Angela Jooste

A Way Home

Home is where you find yourself. This is a tale of two sisters; one whose life is unravelling, the other whose life is just beginning.

YA novel

1

 “Hey! That’s my foot!” yelled Cassie.

Not that the guy standing, no, towering in front of her could hear over the sheer noise that her brother Zeke’s band, Punt, was generating. Since when had they switched to punk mashed up with a funky, psychedelic beat that had nearly everyone trying to dance-bounce-headbang? Except Cassie was simply trying to keep a small patch of space free from the twerp behind her that kept poking her back with his beer bottle, and the guy in front who wasn’t really moving much but was definitely in her face.

            “Did you hear me?’ she screamed, totally fed up. Her best friend, Steph, was in her own world, waving her arms and finding some rhythm despite the chaotic sound. Steph’s boyfriend had his hands on her hips and was trying to move with her, behind her, which Cassie just didn’t want to look at. 

            “Huh?” The guy turned, peering down at her. She could feel her face redden with heat and anger. Crap! She hated these gigs.

            “You stomped on my foot you moron!” She’d had enough. She had a quick temper, but not usually with absolute strangers.

            “Oh! Sorry!” he shouted over the noise. “You okay?” It was more than she’d expected.

            “I’m behind you. Pay attention!” Her toes were throbbing and she was wearing her Doc Marten boots.

            “Hey, I said I was sorry!” He turned back to the stage and Cassie could have sworn he tagged “bitch” onto the end of that, but chose to ignore him, stepping back a little, only to get a beer bottle jabbed into her spine.

            “Shit!” Cassie yelled impotently.

            “Whoa! This is wild!” Steph hollered, totally lost in the music, her pale blue eyes, a little glazed, and striking against light brown skin; her long, honey-brown hair, mussed from shaking her head. Zeke was screeching into the mic. Lyrics be damned, who needs them? This was something else. The guy next to her on her right seemed moderately sober. She tapped him on his arm.

            “Wotcha?” he yelled in her ear.

            Beer breath wafted up her nose and she gagged. “Got a cigarette?” She’d noticed the pack peeking out of his back jeans pocket.

            He nodded, got out the packet and rifled a fag for her. She took it shouting a “thank you”.

            “Wotcha!” he yelled again and got out a lighter. Cassie shook her head and he gave her a groggy look. She snapped the cigarette in half and stuffed the ends into her ears. “Yeah!” the guy yelled, laughing as if Cassie had performed magic.

Whatever. Cassie grinned and shrugged, trying to see through the writhing limbs and bobble heads. If it weren’t for Steph and the fact this was Zeke, she’d walk out. She hated crowds. She was short, around five foot two, and while curvy in a luscious not chubby way, she wasn’t solid enough to pack a wallop on a guy several pounds heavier and taller. And she was surrounded. Perhaps she should take up her friend Kim’s offer to do martial arts classes. Kim’s father taught them. The thought of spinning through the air and doing a roundhouse kick on one of these dudes temporarily appeased her.

            “Whoa!” Steph shouted, “Go Zeke!” Cassie gave her a death stare.

            “Are you out of your freaking mind?” Cassie was so not impressed. She’d got them listed on the door thanks to Zeke and she’d been to enough gigs to know not to go near the bar if she wanted to blend in. Cassie didn’t have a fake ID although she was a couple of months out from turning eighteen, and getting pissed at her brother’s gig was absolutely not cool. That and she hated the taste of alcohol. Steph did have an ID and was making good use of it clutching a gin and tonic. Her third.

               “He’s hot!” Which didn’t go down well with Cameron, the boyfriend. Cassie smothered a smile because Cameron wasn’t exactly her favourite person on the planet. He proceeded to spin Steph around and stuff his tongue down her throat. Cassie snorted. Territorial. Yeah, that was one way to do it.

            “Hey, your foot okay?” It was tree-tall guy.

            Cassie stared up at him wondering if she’d heard him correctly through her fag-filtered hearing. “Um, yeah—think so.” She wasn’t sure what to make of this sudden crisis of conscience. She was a lot shorter, so maybe he’d got the guilts for squashing a bug.

             “I’m sorry—it’s not good being crammed in like this. Band’s great though.”

            Cassie kept staring back at his forest-green eyes. He was talking to her. Super weird. No one ever talked to her at these gigs, not until they found out whom she was related to.

            “Yeah—they’re not bad,” she yelled, could hear the words, but it all sounded muffled. Maybe she should take out the fag ends, but the thought of the onslaught was enough to stay her hand.

            Tree-tall guy nodded and kind of smiled, turning back to the band. He was head bopping, cool, not really going all out. But he was obviously enjoying the music. There was a girl pressed against him, not intimately, but friendly enough. Goth looking with knee-high Doc Martin boots and a denim mini that had Cassie blanching. Goth-girl had long, skinny legs. The thought of trying to sit in that thing had Cassie’s mind boggling at the exposure possibilities.

            Suddenly, the lights in the room brightened and the music vanished. It was only the first set, but people cheered and groaned at the abrupt end. Cassie smirked. The band did this often, just to get people amped and excited for what was to come.

            “Back soon!” Zeke shouted into the mic. That got screams and there was a sudden crush to get to the bar. Cassie kept her elbows out to protect herself. Tree-tall-guy and Goth-girl sidekick hadn’t moved. Beer-guy burped loud enough for her to hear. Cassie whipped her head to see Steph making out, tongue-choking with Cameron. Ugh! She seriously wanted some fresh air and space. Away. From. Everyone.

            “Cass!” Zeke was pushing towards her. Suddenly all eyes were upon her. She remembered the fag ends and took them out, stuffing them into her plaid shirt pocket. She had on a white T-shirt underneath with a silver skull printed on it, paper thin and clingy from too many washes, and her favourite skinny jeans. She’d put a leather cuff on her right arm to partially conceal the tattoo she’d recently had done. The tattooist happened to be Steph’s cousin and had bypassed the fact she was underage. The unsightly rash flared up because Cassie had bypassed the fact that she had super sensitive skin, and got eczema because of her allergies. The heat in the bandroom wasn’t helping and she had this desperate urge to scratch her arm. Her hair was kind of up, but tendrils were curling around her face and neck. She felt hot and sweaty, a frazzled mess. And very self-conscious. Tree-tall guy was looking at her, intently. Like he was beginning to actually see her.

            By association, came her internal snark. It annoyed her no end.

            Zeke gave her a bone-crunching hug. As he always did. He was incredibly affectionate. And gorgeous, attracting the usual attention from girls and guys without really noticing. Beautiful tanned skin, dark brown curly hair that just touched his shoulders and was currently in a ponytail; he also wore funky, acid-green glasses that framed his deep brown eyes because he was short sighted. He was just under six foot with a wiry, lean muscled frame. His mouth shaped easily into a heart-stopping smile.

            Cassie extricated herself, mindful of the dagger glances aimed pointedly at her. “Wow, new sound?”

            “Been working on it for a while,” Zeke beamed. “Wait until you hear our plans for a blow-out at Mattie’s warehouse.”

            “Uh, that sounds ominous.”

            “Yeah. Hey, Coop, look who’s here!”

            No! No, no, no! She so didn’t want Coop coming over. She was blushing to the roots of her dark red hair, frantically checking the exit to the joint.

            Suddenly a massive wall of chest reared in front of her. All glorious six foot two of Cooper Maitland. He was so ripped she could use his chest for Ping-Pong practice. Cassie wanted to do a lot more than that and she felt sweat prickle under her arms, a tight knot twisting in her lower belly.

            “Whoa Cassie—hey beautiful girl.” The grin that spread over that roguishly handsome face was almost wicked.            

             “Hey dude!” Zeke smacked his arm. “Not cool!”

              It didn’t stop Coop. “She’s not a kid anymore, Zeke. Isn’t that right?” He gave her a pointed stare, as if daring her to disagree. Cassie rolled her eyes at that, partly to hide her embarrassment, slightly annoyed at the “kid” reference, while Coop’s eyes roamed over curves that had come into their own over the past year. She was Lina Berkhoff’s daughter all right. While her older sisters, Pen and Simone, were both reed slender in build, Cassie had inherited her mum’s goddamn curves. Her dad had often said Lina looked like the woman in the Renaissance artist Titian’s Venus d’Urbino, and when Cassie had googled the painting of the divinely erotic nude, she’d never been able to look at her mum the same way again. It wasn’t just the body; the face was scarily similar to her mum’s, and by association, Cassie’s as well.

            “Coop, talking about my sister, man,” groused Zeke, and there was an implicit “hands off” warning in his voice that Cassie was both warmed by and pissed off by. Shouldn’t she be the one giving Coop the hands-off vibe if that’s what she wanted? But she was pretty sure she didn’t want to give Coop that vibe at all. If anything Coop was like a planet and the gravitational pull was fierce.

            “How have you been, Coop?” she managed to ask with a surprisingly steady voice, although it was husky from having to shout. Zeke had occasionally tried to get Cassie to do something musically with her voice, “thick molasses” to quote Zeke, whatever that meant; husky like it had the quality of touch, a brushing sound, but she’d never pushed to find out if she could sing. But at the sound of her voice, Coop’s eyes and grin widened. A genuine smile, although still impish. Cassie had to crane her neck to look into his eyes that were river green—a lighter green than tree-tall guy—and a little whacked out. Cassie didn’t think he was on anything, but he was buzzed and probably had sunk a few beers. Coop worked out incessantly to get his athletic physique, but he partied hard.

            “Never better gorgeous.” And that grin did not leave his face. Suddenly the noise seemed muted, the bodies not so hemmed in and heat coiled temptingly between them. Cassie couldn’t remember him ever looking at her like this before, like she was the only one in the room. Like he was really happy to see her.

            “Okay, time’s up.” Zeke cut in abruptly, a not-so-happy look on his face. He bumped Coop’s arm with his fist, as if forcing him to move.

            “See you around?” It was definitely a question. Cassie’s mouth went dry.

            “Sure. See you Coop.” Way to go with the language skills.

Coop was a history major at Melbourne University. Despite the party animal and player rep he’d tallied over the years, he was very smart. Cassie felt hyper-conscious of her age despite the look he was still aiming at her like a laser beam.

              He leaned down and said only loud enough for her to hear, his breath a hot whisper against her cheek. “I’ll hold you to that.” With a brief touch of his hand to hers that left her skin burning, he was bounding towards the stage.

            Zeke’s eyes narrowed and Cassie could feel the warning words ready and aimed on his tongue. But he didn’t say anything about Coop. Too often she’d heard Zeke’s opinion: loved the guy, he was one of his best friends, but he was a hothead (although Cassie wasn’t exactly known for her patience) and a player. Traits that should have been warning enough.

“You staying?” he finally asked.

            Cassie shook her head, although her mind was flickering with possibilities of hanging around and seeing Coop later. Of wondering what those seductively whispered words might mean. But she was sane enough not to push for anything with her brother hanging around.

            Zeke nodded, gave her a quick kiss on her cheek and then followed Coop to begin the second set.

            “He’s even hotter than your brother,” Steph’s voice tickled in her ear.

            Cassie rolled her eyes. “Thought you were getting some air.” She knew that Steph had been breathing Cameron’s not-so-fresh air.

            “You weren’t paying attention to anything else, babe. Admit it.” Steph laughed while Cassie’s cheeks burned.

            For years she’d wanted Coop to notice she was alive. He did, but never like this. She shivered with an electric excitement and an odd mix of dread. Because she had no idea whether any of this was real. 

2

“…it’s unbelievable. They said my research is perfect for the expedition—we’ll finally be able to test the data about ice melt patterns against core samples kept at the station.”

Standing at the kitchen sink, Pen was staring blankly at the treetops barely listening to Alex. Two storeys up, the trees were elms and she remembered thinking the first time she’d walked into Alex’s one bedroom apartment with its floor-to-ceiling windows and generous balcony open to shades of green: It’s a tree house. Which sent her tumbling into memory, because she’d once had a tree house. Built into a wide-spanning oak at the centre of her family’s garden. It lurched from her subconscious with heart-sharpened clarity, and the craziest notion cascaded from that single memory: that she’d be happy living here.

As if wish fulfilment could ever be that easy.

The view, sadly, had lost something of its magic, the warmth of association frayed at seeing it every day for the past year. At twenty-three she now chided herself—tree houses are for kids—while a part of her hungered for the kid she’d been who’d happily live in a tree and not want much else.

            Pen tried focusing on Alex’s voice. He was sitting at the kitchen bench while she dipped whiting fillets in flour and egg. Fingers clagged, she was half listening.

            “Sorry? What station?”

            Alex didn’t even mind that she wasn’t paying attention. “Casey Station in Antarctica.”

            Pen laid the dipped silvery white flesh, now fuzzy with flour, onto the pale pink mound. She shuddered just looking at it. Bizarrely, it was so much easier not to think of the fish as dead once it was cooked. No wonder Zeke was a vegetarian. Her brother had invited her to a gig that night and she’d declined wanting to surprise Alex by cooking dinner. She almost snorted—somewhat unhygienic given her proximity to the fish—at thinking this trumped a stress-free, fun Friday night out. And Alex would never have gone to the gig. He wasn’t into Zeke’s music, and if she were honest, he wasn’t that enamoured by Zeke either.

Pathetically, she stood not knowing what to do with her hands, clumped with sticky egg-flour goop, glad she’d had the foresight to tie her coppery red hair into a messy bun. She waggled her fingers, wondering if she could shape the goop like Play-Doh. Once upon a time she’d loved making stuff out of Play-Doh. Actually, she’d used to love making stuff. 

            “Pen?” Alex’s voice was pressing against her, wanting attention, a response.

            “Sorry, my hands…” She gingerly turned a tap at the sink, loosening the doughy goop from her fingers in the tepid water.

            “You know I’ve always wanted to go back. The last field trip was amazing. I realise it means I’ll be away for longer because of the conference beforehand, but the timing is perfect. I’ve been working on this paper and then Frank said a spot turned up on the team and—”

            Alex’s voice streamed with the water. Pen’s gaze drifted to the trees again, edged with gold from the sinking light of the sun. What was she doing? Oh—yeah, dinner. Pan fried whiting and herb pilaf. And trying not to stuff it up. It had sounded easy, but her knife skills sucked, a fact she lamely found out chopping— mangling—the mound of green herbs, and while the pilaf pretty much cooked itself, she made the cringeworthy discovery that she hated the feel of dead fish. She was overcompensating by smothering it with the egg-flour goop. This was why she usually left the cooking to Alex.

            “…it will be minimum four months stay. Possibly longer. I’ll be piggybacking on the conferences in Canada and New Zealand, so I’ll have to go straight to Tasmania end of October to prepare. You could come and visit me in Hobart! We’ll be leaving by ship in November unless the schedule changes. I know it’s a long time away…”

            Pen dried her hands on the dishtowel. A half drunk glass of wine stood next to the plate of fish. A pallid sacrifice. She took a swig. Pino-something-or-other. Alex was the wine buff. She was happy to leave the distinction between white or red, and preferred drinking the white stuff.

            Finally, her eyes met Alex’s. Eager, wide and excited. Sparks of light shooting in the dark of his eyes. When was the last time he’d looked at her like this?

            She cleared her throat and was startled at how steady her voice sounded when she asked, “When do you leave?”   

3

Cassie finally made it out of the pub with Steph and Cameron in tow. Steph headed for the curb, either to hail a taxi or throw up. Cassie stuffed her hands in her duffle coat pockets and stood close by, but a little apart. Last thing she wanted was to be sprayed with vomit. Cameron had his arms around Steph’s waist like a limpet. Conjoined, probably keeping her upright because at least he was relatively sober.

            “Hey, um, sorry, but I’ve got a question if that’s okay?” The voice was familiar and clear to her still buzzing ears. Cassie turned, eyes meeting a black jumper-clad chest and then travelled upwards. It was tree-tall guy. And he had a navy duffle coat on just like hers. Twins, she thought stupidly. She stepped back just so she wouldn’t get a crick in her neck.

            “Um, yeah—sure,” she muttered, not sure what to make of this guy who’d dented her toes, but had the decency to check if she was okay. The lovely green eyes glinted and he had a face that you might not remember but that would definitely grow on you. Brownish hair that was fashionably messy and hanging to his shoulders. He actually had a great mouth, full lips that were parted and about to let out sound. Cassie shook her head wondering why she was so enamoured with body parts all of a sudden. Her mind immediately thought of Coop and yes—well, that’s why.

            “My friend Grace, um, she just wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone?” He stepped aside enough that Cassie got a good look at Grace-Goth girl who in the clear night air under streetlights didn’t seem to have a scrap of make-up on. Long dark hair flowed around her face and Cassie thought of mermaids, of a face so serene and gentle that she wondered why she’d got so caught up on the girl’s clothes and hadn’t noticed her face. She was beautiful.         

            “You—um—mean in a relationship?” she stammered, not sure where any of this was coming from. Grace was looking at her shyly, and smiling adorably with dimpled cheeks. Cassie noticed that tree-tall guy and Grace weren’t that much different in height. Wow, Grace had sky-high legs. Cassie felt squat and doughy in comparison. I’m being propositioned by Amazons.

            Tree-tall guy nodded, smiling hugely. He leaned closer, speaking in a whisper, “She’s shy and she thinks you’re gorgeous.”

            Cassie’s eyes rounded like dinner plates. This lithe Goth-goddess thought she was gorgeous? Cassie had trouble believing anyone might be interested in her, let alone this stunning girl who could be some kind of indie model.                      

            “Oh,” was her brilliant reply. Then Steph was yelling from the open door of a taxi that Cassie hadn’t seen stopping right next to her.

            “Hey, she’s definitely free to have someone get rid of her—” Then Cameron performed a community service by clamping his hand over Steph’s protesting mouth before she could finish that line. Cassie was sure the colour of her hair had leached to her skin. She felt like a glowing beetroot. Trust Steph to blab about her virginity status like she needed to advertise she was on the market for deflowering. Maybe she should just get a tattoo on her forehead, “virgin here—do me”.

            “A friend?” asked tree-tall guy, sceptically.

            “Mostly,” Cassie got out through clenched teeth.

            “Oh, I’m Noah by the way.”

            “Cassie,” she said simply, nodding and twisting her head from Steph now making out with Cameron in the waiting taxi, to Grace who was peeking at her hopefully, and Noah who looked part confused and expectant.

            “Um, I’m not—I’m not in a relationship.” Cassie was fumbling in her brain for the words to let the gorgeous Grace know as far as she was aware, she didn’t swing her way. Admittedly she’d never kissed a girl or crushed on one, because whenever her hormones went haywire they invariably targeted Coop.

“I’m not—eh—I’m…sorry, I don’t usually go out with girls—um, women.” Idiot. She almost tagged on that she was actually flattered, because anyone would have been happy to know this girl was into them. Cassie opted to shut up knowing she’d only stick one of her Doc Martens into her mouth again.

            Noah nodded and it’s like she’d explained the meaning of the universe, righting his perception of the world.

            “Absolutely cool. And it was good to meet you.” He looked at the taxi and Cassie felt anxious, wanting to run from all of them. “Looks like you might need to leave.”

            “Yeah. And yeah, nice to meet you, Noah.” Cassie gave a small wave at Grace who was still smiling despite Cassie not being what she’d hoped for. “Great to meet you, too.” She gave Noah a grimace-grin before diving into the front passenger seat of the taxi. She felt like a complete dork.

            Somehow she made it home just after midnight. The taxi had dropped off Cameron and Steph at his parent’s house in Richmond. Steph had been mumbling incoherently at that point, and the quiet in the taxi despite the Bollywood dance music from the taxi driver’s stereo, was thick with tension. She and Cameron didn’t really talk. Apart from the, “Hey how are you and what have you been up to?” kind of conversations, they kept to themselves.  

            Letting herself into the South Melbourne townhouse, she noted the lights in the living room were still on. Lounging on a sofa was her dad, eyes closed while her stepmother, Tanya, was watching something on TV. Her dad blinked hearing her come in.

            “How was Zeke?” he mumbled, stretching to sit upright. Tanya, whose appearance was usually impeccable, looked equally worn out, an empty coffee mug on the table. 

            “Interesting sound. Going in a different direction musically.” There was no way her dad would understand, and he’d never gone to one of Zeke’s gigs. Cassie had passed on a couple of Punt’s mixtapes and made a point of playing her dad songs Zeke posted on SoundCloud. But he didn’t get it. 

            “I’m beat.” Cassie went to give her dad a kiss goodnight. “Night.”

            “Night Tanya,” she said with a tight smile.

            “Night,” they said in unison.

            After she’d trudged up the stairs, flopping onto her bed, that’s when the events of the night hit her and a zinging energy like a humming wire flared to life under her skin. She couldn’t sleep. Not with images of Coop and that feeling of him being so close and yet so far away from her. She was pretty sure she wasn’t into girls because she’d never responded to another female like she did with Coop. Although that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible, and she happily acknowledged if she thought a girl was attractive. But admiring wasn’t the same as desiring, at least in her head, and in the end it was about who they were as a person. She’d also been attending an all-girl’s school for the past three years, so by now she figured someone would have triggered her radar on that front. Steph had made out with plenty of girls, but she’d never taken it further to be in a relationship.

One thing Cassie was certain of, she’d never responded to another guy like she did with Coop, which made him kind of exceptional. And sure, she’d gone out with a few guys, made out with them, her most recent stint being Mike’s girlfriend before that went bust, but none had gotten her as frustrated and desperately wanting them as Coop did. All he had to do was get in her orbit and she was buzzing, feeling a pull that had no reason to it.

That slight caress of his hand, his breath on her cheek…she rolled sideways and clenched her thighs tight, sandwiching a hand between them that was twitching to touch herself and find some kind of physical release. It certainly was one way to fend off the sexual frustration, except she’d be fantasising about a certain someone in the process. Whatever pleasure she’d feel would be all too fleeting and the frustration would still be there, because it went deeper than just a physical desire. He’d still be unobtainable. She’d still be alone.

             Groaning, Cassie grabbed the duvet, wrapping herself like a burrito. She wanted to scream with the energy thrumming through her body and not being able to find a real target for it. She either had to stop thinking about Coop altogether, avoid ever seeing him again, or do what Steph had been prompting and find a candidate to date and do the deed with. Except, she didn’t want to have sex for the sake of it, or be with someone because it was better than being alone. Mutual use, friends with benefits—whatever—Cassie knew herself well enough to know it wasn’t what she wanted. So she’d wait. For what, she wasn’t sure. She only hoped it would be obvious enough when it happened, so that she’d know it was right.

            “Shit!” she screeched softly, reaching for her phone she’d dumped on the floor. She was tying herself up in knots. Wanting what she couldn’t have. Getting a fleeting taste of it only to walk away again. Trying to be reasonable except her body and her heart didn’t want to listen to her brain.

            She put the earbuds in and found Arctic Monkey’s AM. Do I Wanna Know blasted her ears, and that sexy, heart-thumping beat and guitar riff drowned out all thought and took her somewhere other than this bed and the aching void in her chest that she hopelessly wondered if she’d ever stop feeling.

4

It was some time close to the witchy hour of 3.00 a.m., Pen sat curled in a blanket on the sofa in the almost-dark. The blinds were up and an eerie, yellow light from the streetlights cast shadows across the room.

Images jabbed at her mind: of overcooking the fish; the burnt crust at the bottom of the saucepan from the pilaf; drinking one, then two, then three glasses of wine; Alex loading the dishwasher; Alex answering three calls on his phone, talking fast as he confirmed details of his trip. Then the blur of his hands on her shoulders, his mouth on her cheeks, neck and lips. Her head had been swimming by then, the sensations akin to sinking into a pool of murky water. She allowed him to undress her on the sofa, to pull her unsteadily to stumble into the bedroom and then she was falling: onto the bed, into darkness, into the sensation of his touch, her skin cold, as unresisting as marble.

Had she heard correctly? Four months in Antarctica? Or six? He’d be leaving in two weeks for Canada. A bubble of laughter spurted up her throat. She placed a hand over her mouth. Then bit the soft flesh of the palm of her hand, hard enough to draw blood. There were hot tears spiking her eyes.

From her shoulder bag came a vibrating sound. She squinted and then realised it was her phone. Even in this frozen state, her limbs locked, her gut tensed. It was late and no one called her at this hour on her phone. She untwisted her legs and limped, staggering to retrieve her bag. She dragged it back to the sofa and foetal curled beneath the wool blanket.       

The screen was bright blue—a missed call and one message. Sitting up, she placed the phone to her ear.

