticipation. Scipio threw the branch into the water. The collie took flight and braced the waves to retrieve it.

  Caine whistled at Florida ‘Come on, boy!’ He continued running along the beach, calling over his shoulder, ‘Coffee? Tomorrow?’

  ‘Sure!’

  As Scipio walked to the spot where he’d left his towel, he noticed Summer standing next to it.

  ‘Hey…’ Scipio approached her. She was leaning against the wall as if trying to blend into the sand stones.

  ‘I’m sorry if I scared you at St Therese.’

  ‘No. No. It was a lot to take in, I must admit, but you didn’t scare me.’

  Scipio recalled how distant and silent Summer had been when she woke from her nap on the park bench near St Therese. He’d held on to her almost the whole time they were in the taxi, at the airport, and on the plane.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep last night,’ said Summer.

  Scipio reached out his hand to her. She didn’t take it, instead she rested her head on his bare chest, her hair absorbing the drips of seawater. Then she hugged him; tightening her grasp until her torso laminated his abs. Like that she could almost take in all the salt and sand on him.

  ‘Oh, Summer…’ He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair.

  She breathed into him, as if she wanted to make love to him. She rubbed his chest and kissed his left nipple. Then she stopped and stepped back to keep a distance.

  There! There she went again. Showing him she wanted him, then changing her mind.

  ‘I thought about Mum and Jake,’ she said. ‘My family, gone, one by one. I wish Jake was still here. He would’ve surprised me with his bird sketches and told me to cheer up. Jake was such a gentle soul. But then… part of me thinks it was best that he died young.

  ‘His body rejected my bone marrow. Why? Why? Have I been so bad? What have I done that I have to be the one left behind?’

  ‘Because you’re the strongest. But you’re not alone, you know that, right? I’m here.’

  She shook her head while Scipio was still caressing her.

  ‘You don’t know me.’

  ‘I think I do.’

  She closed her eyes and hugged him even tighter. ‘You don’t.’

  ‘Then let me know you. Why were you upset that your mother showed the photo to someone? Who did you think it was? You need to open up to me, Summer.’

  Her eyes begged him. ‘Not today.’

  Scipio exhaled. ‘Why are you here? Why did you wait next to my towel? If you don’t want me in your life, why don’t you just tell me to piss off?’

  ‘I want you in my life, Scipio. But…’

  ‘But what?’

  She pushed him aside. ‘Not today.’

  Summer waited by the living room window of the Beam House. At about this time of the evening, Scipio would come home. It might be his car she could hear in the distance.

  It was.

  She thought about going to him and saying sorry, but Scipio, aware that she was hiding behind the curtain, gave her a plain glance then quickly looked away. Then he walked into his house and shut the door.

  What she had done at the beach this morning was yet another mistake. Why had she gone there? She’d waited for him at the beach wall where the shadow was darkest, hoping not many people would notice her.

  Then she’d seen Scipio rising from the ocean. What a sight – better than Neptune, better than Napoleon, better than Publius Scipio himself. While he talked to Caine she discreetly walked to the spot where he’d left his things – his towel, his T-shirt, shorts, water bottle, sunglasses, keys. The sun shone on that spot. It was warm, it was light. Right then she had wanted to be seen by him.

  Had she played with his feelings? Maybe. But this morning, she’d had to see him. Close to dawn she’d walked to the kitchen and got a sharp knife from the drawer. It was in her hand for hours. Stab or slice? Chest or wrist? When she dropped it, it fell millimetres away from her feet. Then she cried and cried until she’d seen Scipio leaving for his morning swim.

  There was nothing else she could’ve done but wait for Scipio at the beach. Feeling his ocean-licked skin would make things better, she’d told herself as she squatted on the kitchen floor next to the knife. And it had made things better. Scipio had responded with his amazing tenderness. But because she hadn’t known what to do with that amazing tenderness, this morning had ended with him feeling played.

  He was right, she had to decide. Much as her longing for him filled her heart and her head, she forced herself to be rational.

  Assess the situation.

  Where is Bobby?

  It was clear Bobby had been visiting her mum. It was clear her mum had told him about 45 Aberdare Street. Those glasses were gone. The photo album hadn’t been where it was supposed to be. What else her mum had told him, Summer couldn’t know for sure. Had it all happened before Bobby went to jail? Was Bobby even in jail?

