Words in Deep Blue(29)

It was clear from the moment I woke Henry on my first day that his kiss was a mistake, a drunken lunge that he barely remembered and hoped was a dream. ‘He’s panicking,’ Lola said, when she came over to quiz me about it. I sent her back with a message that I hoped would sting. ‘It made me miss Joel, that’s all.’

‘So you’re not still into Henry?’

‘I am no longer insane,’ I told her, and she left it at that.

I turn into Martin’s street, and the thought of his sister waiting inside for him hurts, like it has every day. I leave him walking up the path towards her, and head back across the river in the direction of Gus.

He phoned the warehouse on Monday to let me know he’d be in the city on Friday afternoon and if I felt like talking I could meet him at St Albert’s. ‘Call into emergency and get Rose to page me.’ Rose insisted that I see him today. She was the one who suggested Gus as a therapist. They’re old friends from medical school and she knew he lived near Sea Ridge.

The ER is only a short walk away from the car park and I’m inside before I’ve thought through how much it’ll remind me of the day when Mum, Gran and I waited for news about Cal. We spent two hours praying that he was alive, the whole time knowing that he wasn’t.

Three people wait on the chairs in the corner. They’re holding hands, a pile of knuckles resting in the lap of the person in the middle, who looks like Gran. The woman on the right looks like a mother. I make the mistake of looking directly into the girl’s eyes.

I walk out of the waiting room and into the air. I’m planning on getting into my car and driving away when I see Gus walking towards me. He’s got two coffees stacked in one hand, and he’s waving at me with the other.

He looks behind me at the EMERGENCY sign and frowns. We walk across the road to the park and sit on a bench under a huge old maple to drink our coffees.

‘Sorry about the meeting place,’ he says, and I tell him it’s fine.

‘It doesn’t seem fine,’ he says.

‘There were people in there who looked like us. Like me and Mum and Gran.’

‘And how do you look?’ he asks.

‘Sad,’ I tell him, and he takes a drink from his coffee and says I don’t seem sad today. ‘You seem kind of angry.’

‘Intuitive,’ I say, and he tells me to stop being a smart alec and tell him what’s wrong.

‘Where does that phrase “smart alec’’ come from?’ I ask, buying myself some time. ‘Henry would probably know. His dad would definitely know.’

‘Do you like working with them?’ Gus asks.

‘Michael, Henry’s dad, has me cataloguing the Letter Library.’ I explain what it is, and how frustrating I’m finding the job.

‘Does it pay you well?’ Gus asks, and I nod. ‘And it’s a nice place to work?’

‘I can set my own hours. I get free coffee and breaks whenever I need them, I don’t have to serve customers unless Henry or George are on lunch. Martin’s nice, the guy who’s been hired to catalogue the rest of the store.’

‘If it’s just the monotony that’s getting to you, wear headphones. Listen to music.’

‘That’d stop the questions, I guess. People are asking about Cal.’ I watch the blue wren moving near our feet. I let myself get mesmerised by the detail of it. ‘I haven’t told them he’s dead.’

‘Maybe that’s what’s bothering you?’ Gus asks.

‘It’s that I don’t have patience for pointless stuff anymore. What’s Michael planning on doing with my catalogue anyway? It’ll sit in a file on his computer and one day he’ll delete it and I’ll have done all that work for nothing. Seems stupid when there are more important things to do.’

‘What more important things have you got to do?’ Gus asks. ‘I’m just curious.’

When I don’t answer, he tells me to try writing about what’s making me angry.

I really like Gus. More than that, I respect him. But today I want to tell him to fuck off so badly I have to cover my mouth so the words don’t escape.

‘Any time you need me, call, and we can arrange another session,’ he says, and we spend the rest of our time staring at the wren, pecking at food we can’t see, somewhere under the grass.




I pull up at the bookstore at nine. George is waiting out the front and as soon as she sees my car she calls to Henry that she’s leaving, and gets in the front seat. ‘Let’s go,’ she says. ‘If we get to the party before them we can lose ourselves in the crowd.’

It’s not a bad idea, so I start the engine and let George direct me to Justin’s house. I remember him from high school. He was a little wild, but a nice guy. His parents always seemed to be away, so his house was available for parties. He grew a beard in Year 9 and refused to shave it off. I’m wondering who I might see – Amy for certain – when George nudges me out of my thoughts and tells me to take a left at the lights.

She turns on the radio, and skips around until she finds a station playing David Bowie, and then leans back and says, ‘So, how’s Cal?’

I can’t dodge questions for much longer so I tell her he’s good. I just leave out the part where he’s ash in an urn on Mum’s mantelpiece. I’m surprised George even remembers Cal. They went to the same school, but I can’t imagine their paths crossed that often.