“Penny, sorry it’s late—but—it’s your sister. Cassie. Have you seen her lately? Please call me. Tanya discovered she’d got a tattoo on her arm—she’s flared up with eczema again. She got a tattoo! And she won’t talk to me! Penny, please call.”

Her mother. Pen sat staring at the now dull screen. Her sister. Cassie. Her stepmother. Tanya. Her partner. Alex.

Eyes closing, she leaned sideways and fell slowly onto the soft cushions of the sofa. She lay there, clutching the phone in her hand.

Drifting at the edge of dark and dreams, the sofa rocked gently as if buoyed by the open sea.

Or she was very, very drunk. 

Enough, she may have said aloud, enough for one day. Which was the last cogent thought as oblivion caught and dragged her down into sleep. 

5 

Cassie woke not being able to hear anything.

She panicked thinking the previous night’s assault on her eardrums had done its damage until she felt hard buds in her ears. She’d gone to sleep listening to music and her phone was nearly out of juice, stuck on Queens of the Stone Age’s The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret. High energy music to sleep to. Way to go Cass. It had obviously worked. She rolled onto her back and pulled out the earbuds. Still, she heard nothing because it was unusually quiet. She could hear cars outside on the street. At least something was moving. She checked her phone. It was mid-morning Saturday, and she didn’t have a clue whether anyone was in the house—anyone being her dad, or Tanya.

            Not too surprising, her mum had left a text on her phone. She’d been text-bombing Cassie this past week, enough that she was tempted to ignore it. She gave in:

            Wondering what you had planned for end of year? Do you want to come visit? Would love to see you xox

            For a moment, Cassie blinked stupidly. Like her mum had shifted gears and had traded hysteria for enticement as a strategy. Just the other day she’d made a frantic call to Cassie after being tipped off by Tanya about the tattoo and rash puffing up her arm. Tanya had surprisingly offered to take Cassie clothes shopping earlier that week (not so surprising when she’d noticed Cassie wearing her Led Zeppelin T-shirt three days running), specifically this overpriced boutique that had amazingly cool T-shirts. Trying one on, a black and white image of a surfer with “los vampiros” scrawled across it, distracted by the whopping price tag and having a WTF moment, Cassie made the unfortunate mistake of exposing her tattooed arm. Tanya had got the freak-out face, which had Cassie clamming up, saying nothing. End result, Tanya had thrown her under the proverbial bus, with her mum going into full-on panic mode.

Cassie hadn’t even said hello before her mum’s voice shrieked in her ear:

“…did you even think of what could happen with your skin? Are you stressed? Is that why…”

            Cassie had held the phone at a distance. Her mum’s voice had been pitched so high she had no problems hearing her.

            “Cassie! Are you listening to me?”

            She brought it closer. “Actually, I am.”

            “What’s going on? Tanya said you’ve got a big black mark on your arm and it’s puffed up and looks infected.”

            Cassie had been lying under her duvet, covering her offending arm. She’d slipped a long cotton sock over it, after slathering it with cortisone cream, and hoping that the itching would stop and the patchy welts would subside. The puffed-up black ink looked weird. Like she’d been branded. One evening, trying to do her homework with serious brain fatigue, she’d absently marked a 0 on her arm with a Sharpie. Then she’d decided to make it permanent.

Alpha and Omega.

The beginning and the end.

All or nothing.

The symbolism had felt right.

Sadly, it had hurt like hell getting it done, but that wasn’t the worst part. The tattoo morphed into a lumpy, red, scabby welt that spread into a rash. Steph had rolled her eyes, smirking, “I told you so.” As if warning Cassie that she should think twice because of her allergies made her Queen Responsibility.

“Not helping! And I still don’t care,” Cassie had shot back. Because she didn’t. She’d wanted this, despite the current predicament.                 

She’d been about to fall asleep when her mum called. Past 11.00 p.m., she wasn’t sure what time it was in New York. Her heart had thudded to hear her mum’s voice, pumping heavily in her chest. Then deflated. This wasn’t simply a hello; it was a diatribe. If Cassie had been stressed, this sure wasn’t helping.

“What’s going on there, Cassie? Why did you do it? Tanya said it looked like a tattoo!” The pitch was edging towards hysterical.

And Cassie couldn’t help blurting, “Why do you want to know? And yes—it’s a tattoo!” She hadn’t asked for her mum’s panic attack, she wanted to yell.

“What? Is that all you have to say? My God, Cassie! You know how you are with your allergies. A tattoo! Whose idea was that? You’re not even eighteen—how’d you get it done? If Tanya hadn’t called—”

Usually, Tanya would go to her father first, and then he’d pass on whatever issue to her mum. Not so this time. Cassie had barely seen her dad that week he’d been utterly preoccupied with work. So far, he hadn’t said anything and Cassie had thought she’d dodged a bullet.

“Cassie? Why would you want to mark yourself like that? And you haven’t answered my question—are you stressed about something? School? It’s school isn’t it—”

“I’m fine! There’s nothing complicated about this. My skin flared up, that’s all. And it’s not uncommon after getting a tattoo.” Cassie’s voice floated, was a distant sound in her head. The words were just words. They didn’t signify. And no way was she selling out Steph and her cousin.

Her mum sighed. She sounded helpless, defeated. The emotion was about her mother, not about Cassie. “I’m going to speak to Richard. Your father needs to be aware if there’s a problem with your reaction as a result of this. Have you been to see Dr. Richter lately? If you need help—”

“I didn’t say anything about needing help! You’re overreacting! I saw Dr. Richter at the start of the year and he said I was fine. And my arm looks worse than it is.” It actually itched like hell, but Cassie was relying on the fact her mum was in another country and couldn’t witness it for herself. Or, she’d be off to the specialist for sure. This had been the ongoing saga since she was a kid.

“You still haven’t told me why you did it in the first place! If you’re trying to hide something, it will only rebound back on you and you’ll get sick—”

Laughter shot from Cassie’s mouth. “What psych books have you been reading, Lina? Aren’t your two-year-old twins a bit young for that?”

“Don’t get nasty! I’m worried! It’s your final year and while your older sisters seemed to manage, I remember how Zeke got mono and was in bed for weeks, and that was brought on by stress.” Cassie snorted. Her brother liked to say he got the “kissing disease” from overindulging with his girlfriend, not from being a stressed-out year 12 student.

“Mum, it’s a rash. Yes, it came about after I had my arm inked. And no I can’t explain why I did it knowing I’d probably react like I did.” Cassie didn’t really care what her mother was feeling right then. Long distance phone calls could do that.

“I don’t know what it means, Cassie. That’s the problem. I don’t know and I’m worried! Remember how your face blew up—that started with a simple rash. What else is going on?”

Cassie had ended the call abruptly, not wanting to get into a discussion about what was happening, or not, in her life. She could hear Lina’s agitation, the frustration, close to tears. She couldn’t feel it though. Instead, Cassie had felt a fuzzy, limb aching kind of weariness. An ocean divided them, had buffered them for two and a half years. The reality was simple. Cassie was in Melbourne, Lina in New York. Cassie had visited twice, Lina, once. And that had been for an emergency.

She had no plans for end of year. She wasn’t doing Schoolies because apart from Steph, the small group of friends she hung out with at school either couldn’t afford to go away or had other plans. Steph was keen, but Cameron had been-there-done-that-got-the-Schoolies-T-shirt since he was now an oh-so-mature nineteen year old and was hoping for a getaway at his parent’s beach house down at Lorne. Which meant he and Steph could have their own private party because Cameron wasn’t extending the invite to anyone else.

            I just need to get through this freaking year! That’s what she wanted to text back. Two more months until exams and then it was over. New York in winter might seem like a great idea, but she’d have to contend with Lina, her two-year old half-sisters, Rose and Bella, and Aaron who she barely knew. Lina had finally begun consulting as an interior designer once more. She even had some loft space to work from which sounded so stereotyped, and a nanny for the twins. Cassie wondered if her mum was having a mid-life crisis, except Lina was never one for following a crowd. She’d had her crisis years ago that resulted in divorcing her dad. Cassie admired her mum’s energy levels—she was like a miniature fuel reactor. Thinking about just being near her mum was draining.

Cassie’s gritty eyes closed, and flashes from the night before played out. She groaned and hiked the duvet over her head. She had a ton of homework to do and an afternoon of paid work at the bookshop nearby in Coventry Street. Steph, pre-drinking, had reminded her during the taxi drive to the gig that they had multiple choice guesstimate test for the history class on Revolutions on Monday, only because she wanted Cassie to email a PDF copy of her notes. She also had an English Lit essay due same day, so brilliant! She felt like tearing the duvet cover with her teeth.

She’d also intended writing a blog review of Punt’s gig, except she wasn’t sure what the hell to say—“Surprise! Punt seems to be going in a weirdly unexpected new direction…”

Cassie was pretty sure she wouldn’t be favourable, and she couldn’t do that to Zeke. She’d been reviewing albums and gigs for a couple of years now on her blog/website and Instagram, and she’d never dissed one of Zeke’s gigs and she wouldn’t start now. Zeke was also one of her more ardent followers and always gave positive comments. She was just going to skip it like it never happened and plead hearing problems if he asked. 

Truthfully, getting her arm inked had been the most dramatic thing to happen in a long time. Not since she’d broken up with Mike at the beginning of the year. And didn’t that feel all kinds of pathetic. Or he broke up with her. It was that hazy now.

Cassie finally texted her mum: Thanks, I’ll think about it and get back to you xo

Pathetic.

6

A horrible grinding, whirring noise grated against Pen’s skull. Like a hive of wasps was partying in her head. The pungent smell of coffee was both harsh and familiar. Pen’s eyes were slits as she opened them a fraction, the morning light hit her retinas like lasers. She winced at the painful, nauseating thud of her head.

          “Pen?” Alex called from the kitchen. She could hear the preparations, the ritual of making coffee, toast, of muesli clattering in a bowl. She should have been up by now and in the shower. She didn’t move.

          “Pen?” This time he was hovering over her.

          “Yeah?” She opened her eyes a crack to take in his legs clad in jeans. He crouched down and was peering at her, too close. She was rugged up in a cocoon with only her face poking out. And her nose was cold.

          “Why’d you sleep here?”

          And now you notice? Pen couldn’t help feeling bitchy with the tiredness. Her aching head. He’d been out for the count when she got up, but hadn’t sensed she was missing until he woke. This had been the third night she’d ended up on the sofa. A fact she’d been waiting for him to comment on. Am I that invisible? It was a distracting notion.

           “Couldn’t sleep,” she muttered. “Got up and fell asleep here.”

          He gave her a quizzical look, touching her cheek gently. She closed her eyes as if holding the feel of it, which was all too brief. Then he walked back to the kitchen.

          “You’ll be late,” he said, stating the obvious.

There was something tugging at her thoughts, something jabbing into her ribs. She groped under the blanket and found it—her phone. Why? She opened her eyes a fraction and checked the messages. That’s right. She’d spoken to her mother sometime last night having delayed answering her messages as long as she could without appearing like she was ignoring her. There hadn’t been much she could say to ease Lina’s worry that her youngest daughter was either turning into a delinquent, or about to die from one of her extreme allergic reactions. Pen had no idea what was happening lately in Cassie’s life. Zeke was often the go-between, the sibling she and Cassie were both close to. It had only made Pen grateful an ocean currently separated her from Lina. Slowly she straightened her tingly limbs, her feet were ice blocks and flopped heavily to the floor.

            “I’m going in later today.” Pen slouched back against the sofa, wriggling her toes, the prickly sensation indicating blood rushing to her feet.

          “Why?” She couldn’t see Alex, but he was chewing. He was a machine in the morning. Up and out the door in thirty minutes. She’d timed him.

          “Rostered half day,” was all she offered as she got up and hobbled towards the bathroom. Then more generously, “Working on my thesis.”

          “Pen—” Alex called out but she resolutely walked away, not looking back.

She was still in the shower, the water raining down, when Alex popped his head around the glass screen, puckering up for a kiss. She barely found the strength to open her eyes. The sight of his squinched up lips, a leering cat’s bum to her grainy eyes, had that burble of laughter nearly escaping again.           

            “I’m off—see you tonight.” He flashed a grin, but didn’t wait for her reply. She could hear his phone ringing as he walked out of the apartment.

            Pen turned to let the water fill her mouth and spat it out. She shivered, still cold despite the heat and steam. What will it take, she wondered, to feel warm from the inside out? She twisted the taps closed and stepped out into the cloudy bathroom. The lights were too bright and she was grateful for the steam-smeared mirror. She could only imagine with her pale skin, she’d look as spectral as a ghost. Wrapping her hair in a towel-turban, and then one around her body, she padded into the chill of the bedroom.

Silence.                                                          

Pen sat gingerly on the bed; her stomach woozy. Alcohol had not been her friend last night. Or the two nights before that. Her weekend had been a blur. She focused on her breathing. This was what she would face for the next six months. Or longer. She still needed to confirm that fact with him. This silence. An empty apartment. She gripped the duvet as if it could keep her upright. Like holding on to the edge of a gently rocking boat that at any moment could tip perilously.

She wasn’t seeing the room, her clothes strewn on the floor; how Alex had neatly folded his clothes from the day before over a chair. No. She was feeling and hearing a profound nothingness punctuated by the distant hum of the refrigerator, the door slamming from the neighbouring apartment, a car starting in the street. She was seeing and feeling a blanketing heaviness, her shoulders bowing with it.

One year of living together and already they were spending a significant time apart. Would it always feel like this? Would he always be leaving while she stayed?

But the more jarring thought: Why am I not surprised?       

7

It wasn’t the alarm that woke Cassie Monday morning; it was the persistent knocking at her bedroom door.

She jolted with a spike of adrenaline, but not enough to shake the weariness. “Yeah?” she called out groggily.   

“Cass, can I come in? I’m sorry, it’s nearly seven but I have to leave for a meeting.” Her father spoke through the door with a soft, mellifluous voice. A slight accent that Cassie was barely aware of. The soft clicks and nasal intonation of English laced with Afrikaans. Richard was originally from Johannesburg, South Africa. They’d all been born there, but the family had moved to Australia just as Cassie turned twelve months old. Oddly, her mum had begun sounding like she had an American accent, no hint of her origins. Cassie felt like rolling her eyes hearing it. Lina was a chameleon, always able to adapt.

When Cassie tuned in to her dad’s voice, she had this distant recollection of how he’d been the one to read her to sleep as a kid. Apparently he’d never had much time for the others, but for her, he’d made an effort. That’s what his voice triggered for her. Even now. Soothing, engaging. But these days, mostly absent.

“Yeah. Sure.” Cassie sat upright, keeping her arms under the duvet. This wasn’t a wake-up call. Usually if he had an early start he’d make a point of saying goodnight the evening before. Something was definitely up.

Richard entered and sat at the end of her bed. He was perched. He was heavy. Her sleep foggy brain only noticed random details.

He cleared his throat. “Cassie, I’m not sure what to say. I tried speaking to Lina last night. She wasn’t in a good state.”

Meaning she was still hysterical. Cassie couldn’t help feeling annoyed. She clenched her teeth to keep silent.

“It’s not the right time for me to talk about why you got that tattoo, and I’m hoping that if there’s an issue with your skin you’ll see Dr. Richter. But you have to understand your mother’s worried you’re having a relapse with your allergies because of the eczema. I am, too. It’s hard with her being so far away and you going through your final year.”

Cassie’s amber eyes were gluey with sleep as they met her dad’s indistinct brown. His dark brown hair was greying. Cassie hadn’t noticed how washed out he’d become. It was on the tip of her tongue to retort her mother had become more of a control freak since she’d left. Which seemed ironic. And weird. Kind of like negative overcompensation.

“I know I haven’t been around much the past couple of months. So I thought we could have a chat when I get home tonight, just catch up and see how you’re going?”

Her father was waiting for her to respond. Like this was a conversation. He was playing good cop. The sane one. Or he was simply too tired to try anything else. Despite her foggy brain, she could tell he was concerned.

“Sure,” croaked Cassie. She wasn’t a morning person and he knew it.

“Tanya felt she had to say something, Cass.”

They stared at each other. She got it: don’t blame the messenger. Don’t blame his second wife for ratting. She’s squeaky clean. Cassie knew not to point the finger. Tanya could do no wrong. Or, maybe he couldn’t bear the thought that she could; like he’d have to admit she was as flawed as the rest of them.

“Sure.”

He hesitated before asking, “Can I see it?” As if he needed visual proof.

Cassie shook her head. “It’s fine, believe me.” A small challenge. If he said he trusted her, she needed proof.     

Leaning in, he kissed her forehead. “Okay, later then Cass.”

He levered himself with his hands and the bed groaned with the lightness.

Cassie flopped back down, bathed in the milky fug of the early morning light. She’d left the blind up. She could hear murmurings, goodbyes. Tanya had an early start as well. No way was she going out there with Tanya alone. Not today.

“Cassie?” Tanya called through the closed door. Cassie could picture her in one of her perfectly tailored suits, her bobbed brown hair beautifully coiffed.

Cassie waited, thought of feigning sleep, but her dad’s visit overrode that possibility. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

Definitely NO. “Sorry, still in bed.”

“Oh, it’s just—I’m about to leave.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need anything?”

God, the guilt. “Nup. I’m okay.”

Pause. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Sure.”

Cassie held her breath, waiting for the footfalls to reach the front door. It opened and closed. She sighed with relief. Both gone. Fantastic.

She swung her legs out of the bed and nearly tripped over her school backpack. Books strewn on the carpet. She’d managed to finish the essay for English Lit. The class had been given an opportunity to write on a text of their choosing. Cassie chose The Magic Toyshop, a coming-of-age story that she wanted to dive into and become. Not that she wanted to lose her parents and end up staying with a cruel, psycho uncle (luckily her own Uncle Nate was neither). Some days she just wanted to step outside of herself, her life. Get lost. Be free. Not be here. Escape the mad messiness of this year where she had so much work piled on her she couldn’t see beyond the next day, let alone make decisions about the next year. Or the rest of her life. Some days she just wanted to be someone—else. Whatever the hell that meant. All she knew was she wanted more, like if she didn’t experience some kind of shift or change, she’d self-combust.

A surge of impotent anger at her meddling mother and co-parents, at everything, had her kicking her books to make her way to the bedroom door. “Ow!” she howled as she stubbed her toe against her laptop, “IDIOT! Frick, frick, frick!” She’d been trying to use less of the “F” word around the house after letting rip an expletive so loud while doing some incomprehensible French translation, that Tanya and her father had heard it downstairs in the kitchen.

Hobbling, she opened the door a crack, heard nothing, then made her wonky way down the stairs into the open-plan lounge and dining area. It also included the kitchen. Her father had been renting the South Melbourne townhouse after her parents split. It had never felt like home.

She stood in a patch of sun and listened.

She was blissfully alone.

8 

Cloaked in a grey lab coat, wearing latex gloves and a mask that supposedly filtered pretty much anything toxic that was airborne, Pen sat at a high bench in a basement room at the Ian Potter Conservation Centre. She was dry cleaning the never-ending Melbourne University business archives.

            There were days when she couldn’t help but agree with her boss, Selene, that paper conservation felt a lot like a glorified cleaning job, especially when the material she was working on was so uninspiring, and was dusted with dry mould. It was enough to turn anyone off.

            She brushed between leaves of discoloured paper, placing them in an acid-free folder, and then packed it in a new archival box. Rehousing was satisfying because she could see the results of her efforts, but she quickly tired at the lack of meaning in this activity. Yes, she was performing a service and getting paid while studying for her master’s degree in cultural materials conservation, specifically art. She’d been one of the few to be taken on as a technician and she was grateful for the experience. But she wondered if Selene deliberately gave her tasks that were designed to frustrate her so she’d get fed up and ditch the whole conservation scenario.

            Today, she was definitely questioning it.

            She rested the Japanese bristle brush next to various tools laid neatly before her. She was incredibly tidy when she worked. Anal in fact. Which she’d been surprised at when starting this job. It wasn’t a trait she’d thought applied to her. Actually, if anyone in her family discovered this about her, they’d probably keel over laughing. Growing up, she’d been a notorious slob. Paid labour seemed to have brought out her sanitised twin. Still, it was one reason she was good at this. Her attention to detail, and the fact she rather enjoyed the meticulousness of the tasks meant she had the potential to pursue this career. Hand-eye co-ordination was essential. At some institutions they gave candidates jigsaw puzzles as tests to do during job interviews. Whether her brain was getting a workout was another matter.

            The upstairs labs were empty. Most of the conservators were off-site today and even the PA was on a break. Pen went to her locker, shrugged off the lab coat and went outside for some fresh air.

            She felt dizzy with the sudden rush of cool wind. Next week was the beginning of spring. It was a beautiful time of year, but winter still lingered, a biting cold tickling her bones. She shivered pleasurably.

            After grabbing a take-away coffee from the espresso bar next to the Ian Potter Art Museum she walked aimlessly along the paved paths of the university campus. There were messages on her phone to call Alex, and she knew she should speak to him, but her brain and emotions were waging a silent mutiny about his upcoming departure. Her default was to ignore a problem until it was about to explode in her face.   

            Her phone rang and Pen almost didn’t bother looking thinking it might be Alex, and then the blazing thought: He’s actually here on campus! So she could bump into him at any moment. Or, he might come to the lab despite rarely doing so in the past. A flare of anger threatened to rear its ugly head with that thought. Maybe she should just let him have it. She dug in her bag for her phone.

It was Zeke, not Alex.

            “Hey,” her voice went soft with relief. With only a year between them, they’d always been close, with Pen latching on to her brother almost as if he’d been her twin. They were the two middle kids, finding common ground having also been lorded over by Simone for years.

            “Hey you, I missed you at the gig.”

            “Thought you’d be too busy with your groupies,” she said slyly.

            “Huh! And no. It was a good crowd, though.” Modest as usual. “So how goes it? We need to catch up soon.”

            Pen sighed. Just hearing his voice was an anchor in this sea of confusion she was treading in. “Not sure. Alex dumped it on me he’s heading to Antarctica for a field trip. He’s going away for six months or more.”

            There was a pause before an explosive, “What the fuck!”

            If she could count on anyone to have her back, it would be Zeke. And not simply because he loved her. He really didn’t like Alex. It was one reason they hadn’t been hanging out as much. Pen had got tired of avoiding talking about her partner, which was hard given she lived with him, and also, Zeke’s assessment only fuelled the niggling doubts she allowed no one to see.

            “Why?’ Zeke asked forcefully. “When is he going away?”

            “It’s work. He was already going OS for a conference, so it’s just become this extended time away. And he’s leaving in two weeks.”

            “What the hell, Pen? I get the work thing, but did he even talk to you about this? Did he ask if it was okay with you?”

            Bullseye. Nailed it. The anger flooded then receded like the tug of a massive ocean wave, leaving a knee-weakening exhaustion, and her head was throbbing again. “No he didn’t.” She gritted out the words, conceding Alex hadn’t thought of her at all. He’d been too excited. Too caught up. Somehow, he’d assumed because it was work, she wouldn’t mind. Would be completely on board and compliant. Compliant. Like she would simply mould her life around the demands of his.

            “Do you want me to say what I think of him, or shut up? Because I’d be happy to tell you exactly my thoughts about what he’s doing.” The bite in Zeke’s voice said enough.

            “I’m too tired right now, Ze. I’m not sleeping well, and I’m barely functional.” 

            His voice softened. “I’m sorry, Pen. But I’ll say this. That’s a bloody selfish thing to do. I’m no expert on relationships, but he should be thinking about how this is impacting on you.”

            Maybe the universe was giving her a bone having Zeke call. He’d voiced what she was trying desperately to silence. “Why” was the question, and she was beginning to fear the answer. Where it might lead. Hence the not sleeping.

            “Thank you. But let’s talk about something else.” Avoidance. Yep, she was sooo good at that tactic.  

            Now it was Zeke’s turn to sigh. “Okay. How about dinner? Pizza, tonight?’

            Pen grimaced, “Can’t. Dad invited me over for dinner.” Which had been out of the blue. She’d agreed thinking that if she laid eyes on Cassie and she seemed okay she’d relay it to her mum and get her off her back. Two birds, one stone. “How about Wednesday?”

            “Sure. Lygon Street?”

             “Sounds like a plan.”

Pen’s fingers were itching to burrow into her bag and pull out a pack of smokes and light up. Not that she’d find anything. The craving had come back a few days ago. She’d kicked the habit when she’d moved in with Alex, because he was allergic. It was a no-brainer that his imminent departure had her regressing. She inhaled deeply.

            Zeke huffed into the phone. “Cool. And say ‘hi’ to Cass.”