  The latest articles confirmed what Bernard had told her: Bobby was in custody, awaiting sentencing next week. So Bobby must have snuck into St Therese before the rape at 45 Aberdare Street, before he’d gone to prison.

  Why 45 Aberdare Street? Perhaps the photo of her with her dog Maya in front of the house carried the most weight in Bobby’s eyes. Others would have looked like ordinary family photos, vacation photos. Even if he’d suspected Penguin, he wouldn’t have found any trace of her travelling here, thanks to Tim.

  So Bobby was in jail. What would happen when he was released?

  Could Summer say she’d deal with it later? Five years was nothing. Even seven years was nothing. By then she would definitely be attached to Scipio – and if all went well, perhaps she would have children with him. What would Bobby do to her children?

  Much as she was beguiled by Scipio, she simply could not bring Bobby into his life.

  It was 8p.m., she’d packed but it was too early to leave. So she decided to sleep for a few hours then make her move at around midnight.

  But like any other night she lay awake on her bed.

  She wanted to clutch something…

  Not a knife.

  She wanted flesh, muscle, a man. Scipio.

  She slapped herself. Left and right. Again and again. She had to forget him!

  Sweating in her T-shirt and stretch pants, she wished she could’ve slept with just her night camisole. Every noise was amplified – her own breathing, the wind outside, even the dust blowing away from the concrete patio onto the grass, or perhaps that was the sound of a wombat that had come to her backyard to graze. Then a crunching sound.

  She held her breath.

  The wind still blew.

  Crunch…

  They weren’t animal steps.

  She swung her legs and crept out of bed. Behind the curtain a shadow moved. She stepped out of the bedroom and found the shadow standing behind the kitchen door.

  No time to plan, the threat had come to her sooner than expected. Or maybe she was too slow.

  It had to end tonight – be it his blood, her blood, or both.

  She opened the door slightly.

  ‘Hi, Summer—’

  A man – but not Bobby. As he was about to peep in, she banged the edge of the door against him. She got his face good.

  Before the intruder could regain his balance, she charged at hi
m. He wasn’t Bobby, so it must’ve been one of his men. They were both now on the floor, she on top of him. He pushed her backwards and set himself free. Bobby’s man would fight back. Had Bobby hatched a plan from prison and sent this man? Or was he somewhere around, hiding, ready to pounce when the time was right?

  Unexpectedly, the intruder turned and ran away.

  Seeing no other movement, Summer gave chase.

  When the man was about half-way across the grass, scrambling towards the back gate, Summer lunged at him and pinned him to the ground. She didn’t quite have control over him and that gave him a chance to knee her in the stomach. She rolled over. Ignoring the pain, knowing the man was still trying to get up, she swung her leg and swept his foot like a dragon tail tripping its prey. As he fell backwards, she threw herself at him and once again pinned him. This time she hooked her forearm around his neck.

  ‘Who sent you?’ Summer growled. He was no more than a scared boy.

  ‘Fuck you, bitch!’

  She strangled him harder. ‘Who sent you!’

  ‘Fuck! My friends.’

  ‘Friends?’

  ‘My friends… let me go!’

  ‘Names!’

  ‘Levi…’

  ‘And Bobby? Where’s that coward?’

  ‘No… no Bobby. Levi and Dan. Please don’t kill me… it was a dare… I swear!’

  Summer tightened her grip. ‘Where’s that coward?’

  By this time the boy had given up the fight, he couldn’t even speak.

  ‘Summer, let him go!’

  Summer’s eyes jumped between her captive and the towering figure looming in her backyard.

  ‘He’s just a boy from around the corner. I know him.’

  She let her captive go.

  ‘Fucking bitch!’ The boy staggered backwards, catching his breath and pointing at Summer. ‘She’s crazy, man! Crazy!’

  ‘Justin, shut up! Go home! Don’t ever come here again!’

  Summer marched to the back door. Before she opened it, she turned around to watch the boy walking away, still mumbling ‘crazy bitch’. Her rage almost drove her to chase him and hit him again. That arrogant face! But Scipio stood behind her. Having nowhere else to go, she simply walked in and let Scipio follow her.