            “Sure.”

            Pen wasn’t surprised he hadn’t mentioned their father, least of all Tanya. After the divorce, he’d stayed with Lina, as she and Cassie had, for part of the week. Their parents had agreed to shared custody. But when Zeke got a chance to move out when he left school, he’d made a point of distancing himself. Pen couldn’t blame him. That split had upended all their lives.

            “Although I might give her a call. Just check on her.”

“Why?” Pen hadn’t mentioned the tattoo drama, actually it just kind of wasn’t on her mind with everything else. 

“Well, let’s just say I had to run interference between her and Coop at the gig.”

            An electric jolt hit Pen’s spine. “What?” Coop? Zeke’s best friend who even she had to admit was hot.

            “Yep. Coop laid eyes on our not-so-little sister and it was like the lights went on. For both of them. I always thought she had a crush on him, but I think it’s a bit more serious than that.”

            “Coop?” Pen’s brain wasn’t getting past his name. Or the image of him without his shirt on. Or having seen him play at numerous gigs, totally lost in his guitar playing. Admittedly, she’d always liked Zeke’s friend Jake, with his dark curls and angelic face, he was also a brilliant artist and a really lovely person. Coop was edgier, simmering with restlessness like a caged feral animal. He definitely appealed to the wilder side she’d repressed. And that was just depressing.

            Zeke cut through her disquieting thoughts. “Yeah, sis. Coop. I got to admit, he hasn’t been the only one giving her the eye. There were guys at Mr Tulk where we had lunch last week giving her the once over although she had no idea they were looking.”

            “How old is Coop? Twenty?” Zeke was twenty-two. Pen was having a hard time getting her head around Cassie attracting this kind of attention. She’d been her kid sister for years, and now a guy like Coop was pursuing her. Unbelievable.

            “Twenty-one.”

            “Are you worried?”

            “Uh, I’m not sure. He asked if she had a boyfriend, I mean does she? I don’t even know!”

            “I don’t know, either.” Since moving out she hadn’t been in the loop about Cassie’s life, and they didn’t exactly keep in touch.

            “I feel like I want to punch him or sit him down and ask what his intentions are! This is stupid! I never thought I’d be acting the protective older brother.”

            Pen laughed. “If Simone had pulled anything like that on me, I would have punched her instead.”

            “Exactly. I mean it’s not like he’s not respectful of the girls he goes out with. His relationships just don’t last. And he’s a chick magnet and knows it.”

            “You’re no better,” chided Pen.

            Zeke snorted. “Yeah, sure—okay I’m being a hypocrite. And he adores his sister. I think he’s just never met a girl he really cares about.”

            Pen had to smile. Zeke was avoiding the “L” word. “You mean love?”

            “Yeah. That.” Pen knew Zeke hadn’t exactly found anyone he felt that deeply about. He loved his music and painting; he liked his university course, but as for finding a girl to love, no way.

            Pen took in her surroundings, the students milling around on the lawn. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was weak and thin, but it had finally made an appearance. She’d met Alex here. He’d come up to her while she was eating a solitary sandwich, feeling disgruntled and wondering about cutting her classes. She’d never truly felt comfortable here as a student, had fallen into doing an Arts Degree because she hadn’t got into art school, an experience she’d buried deep to get over the rejection. Alex on the other hand, had been in his element. He said her hair had shone like a beacon and he just had to find out who she was. Which was corny on reflection, except he’d noticed her amid the sea of students, and that had felt like a miracle. She’d been nineteen. He’d been her second serious boyfriend, the first she’d met at sixteen.

Which got her thinking about Neil, her first boyfriend in every sense of the word. How completely different he’d been from Alex. When Neil had moved with his family to New Zealand for his dad’s work, she’d been devastated. The breakup on top of the art school debacle had been the beginning of her zombie phase. She’d been sleepwalking through life just to get through it. Zeke noticed and valiantly tried to keep her from wallowing in heartbreak. It was also why at first, when she started seeing Alex, he actually warmed to him for bringing Pen out of her funk. 

            “Pen?”

            “Sorry, drifting. I don’t know what to say to be honest. I guess you could see how it plays out. It’s not like they see each other much.”

            “Except he could decide to call her. You know—seek her out.”

            “So let him.” Why not? Pen didn’t want to see Cassie get hurt by anyone, especially a friend of Zeke’s, but she was the last person to give relationship advice, and had no desire to interfere. She only had to think of Simone and how insufferable she’d been when Pen moved in with Alex, harping about how she was too young to know what she really wanted. God—it was enough to keep her mouth shut about Cassie and whatever was going on with Coop.

            Zeke groaned. “I know. He wanted me to ask her to come to a party we’re having this Saturday. A part of me thinks he might actually be serious, because he knows I’m not going to put up with him being a dick.”

            Pen looked at the Old Quad clock tower. She’d taken longer than usual for her break, but a part of her didn’t care.

            “Ask her. Let her make the choice and if you’re there, at least you can make sure she’s not out of her depth. Maybe they both have to figure out if it’s real.”

            “Shit,” he muttered. “Okay. You’re right. Anyhow, speak before Wednesday?”

            “Sure. See you.”

             Pen noted it was probably the longest conversation they’d had in ages. If she were honest, Zeke had made it pretty clear he wasn’t Alex’s number one fan. Actually, he was no fan at all. Whatever he disliked about Alex, Pen had tried very hard to ignore it.

Walking back to the conservation lab, Pen thought of the two months left before she handed in her thesis and a practical project of a collection of prints she’d been working on—cleaning, backing removal and mounting—for the Baillieu Library Special Collection. After that, she’d assumed she’d continue her work at the Potter or find something else.

            Putting on the lab coat and making her way downstairs to the basement, the silence and blank monotony of the corridor and rooms only dampened any enthusiasm at the prospect.

            Pen put on the mask and latex gloves. She pulled out a file with loose papers hinged together with rusting paper clips.

            “Bloody hell, this is boring,” she muttered to no one.

            With that thought, she proceeded to clean.

9

“Did you really think you’d get away with no one noticing if you’re not handling stuff?”

Cassie held the phone in one hand and a piece of wheat-free raison toast in the other. “Hi Sim, great to hear from you.” She bit savagely into her toast. She’d been so enjoying her afternoon snack minus family members for at least a few more hours.

“No sarcasm! This is serious.”

“What exactly?” Cassie chewed and waited.

“Mum’s been on the phone. And Dad.”

“Oh.”

“Well—they’re upset. At least Mum is. Are you okay? Why the hell did you do it?” Simone’s voice was swan-diving and pitching like their mother’s. Seven years older and Simone was becoming a mini-Lina Berkhoff. Cassie wondered if she favoured her dad, although Cassie had Lina’s temper and out of all of them, was most like her mum in appearance. Then there was Pen—abbreviated from Penelope—was she a bit of both? And Zeke, the only boy, he was nearly four years older than Cassie. Zeke was definitely not like their dad. He’d made a concerted effort to be as different as possible. Fronting a band. Occasional artist. Moved out the first opportunity he could while not accepting any financial assistance from Richard to do undergrad at RMIT studying industrial design. Laid-back. Self-contained. Artistic. Yep, so not like their dad.  

“I get it. You think you can intervene and find out the ‘truth’ and then get back to the parentals. Clever. You look great and Mum and Dad don’t have to worry anymore. And by the way—as I told Mum, I’m fine! It’s just a freaking tattoo and it’s not that noticeable!”

  Simone groaned. “God, Cass! Does everything have to be so hard with you? They’re worried about your allergies. So am I! Remember that time you got that rash on your face and neck and then your face suddenly blew up? An extreme stress related allergic reaction? Anaphylactic shock! You were hospitalised Cassie!”
            “It’s nothing like that, Sim. It’s my arm, not my throat. There’s nothing to worry about.” Cassie stuffed her mouth. Better than saying anything else.

“That’s not fair. Of course I care! No one wants to see you go through that again. And it’s your final year! And for heaven’s sake, why would you want to mark yourself Cassie? Tattoos are forever.”

Kind of the point, Cassie almost blurted out.

Then Simone did a subject change that gave Cassie whiplash. “This isn’t about either of them, is it?”

Cassie took her time, swallowed audibly. “What? The divorce? The remarriages? The births?”

“Adoption. The twins were adopted, Cassie.”

“I stand—or sit—corrected.”

“Seriously. Is it?”

Cassie dusted her hand on her jeans. She took a slurp of tea. Strong Earl Grey. “I got over it. All of it. Why does it have to be about anything?”

“Because with you and your allergies, it’s not simply normal.”

“What’s normal, Sim? Who do you know that’s so normal?”

“Great! You’re turning this around, so it’s about me. I know this game, and it won’t work! This is about you Cassie Carsten—”

“Berkhoff.”

“Whatever. And—why did you change your name?” Her sister was easily sidetracked, despite being a lawyer and in Cassie’s opinion, a trained assassin with words. Amazing how many lawyers were in her life these days, counting Tanya and Lina’s husband. She was getting used to ducking for cover to escape word-bullets.

“You’ve asked me that a gazillion times,” Cassie shot back at Simone. “Just say it—Cassie Carsten—it’s ridiculous! I sound like a comic book character. Without super powers.”

Cassie got up from the dining table and went to stand by the glass doors overlooking the backyard. Not much of a garden, more a courtyard with tasteful landscaping around the edges. No room for a dog. She’d wanted a dog. But her parents had argued that dog hair, cat hair…it wouldn’t end well.

“Enough. So you’re saying tattooing your arm with a big fat zero that’s become a big fat welt means nothing?”

“Zero does mean nothing.”

Simone yelped in frustration. “You can’t mean that!”

Cassie bumped her forehead against the glass. “I didn’t think about whether I’d react or not. The eczema is just a side effect. Why does there have to be a reason? If I say there was no reason, why can’t you accept that? I just wanted to get it done! If Tanya hadn’t seen it, or it looked fine when she did, no one would be overreacting about it. It’s my body and my choice. So forget attention seeking and acting out.”

“This is ludicrous. You did get found out and ‘no reason’ isn’t acceptable. Not to me. You’ve always been careful to manage your allergies and eczema.”

Cassie debated whether to simply cut off her sister. “Sometimes you just do something simply because you want to. Spur of the moment. Plenty of ‘normal’ people do that, don’t they?”

Pause. “I don’t get you, Cassie.”

“Yeah, I know. Sometimes I don’t get myself, so join the club.”

10

Five minutes after finishing work, Pen found herself in the 7-Eleven purchasing a pack of cigarettes. She walked to the tram stop in a kind of stupor.

            What do you want for dinner?

            Apart from the phone calls she hadn’t answered, this was the one and only text from Alex all day. She was tidying her worktable when she spied it and stopped, gaping at its normality, as if he hadn’t dropped a bomb the other day and their lives were suddenly no longer in sync. She picked up the phone, about to text back and then dropped it. Then picked it up, speedily texting:

            I left a text earlier—I’m going to Dad’s 4 dinner

            And of course he’d missed it, ignored it, or had forgotten. When he was focused at work, he didn’t get back to her for ages, and then often in vague terms, because his head was still preoccupied. She’d thought it endearing, almost envied his absorption and obvious love for what he did. So she accommodated it.

            Until now.

            Her phone rang. Alex. She was about to answer and then…didn’t. She shoved the phone in her bag, and waited for the tram.

            Standing room only in the packed tram heading for South Melbourne, she let her mind drift. Mostly to avoid the itchy heat of pressed flesh, body odour masked by various scents, and the glazed faces of her travel companions eyeing their phones. Despite the warmth, the cold panic that had propelled her out of the apartment that morning was edging back. A creeping chill in her bones. A brittle sensation where she resisted wrapping her arms around her torso to keep herself from rattling. She stuck her earbuds in and zoned out. It was way better than crammed bodies eerily absent in their own worlds, consciously ignoring each other as if proximity could be mentally walled off. Well it could, because she was doing it.

            Perhaps it was the lack of endearment, or just the blunt habit of checking in to see what they were each doing that had set off this mutinous urge. Pen felt cast adrift, as if an anchor that had been tethering her in place had abruptly broken, and the anxiety at being tossed into an unknown sea—it was pressingly real.   

            Getting off at the corner of Park and Clarendon Street, Pen sucked in oxygen with the relief of sudden movement and space, then ambled slowly, actually away from her destination, delaying going to the townhouse and having to face family.

Pen halted to a sudden stop. She’d come to a street corner with what looked like a gallery and workshop, arrested by riotous colour she spied through a large glass window. Huge blooms drooping, petals about to spill. It could have been a painting. It was hung in a small gallery space facing the street.

“I’d forgotten this was here,” mused Pen out loud.

A tapestry workshop.

She peered through the glass towards an open doorway and a spacious room with large wooden structures. Looms. Half-formed tapestries. Cones of wool arranged in a spectrum of colours. Entering she stood close enough to see the tapestry’s texture, woven threads that melded to create a luminous image, her gaze intent on the enormous blooms in shades of carmine to fuchsia. She stepped away. She looked again through the doorway into the room at the back of the exhibition space, saw people milling around the large wooden frames. She was drawn to the coloured tubes of wool most of all. Every colour imaginable.

“Can I help you?” Pen startled at the voice. The woman beside her was diminutive, dark hair in a pixie cut, red-framed glasses.

“Sorry, I just saw it from the street.”

“It’s beautiful isn’t it? The original is a painting by Tim Maguire. A contemporary artist.”

“This is a copy then?”

“Yes. A commission. We’re displaying it for a month. We’re doing a series of tapestries based on paintings by Australian artists.”

“Why?” Pen blurted, uncensored.

The woman smiled, but not condescending. “A commission from the State Government. The tapestries will be displayed in various public spaces.”

Pen stood, mesmerised. “It’s lovely.”

“Do you weave?”

  “I’ve never tried,” admitted Pen, surprising herself when she offered, “I used to love drawing, though.”

“It’s easy to learn.”

“Do you teach?” Pen had this odd inclination to reach out and touch it. To rub her skin against it like a territorial cat. She’d never had such a tactile response to an artwork before.

And it made her think of her mum who’d surrounded their family with colour, textures and artworks, many by local artists from Johannesburg that had travelled with them to Australia. Pen had never fully appreciated the significance of her mum’s involvement in the art scene in South Africa, and the political, racial and social issues behind much of the artwork. She’d shied away from anything to do with politics growing up in a family that at times was defined by it. Her father and his brother, Nate, who was still living in Johannesburg, shared an antagonistic relationship that Pen vaguely had a sense was fuelled by opposing political views that was now smothered by distance and silence.

“No, I’m one of the weavers,” answered pixie-lady. “But a few people do teach who work here. Wait a moment.” She ducked through the doorway to the back room. She returned with a flyer.

“Sally gives lessons. If you’re interested.” Pen took a flyer. The name Sally Gilbert was printed against a colour image of the Maguire tapestry with a contact number.  

“Thank you.” Pen returned the smile.

“Anytime.” Then pixie-lady slipped into an adjacent room with a large table and chairs. Pen stared at the flyer, looked at the tapestry. She’d never seen anything like it. A bubble of feeling pressed, swelled. She isolated a strand of it as she folded the flyer, placed it in her bag and exited the gallery.

Yearning.

She had no idea what for.

11

“Cass?” Zeke’s voice was muted, like he was worried he’d be overheard.

            “Dude, you don’t need to whisper.”

            “Actually, I do. Got some friends over and I’m sneaking in a call.”

            “Girlfriends?” Cassie smirked.

            “No! And I don’t do plural! No—got the band around.”

Zeke lived above a bookstore in Gertrude Street in Fitzroy. It was a basic set-up with a small bedroom only big enough for a futon and clothes rack that overlooked the back alley and parking area of the shop. There was a larger space above the front of the shop that served as a lounge and makeshift studio, a strip kitchen along one wall and between the two rooms, a tiny bathroom only big enough for a shower, toilet and sink. He’d bargained for cheaper rent by painting the place and fixing it up himself. Cassie wasn’t sure where his practical skills came from, although possibly it was from Lina who’d had her own electric drill and extensive toolbox to fix things around the house. But what was truly beautiful about the place were the wall murals he’d created: one in the lounge and one in the bedroom. His friend Jake said his work reminded him of Jackson Pollock.    

“Oh,” Cassie murmured, lying on her bed, and immediately an image of Coop came to mind. “Have you got a gig coming up?”

            Zeke was vague. “Yeah, Thursday and Friday—and there’s something else in the works. But hey, how are you? Spoke to Pen earlier and we’re going out for pizza this week, want to come?”

            Cassie smiled. For the first time since the arm saga she wasn’t feeling anxious at someone hounding her. Zeke would be kept out of the loop. He didn’t speak much to their parents, and Simone, pretty much not at all. They didn’t see eye-to-eye about most things—actually about life in general.

“Nuh. You guys have fun.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah. Got too much homework.” Which was true. She didn’t want to admit she felt like she was crashing their party; that she’d feel like a third wheel. Pen so often seemed in another world, kind of self-sufficient and a bit vague. She was also tight with Zeke in a way that Cassie had always been envious about despite she and Zeke bonding over music and shared interests. Cassie was pretty sure Zeke wouldn’t be dumping his girl troubles on her, or creeping out of the house to smoke in the park down the street like he and Pen used to do.

            Cassie was curious he’d asked. “Something up?” He didn’t usually invite her to meet up if he was busy with a project. Or when he was seeing Pen.

            Zeke laughed. “Hey, can’t I see my sister? I miss not seeing you regularly.”

            She missed him, too. Despite what her dad thought, Zeke was the sane one in Cassie’s opinion. He had his head screwed on right. His way of seeing the world resonated with her, although she kept that to herself. She was still living under Richard’s roof.

            “Another time,” she suggested.

            Zeke was quiet. “You sound flat. What’s up?” He was also very perceptive. Cassie sighed. No point telling him what was going down with her arm. He wouldn’t care about the tattoo, but he’d be worried like everyone else, jumping to the worse possible scenario.

If she could take back one moment in her life, it would be the day she ended up in that hospital bed with her family surrounding her and confounded by how she’d got there in the first place. And horrified, because she’d looked like she had a balloon-head with her skin red raw and peeling into the bargain, like she’d been burnt. She’d been dosed with epinephrine to reduce the swelling of her throat, so she could breathe. So she wouldn’t die. No way did she want a repeat of that. It didn’t help that no one else in her family had her allergies or skin problems. Simone had minor food allergies, but that was it. Cassie might give him an edited version later. Or maybe skip saying anything at all. She was so over it.

            “Got dinner. Tanya’s sprung a meal on us and Pen’s here.” She had hoped this was going to be the one-on-one her dad had promised. But no, Tanya decided to buy deli food, and Pen had turned up out of the blue. Which was suspicious. Cassie was living on a knife-edge, just waiting for a group intervention.

            “Pen mentioned it.” Which added fuel to the fire of her anxiety.

            “So, what’s up with her? I mean Alex isn’t here.”

            “He’s pissing off on some work thing to Antarctica.” Zeke had a short fuse when it came to Alex. He thought he was a tight arse. And arrogant. There was a list of Alex’s shortcomings according to Zeke.

            Cassie perked up at that bit of information. Pen had said nothing when she’d entered the house, saying hello to Cassie before making a beeline for the pantry, bringing out bread, butter, Vegemite and the toaster. Cassie vaguely recalled this was her morning-after-hangover food, because it was Zeke’s as well. Sprawled on the cream sofa with her Docs propped on a cushion having changed out of her school uniform, Cassie had observed all of this while reading.

            “Big night last night?” she’d asked, despite the fact it was now late afternoon.

            “Crap night,” Pen answered then excused herself and retreated upstairs to her former bedroom.

            “It’s work though, right?” Just thinking about Alex made Cassie’s face squinch like she was sucking a lemon. Cassie didn’t know Alex well. She was happy to admit that. Often when Pen spoke about Alex, it was in relation to his work. Environmental science, specialising in Arctic research and climatology. It sounded impressive. Cassie’s eyes had always glazed over and she was sure Pen noticed.

            “Apparently,” Zeke said tersely. “She just heard about it, so she’s still processing. Better not bring it up unless she does.”

            Message clear. It didn’t come from Zeke. “Sure.”

            “But hey, gotta run. Oh, and we’re having a party this Saturday at Carlton, want to come?”

            Cassie’s mind went blank. Flashcard words popped up. Party. Saturday. Carlton. Coop.

            “Yeah. Sounds great.”

            “Cool. See you then.”

            Okaaay, that was unexpected. And kind of exciting. She’d gone to parties at the share house where Coop, their band mate Henry, and Jake lived. Zeke crashed there often. That was no big deal. But this—this felt different.

            Cassie turned off her phone and checked the time. Too soon for the Lina diatribe. But dinner was coming up, so hey—who needed her mum? She had her uptight, although reasonable father and his tense, well-meaning wife to contend with. 

            Cassie groaned, curling up on her side and wishing she could just sleep through it all.

12

Pen was lying on the bed that just a year ago was where she’d crashed most nights, talking with Alex.

Tanya had kept the duvet cover, a plain soft cream. The sheets and pillowcases were white. Her desk was gone, the white glass lamps were a recent addition, but the side tables were the same blonde wood. The framed drawing of a horse, an Arabian in profile, remained hanging over the bed. Pen had drawn it in year 10. Precise, beautifully rendered, anatomically correct.

            Alex was straining on the other end of the phone. Stretching words to try and comprehend what she was saying.

            “What do you mean, you’re staying?” Bemusement, a hint of panic. She liked that there was a bit of panic.

            “I’m just tired and thought it was easier to crash here later. Cassie might like having someone else around.” She was fudging it, tacking on the statement about Cassie, who’d seemed wary about her presence. Not exactly welcoming.

            “But why? I mean I know Cassie’s obviously going through something. But—your dad and Tanya can deal with that.”

            Pen smiled indulgently. Alex had one brother who lived in Canada. Similar field of study, similar job, and five years older. They’d never got on. “I just feel like staying.” It seemed a good enough excuse. And Pen didn’t feel up to analysing. She’d leave that to Alex.

She idly looked at the screen of her phone. Alex’s face popped up when he called. A quick snapshot she’d taken recently. He was sitting at his desk in their apartment. He’d just turned twenty-eight. Dark curling hair, a strong jaw, full lips, dark brown eyes that she used to believe held depth, but now she often saw a shallow reflection when she peered at them. A longish nose that wasn’t quite patrician and a little too large for elegant. Solid looks. Handsome. Peculiarly, no longer surprising after being together for three and a half years. When they first started going out she used to marvel at seeing him after only a day apart—as if she’d forgotten how his face was put together, how the small details of creases, scars and bristle would suddenly stand out, making his face anew.

            “Pen? Are you there?” He was anxious. Suddenly she realised why—she never did anything unexpected. Not lately.

            “Yeah. Look Alex, I’m staying. There’s leftovers in the fridge and the take away menus are in the bottom drawer near the sink.”

            Alex was silent. Maybe even stunned. She’d never been so abrupt before. Pen stretched her legs, felt the downy softness of the duvet with her toes and closed her eyes imagining sinking into the large bathtub in the main bathroom.

            “Okay. I’ll—I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            The imperceptible catch in his voice endeared him to her—until she remembered the emptiness of the apartment that morning and the six long months ahead. Possibly longer. He’d kept emphasising that point. That’s what had kept her up these past nights. The slipperiness of facts; thinking about the empty space he was so eagerly wanting to leave her with. That he wasn’t really thinking about her at all.

            “Yeah, tomorrow.” When she said it, she wasn’t even sure if that were true. Alex picked up on it.

            “Pen, is this about me going away?” Only a touch petulant. Enough to make her vague. “Maybe.”

            Alex sighed. “Pen, please, you know—” But she wasn’t interested in hashing this through. The silence of the morning had seeped into her bones, hollowing them out.

            “I’ve got to go help with dinner.”

            “Pen—” He sounded frantic.

            “Night Alex.”

She switched off her phone.

13

Cassie kept waiting for it, but it didn’t come.

No post-mortem, no interrogation. When Tanya called out that dinner was ready Cassie was checking for new music on her SoundCloud feed. Her fingers were slick with sweat and she’d chewed on a couple of nails that she put Band Aids on so she’d stop. A habit her mother had loathed, but was irresistible when she was stressed. Dragging herself off the bed, she met Pen coming out of her old bedroom, which had her doing a double take, like a ghost had materialised. So used to the room being empty, now suddenly occupied. As if time had rewound. Pen gave Cassie a wry grin, no commentary, as they went downstairs.

            Richard was lounging, half asleep on the sofa and Cassie knew he wasn’t going to make a fuss. He was exhausted and Tanya was slowly getting sloshed. The silence was unsettling. The TV noise couldn’t cut through it to allay her fears. She hated being under scrutiny.

            Tanya had laid vegetarian lasagne and salads on the dining table for everyone to help themselves. There was no sense of a meal being shared, of the ritual of getting together at the end of the day to catch up and tell stories. In contrast, Lina had wanted to be part of their lives. Sometimes a little too much. Dinner had been the one time where differences were accommodated and arguments could co-exist with laughter and genuine listening. It was her mum’s gift to create that kind of environment and it echoed inside Cassie, how much she missed her on such occasions, even while she fought against the missing. Such a push-pull relationship, Cassie didn’t know half the time how she really felt about Lina.  

            “Help yourselves,” said Tanya, stating the obvious. She was the first to be seated and her father was last. He gave both Cassie and Pen a quick kiss on the cheek, not too surprised to find another of his daughters at home. Pen calmly dished out salad, offering the bowl around. While Tanya focused on dishing for herself, Pen made sure they all got a bit of everything.

            “How was work?” Cassie asked Richard, wanting to break the tense quiet and hopefully, deflect any questions.

            Richard chewed thoughtfully. “Board meeting.” Cassie nodded. Tedious and long winded. She knew the drill. Richard was the managing director in Australia of an international mining resource company based in South Africa. Tanya had been one of a legal team that had worked on a take-over bid that his company had made around the time of his divorce four years ago. The fact he was involved in mining, in a country they no longer called home, had alienated Zeke over the years. Cassie had never heard Pen voice an opinion, and Simone was a corporate lawyer and had the least qualms, because she was more ideologically in line with him. Lina had always discouraged questioning their father’s profession saying it put food on the table, and paid for their educations, home and privileges. For years Cassie had no idea where she stood on the issue, except recently she’d begun questioning her dad about the environmental impact, only to be deflected. 

            “I had the morning off,” Pen piped up. “Worked on my thesis.”

            “How’s it going?” asked Tanya. She was calmer now with food and drink supplied. When they had dinner parties, she got catering. If Lina had known she’d have swallowed her tongue.

            “Good. Editing the final draft.” Cassie smirked into her plate grateful Pen had shifted the focus from her.

            “Are you happy with it? asked Richard.

            “Yeah. I could possibly submit early which would be good. Takes the pressure off work.”

            “And Alex? How is he?” Richard was fairly non-committal about Alex. Cassie couldn’t say what his true feelings were. Lina had been far more vocal, never quite certain how Pen had become involved with someone so conservative. Such a polite way of saying boring. Or dull.

            Pen waited, ate some lasagne. “He’s going to Antarctica for a research expedition. He’ll be away for six months.”

            Brilliant. A decoy. If Pen hadn’t looked so glum Cassie would be gleeful.

            “Antarctica? For work?” Richard had stopped eating.

            “Why the hell would he want to go there?” Tanya was loose lipped by now.

            “It’s his research,” said Pen tightly.

            Tanya was incredulous. “For that long?”  Even Cassie had to admit that was a clanger.

            “Yeah. That long.” Pen kept eating mechanically. Whatever she was feeling about it, she wouldn’t spill. It wasn’t her way.

            “It’s understandable. Travel down there isn’t regular and it’s his work.” For Richard it was all too self-explanatory, except looking at the sullen bow of Pen’s head it was no longer so simple.

            “Not a great sign. What—you guys have only been living together—what a year?” 

            “Tanya! Really, that’s a leap.” Richard’s voice was uncharacteristically stern. Cassie had never known him to berate Tanya in front of anyone.

            Tanya pouted. “Sorry. Just—well—it’s not a great thing to do so soon. That’s all.”

Cassie was becoming sullen herself. Way to go, she thought wryly. This was turning into a wake.

            Pen laid her fork and knife on her plate. She’d barely eaten. “Sorry, I’m feeling really tired all of a sudden. I might go and take a bath.” She smiled apologetically at Cassie and her father, tried to include Tanya, failing.

            “That’s alright, darling. I’ll see you in the morning.” Richard held her hand briefly as she passed him, taking her plate to the kitchen. Tanya watched from the sidelines, her face inscrutable.

            Cassie felt horribly vulnerable, wondering which of the two of them would hoe in. Tanya had all the subtlety of a blunt blade when tipsy and her dad was plain tired. They resumed eating and finally, as Cassie took her last mouthful, Richard sat back, his eyes resting on Cassie. He dove right in.

            “Cass, I don’t want this hanging in the air between us, but I did promise we’d talk about how you were going. Are things okay at school? Do you need to see the specialist?”

            Cassie held his gaze steadily. Small ravines dug from his nose to the corners of his mouth. Grim, but gentle. Cassie slumped back in her seat.

            “I’m okay, Dad,” she said softly, suddenly feeling incredibly weary, as if it were contagious.

            “Why would you want to do such a thing, Cass? I mean, getting a tattoo was bound to set things off with your skin. And there’s the issue of how you got it. Don’t think I don’t know you need to be eighteen and your school prohibits them.”

Always the “why”. Everyone was hooked on the “why” of it. It stumped her. Confused her. When she thought of all the extreme things she could have done, this seemed ridiculously minor. God, she never did anything outrageous. She knew enough girls at school into cutting, crazy dieting, taking amphetamines to keep up, and alcohol or other drugs to get buzzed or numb. All stuff she kept to herself. Except, it was all about the fear of what might happen with Cassie. In that sense, it was almost on par with trying to hurt herself. All this worry was doing her head in.

            “There wasn’t really a reason. I just did it because I wanted it. Look, I was careful about who did it, and I’m eighteen in six-and-a-bit weeks and out of school in November.” She was on repeat. Again, she kept Steph out of it and tried to sidestep the legality issue.

            Richard wiped his mouth with a paper serviette. Lina always had linen. Soon they’d be eating off paper plates to save Tanya doing any washing up. Cassie snuck a peek at her. She was watching thoughtfully. Thankfully silent.

            “Alright, I know there’s no point going on about it since it’s done. That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. But you know why we worry.” Yeah—she knew. She just didn’t know how to quell everyone’s fears. Not long after she’d been critically ill, she’d overheard her father saying to Lina he’d take the image of Cassie in that hospital bed to his grave. She’d seen the shock, disbelief and fear on everyone’s faces at the sight of her. Days after being admitted to the hospital, when she’d been able to get out of bed, she’d vomited at seeing her face in the mirror.

            “Do you need to see Dr. Richter? Or someone else? If you’re stressed about school, we can arrange for you to see someone to talk to, or get you additional tutoring.” Then hesitantly, following that line of thought he asked, “Is it something at home?”

            Cassie could have kicked herself when she darted a look at Tanya when he said this. It wasn’t lost on Tanya, even if Cassie hadn’t intended it to mean anything. It was one of those mindless occurrences that accrues meaning by context. Tanya almost gasped, her glass tipping in her hand before she put it down.

            “I haven’t—” Tanya began, and Cassie knew she was going to defend herself, when she butted in. “No, Tanya, I didn’t mean to look at you like this has anything to do with you. Please. I’m sorry.”

            Tanya huffed, but was only slightly mollified. Richard looked worried. Because maybe Cassie was covering something. Geez, she hated all this speculation.

            She pushed back against the table, wanting out of there. “Dad, it’s not anything obvious. Getting the tattoo isn’t about school—it’s about me. School’s okay. I’m not loving it—some days I simply hate it—but it’s manageable. And yeah, tough. Really tough. You’ve seen how hard I’ve been working. But I’m fine most of the time and I’m keeping up. I just don’t want some psych being paid to talk to me and figure out stuff that might not even be there.” Cassie felt dizzy with the absurdity of trying to make sense of a situation that was spiralling out of control. She just wanted to be left alone and to get as far away from her family. Spending the night—the week—at Steph’s was so tempting right now.

            “Look guys, I’m sorry for freaking you all out. I didn’t think how I’d react. But I’m managing my health. Have for a while. I’m okay.”

Cassie got up, picking up her plate as she headed for the kitchen, catching Richard’s mouth opening then closing, and Tanya’s hard stare.

            She couldn’t help shaking her head as she walked away. What a freaking mess. And for what?

14

When Pen closed the bathroom door she blocked off all sound. She was in a bubble and it was perfect.

            Bloody Tanya. Pen glared at her reflection. The harshness of her thoughts couldn’t match her expression. Her face was drained, her eyes underscored with dark smudges, her lips slashed red with lipstick. Smudged. Her whole face looked smudged.

            She opened the taps and put the plug in the bath. There were lavender bath salts; she nearly tipped the entire container in. Immediately the smell wafted and soothed. Her limbs ached. Her head was pounding.

            She’d checked her phone. A message from her mother wanting to know if she’d spoken to Cassie. Three messages from Alex—all texts. He loved to text.

Message 1:     

We need to talk Pen. If this is a problem. We need to talk. I don’t want you to be upset by this. I don’t want this coming between us.

Message 2:

I love you Pen. I mean it. I love you xox

Message 3:

R u deliberately ignoring me?

Pen laughed, aghast at the last one. Was this all about him? She turned it off, not answering any of them, which she knew wasn’t helping the situation.

Slipping into the bath, she groaned. It was comfort, support, a balm. Here in this bath, she felt an aching contentment. There were people around her. It was tense with what was going on downstairs, but Cassie seemed okay, a fact she’d be passing on to Lina. She’d been engrossed in a book when Pen arrived and it was like a throwback to her previous life, pre-Alex, because Cassie always seemed to be reading. Maybe that was her escape. Pen’s had been art.            

How did I get here?

Suddenly her life felt so far from where she’d once imagined she would be.    

Pen was on the brink of crying. Something in her was about to snap and she was helpless to stop it. She closed her eyes, felt the swelling lump in her throat and then she slipped further into the water, until she was submerged. She held her breath and then like a whale, she spumed water from her mouth as she rose to sit, gulping air to breathe.

15

 “Hey, where are you?”

            “At Dad’s.”

            Pen had obviously surprised Zeke with that admission. “Seriously? It’s after ten.”

            “I’m staying over.”

            He hesitated before saying, “Okay, well, that works, do you want to meet at the park? I’m about fifteen minutes away.”

            Pen didn’t even have to think. “Sure. See you there.”

            She unfolded herself from the bed, slipped her feet into a ratty pair of navy Converses she’d found in the closet, threw on her khaki military jacket, and rifled through her bag for the pack of cigarettes and lighter

            Cassie’s door was shut and quickly checking her phone Pen realised it was close to 11.00 p.m. She was losing track of time, which was unnerving. The carpet dampened her footsteps, but the stairs were wood so she tried being stealthy, noticing the dimmed light in the lounge and the door of her father’s study closed. She felt like she’d shaved years off her life, creeping around to get out the house. Zeke had been her accomplice. Edging out the front door, she breathed deeply when she hit the sidewalk, moving purposefully to the park down the road. This was her and Zeke’s hangout, where they’d found some semblance of peace when the family was going to shit.

            Zeke was already on a swing and Pen wedged her butt on the one next to it. They just sat there, lulled by the lazy back and forth motion. For the first time in days, Pen felt the tightness in her chest ease.

            “It’s been so long since I’ve come here I can’t remember,” mused Zeke.

            “Same. But why haven’t you?”

            “Probably why you haven’t. Avoidance.”

            “The family?”

            Zeke kept swinging, seemed disinclined to answer. Pen didn’t want to push. Something had shifted in Zeke’s relationship with all of them. Lately he kept to himself, not really involving himself in their lives. Pen thought he avoided her because of Alex. But maybe there was something more and she’d been too self-obsessed to see it.

            “Dad mostly.”

            “Oh.” She had a good idea why. They’d talked about it only once, and never brought it up again. She’d somehow got used to ignoring the tension between Zeke and her Dad, but she’d been absent herself since moving in with Alex. Zeke kept swinging and Pen decided to let it go. If he wanted to talk about it he would. She reached for the cigarettes in her pocket.

            Zeke’s eyebrows hiked. “Thought you gave that up?”

            “Yes, but when I get stressed the urge comes back.” She fumbled with plastic, finally managing to pull out a cigarette. Her dexterity was off and Zeke grabbed the lighter to help her. The first drag had her almost doubled up coughing.

            Zeke laughed. “That should tell you something.”

            “What?” Pen gasped.

            “Maybe old habits should stay dead.”

            She glared at him and took another drag. She nearly choked and her lungs protested. “Aaargh!” she yelled and then got up and went to the bin, putting out the cigarette on the side before dumping it.

            She flung her arms in the air. “I can’t even get that right!” Stomping back to the swing, Zeke smiled.

            Popping a mint in her mouth she resumed swinging, welcoming the blank calm of thinking nothing much at all. She was tired of her thoughts. Or she was just tired.

            “What’s up, Pen?”

            She closed her eyes, sinking into that chilled-out, familiar presence beside her that was Zeke’s vibe. God, she’d missed him.

            “I don’t know.”

“When’s the last time you stayed at Dad’s?

“The day before I left to move in with Alex.”

            “My point exactly.”

            “I don’t know what to think. That’s the problem. I’m seriously confused. And pissed.”

            “Yep, I get that.”

            “Lay into it, Ze. I know you don’t like him.”

            He sighed audibly. “I’m worried about you. I don’t care about him. Sorry to say that, but as long as things were good between you, I was happy for you.”

Tough, yet fair. Just one more thing she’d missed. The fact he’d call her out on her bullshit, or the fact she had a tendency to put blinkers on and hide.

            “I haven’t been sure about things with Alex for a while.” There, she’d said it out loud.

            Zeke was quiet while they swung companionably, somehow matching each other’s rhythm. That’s how it had always felt with Zeke, that they could find their pace together and take things in their stride. It was never forced with him like it was with Simone. Simone had a mind that honed in on flaws. Maybe that made her a good lawyer. She was so hypercritical, Pen spent more time trying to dodge Simone than fight back. Pen had to admit Cassie was way easier, simply because she kept so much to herself.

             Pen wasn’t even conscious of what she was about to say when it slipped out. “How do you know what you want?”

            Even with her eyes closed she could feel Zeke’s stare. Could imagine the expressions flitting from surprise, curious, to worry. A wave of exhaustion came with the question, as if she’d dumped more than just the weight of being unsure about Alex. This was about her life.

            “Mostly I don’t know. I mostly do what feels right at the time.”

“It just seems easy for you.”

“Maybe I don’t overthink like you. And I’ve never had this need to think too far ahead. Probably the last time I really thought about what I was doing with my life was early this year. I didn’t say anything, but someone I knew in high school died.”

            Pen’s eyes snapped open and she turned towards Zeke. His swing was barely moving and his eyes were cast towards the sky. It was a classic Zeke pose. He loved looking heavenward.

            “Who?”

            “No one you know. But Coop knew him, too. Patrick used to play basketball with us. He went on a road trip on his motorbike around Australia.” Zeke’s face softened in the wash of a waxing moon. “God, I was envious. He gave us the lowdown after one of our gigs. Coop was seriously considering getting a bike just so he could go along with Pat.”

            Pen held still, her breath coming in puffs visible in the night air. Zeke swayed a little with the swing and she mimicked the movement. It had always been a thrill seeing how high she could fly. Zeke had matched her swing for swing.

            “He posted a lot of stuff from his trip on Instagram. He was a photographer, so the visuals were brilliant. He texted us like crazy, probably to make us jealous. It was amazing what he got up to. It was Coop who noticed Pat hadn’t texted us in a while, no posts either. That’s when we got a call from Pat’s brother. He’d been in a road accident. He was thrown clear off his bike when a car hit him. He didn’t survive the fall.”

            Pen felt numb trying to imagine. “I’m so sorry.”

            Zeke shook his head as if to dislodge the memories. “Coop and I got drunk after we heard. Didn’t plan it, just cracked open some beers and sat in the backyard thinking about Pat. It was our version of a wake I guess. For him. We drank more than I was used to; that’s when Coop gets philosophical.”

            “Seriously?”

            Zeke smiled so that she saw the dimple in his left cheek. “Yeah. Not something he lets anyone see much. But it hit him hard. Me too. He started wondering what the point was, to being here. Making choices and where it would lead. What we were supposed to do with our lives knowing it could end like that.”

            “Shit,” Pen muttered, the weight of all those thoughts tumbled in her brain all at once.

            “Yeah. Exactly. But I was thinking the same. The fact we don’t know, and it’s so clichéd, but yeah, it could end like that, so how are you going to live? I mean I don’t think about death much. Coop hadn’t given it that much thought, either. But we did think about it after Pat.” He smiled ruefully. “At least for the night.”

            They let the words hang between them for a moment.

“So what did Coop say?”

            “We talked a lot about what mattered to each of us. Stuff we loved about being here, I guess. Because Pat truly loved squeezing everything out of his life. He always saw the upside. He always wanted to take photographs. It was one of the motivators for his trip. His older brother had a camera that he started playing with one day, and that was kind of it for him. Like he knew that was what he wanted to do more than anything.”

“That’s rare.” Pen felt an old ache flare to life. Hadn’t she felt like that when she was drawing? More alive. More real. More joyful. Like everything made more sense?

“Exactly. Then Coop threw it out there that if we took the money out of the equation and any pressures or expectations others might have, what would we want to do? That really made me think. I mean, you need money to survive, but if it wasn’t what motivated you to do something, like take a job simply to get by, what would you choose to do?” Zeke looked at her then, and his eyes glimmered with more than reflected light, like stars glinting in a pool of water.

            Pen’s mouth opened and then she shut it. What would she do?

            Zeke laughed. “Yeah, exactly. That’s how I responded. Coop and I kept drinking and I kept thinking until I stripped back everything I was doing and why. I’m amazed I could think, but even with the beer, I remember feeling icy cold and my mind was pretty sharp. Like the knowledge Pat was gone had dug into my bones.”

            “What did you come up with?” Pen felt an edge of desperation, wanting to know.

            “I love my art. So I’d keep doing that. I love making music. So yeah, I’d definitely keep doing that. The design course—well, I actually started doing it out of curiosity, like, why not? It sounded interesting, combined some stuff I was into at the time like solving problems, creating objects, applying something you’ve made into a practical situation. So, I’m good with keeping that up, just for the sheer fact I’m learning and creating and perhaps I might develop something worthwhile. One thing came up though, I’d probably want to volunteer helping with the environment in some way. You know, beach clean-ups or something practical. But that’s more about finding the time.”

            Zeke flashed her a grin. There was something about how the words he said and the ease with which he expressed them seemed to settle in his face. That he was in a solid place, that he knew why he was doing what he was doing and happy about it. No doubt, no struggle.

            She envied that. Fiercely.

            “And Coop?”

            “Yeah, he was pretty happy with what he’s doing. But that didn’t surprise me. He loves music and he’s always got his head in a book. He’s as bad as Cassie.”

            “Maybe they can bond over that,” Pen quipped.

            “Huh! Given the vibe between them, I’m not sure they’ll be talking books for long.”

            Pen laughed and swung higher, just as Zeke did. That sudden weightlessness pushed her out of the heavy tension from their talk.

            “So, what would you do?” Zeke asked again. The backward-forward movement soothed her, but the words when she finally spoke them were pellets of lead rolling in her mouth.

            “I really don’t know.”

Zeke had no response to that. 

16

“You have got to be kidding me!” squealed Steph over the phone.

            Cassie held it away from her ear. She was absolutely stumped trying to decide what to wear to this party Zeke had invited her to. She didn’t have party clothes. She didn’t do parties.

            “Tell me you have something to wear.” Steph could read her mind. Cassie hadn’t told her about Zeke’s invite until now. She hadn’t been sure she’d go until now—now being Saturday—and the invite hadn’t extended to anyone else. She knew a lot of Zeke’s friends. That wasn’t the problem. Her stomach was in revolt and she was tossing up whether being sick was a serious option.

            Cassie cast a despairing glance over the jeans and array of tops laid out on the bed. All she could think of was walking into that house and seeing Coop. Perhaps what she was wearing wasn’t going to matter. He’d seen her wearing jeans and T-shirts for years. But that look he’d given her last Saturday, those words. No, she was going to make a bit more of an effort, if only to have him look at her like that again.

            “I have no idea,” she admitted.

            Steph turned serious. Despite the gradual rift between them because of the whole dating Cameron issue, they still maintained a friendship Cassie had come to rely on. And one thing Steph got serious about was clothing. “With your figure and face Cass, don’t overdo it. You don’t need to.”

            Cassie almost dropped the phone. “What do you mean?” Was that a compliment?

            Steph sighed. “You’re so not aware of what you look like and that’s actually part of why you’re so gorgeous. You haven’t a clue how other people see you!”

            “Serious?”

            Steph hooted with laughter. “You really have no idea. But getting down to business. Wear jeans. You look great in them. It shows off your curves.”

            Great. The curves.

            “And wear that black V-neck knit. It hugs that chest of yours in all the right ways.”

            Ugh. Her breasts. Yes, they were noticeable. Not that she tried to hide the fact. She couldn’t. She wasn’t huge, just, she had an obvious bust and getting used to that fact when her peers were still flat chested, hadn’t helped.

            “And wear some sexy underwear, girl!”

            “Are you kidding me!” screeched Cassie. The thought of anyone seeing her underwear was going into territory that had her hyperventilating. Mortified. She and Mike had indulged in some pretty heavy make-out sessions, but she’d never stressed over her underwear like this. Hadn’t she imagined that with Coop? Well, yeah she had. Yet admitting to it by deliberately wearing sexy underwear was taking a step in a direction that felt all too real. And yes, she had a black lacy bra and panties that would be perfect. A gift from, of all people, Tanya.

            “No kidding! Seriously! Now back to clothes. Boots—not Docs tonight. Those black suede ankle boots your mum sent you would be perfect.” Lina had excellent taste, the boots were great and she’d only worn them a couple of times. They had a heel, but it was a little chunky so she could walk in them. When Cassie laid the clothes on the bed, the outfit looked simple, elegant and edgy. She wouldn’t feel too conspicuous. Steph was really good at this.

            “Yeah, that works. Thanks!”

            She could practically see Steph rolling her eyes. “Wear your hair part up and down, you have beautiful hair and against the black, glorious.” Wow, she was laying it on thick. The look she was asking for was how Cassie wore it last week, so it was easy to do.

            “Now, make-up.”

            “Oh, no way! I’m not good with that stuff.” The make-up gene had skipped her. Lina, Simone and Pen seemed to have mastered the art of minimal make-up to the point she didn’t know if they wore it half the time. She had cast-off lipsticks and mascara among other things, but Cassie never bothered with it.  

            “Simple Cassie! Some mascara, which any idiot can put on. There’s that deep red lipstick that your mum wears and gave to you. You’re so similar in colouring it should work. And dust some mineral foundation to lessen that blush of yours.”

            “What?” Was she permanently red in the face, was that what Steph was saying?

            “Just a light dusting, even out your skin tone. Not a lot. You don’t need it. You’ve got creamy skin and when you blush you can’t hide it anyway.”

            Okay, not so complimentary.            

            “Got it Cass? Low-key, yet sexy.” Crap, why did she have to add the sexy tag? Cassie didn’t do sexy. Cassie felt far from sexy.

            “Got it,” she said more to appease Steph than agreeing with her.

            “Get ready and then send me a photo, I want evidence! If I imagine what you’ll look like, Coop will be drooling.”

            Cassie couldn’t imagine Coop drooling over anyone. It was usually the other way round.

            “Cassie? Don’t chicken out on me!”

            “I’m not! Look, I’ll call you when I’m done, okay?” Anything else was overload at present.

            “Sure. And honey? You’re naturally gorgeous, don’t worry I’m just suggesting enhancements.”

Sounds like a boob and Botox job.

            Cassie got ready. Her hands trembled, with excitement or fear, she wasn’t sure. Her stomach was swarming with winged things. The fluttering didn’t ease when she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, clipping her hair so it was partly up, the deep garnet shade vivid against her black top. The top served to emphasise the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist and the swell of her breasts. God, she was serving herself on a platter. Her almost round, heart-shaped face was swallowed by her eyes, which were enormous amber orbs lit with nervousness. The mascara darkened her usually dark brown lashes; the lipstick plumped her lips, giving them more definition than usual. She wasn’t sure about the dusting powder, but brushed a little over her slightly reddened nose and cheeks. Not too much. She was flushed with anxiety and that wasn’t going away anytime soon.

She was finished.

            Coming out of the bathroom she bumped into Pen. 

“Wow.” Pen stepped back and seemed at a loss for what else to say.

Cassie still couldn’t get used to Pen being here. The fact she had effectively set up residence in her old bedroom this past week was a subject no one was bringing up. They hadn’t interacted much except yesterday Cassie found a wad of copper hair clogging the shower drain and had furiously got out the shower, wrapped herself in a towel and pounded on Pen’s door. Pen had yanked it open, wearing a holey paint splattered T-shirt and underwear. Her offending hair was a chaotic halo.

“This is disgusting!” Cassie barked, holding the dripping wad of hair in Pen’s face. She hated early mornings and she hated having to fish someone else’s hair from the drain.

“What?” Pen wasn’t that great in the morning, either.

“Your hair is clogging the drain!”

“Cass, that could be yours, you know. Not just mine.”

“I know when it’s mine! Mine’s longer and this wasn’t there when I showered yesterday!”

Pen’s bleary eyes rolled. “Sorry.”

“Clean it up!”

“I said sorry!”

“Fish out your own freaking hair!”

“Cassie, it’s just hair!”

Cassie whirled towards the bathroom. “But it’s not mine! It’s disgusting having to deal with someone else’s hair in the shower.”

            “Okay! I get it!” yelled Pen behind her. Cassie flipped her the bird.            

Cassie hadn’t exactly been endearing herself to Pen, so she was hesitant asking,    “Um, I look okay, right?”

            “More than okay, Cass. You look great.” She sounded taken aback. Shocked even. Cassie wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted that the rest of the time she looked like something else. Something less. Then she noticed Pen’s eyes swimming, which was rare enough to have her panicking.  

            “What? What’s wrong, Pen?” Great, I can make people cry with my appearance. That’s my super power.

            “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you remind me of that picture of Mum when she was younger that Dad took.”

            It was so unexpected Cassie couldn’t breathe for a moment. She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. She knew that picture. It was framed and positioned on her dad’s desk. It was surprising Tanya hadn’t confiscated it except Richard kept it among a range of photos of all of them.

            “I don’t mind,” Cassie said softly. Richard had taken the photo the day he’d asked Lina to marry him and her mother looked radiant.

It was the best compliment of all.

17

Pen stood at the threshold of the apartment.

Not even a week, and she’d tipped her life upside down.

The night after her sleepover, she’d made a hasty but determined decision. She was moving back to the townhouse while Alex was away. Her announcement had stunned Alex, who had no comeback. That is until the evidence of her decision hit him in the face. Pen had rocked up to the apartment after work and proceeded to pack without care. No preamble, no debate. She’d opened two suitcases and threw clothes in with hangers, folding them to fit, but without any sense of neatness, of wanting to make best use of the space. She packed indiscriminately. Lingerie got chucked in with shoes. Hoodies and knits with skirts and jeans. Her toiletries she piled into canvas shopping bags, emptying her belongings with urgency, as if time was against her.

“You can’t be taking everything?” Alex stood arms akimbo in the doorway. He’d been standing there for minutes, fixated by her frenzy.

“But why?” Alex finally asked, unable to decipher her behaviour, her sudden absence; her lack of response to texts and voice messages. And now this.

“I just don’t want to stay here alone.” Admittedly they still had a couple of weeks until he left, but somehow, that didn’t matter. It was so obvious. So simple to Pen. Even with the tense atmosphere at her dad’s, the proximity of family, of people who knew her and accepted her, was enough comfort to secure her decision. She’d lain awake for most of the night wondering if she was just scared to be alone. There was some validity in that. Didn’t she have enough in her life to fill the void, the silence that Alex would leave behind? And the chilling voice in her head: No. She didn’t. The quiet revelation settled cold and heavy in her gut.

That alone, without Alex, she felt a desolate emptiness. Like she had nothing. She was nothing. That she couldn’t imagine herself in their home without him. More to the point—didn’t want to be alone in the apartment.

Who am I without you?

And why you? Why are you defining me?

How did I get to this point?

She’d flicked the bedside light on, opened the closet and found a storage container with an unused sketchbook and pencils. Picking up a 2B pencil she’d written those questions, sitting on the floor in one of her old paint encrusted T-shirts and panties. She’d sat and willed questions and thoughts, shivering with cold and a numbing fear. She couldn’t see herself in the apartment alone because she was afraid she’d simply disappear. She’d come to that bleakly honest admission.

Now, she emptied her possessions with purpose. To get as far away from here before Alex left. It mattered that she left before him, never mind that it flew in the face of being supportive, of being his partner in life.

“Stop. Just stop for a minute, Pen.” His hand whipped out to hold her arm. He was strong, his grip fierce.

Pen’s hair was long and hanging loose around her face. The layers were growing out and she had no desire to cut it. Apparently, Cassie seemed to have also eschewed their mother’s hairdresser these days who’d cut all of their unruly hair, preferring to cut it herself. Pen waited for Alex to speak. So often he would talk and she’d be silent. The longer she couldn’t talk back, the more he tried to talk to her. For once he was chasing her. 

“What?” She shrugged out of his grasp. The chest of drawers was nearly empty of her stuff. She retrieved the small jewellery box from her bedside table.

“I don’t get this. Are you leaving?” She halted at the real hurt she could sense behind the words, knowing what he meant.

Pen didn’t hesitate in her answer. “No. I’m staying at Dad’s. I just don’t want to have to keep coming back to get stuff.”

“But this is ridiculous! You mean you won’t be here at all? I’m not leaving for two weeks yet!”

Pen had paused. Perhaps they should rent out the apartment. It would be sitting here empty. Alex had bought it before they’d moved in together, and Pen helped with the mortgage payments. The thought made her tired. Too much to organise and truthfully, it would mean packing all their stuff and right now, she wanted to focus on the simple task of packing enough of what she needed.

Alex could take care of himself for a couple of weeks. It was this imperceptible shift in focusing on her needs that was freaking him out.

Alex had talked while she listened yet the decision was made. He was going away for work; she was moving back to her dad’s home in the meantime. In her mind it was straightforward. She wasn’t ready to face the fear head on. The questions she’d scrawled in her sketchbook, she’d left unanswered. Pen was propelled by the sheer momentum of the date of his departure and her residency in her old bedroom. Tanya had been tight lipped that morning, but oddly gracious when Pen had raised the issue of staying, sensing more to the move than Pen ever let on. Her dad had been mostly quiet, accepting her decision without comment. If only Alex could see this was what she needed. To do this without being questioned about her motives, no talk.

Alex had stood helplessly, despairingly. He kept asking if this signified more than she was saying. He’d offered to come back early and not go on the field trip, pleading that she speak, give him some idea what she was thinking. That she was making a decision too quickly.

As if you didn’t do the same thing! She’d almost let the rebuke fly from her mouth, but she didn’t make the tit-for-tat point because it seemed childish.

All Pen could see was an impending time looming before her; the apartment empty; Alex too far for regular contact; a bed like an unmoored boat in a vast ocean that could never lull her to sleep, and hours spent in silence that would gradually fill and drown her with fear. She was running from it and yet facing it all at the same time. Eventually they would need to talk; she just didn’t know what to say at present.

And when he’d pleaded that he loved her, Pen just didn’t feel it. Or, she didn’t let herself feel it, because then she’d have to ask the hard question of how much she actually loved him.         

So here she was, lifting her hand to knock on the door before realising she should be using her keys. Alex had insisted she come over. He was going to cook dinner for her. Pen had been shocked enough at the offer that she’d agreed.

            “Pen?” Alex was immediately standing in front of her as she opened the door. He was wearing jeans and a pale blue shirt. Staring past him, she noticed bags and boxes stacked around the living area. He was readying to leave. Mid next week and he’d be gone.

            “Hey,” she spoke softly, unsure. The smile felt full but strained on her face.

            “Aren’t you coming in?” he teased, but his expression was just as tense. In such a short time, so much had shifted between them.

            Pen walked in and Alex’s arms came around her, tight enough she couldn’t breathe. He kissed her forehead, the crown of her head, and then bent to kiss her lips. She let him. For once it wasn’t her reaching for him. She felt the moistness of his tongue as it teased then gently pushed into her mouth. She held still. There was real passion in this kiss, except she felt like she was looking down from above, not feeling it in the way she remembered. That tickle in her belly that would ignite; heat suffusing her skin, making her bones pliant, it just didn’t happen. She pulled away.

            “Thanks for dinner.” She spoke like they’d already had their meal and they were done for the evening. Alex didn’t take it that way. He looked eagerly into her eyes, wanting to gauge her mood.

            “It’s a simple meal. Salmon and vegetables. I know you like baked salmon.”

            Actually, she did—as long as she didn’t have to cook it herself—and he’d remembered. Pen smiled. “Thank you.” This weirdly felt like a date. Not two people living together and settled.

            “Come, I’ll get you a glass of wine and you can relax.”

            She was getting the full treatment. Not since the days when Alex was living by himself had he done this. Pen sat on their sofa. He had music playing, jazz, she wasn’t sure what. It was low-key and the lamps glowed, so everything about the room felt more intimate. If it weren’t for the boxes of equipment and thermal weather gear, she could forget what had transpired and just enjoy the moment.

            “How’s Cassie?” Alex asked from the kitchen.

            “Fine.” Pen didn’t feel the need to elaborate. He’d asked about Cassie each time they’d spoken and from being around her this past week, she didn’t think there was anything to worry about. Cassie’s skin had cleared and no obvious rashes had cropped up anywhere that Pen could see that might be a prelude for something worse. 

            Alex handed her a glass of wine. He touched her shoulder before going back to the kitchen. These small touches had been common when they’d first met. She’d thought he was affectionate, but familiarity and living together had lessened, not increased their physical contact. That was one startling realisation she’d made on reflection. It’s why moving out hadn’t hit her as hard as she’d thought. She didn’t miss not being touched or held or desired, because that hadn’t been prominent in the past few months. Somehow she’d numbed herself to the fact Alex was more caught up in his work of late than he was in her. That after she’d moved in, he’d begun taking her for granted.

            “I saw Zeke for dinner on Wednesday.”

            “Yeah, how is he?” Alex’s tone was neutral. The enmity was mutual.

            “Good.”

            Dinner had been more than good; it had been fun. Zeke didn’t bring up the issue of her absconding and Alex leaving. They just ate, chatted, laughed and it was easy. She missed easy.

            With Alex, she knew he’d want her to analyse whatever she was going through. At some point in the evening, he was going to ask the same questions that came up during their phone conversations. She’d tried expressing some of what she was feeling. Alex had again offered to come back after the New Zealand conference, admitting he should have consulted with her, but Pen knew he’d end up resenting her and this trip was important for his career. Still, letting him go didn’t resolve her tumultuous feelings. It was a catch-22. They went round in circles because there was no clear-cut solution. All this had done was create a chasm where a fault line had already existed.

            “Dinner’s ready, Pen.” Alex was lighting candles at the table. When Pen stood, she saw him illuminated by the flickering light. For one night, he was doing everything possible in an effort to please her. An inexplicable sadness gripped her, squeezed tight up her chest to her throat.

            At that moment, she almost asked him to stay.  

18

Cassie clutched her duffle coat to her chest. It was an odd form of protection, as if she could shield herself from whatever the night would bring.

            She had no idea what would happen. The thought terrified and thrilled her.

            The door to the share house was wide open. Cassie wondered if the guys cared who showed up for the party. The hallway was strung with fairy lights, a really sad attempt to disguise the peeling paint and damp blooms across the ceiling. It was an old, double-storey Victorian terrace that had never been renovated. It had reasonable carpet, but it needed a paint job and probably treatment for rising damp. But tonight, the walls glowed white and Cassie was drawn to the back of the house where the lounge and kitchen opened up to a cement-paved backyard.

            A couple of guys she didn’t know were leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, beer bottles in hand and talking to each other across the opening. Cassie had to somehow navigate between them and while she was deciding whether to go side-on to avoid any touching, they both stood straight and made room for her, grinning and saying “hi” while Cassie felt her nerves shredding.     

            “Hey, Cass!” Zeke called from across the room. It was almost bare of furniture except for a battered two-seater sofa, beanbags and huge cushions on the floor. People were sprawled or seated, some standing along the edges, the crowd spilling into the kitchen. The music was coming from the backyard. Zeke said they’d got a friend to set up a turntable. Punt wasn’t making an appearance and Cassie was kind of glad about that because she wasn’t sure she enjoyed their last gig. If there was impromptu karaoke she was leaving.

            Zeke grabbed her into a huge hug and she spied a few people she actually knew over his shoulder who were waving and calling out. Her stomach settled a little. A few known coordinates and she might actually relax.

            Or not.

            “Hey, want a drink?” Zeke knew she wasn’t into beer or hard liquor. He held her hand and pulled her into the kitchen.

            “Hey, Cass! Great to see you!” Ted was a friend of Zeke’s from his school days. He slapped her on the arm and Cass smiled and mouthed “hey” above the increasing noise. Whoever the DJ was, he was already getting a funky dance groove happening, although no one out back was dancing. That might happen later when people loosened up. 

            Zeke grabbed a bottle of mineral water from a bucket filled with ice. He held it up. Cassie nodded. “Thanks.” She screwed off the cap and took a gulp. The cold water was a welcome hit. “More people coming?”

            Zeke leaned against the sink. “Yep. It’s still early.” Then he did something very uncharacteristic, his eyes travelled from her feet to her face. He was giving her the once over. Cassie swallowed more water, blushing furiously. So much for that dusting powder, it wasn’t going to hide anything.

            “You look beautiful.” Cassie spat like a camel. She coughed. Zeke laughed and thumped her back. “Come on Cass, I’ll take you out back.”

            Fairy lights were strung along the fence. The one lemon tree was decorated with Chinese paper lanterns, an assortment of plastic folding chairs and banana lounges were scattered around the yard, but clusters of people were mostly standing. It was magical in the way that ordinary places can be transformed by energy, sound and night. That sense of anything being possible swelled in her chest, gave her more courage than she felt. She wanted to be here and after smiling at quite a few people she recognised, she wasn’t so out of her depth that she couldn’t swim. But so far, no Coop.

            “Whoa, Cassie?” It was Jake Bernstein, probably one of the few guys who could make her stop thinking about Coop. He was gorgeous. Even Pen admitted she’d once had a crush on him.

            “Hey Jake.” She smiled as he gave her a one-arm hug and kissed her cheek.

            “You invited your better-looking siblings to give you cred, Zeke?” Jake joked while keeping his arm around her shoulder. Cassie happily stayed there. Jake wasn’t a flirt and had never made her feel uncomfortable. He had a laid-back quality that was a lot like Zeke.

            Zeke just laughed. “I’m going to let that slide. And yes, she is better looking.”

            Jake grinned down at Cass. “You know you remind me of that Titian painting…”

            Both Cassie and Zeke groaned. “Yeah, we know the one,” quipped Cassie.

            Jake kept grinning and then his arm dropped as he reached for a lovely, slim girl with auburn hair and almond brown eyes. Cassie squinted. “Ella?” Unbelievable! Jake was with Ella? Cassie remembered Ella from having hung out with Jake’s sister, Luce, on occasion. She was a couple of years older, but Cassie had never thought there was anything between the two of them.

            “Hey Cass.” Ella smiled warmly. She and Jake’s arms entwined, their bodies curving into each other at a simple touch. They were definitely together. Cassie raised her eyebrows at Zeke who shrugged. Luce wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Cassie was jolted by the memory of one time she’d been here when Luce came over to visit Jake. That was the day Coop had walked into the kitchen without a top on—a sight forever stamped on her brain—and his eyes had honed in on Luce with the precision of a sharp shooter. Suddenly, she felt less sure. She’d never felt jealous thinking of Coop with other people, but maybe that look had been just that, a look. An appreciation and nothing more.

            “Hey, you okay?” Zeke whispered close to her ear.

            “Yeah, um, I might just go to the bathroom—can you hang onto this?” Zeke nodded as she gave him the mineral water. She still held her duffle coat.

            Walking back inside she wove through the bodies. There were more people now in the lounge and even the hallway. She was grateful the bathroom was upstairs, away from the crowd. At some point a queue was bound to form. Closing the door she leaned against it. She breathed. Her phone was vibrating in her coat pocket and she pulled it out. A text from Steph.

            How’s the man of your dreams?

            Cassie almost laughed at the absurdity of that question. There was no man of her dreams, or he was just a figment of her imagination. Staring at the mirror over the sink, her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed. With all the people out there, why should she stand out? Why would Coop be interested in her?

            She put her phone back in her duffle coat pocket and lifted the toilet lid to pee. Washing her hands when she was done, she decided she’d stay a bit longer, maybe hang with Jake and Ella and find out what the story was there, then call for a taxi. This wasn’t her scene. She didn’t have a scene. She was seventeen, nearly eighteen years old. A year 12 student who had a cool brother in a band. She was here because of him. Enough said.

            Exiting the bathroom, the queue for the loo had definitely started and she grinned vaguely at people as she ducked back downstairs and into the lounge.

            “Cass?” The voice came from behind and it was getting so crowded she had to twist between two people to turn around, nearly squashing her face against a guy’s chest. Coop.

            “Cassie.”

She stared up and her blood went haywire, flushing her cheeks, pumping her heart, tingling her toes. She could smell him she was so close. Some musky deodorant, a citrusy smell that could have been washing detergent, his T-shirt was soft against her hand she’d put up to stop herself falling. And heat. She felt the heat of his body like a personal space warmer.

            “Hey Coop.” Not the most original greeting but she actually didn’t care. Words didn’t matter. Her brain was computing sensations, not words.

            Coop placed his hands on her shoulders. He was surprisingly gentle. And the look on his face. He was studying her. Her face. If his eyes went lower she didn’t notice because she was pressed against him. He seemed intent on her face. Just as she was on his. His eyes were clear, no drink haze. His hair was longer than usual. When she first met him, it had been cropped short because he played sports, mostly basketball. Cassie was overwhelmed by sheer proximity and the fact he was a foot taller.   

            And it was way more than that. Especially when his lips curved into a smile that wasn’t a smirk or a lazy flirtatious come-on like he’d aimed at Luce that day. No, it was a smile that was sincere. This was a Coop she’d rarely seen before.

            Coop lowered his head so his cheek was almost touching hers. “I’m glad you came, beautiful.”

            Which shut her right up. She felt the warmth wafting off his skin and wanted to touch that cheek, to feel whether it was as soft as it looked. She was hoping this wasn’t his version of smooth talking, because that would turn her right off, but that smile stayed firm and his eyes weren’t trying to pin her, they were almost soothing.

            “Come, I’ll get you a drink.” His arm went around her shoulders as he guided her to the kitchen. Like Zeke before, he pulled a bottle of mineral water from a bucket while he grabbed a beer. She wasn’t sure whether she minded that he thought she was too young to drink alcohol, or being really considerate because she didn’t. Which meant he knew something about her. With his arm still protectively around her, he walked her to the backyard. It was chock full. Cassie hated crowds because she was short, but next to Coop, she felt she could breathe, like he was a barrier to being mashed in. The music blasted a sultry beat that lulled Cassie rather than bludgeoning her senses like Punt had. She felt dazed. Coop was slowly manoeuvring her through the crowd to a bench seat along the side fence. Since most people were standing, there was space to sit. Cassie sighed with contentment. Her face tilted to see the stars, dim but present in the sky.

            “Hey, I know you’re not into crowds. Zeke’s always saying he can’t believe you turn up to our gigs because you hate them.”

            They were so close she could hear him clearly. His arm was across the back of the seat and they were sitting thigh pressed against thigh. She didn’t feel the need to put on her coat, a combination of Coop’s heat and her own crazy blood.

            “Yeah, I do hate crowds. If I can find a bit of space I’m okay.” She didn’t want to think how she’d looked the other night. Elbows out to keep others at a distance, like some demented chicken dance.

            Coop grinned and a delicious dimple creased his cheek. She’d never noticed that before. She’d never been this close to him before. “Thought so.” He took a sip of his beer. Her own mineral water was a cold block in her hand.

            Those eyes. She couldn’t seem to stop gazing at them. The wonder of it was he was gazing right back.

            “How’s uni?” Somehow, her brain could dredge up a sensible question. It also seemed meaningless because they weren’t communicating with words. If Cassie had doubted before there was something going on between them, she didn’t now.

            Coop shrugged. “Honours year. So, tough. I’m writing and working as hard as I did in year 12.”

            “Seriously?” If it was anything like what she was doing, she was surprised he found the time for much else.

            “Uh huh. I bet you’re having fun.” So, he wasn’t going to avoid the fact she was still at school. That eased things a little.

            “Yeah. Fun,” she said, dryly. Cassie had no desire to elaborate. He’d been there.

            Coop grinned knowingly. “It’s probably the worst question to ask, but do you have an idea what you’re doing next year?”

            From anyone else, her answer would have been a resounding YES! Worst question ever! But Coop managed to sound interested and also respectful of the fact it wasn’t the best thing to ask, but he wanted to know.

            Cassie tilted her head again to look at the stars. Even with the city lights hazing the sky, they were visible and it always amazed her, how endless the sky was and how tiny she felt in comparison. When she looked back at Coop his eyes were a little glazed, skimming her throat and cheeks, her hair. It was that look again, like he was seeing her for real. Cassie swallowed hard.

            “Arts degree I think.” Her voice was lower, hoarse, and the effect it was having on him was noticeable. His eyes narrowed, focusing on her lips. Perhaps there was something to what Zeke had said about her voice. “English Lit major perhaps. Or creative writing.” Not that she’d admitted that to anyone, except she’d told Nate who was very well known internationally for his writing. Especially his music writing. They emailed mostly, sometimes he’d call her to check out how she was going, requesting to see anything she’d written. Apart from Zeke, no one in the family was aware how close she was to him, and that he understood how much she loved writing about music. To admit that to an actual musician such as Coop seemed presumptuous. It was Nate who’d encouraged her to begin writing online.

“You need a blog,” Nate had pronounced during one of their phone calls almost two years ago. Like her father, his English was accented with a trace of Afrikaans.

“Why?” asked Cassie incredulously. She couldn’t imagine writing a blog. It sounded like posting her journal writing online for the world to see. Way too personal. She hated confessional writing. Steph had a fashion blog, but it was more like a promo for her fashion designs and all-out fashion obsession. 

Nate laughed, a deep resonant sound she loved. “Cass, a music blog. Just for your music writing. It will get you used to the idea of writing for the public, find your voice, but without the pressure of writing to get paid or published.”

Cassie mulled over that. She knew it would be wise to have her writing out there if she wanted to approach music street press like Beat Magazine, or indie online mags like Pitchfork.

“Sounds like an idea. Why don’t you have one?”

“Cassie darling, I write enough as it is. No one wants to hear me ranting free form, which is probably what I’d do. It might be liberating, but at this stage in my career, sometimes the less I say, the better.” Cassie had to smile, but she also felt uneasy because he’d been writing increasingly about the politics in South Africa. And getting death threats.

Living in post-apartheid South Africa was tumultuous. Nate had written about many of the issues plaguing that country from political corruption, violent crime, unemployment, to the slow rate of change for many people’s lives. Nate admitted that he owned a gun, and he obviously knew how to use it. Her father got tight lipped whenever she asked him how Nate was going if she hadn’t heard from him. Richard was as conflicted about South Africa as his brother. It was a country he both loved and hated.

            Coop’s eyes widened. “Melbourne Uni?” Which was where he was studying. She wasn’t sure whether that was her first choice—mostly because she’d have to get such a high score to get in—but she’d apply.

            “Maybe.”

            “Yes. Do.” It was endearingly abrupt. And suggestive. Like he wanted her there. His grin turned devilish and she found herself smiling back, because the thought of being in the same place as Coop was extremely tempting.    

“Maybe,” she repeated and this time she was teasing, amazed at herself that she was.

            “I’ll be around for a bit longer probably. If I get the grades, I’m thinking of doing my master’s degree then a doctorate.”

            He was an academic? Seriously?

“What area of history?” She didn’t want to admit history was not her strongest subject.

            “Medieval European and Renaissance. I’m thinking of taking some time out and travelling around Italy, maybe as part of my studies. I could probably get a travel grant for research.”

            Cassie was sure her mouth dropped open. Actually, it had because Coop smiled adorably and placed a finger under her chin to gently shut it.

            “Full of surprises, huh?”

            “Sorry, that was rude.”

            “No. You don’t know me yet.” Yet. He said yet. Cassie felt faint, although she was sitting with less chance of falling flat on her face to personally check out the cracked concrete. What was he saying?

            “You speak Italian?” She forced out the question, her thoughts scrambled.

            Coop nodded. “French as well, and I can read Latin, a little Greek and German.”

            Cassie felt her jaw dropping but quickly shut it. “Are you for real?” She could have been asking about this whole scenario. How come Zeke hadn’t mentioned any of this? The guy was a freaking brain with the body of a god! It didn’t seem fair, especially when you threw in the guitar playing and the fact he only had to look at her and she couldn’t breathe.

            Coop threw back his head and laughed. It was throaty deep and she shivered just hearing it. “Yep, Cassie I’m as real as you are.” He gently stroked her cheek. Such a small, fleeting touch, but it left a trail of heat. “I get the feeling there’s more to you as well. Way more. That’s why I wanted you to come tonight. I’d like to get to know you, Cass. If that’s okay?”

            Not in a million years, dreams or fantasies would she have imagined Coop asking her this. Like the previous Saturday night, the noise dimmed, people were crammed into that small backyard, but Cassie wasn’t noticing any of them. It was just Cassie and Coop. That heat wasn’t just coming from him, it was swirling between them, like they were creating a fusion reaction. She wanted to lean into him, have him hold her so that she could actually feel how real he was.

            If Zeke hadn’t chosen that exact moment to come over, Cassie wasn’t sure what she might have done, because she felt capable of anything.    

            Seeing Zeke approaching from the corner of her eye, Cassie looked Coop square in the face. There was no deceit, doubt or anything vaguely roguish about his request. He was keeping his eyes steady, and he seemed tense, anxious to hear what she was going to say. Vulnerable. He might have been more experienced and around Zeke’s age, which right then seemed a big gap, but he was serious and the differences didn’t outweigh this overriding feeling which was only becoming more intense each time she saw him.

            It was one of those rare moments when Cassie went on a gut instinct, not allowing her brain to talk her out of it, because there was something about Coop that was magnetic. She wanted to know him despite the party boy image. He was still Zeke’s friend and that counted for something. She wanted to know him and if anything had come from this conversation, so far she knew very little about Coop.

            “Yes.”

The grin that lit his face was the only response she needed.

19

“Are you sure about this Pen?”

            “About what?” Pen was sitting cross-legged on one of the sofas in the lounge reading. It was the most innocuous thing to be doing on a Sunday evening. The book was one that Cassie had left lying around. Pen couldn’t remember the last time she’d read a book for pleasure.

            Richard sat on the opposite sofa. He and Tanya were going to see a movie, so he was waiting for her to get ready. “About staying here.”

            Pen closed the book. “Is it going to be a problem?”

            “No. Actually, I feel better knowing you’re not alone in that apartment. I know that sounds silly. You can look after yourself.”

            Pen bristled. “Yeah, I can.” She just didn’t want to talk about the alone part. Her thoughts on why she feared staying in that place without Alex were still nascent.

            “Of course. But separations can be difficult. I’m just wondering if you and Alex have had time to talk this through.”

            Pen fought the urge to burst out laughing. Relationship advice from her father? “Serious? Dad! You were away all the time!”

            Richard nodded sagely. “And look at the effect that had on my relationship with Lina.”

            “Okay, I get that. But Alex sprung this on me. There was no consultation. And unless I say ‘don’t go’, what’s there to say?” Actually, there was a heck of a lot to say and she’d been having imaginary conversations in her head where she let Alex know exactly how thoughtless he was being; that this was meant to be a partnership not a dictatorship. How this wasn’t the first time she’d had these thoughts.

“Because you’re obviously not happy about it.”

Pen’s breath hitched. Well, Richard had surprised her. He’d accurately pinpointed one reason for her defection.

“You’re not are you?” he prompted gently. Tears pricked her eyes and she clenched her jaw. What was the use of talking about it?

“Would you be?”

“No. Although with work, I understand the need to travel if necessary.”

“That’s the point, Dad. It’s not absolutely necessary. He doesn’t have to collect the data, someone else can. Alex is a theorist. He doesn’t have to do fieldwork.”

“Okay. But he’s keen to go. So it’s obviously not necessary but something he wants to do.”

Pen was beginning to feel inches small. She knew where Richard was heading with this. “Yes.”

“So, wouldn’t you want Alex to be supportive of you doing what you want?”

“Of course.” Saying the words felt like chewing sand. “Why are you playing devil’s advocate?”

Richard leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He was dressed casually for him, navy cords and a chambray shirt. Tanya probably bought them. Richard hated clothes shopping. “I don’t know what your feelings are about this, but think about why you’re doing it because it’s not easy to take back your actions and words once it’s done.”

That was straightforward advice. Richard never minced words. Still, counselling from her father. Pen wanted to laugh hysterically.

“I’m taking time out to think.”

“Perhaps it’s a good thing you’ve got time apart to do that.” Without much information, Richard had picked up that Pen’s decision to stay with them was more than Alex deciding to go on a trip. Still Pen wasn’t ready to admit the depth of her unease or the exact nature of the issues this sudden change in her life had precipitated.

Not yet.

“Thanks Dad.”

Richard got up hearing Tanya’s footsteps on the stairs. “I know you’ll do what’s best for you, Pen. In the end, your happiness is what matters to me.”

Pen reopened the book with trembling hands. She only hoped she could figure out what that actually meant.                    

20 

A few things happened in quick succession after that Saturday night

            Coop called Cassie on Sunday after she’d finished at the bookshop. They talked for what seemed hours. He left Cassie in no doubt that he’d really meant what he’d said: he wanted to get to know her. The number of questions he fired at her was laughable. He hadn’t been toying with her. She spoke more about herself than she had in years. The problem that arose from that conversation was trying to find time to see each other. With his studies, band commitments and greater freedom combined with her school hours, weekend work hours and curfew, finding a slice of time was like juggling schedules between two CEOs.

            “Hey,” Coop spoke reassuringly, “we’ll make it happen. Don’t stress Cass. And remember, you’re finishing up at school and uni ends around the same time, although I’ll be helping one of my lecturers over the summer with research.”

            Cassie wanted to hit something. She made do with throwing a couple of pillows across the room. Just hearing his voice, talking about inane stuff like their favourite movies, books and music—she wanted more. Also, he was talking like they’d still be seeing each other in the future. Not what she expected. She never pegged him as the type to think too far ahead. But Coop was accruing layers, revealing a depth of insight and sensitivity she’d never guessed was possible. And he listened. He didn’t make her feel less because of her age. If anything, it didn’t come up at all. He also liked teasing her knowing how easily he could get a rise out of her. Probably to see her blush; thankfully he hadn’t insisted on FaceTiming, which she was eternally grateful for. If anyone else tried teasing her she’d have blasted them or given them the shoulder. But not Coop, because she teased him back.

            “So, when?” She didn’t care if she sounded desperate; she just wanted to see him. And patience wasn’t her forte.

            Coop laughed, that low and husky sound that was even better on the phone. “Glad you’re so eager to see me.”

            “It works both ways,” she smirked.

            “You bet it does.” Cassie was again grateful he couldn’t see her because her cheeks were scorched, made even more ridiculous by a stupid grin. He could be flirtatious, but not in a sleazy way. It was cute because it felt like they were a lot closer despite only beginning to get to know each other.

            “Okay, how about Friday? I can come round to your place and we can go and get something to eat? I don’t have a gig that night so I’m all yours.” It was saying things like that which had her heart racing. He wanted this, to see her. Perhaps she just wasn’t used to someone being so direct, so upfront about their intentions. She liked it immensely.

            “Perfect.”

            They took ages to say goodbye. It almost became a game of who would hang up first. When they finally did, Cassie couldn’t stop smiling.

            So it was no surprise the next day at school that Steph was all over her and had spread the word among their small cohort that Cassie was dating a muso. A very hot muso.

            “A what?” Kim screamed. They all met for lunch as often as possible, so at least once a day they grouped together. Other than Kim there was Sunetra, or Suni as they’d nicknamed her, whom Cassie thought of as an Indian princess, with thick ebony hair to her waist, skin like mocha cream and eyes so dark, she couldn’t see the pupils. Suni even walked gracefully from years of ballet. As long as Cassie had known her, she’d been quietly envious of Suni’s slender beauty. Not that she’d ever let Suni or the others know. She’d held onto her uneasy admiration since they’d all met in year 9 at McNeil. Cassie liked to think the four of them would have become friends without gravitating to each other simply because they didn’t know anyone else. Somehow it worked and she no longer questioned the reasons why.

            Steph’s grin was positively mischievous. “Cooper Maitland, you know, the guitarist with Punt.”

            Cassie should have been enjoying the moment, but Steph had jumped the gun about the dating thing. She wasn’t sure they were dating. Or, maybe they were? Crap. She hated not knowing where she stood.

            Suni giggled. “He’s hot!” Her eyes were black headlights, beaming on Cassie. “That’s amazing! Is he the one you’ve liked, you know, for ages?”

            Cassie nodded, wanting to hide behind her sandwich. It wasn’t big enough to cover her face. She bit into it. She’d slapped some cheese, lettuce and avocado on rye. She pretty much ate this every day.

            Steph was on a roll. “And he asked Zeke to ask her to go to a party on Saturday night so he could see her!”

            Whoa, the revelations just kept coming. If they were going to insist on a breakdown of everything she and Coop had said, she was out of there.

            Kim looked shocked. “He’s Zeke’s friend?” Kim would never admit she’d had a crush on Cassie’s brother for just as long as Cassie had been interested in Coop. Whether Kim would ever get on Zeke’s radar was an unknown. She had this fey, almost pixieish quality. Petite oval face, framed by dead straight blue-black hair to her shoulders, her eyes delicately drawn slightly tilted at the corners like a cat. A pale pink mouth that often frowned when she was concentrating. Her slight build belied the fact she was incredibly fast, strong and had been trained by her dad in various martial arts from Jiu-jitsu, Wushu to Tai Chi since she was five. She was frightening when you saw her in action. She’d do serious damage. The fact she was also incredibly shy around guys despite being able to beat them up was one of her many appealing contradictions.

            Cassie nodded, chewing. “One of his best friends. Lives with Henry and Jake.”

            “Wow,” murmured Kim, frowning and also looking a little sad. Steph and Suni were comparing notes on Coop, which Cassie tried to block out. This kind of talk seemed way too premature. Cassie wanted to keep what was happening to herself. She wanted to keep Coop to herself, a discomforting thought, because she was usually open with these guys about most things.

Kim was spooning yoghurt into her mouth like her life depended on it. Cassie wondered if Kim felt the same way as she had when she found out about Steph and Cameron. That everything was about to change yet she felt like she was lagging behind. While Suni wasn’t seeing anyone, she wasn’t lacking in admirers. Her parents were exceptionally strict about her dating anyone seriously until school was finished. The fact Suni put up with their demands always amazed Cassie who would have given both Lina and Richard the bird for being so stifling. But not Suni. She had the patience and willpower of a saint.          

            Come to think of it, Cassie was going to have an interesting discussion with her father, and probably Lina as well, about Coop suddenly being in her life with less than two months of her final year left at school. Way to go with the timing. Cassie did a mental eye roll.

As it happened, she didn’t have long to wait.

“That was a very long phone conversation you had yesterday, Cass. Who were you speaking to?”

Cassie would happily like to smack the smirk off Tanya’s face. Why did she have to bring this up at dinner for freak’s sake? And how did she know? Probably because Cassie had been in and out of the kitchen getting snacks while on the phone with Coop.

Pen’s eyebrows hiked and she looked ready to burst out laughing, most likely with food spraying over the table. That had happened before. Richard was intent on his food, deli-bought mushroom risotto that Tanya had “whipped” up. Joking.  

“A friend,” she said tersely.

“Suni or Kim? Or Steph?” Tanya knew all their names. Of course she would because she’d met them often enough. Tanya knew something was up. She was like a pig snuffling for truffles.

Cassie cleared her throat, the rice sticking like glue in her mouth. She took a sip of water. “Um, Coop.”

“Coop?” Cassie wished she had her phone. She would have loved to take a photo of the absolute incomprehension on Tanya’s face. It was a supreme moment of stupefaction. Cassie suppressed a grin, but gave Pen a knowing look. Pen lowered her gaze because she was definitely going to lose it. Funny how they’d begun to pick up on each other’s cues. Not having Zeke or Simone around seemed to have concentrated their attention. Surprisingly, apart from a few blow-ups, they’d been getting along, mostly because they weren’t in each other’s face most of the time. Pen liked her privacy as much as Cassie. 

“Yeah, you know, Zeke’s friend, Cooper.” Best to get it out. He was coming over on Friday and whether it was a “date” or not, she was going out with him. 

That got her father’s attention.          

“Are you—” Tanya seemed unsure how to continue. She cleared her throat, “Are you friends with Coop as well?”

Pen blurted a laugh. “Sorry.” She was finding it hard to restrain the giggles. Cassie was ready to join her.

“Yes, we’re friends.” There, that sounded nice and innocuous.

Not so to her father. He could smell a rat. “By ‘friend’ what are we talking about, Cass?” His eyebrows were raised in a seemingly bland expression. He had a razor sharp and calculating mind. So did Tanya most of the time. She was simply gobsmacked at present.

“We’re friends. We’ve just started to get to know each other.” Cassie was a terrible liar—so she opted for truth telling, while omitting as much as possible.

“I see.” He put his fork on his plate and sat back in his chair. This was his way of getting ready to have a little talk. Pen winked at her, which was her way of telling Cassie she had her back. Richard continued. “So, by ‘getting to know each other’, I’m assuming there is some intention to perhaps becoming more than just ‘friends’?”

That did it, both Pen and Cassie dissolved into giggles. Tanya’s eyes were like saucers, not able to comprehend the possibility that Cassie had somehow attracted the attention of someone like Cooper Maitland. Hey, Cassie was in the same boat, so who could blame her?

A smile was playing on Richard’s lips at the sight of his daughters’ mirth. However, he wasn’t letting this slide. “Cass, I am serious here. Cooper’s Zeke’s age, isn’t he?”

Uh oh, here we go, he never misses a thing! At some point, if it came to her parent’s attention that Cassie might be seeing someone, there was an inevitable discussion of—well a nice way to put it would be “boundaries”. Perhaps the biggest talk had been about Mike. She’d gone out with him for most of year 11. Her first “serious” boyfriend, and therefore, there might be “serious” consequences about how “involved” they got. Lots of nice euphemisms to get around talking about whether she was going to have sex with him. Which wasn’t her parent’s business, Cassie had reminded them. Cassie knew the consequences and was prepared to take precautions, and that was the end of that. Both Richard and Lina had shut up after her curt summation. They’d been through this with three other children, but somehow, it never got easier or less dreadful having to at least make some attempt to show their concern.

  “I know you’re sensible, Cassie.” Richard was trying to mollify her and fend off a full-scale argument. Cassie rolled her eyes, while Pen went back to eating with a wry smile. “But that’s a significant age difference, maybe not in a couple of years, but you’re still at school and he’s twenty-one.”

Cassie sighed, although it sounded more like a groan. “I know. But you forgot to mention, I’m about to graduate and possibly go to uni myself, soon. I’m nearly eighteen. Coop’s aware of the age thing, but he’s not being insensitive about it, Dad. He’s being really up front about wanting to get to know me, and see if we enjoy hanging out. Call it whatever you want. So, he’s coming round this Friday and we’re going to get something to eat.”

Tanya made a choking noise while swallowing, Pen looked both amused and pleased, while Richard looked like a hawk about to swoop down and catch its prey. Ugh.

“I’m aware of your situation, Cassie. That’s another thing; can you afford to be distracted at this time? You have final exams coming up soon. This is a crucial time. A lot depends on this.”

“You mean whether I get into uni? My ATAR score?” Great, the whole freaking reducing her future down to a number, something she mutinously resisted despite the pressure at school to think of nothing else. Cassie thought they’d been over this territory before. “And by the way—Coop’s an honours student in history at Melbourne. He’s serious about his studies and he’s not about to derail mine!” Cassie omitted the fact she was more than capable of derailing her own studies because she kept thinking and daydreaming about Coop.

Richard leaned his elbows on the table. It was as close to getting in her face as physically possible. “Okay, that’s good to know. But it does matter. You know that. However ridiculous it may seem, unless you want to put up with a second-rate or third-rate choices for the next phase of your education, sadly, it does matter.”

Cassie had to admit her parents weren’t completely draconian about the whole ATAR ranking and what it would mean if she didn’t get in to one of her top college choices. They’d had the talk about options: about taking a year off to pursue other projects and work part-time; that she could reapply the following year and perhaps do an intermediary course to get credits before she got into the ideal one. Cassie also had the advantage of three siblings who’d shown her a way through this madness and out the other side. Having seen her siblings go through higher education, Cassie knew it wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be. Sim had thrived doing law; Pen hadn’t enjoyed uni life that much, and Zeke got more out of his band and projects outside of his design course. Everyone was different. Cassie was fortunate to have a more balanced view, so if she didn’t get the big score that would open up all her options, she’d find a way around it. Her self-esteem wasn’t going to be tied to it. Hopefully her parent’s benevolent view of her options would prove true if put to the test.

  “But this is not about pressure,” continued Richard, “rather I’m laying the facts on the table for you to consider, Cass. Beginning a relationship,” and he put his hand up when Cassie was about to butt in, “or whatever this is—all I’m saying is, you’ve got a lot on and I don’t want you feeling you can’t handle it. I don’t want to bring up the issue of stress, because we’ve been over that enough lately, but I’d hate to see a repeat of the flare-up that got you so sick.”

Cassie sagged in her chair. Sometimes, she felt like she couldn’t win. Pen was giving her a sympathetic grimace. Tanya had been surprisingly quiet. It’s like she had to reassess how she viewed Cassie. She was sitting back having finished her dinner, and was now twirling the stem of her wine glass, watching. Almost like an impartial observer.

“Cass?” Richard prompted.

Cassie felt like storming out. She’d had more than enough thrown at her lately about her stress levels and ability to cope with pressure. Her face was flushed from the attention and the feeling that her life wasn’t her own; that any decision she wanted to make for herself had to be vetted by so-called “grown ups”. Fair enough, her father and Lina and Tanya were “grown-up”, they were adults, but that didn’t mean they always knew what was right. Especially about what might be best for her.

Cassie took a deep breath. She wanted to go out with Coop so much that she was prepared to sit through this negotiation and bite down the anger and sense of injustice.

Cassie blew out air through her tight-lipped mouth. “Okay, I concede the timing isn’t good. But one thing I’ll say, it isn’t easy for us to find time to see each other anyway, because we both have a lot of commitments. Until I finish school, that’s something we’re both completely aware of. As for the age thing—I’m nearly eighteen and legally an adult, so I think it’s kind of pointless. And look at Pen and Alex, they met when Pen was nineteen and he was twenty-five. I think that’s the least of my worries. Arguing about experience and maturity is a moot point as I don’t know Coop well enough to make any assessment about the differences between us. So, my offer is this—I’m prepared to keep seeing Coop around my other commitments if that helps. I’m not cutting school, or slacking on homework. I’ve still got my job on the weekends, as well. But when I have free time, I’d like to see him and I’m hoping that you can be okay with that.”

That was the best she could do and yes—it seemed like she’d picked up a thing or two about negotiating from having so many lawyers in her life. Who knew how it would pan out anyway? All this talking could be a waste of everyone’s time. Coop might not even want to see her again after Friday. She didn’t entertain the thought she might not want to see him after one date. That was as likely as snow at Christmas in the Southern Hemisphere, she mused stupidly.

There was deafening silence. Cassie took a sip of her water. Pen was staring at her like she’d grown an extra head. Tanya was still quiet, but a strange look of amazement had struck her face, because hell had just frozen over now that Cassie had been reasonable. Her father was—surprise!—grinning.

“I think we have a deal,” he said quietly and resumed eating his risotto.

Wow, the world just did a 180. Score for me, Cassie thought, stunned, and then, not a little sarcastically: for once. 

21

Alex was gone.

            It was hard to believe. Mid-week and Pen had driven him to the airport for his flight to Toronto. Before going he’d tentatively sat down with her to talk about the time he’d spend in Antarctica. There was an actual document about surviving the separation. She read it, wanting to get out a red pen and annotate the hell out of it. To say they hadn’t gone about preparing for this trip as recommended, was putting it mildly. Alex was excited. He couldn’t hide it. Pen kept her doubts and negative thoughts to herself. They avoided talking about him coming back, as if they were both too scared to admit it was an unknown.

Pen wanted him to be happy. Had always wanted that for Alex. She just wasn’t sure how she fit into the life he was currently living and the fact she couldn’t share it. Pen made sure she would be adequately distracted after he left, namely the weaving classes with Sally Gilbert. When she mentioned to Alex about the weaving she was met with blank incredulity.

            “Why? Weaving? You mean tapestries? You’ve never mentioned an interest in that before.” She hadn’t, but frustration that she was either incredibly predictable or incredibly dull, surged at his implied doubts.

            “Well, I am now,” she quipped and didn’t bother to elaborate.

            It was only later, sitting with her laptop on the sofa in the lounge trying valiantly to edit her thesis while Cassie sat reading on the opposite sofa, still in her school uniform, that she acknowledged how pissed off she actually felt.

            “Do you think it’s stupid taking up weaving classes?” she asked Cassie out of the blue.

            Cassie looked up dazed, completely lost in her book. Pen glimpsed the cover, Daughter of Smoke and Bone. Sounded like a fantasy. Pen had never heard of it, but it was obviously engrossing.

            “What? Weaving? I don’t know anything about it,” Cassie admitted, placing the book on her lap.

            “Making tapestries, well maybe. I’m starting classes this week.”

            Cassie looked blank, not sure what to make of it. She and Pen hadn’t really had a moment to sit and talk like this. As weird as that seemed. Cassie was so caught up in school and Pen was caught up in the whole drama with Alex and then escaping. Yet the way they’d gravitated to the lounge and just sat doing their own thing, keeping each other company, seemed oddly companionable.

            Conducive enough that Pen was asking her younger sister what she thought, which she’d never done. Maybe that’s why Cassie looked a little stunned.

            “You weave?” she asked incredulously.

            “No. Well, not yet. It’s something I want to learn.”

            Cassie grinned. “That’s cool. I mean I don’t know anything about it. I’m not creative like that.” Her honesty was disarming and encouraging. Pen was so used to years of wrangling with Simone’s smug “I’m so good at everything”, to have Cassie admit that she wasn’t, was almost a relief. Like not being perfect was okay, and Pen had never felt that she was. Not by a long shot.

            “Alex thought it was weird.” It felt good to get that off her chest.

            Cassie scrunched up her nose. “He’s not exactly artistic, either. I mean, what would he know?”

            Pen laughed. “I know! He just thought because I hadn’t done it before, why would I take it up now?”     

            “Because you want to try something new?” It came out deadpan, but there was a glint of humour in Cassie’s eyes.

            “Exactly. I’m thinking of doing some life drawing as well.” Why not throw it all out there? Saying it felt like she was making concrete changes. Small changes, but solid enough they seemed significant.

            “I remember you drawing all the time. I mean you love it, right?”

            Pen nodded, suddenly overcome that Cassie had enough insight despite them never having confided in each other. Like they’d absorbed stuff through proximity and osmosis. Years of gathering data that was never made obvious.

            “I haven’t drawn much in a long time.” The idea of rocking up to a group of strangers was slightly daunting.

            “Not since the art school thing, huh?”

            Pen smiled ruefully. “Yeah.” Straight out of year 12 Pen had applied to various art schools. Her folio had been exceptional according to her art teacher. She got the highest grade in art in her final year. Won various prizes. Even Jake had been encouraging. Pen didn’t get accepted into a single school. No one had known what to make of it, so sure she’d get in. Even now, the disbelief and pain at the rejection was something she could barely acknowledge. Like her world had plummeted beneath her, leaving her maimed, trying to climb out of the rubble.

            A part of her knew she shouldn’t have simply given up, but she’d struggled to understand how something had just snapped—her resolve to pursue her art and the belief in herself that she could. She didn’t like to admit to being that unconfident, or weak, but she wasn’t sure how strong she was, either. 

            “Well, I think it’s awesome that you’re doing something you love. I really liked some of those drawings Mum had framed in the old house.”

            “The landscapes?” They’d been more than that. Impressions of air, water, plants and soil; of colours, textures and life. Close to what she drew in the countless notebooks she kept squirreled away in a box in the closet of her old bedroom that she’d shown no one. Abstract but distinct. Like she’d woken from a dream and tried to capture images that were fading from memory, leaving traces of forms, colour and the feel of being part of it. Lina had loved them. Her art teacher had raved. It had been the culmination of so much work, and the beginning of a dream.

That went nowhere.

            “Yeah. Where are they?”

            “In my closet.” She pointed up.

             Lina had wanted to take a couple to New York. Pen had simply said no. She couldn’t bear looking at them or imagining anyone else seeing them. “Packed up.”

            Cassie didn’t push, something Pen was beginning to appreciate. She didn’t pry. Then Cassie grinned, wickedly. “Like your boots.”

            Pen blanked out at the sudden topic change and then looked at her feet. Also packed up in the closet were boxes of her old clothes, stuff she thought she’d grown out of years ago. Weird—or not—how her taste in clothes altered after dating Alex. Suddenly the ripped jeans, baggy knits and paint splattered T-shirts seemed so passé, like she was uncouth and scrappy never thinking she just liked wearing this stuff. And the biker boots. Black, buckles up the sides, chunky lug sole, scuffed and creased and worn to perfection. She’d loved them until Alex had pointed out these rather stylish ankle boots that seemed suddenly chic to her eyes. The biker boots were relegated to the closet and when she was unpacking her clothes after the manic move, she discovered them like an old friend. Dragging out a pair of faded black jeans ripped at the knees, she’d put them on pleased they still fit. The boots as well. Perfectly. She’d worn them every day since, varying the baggy knits and jeans, but the outfit was pretty much the same. Her hair she barely scraped into a bun or ponytail. The change had been noted immediately at work, as if she was suddenly visible. Or maybe it was because she actually felt more comfortable than she had in years.

            Pen grinned cheekily. “They are cool. I forgot how much I loved them.”

            “I’m wearing Docs forever!” Cassie declared haughtily. Pen snorted but didn’t challenge her. She could totally see Cassie doing exactly that.

22

 “I’m going to be sick,” moaned Cassie.

            “If you keep thinking like that, you will be!” griped Steph.

            They were in Cassie’s bedroom having arrived straight from school. Both had an early finish and Steph had insisted that she was going to make sure Cassie didn’t have another clothing crisis. Since she was going out with Cameron, she wouldn’t be available to help her through it later on. Cassie felt relieved, grateful and a little pissed that Steph believed she was incapable of dressing herself.

            “Okay.” Steph was lying on her stomach on Cassie’s bed, while Cassie stood mute and wooden like a clothes mannequin. “The jeans are working and the top is great.” Steph was referring to her dark blue, skinny jeans and the black oversized T-shirt that had long fitted sleeves emblazoned with the word “Chaos” in white cursive script, with a wide neckline that came off the shoulder revealing a black singlet top underneath.

            “I can hear a ‘but’ coming,” gritted Cassie. Her stomach was churning and she was wishing now that she hadn’t agreed to Steph’s insistent demand that she come home with her. She’d rather have a meltdown in private. Preferably while lying on the floor in the bathroom in case she threw up. She’d barely eaten all day and was beginning to fear she’d either faint during her date, or hog her food like a feral pig.

            “No ‘but’, just thinking about your hair and your footwear.” Steph tapped her cheek with a black painted manicured nail. Cassie’s own nails were nail polish free. The smell of the stuff was toxic, and the nail polish remover was worse. Might as well soak my fingers in turps, she’d thought the one time she’d allowed Steph to attack her nails.

            “So my extremities are worrying you?” Cassie stared at her bare feet, wondering if they were somehow offensive. They were just feet.

            That did it. “Screw this!” Cassie yelled, startling Steph whose mouth dropped open. Cassie dragged her hands through her hair and pulled. “Aaaaargh! It’s just freaking dinner! If I can’t act naturally, this isn’t going to go anywhere!” Cassie stomped over to her wardrobe and dragged out her Doc Marten boots. Stuff it. She pulled on some black socks, then her Docs, manically tying the laces. They weren’t too scuffed.

            “Cassie! I was thinking something a little more refined, you know ballet flats or something.”

            Cassie’s head jerked up. “Are you kidding me? When was the last time I wore flats?” She couldn’t remember so Steph didn’t have a hope.

            “But Pen let you borrow her black ones. They’d be perfect! Not too dressy and you know, a little more feminine.”

            Cassie stood up like she’d been jolted with an electric cattle prod. “What the hell! Feminine? Who says I’m not feminine if I wear my Docs?”

            Steph put her hands up, palms facing out. “Okay, okay. That was stupid of me to say that. I just mean—well—oh fuck it, you’re right. Those Docs are you and you shouldn’t change the way you look just for him.”

            Now Cassie’s mouth gaped at Steph. “Do you mean that?” Coming from the girl who tried never to wear the same outfit twice, this was a shocker.

            Steph groaned and fell back on the bed. “I may be into fashion, but you have your own look, Cass. And it’s you and it’s cool.”

            Cassie stomped to the bed and sat down. She felt like curling up and giving in to sudden tiredness. She’d expended so much energy worrying about tonight that she wasn’t going to have enough to enjoy being with Coop. And she wanted to enjoy herself.

            “I’m being an idiot.” Cassie snorted then laughed hysterically. Steph sat up, wide-eyed, and began laughing just as hard. Cassie bent over in uncontrollable fits of giggles, promptly falling off the bed with a thunk. Steph was killing herself laughing at the “oomph” sound Cassie made.

            “You are such a dork,” gasped Steph. “And I completely understand.”

            Cassie lay on her back on the floor. “I’ve wanted him to notice me for so long, I’m tying myself in knots one moment and feeling happy the next.”

            Steph flopped back onto her stomach, leaning over the edge of the bed. “Well, it’s a roller coaster. If you weren’t feeling so all over the place I’d be thinking you weren’t that excited to be with him.”

            Cassie had a surprising flashback to her first date with Mike. They went to the movies. It had been a little stilted, but there was this comfortable and easy vibe between them. They’d met at a party and had talked for most of it. Mike had asked for her number and called to speak to her the next day. There hadn’t been anything like this ricocheting nervousness, this elation. The sinking doubt that she’d muck it all up and make a complete fool of herself in the process.

            “God, if I’m like this now, how can I keep seeing him?”

            Steph became pensive. “I can’t say you won’t keep feeling all over the place, but the more you get to know him, the less self-conscious you’ll feel.”

            “Speaking from experience?” Cassie jibed. Steph threw a pillow at her head.

            “Yes. And I am not going to talk about Cam because I know you’re not that into him.”

            Cassie sat up cross-legged and hugged the pillow to her chest. “Hey, I don’t know him that well. You’ve got to admit, he only wants to spend time with you. He’s not into hanging out with me or Kim and Suni.”

            Steph was suddenly sombre at hearing that fact. “I know. That’s been a big downer to being with him. We’ve argued about it.” Actually, Cassie had the impression they argued a lot. And made up a lot.

            “But you love him?” Cassie had never asked. She’d never been sure that was how it was between them.

            Steph stared at her freshly painted nails. “Honestly? I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I do. Especially when we first went out. Then I have these horrible doubts that if he really loved me he’d be more understanding about you guys. He’d make an effort to get to know you and want to be more involved in my life.”

            Cassie was stunned at the admission. Steph kept so much of her relationship with Cameron to herself. “Is he supportive about you applying to that fashion design course in Sydney?”

            “He says he is, but I could tell he wasn’t that enthusiastic. He wanted to know how we were going to see each other with me living in another city. I told him I’d always planned to go there.” Which was the truth. Ever since year 9, that had been Steph’s goal. It had impressed Cassie no end.

            They were quiet, Cassie’s thoughts straying to the uncertain future they were about to step into. “What are you going to do?” Cassie finally asked.

            Steph rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Her long honey-brown hair spilled onto the floor. It looked artful. Cassie was tempted to get her phone and capture it, except the mood was hushed, hanging with so much unsaid.

            “I don’t think it’s going to last, Cass. Not that we’re breaking up today or tomorrow.”

            Cassie hugged the pillow hard. Small comfort. It was one more reminder of how endings were as much a part of life as beginnings. She reached her hand out and tapped Steph on the shoulder. Steph grabbed her hand and held tight. One reason Cassie tolerated Cameron was because she could imagine her and Steph being friends long into the future. Whether or not Cameron was part of that future.

            I don’t want there to be an ending with Coop, she thought frantically.

That one thought gave her the courage she needed. She’d make the most of the time with him because she’d never thought she’d get the chance. She’d grab it and savour it. See where it might lead. 

But no way was she going to wear inappropriate footwear to impress a guy.

23

Pen stood outside a single-storey Edwardian house in one of the leafy tree-lined streets of Elwood. She was about to meet Sally Gilbert and have her first lesson in weaving.

            She was incredibly nervous.

            Pen had Friday afternoon free and luckily, Sally said she had two hours that could become a regular lesson if she was interested to pursue it seriously. Pen had no idea whether she’d enjoy it enough for that, but after the previous night’s life drawing class at Linden Gallery in St. Kilda, a spark had fanned to a flame as Pen reacquainted herself with a love of drawing.

            She’d been nervous last night as well.

            “Want me to come and intimidate the life model with my sullen presence?” joked Cassie.

            Pen rolled her eyes. “Sullen my arse. You’re positively beaming in anticipation at the moment.”

            Cassie grinned unashamedly. “Yes, I am,” her voice almost prim. “And I’m shit scared at the same time.” Pen laughed at Cassie’s honesty. If she were about to go on a date with Coop, Pen would be feeling exactly the same. Hell, what would it feel like to go on a first date again? It was a stunning thought. She’d seriously believed those days were gone after moving in with Alex.

            So, Pen braved the life drawing class, glad that it didn’t have a tutor, just the model and eight other people. The model was female, petite and curvaceous, and utterly professional. She knew exactly how to pose beginning with one-minute short, dynamic poses, building up to longer relaxed poses. Pen’s hands were clammy with sweat to begin with and she smudged black charcoal on her jeans before her hand finally steadied with her breathing, and some long-lost muscle memory kicked in, so that she found her rhythm of looking and making marks. Rifling through the sketches later, there were at least two that she was moderately pleased with. And that spark had her champing at the bit with anticipation for the following week’s class.

            “Hi Penny,” Sally greeted her after opening the front door and letting out a rather stout Golden Retriever, who began circling Pen like he was herding her. “Bear does that with everyone. It’s his way of saying hello.”

            Pen knelt and gave Bear her hand to sniff, and he promptly lathed it with his tongue. She resisted pulling her hand away, smiling because he had these adorable eyes and was now trying to head-butt her.

            “Come in. My studio is out back.” Pen followed Sally with Bear at her heels. “Forgive the mess, my partner is a sculptor and he doesn’t understand that every room in the house isn’t part of his studio. As you can see, our two kids see that as a licence to make a mess.”

            Wow, did Pen see what she meant. Sculptures made of wood and marble in various stages of completion were arranged throughout the house. One wall in the lounge area was covered with drawings, as well as kid’s artwork. A large oak dining table had a laptop and books at one end, and an open folio of sketches spread across the table. A few walls featured large tapestries, obviously made by Sally, of abstract landscapes. They were beautiful.

            The house with all its warmth, colour and artwork reminded Pen of the house she grew up in. A stab of what could only be homesickness lanced her heart. She hadn’t realised how much she missed her old home.

            At the back of the house Sally walked through bi-fold doors into a garden as riotous as the house with flowerbeds and trees, and running along the back fence of the property was a simple timber structure of an open plan studio with floor to ceiling glass doors facing onto the garden.

            Two large looms stood in the space, a long worktable, chairs, and a pigeonhole bookcase with cones of coloured yarn.

            “This is where I prefer to work.” Sally left the glass doors open so that Bear followed behind them and plopped himself on a large doggy bed. “And Bear likes to hang out here.” Sally smiled, and it was a welcome to Pen who stood basking in the sun, breathing in the citrusy perfume from the garden, and the woodsy, earthy scents from the room.  

            “It’s wonderful.” Pen felt a sense of peace enfolding her just being here.

            Sally grinned in agreement. “Now, have a seat and we’ll discuss how we’ll proceed. Before that, why don’t you chill for a minute while I make tea. I like to start with a chat about what we’ll do for the day. I often begin by doing something like sketching in the garden, just to loosen up before we hit the looms. Does that sound good?”

            Pen didn’t know how she’d landed here, dazed at her good fortune because it sounded more than good. It was exactly what she wanted to do.

            Pen smiled broadly. “Perfect.”

24

Ten minutes.

            Ten minutes, Cassie chanted it in her brain like a mantra.

            Coop would be here in ten, no nine minutes. Her eyes kept going to her phone, which was placed by her side on the bed. She was reading. Trying to read Eleanor and Park. She’d lost count how many times she’d read it because from the first read she’d had a book crush. She’d also hoped it might distract her.

            Nope. Not possible.

            After Steph had left having attempted to brush Cassie’s mane because she was going to leave her hair loose, Cassie gave in to her grumbling stomach. That’s when Pen came home and caught her scoffing down her cheese, avocado and lettuce on rye sandwich she hadn’t been able to eat at lunch.

            “Seriously? Cass, you won’t be able to eat dinner!”

            Cassie’s eyebrows hiked. She chewed and swallowed. “You just sounded so much like Mum when we were kids.”

            Pen eyed the sandwich, smiling wickedly. “Nervous? That’s it! That’s your lunch isn’t it? You couldn’t eat it, could you?”

            Cassie growled. “Don’t rub it in! I’m eating it now so I don’t act like a pig at dinner.”

            “Thanks for the visual. Now I’m thinking of the scene with the pigs gorging in Spirited Away.”

             “Great,” Cassie mumbled, trying to chew at the same time. “Now I’m a greedy, fat pig with an eating disorder.”

            Pen rolled her eyes. “You look great and at least you’ll have eaten something. So, good forward planning. Very sensible.”

            The doorbell rang.

            Shit. She raced out of her room and thumped downstairs, her Docs making her sound like a small rhino. She’d forgotten that her dad and Tanya had conveniently planted themselves in the lounge. A not-so-subtle hint that they’d like to meet Coop before he and Cassie headed out. No way was she having either of them answering the door.

            She nearly ripped the door of its hinges, and then, he was there.

            Coop was standing there.

            Smiling a huge, irresistible smile. Cassie just took him in. He was wearing a long sleeve Black Sabbath T-shirt that only accentuated his broad shoulders. Well-worn jeans and black adidas Gazelle sneakers. And glasses. He was wearing black, rectangular framed glasses.

            Holy shit he’s gorgeous. Cassie’s brain stuttered. She’d been holding her breath and then she grinned like she couldn’t contain this feeling of absolute happiness that Coop was standing in front of her.

            “Hey,” his voice gruff, a soft brushing sound. Coop touched her cheek and it was gentle, soothing, and it sparked an ache in her chest, all at the same time.

            “Hey,” she spoke just as quietly, as if they were in a bubble and nothing could break through. Their eyes were fixed on each other. “Come in,” she finally said, remembering that was the polite thing to say. 

            “Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve been here.” Coop stepped into the hallway. It was a reminder of how Zeke didn’t come over much anymore. Not a great thought, but nothing could darken her mood. Not with Coop staring down at her like he was etching her face into his memory. Like he didn’t want to forget a second that he had with her.

            “Cassie?” her dad called out, “You going out now?” Cassie winced at the sudden intrusion. She wanted this over with, and then she wanted to be alone. With Coop.

            “Hey, it’s cool,” Coop whispered low enough for only her to hear. “It’s not the first time I’ve met them.” Which was true. Coop reached for her hand. Cassie stared down at their entwined fingers.

            “Together?” Coop asked, a question on so many levels. Cassie’s gaze met his eyes, the black frames only accentuating them, making them more striking.

            I’m so gone. He’s beautiful.

            “Together,” she somehow croaked. She felt energized, like she could face her dad, Tanya and Lina, all in one hit, and throw in her siblings for good measure.

            They walked into the lounge, and Coop did not let go of her hand. Tanya was sitting up straight, primly, but she was looking a little shocked, as if the proof of Coop’s interest in Cassie was short-circuiting her brain. And her mouth.

            “Hi Mr. Carsten, Mrs. Carsten, good to see you again.” Coop spoke confidently and politely. Richard smiled and Cassie was surprised at the lack of strain. He seemed quite relaxed at the sight of his daughter holding hands with Zeke’s best friend,

            “Likewise, been a while. Cassie said you’re doing honours this year. That’s a big load.”

            Coop grinned as if this was easy territory. “Hard, but I’m enjoying it.”

            “Plans to continue?” Richard was being equally polite, but interested. Cassie was hoping this didn’t turn into an interrogation of Coop’s intentions or something ridiculously lame. Coop squeezed her hand and Cassie melted. Stuff it—let her dad talk. Coop was holding her hand.

“Master’s and doctorate if my grades are up to it.”

            Richard looked impressed. As he should be, Cassie thought snarkily. And proudly. “Academia?” Her dad seemed to have mastered the art of the minimal word conversation. Coop was right on his wavelength.

            “Possibly. Most likely.”

            “That sounds amazing. What area of history? Cassie mentioned you were majoring in history.” Tanya had finally found her voice. Also, she was fluttering her eyelashes. No freaking way. She’s flirting!

            That’s when Pen came downstairs. “Hey Coop,” she said casually, sitting on one of the sofas.

            “Hey Pen, great to see you.” Cassie could tell Coop meant it. Pen winked at Cassie, then spied the clasped hands and grinned. Cassie knew she was itching to give her a thumbs-up. Or laugh at the tension.

            Coop quickly answered Tanya. “Yeah, Medieval and Renaissance history.”

            “Wow, that’s impressive,” Tanya gushed. Richard seemed oblivious but Pen’s eyes honed in on Tanya and then she was biting her lip, trying hard not to laugh.

            Cassie cleared her throat. “Well, we should leave, let you guys go out or do whatever you have planned.”

            Richard nodded. “Twelve?” Meaning her curfew.

            “Absolutely,” Cassie agreed. She could get into this minimal word conversation style. No drama. To the point. Brilliant.

            “I’m taking Cass to a Japanese restaurant in Albert Park. So we won’t be that far away,” Coop offered. They’d discussed this at length and agreed Japanese was good for both of them.

“I’m easy,” Cassie had said, not really caring, except silent alarm bells went off about possible food allergy issues.

            “Yeah, but we need to be sure, Cass. Zeke clued me on the allergies. I’m not choosing a place where there’s a chance you can’t eat what you want.” Cassie was momentarily stumped at Coop’s thoughtfulness and then fuming at Zeke “clueing” Coop in. She’d wanted to ask what else he’d said, then felt petty because Coop was eager to make this right for her.

            “That’s a great place,” said Pen. “I’ve been there a couple of times.”

            “Sounds good,” said Richard. “Enjoy yourselves. Cass you’ve got your phone?”

            Cassie suppressed a groan. This was the familiar drill. She indicated her duffle coat hanging over one of the dining chairs. “Phone, wallet and keys.”

            Richard grinned. “See you later.”

            “See you soon,” Coop said by way of goodbye to everyone. Cassie led him out the door as they all said goodbye, grabbing her coat.

            Once outside, Cassie let out a huge breath. She was expecting Coop to let go of her hand, but if anything, he was holding it tighter. He was also chuckling.

            “Breathe, Cass,” he teased.

            “Hey! That was awkward!” she protested. But her skin was buzzing at the sudden freedom, and the fact Coop was steering her towards his car and away from here.

            “It wasn’t that bad. And it’s good that he wants to meet me. I want your folks to know I’m in your life.”

            Cassie stopped. “You don’t mind the scrutiny?”

            “If my daughter was going out with a guy, I’d want to know stuff about him. Heck, I’d feel the same about my sister, Zoe.” Cassie knew he was especially protective of his sister. She’d always liked that about him. 

            Coop had loosened his grip and was now rubbing his thumb along the palm of her hand. Cassie’s brain jammed. Shivers rippled like mini-quakes along her spine, aftershocks along her skin. Her entire body was focused on her hand.

            “Cass?” Coop’s voice was low and a little rough as if he knew what effect he was having, like he was getting her biofeedback, looping him in.

            “That’s—” she breathed ragged. “I’m glad you don’t mind.”

            “Your dad’s okay. I’ve known him long enough through Zeke. And yeah, I know Zeke has issues with him, but he’s been decent with me. Your mum was great as well.” How weird to think her mum had missed out on this. Cassie was extremely glad, because Lina would have made a big deal out of it. Most likely embarrassing Cassie in the process.

            “Sorry about Tanya.” Cassie couldn’t stop herself from saying it.

            Coop just laughed, pulling her along so that they were walking towards his silver VW Golf. He’d bought it second-hand from some guy who’d driven so few kilometres it was practically new. Cassie couldn’t help a small sigh escaping. She loved Coop’s Golf. It was zippy and practical. Zeke would often borrow it, so she’d driven around in it quite a few times. It felt so familiar, and yet strange to finally be in it with Coop.

            “She’s okay,” was all he said, because Tanya wasn’t of interest. Coop had focused on Richard because he knew that Cassie’s dad would have a lot to say about their relationship. Cassie could tell Coop wanted her dad to like him. That small fact warmed her already over-heating body.

            Coop drove smoothly, knowing the streets of South Melbourne and Albert Park well. He let Cassie choose the music. She pulled out her phone and plugged into the port, and chose something a bit daring. To test Coop’s music tastes. She put on Frank Ocean’s Channel Orange. She’d loved it from when she first heard it, and had written about it at length.

            Coop’s face split into a grin. “Whoa, love this!”

            Cassie’s blood was singing. “Yep. I’ve been listening to Blonde lately.”

            “What do you think?”

            “It’s great. Different. Pared back on the instruments, so it’s more focused on his vocals. But he’s such a brilliant storyteller.”

            Coop ginned and grabbed for her hand when they stopped at the traffic lights. Cassie loved the feel of his hands. There were calluses from playing his guitar, and he kept the nails clean and cut short. Her hand felt tiny in his. He seemed to enjoy playing with her fingers. Like plucking guitar strings. No, stroking them. She didn’t want him to stop.

            Cassie’s eyes drifted to his face. The hint of a smile still on his lips. His eyes fixed intently on her.

            “Hey, beautiful,” his voice smoky. It fit perfectly with the music.

            “Hey yourself.” Her own voice was choked, sounding deep, because her throat was tightening. She had an insane sensation that she might actually cry, or laugh. She was so happy to be sitting in the car with Coop. Her emotions were out of control.

            And she desperately wanted him to kiss her.

            Or I’ll kiss him. I don’t care who kisses whom first.

25

Pen’s favourite place at the moment seemed to be the bath.

            Richard and Tanya were out for dinner and she had the townhouse to herself. Unlike the apartment, she relished the alone time, knowing she only had until later that night before everyone came home.

            She soaked, bubbles overflowing. Candles softened the white tile. Her eyes were closed and while she was tired, she felt far from sleepy.

            Two things kept rotating in her mind: Alex’s email and the image of Coop and Cassie standing downstairs holding hands.

            Alex had sent a detailed account of the first few days of the conference, which was fine. It was the fact he’d tacked on he’d met up with a Melbourne University colleague, Helena, that had stuck claws into her. Especially the news Helena would be joining the team on the trip to Antarctica. Pen could have kicked herself for not asking for more details about who was on the team going south. She’d met Helena, and while she’d thought her friendly and obviously intelligent, she couldn’t help seeing the face of the woman around Alex’s age: a petite brunette with stunning blue eyes. Let’s not forget the fact they had dated at one point. None of this had bothered her before, but it did now. The rushed preparations meant Alex hadn’t truly briefed her in a way that allowed her to get a full picture of what this trip would entail. It fuelled her anger, and her usually generous spirit shrunk to a tight knot of resentment.

She didn’t like the feeling. Not at all.

            Before going downstairs to see Coop and Cassie, she’d read Alex’s last email. He’d asked how she was feeling—one line, with no other reference of their separation, or whether he missed her. It was the fact he wasn’t missing her, or not telling her, that had her slamming the laptop shut without answering. Because despite her anger, she did miss Alex. She wasn’t stupid about admitting that.   

            It had been a while since she’d last seen Coop and the unfamiliar glasses took her by surprise, how they gave him a more studious, serious appearance. He was gorgeous, even more than she remembered. But so was Cassie. Despite her unease at being under the microscope, Cassie looked radiant. Happy. Pen was struck by how similarly they were dressed. Jeans and T-shirt tops. She smiled at seeing Cassie’s Docs.

            What Pen couldn’t stop noticing were their hands. How Coop held Cassie’s hand. How she held his. Their fingers entwined. It was at once casual and yet, intimate. Like they were joined, connected on a level that went deeper, that somehow those hands were a symbol. It wasn’t the kind of gesture of a first date. It spoke of an understanding that was older, more certain.

            Pen’s eyes were hot and gritty and not from the steam. She sat forward, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. She was shaking, trying to hold in a crying jag that felt inevitable. Tears slipped down her flushed cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away, and they mingled with the water so that she felt bathed in her own tears. A sob bubbled and escaped. Hearing the sound unblocked a tide of barely held grief. Pen let it flow, the cries wracking her body. She hadn’t cried like this since she found out about her parents’ divorce. Like then, she cried in private. No one to comfort her.

            Cassie and Coop might just be starting something, but what Pen glimpsed felt more tangible than any words or declarations from either of them. 

            It made Pen ache like she was mourning an inexplicable loss.

26

“Try this.” Coop motioned with his chopsticks for Cassie to open her mouth for a piece of the tuna sashimi drizzled with a citric dressing.

            Cassie bit into it. “Whoa,” she murmured after it melted on her tongue. “That’s amazing!” Coop just smiled as if he knew she’d like it. They’d ordered to share most of the dishes.

“You have impressive chopstick dexterity,” Cassie chimed, eating a piece of tofu and wriggling a little in her seat with the deliciousness of it.

Coop threw his head back and laughed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Cassie was glad she’d eaten the sandwich, otherwise she would have wolfed down everything on the table. It was yummy. She loved the restaurant with its tables outside and lanterns in the trees. The warm glow of the place. They were sitting inside and it was packed, but Cassie wasn’t paying attention to anyone else.

“So, tell me more about your writing. I’ve noticed you keep doing a subject change when I bring it up.” Coop’s eyes sparkled with mischief. He was seeing how far he could push her, but she could tell he was dying to know why she was being so evasive.

For Coop, she would make an exception. “Okay. But I have to talk a bit about dad’s brother to give you a context.” She took a sip of mineral water.

Coop was intrigued. “Zeke’s mentioned him, but I can’t remember much.”

“Well, he’s a journalist. Pretty well known actually. Nathan Carsten. He writes mostly feature articles now, but across a range of subjects. He’s published a couple of books of his essays.”

Coop’s eyes widened. “Hang on! I know why Zeke mentioned him, he writes for Rolling Stone!”

Cassie giggled at his sudden enthusiasm. “Yeah. He lived in the States for a long time and was one of their feature writers. He also writes for swanky mags like the New Yorker and the Times Lit Supp. But he loves music.”

“That’s it! I thought you were putting me off for a reason. You want to write about music!”

She blushed. She hated that she was blushing. “Um. I kind of already do.” She hadn’t wanted him to know, like she was revealing too much of herself, too soon.

Coop’s eyes lasered on her. “Tell me.”

So she told him about her blog and Nate’s encouragement. He quizzed her about what bands she’d seen lately, what music she was listening to     

Coop grinned. “I better check it out. That’s awesome, babe. You shouldn’t be so shy about it.”

Cassie picked up some of the tuna sashimi, smiling, but also buzzed at the sound of him calling her “babe”. She’d always thought that it was clichéd and trite, and whenever Cameron called Steph “babe” she felt like gagging, but coming from Coop, it sounded natural, affectionate.

Cassie shrugged. “It feels weird talking about it with an actual musician. I’m also not great at going to live gigs. I’m not big on crowds.”

“That’s understandable. Next time we’ll just have to find a spot in the corner or something.”

“So, you want to tag along while I go to gigs?” Cassie teased.

“Hey, that’s my idea of a great date night! But tell me more about your uncle. He sounds cool.”

Cassie nodded, a little more pensive. “He is. I mean he’s so different from Dad. I can’t imagine them growing up together.”

“Your dad’s pretty corporate. Conservative.” Coop took a sip of saké. Cassie was on her second small pot of green tea.

“Yeah, he is.” She dug for her phone in her coat pocket. “Here’s a photo of Nate.” It was her favourite, with Nate’s coffee-brown eyes and chiselled face beaming with a rare smile. “He doesn’t like us calling him uncle for some reason. Just Nate. He looks a lot like Dad. It’s their political leanings that make it tense.”

Coop passed her phone back. “What do you mean?”

Cassie wasn’t sure how to condense years of developing opinions. On both sides. “It’s far from simple. I suppose Nate is more radical. He’s always supported the ANC, and while Dad was sympathetic and pretty liberal in his views, he was less involved in the politics on a day-to-day basis.”

“Because of work?”

“Yeah, and because Nate was a journalist, he saw things Dad never did. Met people and made friends with prominent ANC members and black South Africans. Dad was more closeted, I guess. He met Mum when they were young and started a family. He was more focused on that. Nate was the free spirit. He said he couldn’t turn away from what was going on in South Africa. Even when he lived overseas.”

Coop leaned back in his chair. “That’s rough. I have to admit I don’t know that much about the political history. I did read Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, which was incredible. But I’ve never really asked Zeke much about you being from South Africa. He said you were just a baby when you all came here.”

“Yep. I was barely a year old. So Zeke was almost five. He says he can’t remember much. Sim remembers more, but she never talks about it.”

“Why? Have you been back?”

“A few times. But not recently. Both my grandparents passed away and Mum was an only child. There are distant relatives, but Nate’s the only immediate family over there now. Dad goes back for business trips to Cape Town and Johannesburg, but he’s dealing mostly with Asian countries these days.”

Coop leaned forward to pick at the remaining pieces of sushi. “Do you want to go back? See your uncle? Has he come here?”

“Well he’s married and lives in Johannesburg. He and Rainer don’t have any children. He’s visited a few times, but since Mum and Dad split, he hasn’t. I think he liked coming here because he and Mum got on so well. She kind of softened things between him and Dad.”

“Did Nate encourage you to write?”

Cassie placed her chopsticks on the holder. “I started reading his stuff because Zeke was into his writing. The last time we were over there, I asked him what it was like writing for a living, and he spoke about how it was something he kind of fell into, being a journalist. But he loves music, so he kind of manoeuvred himself so he got to write about things that fascinated him. I think it was his passion, and the fact it wasn’t just a job to him. That kind of made an impression. He told me only to pursue writing if I was passionate about it because, otherwise, I wouldn’t have much to say and it’s not easy to make a living out of it.”

“It’s a rare thing, to have passion for what you do.”

  Cassie almost sensed the yearning in his voice. “Is that why you’re studying history, because it’s something you’re passionate about?”

“Passion is a good word, but maybe it’s more about being restless, inquisitive, wanting to dig deep underneath the layers of what might seem obvious, to find a way to interpret and bring to life another way of seeing the past. How histories are made as much by how we write about them.” Then he smiled, almost shyly. Cassie’s heart tripped and thudded at the hint of shyness. That he was sharing something that was hidden from most people’s idea of who he was.

“I’ve always loved reading histories and biographies. Wanting to know about people’s lives and how they lived. I think it’s the mystery of it, that you can never completely know, but you keep wanting to find out. Does that make sense?”

Cassie rested her arms on the table. “Yeah, I think so. It sounds like being an adventurer, like you’re travelling back in time to discover new worlds or something.”

“The historian as time-traveller?” Coop joked. He was leaning on the table by now and he reached for her hand, twining their fingers.

“Sounds like fun. I’m almost jealous,” teased Cassie.

“You can always come along for the ride.” There was that wicked glint in Coop’s eyes. Flirty. Cassie was flirting right back.

  “I think I might enjoy that,” Cassie quipped and Coop’s grin was as yummy as the food had been.

“Well, I think it’s time for a trip to Jock’s for ice-cream. Would you enjoy that?”

Cassie giggled. “I’d love that.”

27

“Zeke?”

            “Pen? Hey, what’s up, you sound froggy.”

            It was close to 10.00 p.m. but Pen knew that she wouldn’t get through the night unless she spoke to someone. The aching loneliness hadn’t left when she got out of the bath. In fact, she felt emptied out, the hollowness threatening to swallow.

            “I’m sorry, Ze. Are you busy?” Crap, she could have interrupted a date or something. That just choked her up further.

            “No! I’m hanging at home and fiddling with design stuff for my end of year project. No plans.”

            Pen took a deep breath. “Would you mind if I come over for a bit. I just—I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

            Zeke didn’t miss a beat. “Sure. I’m not going anywhere.”

            “Thanks. I’m leaving in five minutes.”

            “Drive carefully.”

            Half an hour later Pen was ensconced on Zeke’s sofa, wrapped in a blanket and drinking some herbal concoction that Zeke had handed to her when she arrived. He said it would help calm her. It tasted like cardboard.

            “Spill, Pen. You’ve got crying eyes.” Zeke was staring at her through his glasses, and he wasn’t going to let her just sit there. Not tonight.

            Suddenly she couldn’t think of what to say. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

            Zeke sunk into a chair, a large black leather chair with a chrome frame. Pen was sure it had come from their old house. “Are we talking about Alex, or life in general?”

            Pen’s head tipped back, propped by the sofa. She straightened to meet his gaze. “Alex.”

            “You know I’m not a fan. He royally screwed up not consulting with you about going away. I mean royally screwed. Committed relationships are partnerships in my view. But I’m not the best person to be offering relationship advice. I’ve never had a committed relationship that hasn’t lasted more than a few months.”

            Pen’s lips quirked. “I’m well aware of your stellar record, Zeke. I’m not asking for advice. I think it’s enough to just get it out.”

            “Do you want to leave him, Pen? Or do you think you can make it work? ” Zeke wasn’t going to tiptoe around it. That’s why she’d come, because she was tired of not facing this head-on.

            “I don’t know. It’s all been so sudden. I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it, and I feel like a traitor saying that. But the more time I’m spending away from him, the more I’m wondering about how I feel about him. About us.”

            Zeke rubbed his eyes, glasses askew, then righted them. “In your shoes, I’d be doing the same. If my partner up and left on a trip without giving me any warning, I’d be pissed beyond belief. I’d be furious, and I’d be terribly sad. I’d also be wondering what the fuck was going on between us. So, don’t feel like it’s the end, maybe just go through all these feelings and see how you feel closer to when he comes back.”

            Pen actually smiled. “Pretty good advice from the non-committed guy.”

            Zeke sipped his tea. “I actually value commitment. I just haven’t met anyone I want to be committed to.”

            Pen sobered. “What I hate is this feeling of—it’s not exactly powerlessness, more like a sense of failure. Like, somehow I’ve made these choices and they haven’t been right. Or not right for me, anyway.”

            Zeke shook his head. “You thought you were right about Alex at the time, Pen. You were in love. He was too. How deeply, that’s not for me to say. You believed it was right at the time to move in with him. Don’t look back and judge who you were back then, Pen. That’s a fool’s game. Hindsight sucks.”

            Pen giggled, then snorted. “Ever thought of going in to counselling?”

            It was Zeke’s turn to snort. “I’ve got zero patience and I can be judgemental as hell. I’d probably tell my clients to get a life and stop whining. And if they didn’t, I’d probably tell them to fuck off.”

            Pen laughed loud and long. It felt good.     

            “People change, Pen. Whether you can keep travelling on a journey together, that’s going to be your call.”

            “I know. It’s also about whether I can trust my own choices, Ze.”

            “Love’s a risk. Life’s a risk. I think if you’re feeling comfortable, you’re probably not living. I’m sure I’m quoting someone saying that, although I haven’t a freaking clue who said it first.” 

            “Thanks Doctor Ze. Bad quoting and all,” Pen said a touch mockingly.

            Zeke toasted her with his cup. “Anytime. And at least my advice is free.”

28

“Oh God, I’m in heaven!” Cassie moaned. One lick of her double chocolate waffle cone and she was levitating. She’d made an exception and got the cone despite the gluten. Just this once.

            Coop chose coconut and vanilla and was eyeing her ice cream. “Want some?” she asked, and then realised his eyes hadn’t left her mouth. Cassie self-consciously licked her lips of the extra chocolate yumminess. She was probably dribbling.

            “Don’t tempt me,” he murmured, and Cassie blushed. Coop smiled, trailing a finger along her heated cheek. “I like that.”

            They were walking along Victoria Avenue towards the beach. The air was frosty, but Cassie was oblivious. Coop had donned an almost identical duffle coat. While she felt a little swamped and dumpy in hers, he looked great.

It’s the height. Nah, he just looks hot.

            “Well, I blush a lot. So there’s a lot to like.”

            He chuckled, then he licked his coconut-vanilla and now it was Cassie fixating on his mouth. He was a fastidious ice cream eater. That took skill. Which set her mind wandering to other pleasurable activities that would take skill. Like kissing. Specifically, kissing her. Lots and lots of kissing.

            “How’s your mum?” Coop asked around eating his ice cream. He’d also taken her hand, so they were walking, linked by that touch. She’d never been with anyone who simply wanted to hold her hand.

            “She’s okay. Swamped with two little girls and her business. But she’s always had a lot going on at once, so I think she’s in her element. She wants me to come visit her when I finish school.”

            Coop stopped walking and swung her to face him. “Serious? Are you going?” Cassie wasn’t sure what to make of the slight creasing around his eyes and forehead. Then she realised she was saying she’d be leaving, just as they were beginning.

Idiot.

            Cassie shook her head emphatically. “No. She just hates not being able to see me when she wants to. Especially with this being my final year. She has these freak-out moments if she thinks I’m stressed. But I don’t want to go to New York.”

            Her words eased his frown. “Hey, it’s absolutely understandable if you want to see her. I’m just being selfish thinking you won’t be here.” He gave her a cheeky grin, but it was also tinged with relief. She could tell, because she felt the easing in her own chest at hearing his eagerness. To be with her.

            Coop tugged at her arm as they crossed the four-lane road to get to the beach. It wasn’t Cassie’s favourite beach by a long shot, but tonight her surroundings weren’t a factor in how much she was enjoying herself.

            They sat on the low stone wall separating the pavement from the sand. It always struck her as odd to swim just metres away from such a busy road.

            “How’s Zoe?” Coop had spoken about his sister Zoe’s leg healing, how she fell and broke the patella tendon in her right knee while dancing. Cassie had felt sick imagining it. How much Coop admired his sister for picking herself up after such a debilitating injury.

            Coop finished his cone and was wiping his fingers on a serviette. “She’s great.” He sounded surprised. “She’s been taking it slow, getting back into dancing with her teacher. But she’s also been helping out teaching the little kids, and she loves it.”

            “That sounds full on.” Cassie couldn’t imagine teaching anyone, let alone kids. Funny how she’d always been the youngest and never had to hang around children. Except, if her mum were in Melbourne, she would be. That was a freaky thought. Yet Lina and Aaron had made their home in New York. It could still make her lungs freeze up knowing her mum had decided to start another life away from them. A part of her knew it was no coincidence that she had that extreme allergic reaction the year that Lina moved to the United States.

            “Hey, where are you?” Coop asked gently. He gave her one of those feather touches to her cheek that she was beginning to love.

            Cassie gave a small smile. “I was just thinking about Mum now having twin girls who are only two. I’m not the baby anymore. It’s kind of weird, thinking that I won’t get to really see them grow up.”

            Coop held her eyes. “Maybe you should go and visit.” Then he smiled, teasingly. “Maybe I should come with you?” 

            Cassie giggled at the way he was waggling his eyebrows. “Lina would love that! Hey, we could babysit!”

            Coop laughed. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. I think I’d be too focused on you to be much use.”

            That just got her heart racing. She couldn’t believe she had the guts to say it—“Likewise,” speaking so soft, and yet very sure.

            “Maybe one day soon? It would be fun to go and I’ve never been to New York.”

            Oh boy. He was asking to make plans. For the future. A part of her was right on board with it. “Sure. It’s got a great music scene.”

            “Then it’s a date.” He was dead serious; his eyes fixed on her so she couldn’t look away.

            That’s when Cassie did one of the bravest things of her life. There was barely a breath of space between them. She wasn’t even thinking, pulled by something so strong it was a force, not simply a feeling she could name, and she was leaning into him, her eyes almost closed as she gave in.

            “Cass,” he whispered, his voice a question, a call.

            “Coop,” she answered, just as her lips touched his in a kiss as soft as his fingers trailing her cheek. His lips were cold at first, but moist, brushing against hers in a slow slide. Then his mouth opened, his breath a warm rush. Coconut-vanilla ice cream just became her favourite flavour.

Cassie melted, her hands gripping his shoulders before her fingers wandered, threading through his hair. Touching him, kissing him, was a revelation. She wasn’t sure if she moaned or he did with each deepening kiss. His hands were cupping her face, then sliding to her neck, pulling her closer.

            She was falling.

            And he was right there with her.     

29

Pen sat at the worktable in Sally’s studio.

            It was time to begin her first weaving project.

            This was her second lesson and Sally had her working on a small hand loom, not the huge loom that sat ominously to her right.

            “This project will give you a feel for the process and also, a sense of what you might want to progress to on a larger scale.”

            The small loom sat angled on the worktable. Pen had done some sketches, but the more abstract she became, the happier she felt. She wanted to create a feeling, not an obvious picture. It’s what she’d achieved with the landscapes her mother had loved so much.

            She couldn’t help thinking of Alex when her mind was in that state of openness, not really thinking, but concentrating as she drew. She thought of the last time she’d felt truly happy with him. They’d gone away for a long weekend to Bear Gully near Wilsons Prom. They’d rented a shack by the beach. It was autumn, the evenings chilly, perfect for using the fireplace. During the day they’d bundled up and walked along the beach, even when it was raining and overcast, the only two people for what felt like miles around. They ate when they felt like it; made love when they felt like it, talked late into the night and were companionably silent.

            Before they’d left to come home, Pen had walked down to the beach alone. She’d stood looking across the deceptively still water. A clear blue sky met the grey-green sea. So beautiful, so fierce. There was a wildness that called to her. The connection broke when Alex yelled her name. She’d turned towards his voice, walking away from the sea. But she’d carried an ache in her chest, her heart, as if an indefinable longing had lodged there. When she’d reached for Alex’s hand, there were tears in her eyes she couldn’t explain.

            That was the feeling she wanted to create.

            She sketched the horizon, shading in colour. Sally came to stand by her worktable. Pen angled to look at her.

            “That has potential. Especially for a larger work.” Sally smiled, encouraging. “Most of my students initially have a lot of trouble designing their own work, but you have an almost natural instinct for what’s possible. It’s beautiful.”

            It was high praise, but something clicked in Pen, a sense of rightness at hearing Sally’s words. It loosened something she’d kept buried since the art school rejection. The courage to begin expressing herself again; giving herself permission, not looking to others to say it was okay to do something that mattered to her. Because that’s all that really counted.

            It felt a lot like letting go.

            It felt like finding something she’d missed for too long.

30

Cassie hated walking around the city in her school uniform.

It was Wednesday afternoon and she and Kim were off to the State Library to study. The library was an easy halfway place for both of them as Kim lived in Carlton. Suni rarely came, preferring to study at home, and Steph’s aim was simply to get through the final exams and focus on her art folio. If she didn’t get in to the fashion course, she was going to try and apprentice herself to a designer. She had it all planned.

            “Kim, let’s grab a coffee before we go in.” Cassie knew she was delaying the inevitable. They were both focusing on their language subjects: Japanese for Kim and French for Cassie. The difference was simple—Kim was bilingual, and to say French was Cassie’s second language was pushing it. 

            Kim grinned, knowingly. “You’re not getting out of this. We’re studying not slacking.”

            Cassie grimaced. Ugh. French. She loved the idea of speaking it; loved the sound of it, but the reality was something else. Her parents and even Nate encouraged her to study at least one language if she was going to pursue an Arts degree. Both her mum and Nate spoke fluent French. It seemed a no-brainer to choose it—in the seventh grade. She’d been questioning that choice ever since.

“Tell me again why you want to study languages together? Is it so you can grow your ego in my estimations of your ability, while mine deflates?”         

            Kim burst with laughter. “No! It just seemed like a good idea. Steph and Suni aren’t studying a language. I thought it was a solidarity thing.”

            Cassie gave her an incredulous look. “Where’s the solidarity when you’re fluent and I can barely get by as a tourist?”

            Kim just grinned and dragged Cassie towards their destination. Kim was highly motivated. Cassie only hoped it rubbed off on her. 

            “Okay, but coffee. I need it,” Cassie insisted.

            Seated at one of Mr Tulk’s outside tables facing Latrobe Street, Cassie relaxed in the late afternoon sun. Still wearing their winter uniforms, she felt almost uncomfortably warm. She took of her blazer.

            “Can’t wait for summer,” Cassie murmured.

            “I know,” Kim agreed, sipping her latte. “Do you have plans with Coop?”

            Cassie darted her a look. Kim had barely asked about Coop, and she’d been grateful. Steph pried incessantly, and Suni was curious, but Kim kept silent.

            Cassie shrugged. “He’s doing research work for a history lecturer. Maybe doing gigs with Punt. But I’ve got no plans, except doing extra shifts at the bookshop. I mean—freedom, Kim!”

            Kim smiled. “I know. Feels unreal, doesn’t it?”

            “Are you working with your dad?” Kim taught some of the beginner Tai Chi and Judo classes. Having a black belt at eighteen in three martial arts was unbelievably impressive. Cassie was a little in awe of her friend, mostly because Kim never made a big deal of it.

            Kim was nodding. “Yeah. The extra money will be good. And the practice. I’ll probably keep teaching if I get into my Commerce course next year.”

            “And you will,” Cassie said firmly.

            “Wouldn’t it be great if we both got into Melbourne? And Suni got into Law?” Kim sounded wistful, like she’d been imagining this possibility.

            “You know, I hadn’t really thought about it. I’ve been so focused on simply doing one project and then the next for assessment. I can’t even begin to think of where I’m actually going to end up.”

            “Even if Coop’s at Melbourne?” Kim could be sly.

            Cassie leaned over and swatted her arm. “One-track mind!”

            Kim snorted. “You’ve been floating Cassie. Floating!” And then more quietly. “You seem happy.”

            Cassie knew her friend well enough to hear the hint of sadness, and not because she was spiteful at Cassie’s good fortune. “I am,” she said simply. It still felt unreal. The happiness somehow coexisted with the incredible pressure at school, the nauseating reality of the up-and-coming exams, and the uncertainty of what came after. Some days she felt positively schizophrenic. Despite the roller coaster of her emotions, there was no way she was rubbing in the happy vibes knowing Kim might be feeling left out in some way. Cassie had guessed it wasn’t just that she and Steph were dating; it was the fact Kim was hoping for someone to be in her life. Someone special. Cassie had felt the same way seeing Steph with Cameron. Well, she did at first, until she got to know Cameron better.

            “How come one of those hulking karate guys hasn’t noticed the gorgeous and lethal girl in their midst?”

             Kim scrunched her petite features into a not-so-pretty grimace. “Ugh. Can you imagine any of them asking me out with my father looming over them? They’re all afraid of him, so wanting to date his daughter? Not going to happen.”

            “Well, their loss. And quite frankly, if they don’t have the guts to face your dad, not worth it.”

            “That’s what I think. But maybe uni will be my time to meet someone. At least I hope so.” Kim’s hands were clenched in her lap, tense. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll just scare guys off once—you know—they figure out I could smack them down and kick their arses to oblivion.”

            The unexpected visual and Kim’s language had Cassie snorting, cracking up. “God, but that’s what’s so amazing about you. That you can! And if a guy’s ego can’t handle it—stuff it! The right one will love that his girlfriend is capable of kicking his arse, but also saving it.” Then seeing Kim’s doubt, Cassie tried to be reassuring. “It will happen, Kim. I didn’t expect to ever get a chance with Coop. And I mean ever.”

            “Seriously?”

            “Yep. Seriously.”

            Kim mulled over that as they sipped their coffees. Cassie baked in the sun, feeling a momentary peace. She often felt like this with Kim, because despite her ability to fight, she was a gentle soul. Steph kept getting in Cassie’s face, but Kim was respectful of other people’s personal space.

            “So will you bring him to the school formal? It’s next week.”

            Cassie sat up straight like she’d been zapped. Oh shit! She’d completely forgotten about the dance! “I haven’t even thought about it!”

            Kim pointed at Cassie’s face, which had a stunned expression. “You look shocked I asked!”

            “But I really haven’t thought about it! I just remember us making a decision that you, Suni and I would go together. I mean—I haven’t even got a dress!” Panic spiked. That meant it was nearly the end of September! It felt like the last hoorah before they entered the hell of October and then exams.

            “But that’s changed, huh?” Kim prodded gently.

            Cassie frowned. Had it? Coop had yet to meet her friends. They’d been on a few dates since that wonderful Friday night, but their schedules were brutal at the moment, and finding time for a relaxed meeting with her girlfriends hadn’t been possible. And yes, she felt twinges of guilt that she hadn’t made it happen. She’d spoken about them at length to Coop and shown photos, because he wanted to know about anyone who was important in her life. He would meet them. But the formal? No freaking way. Just the thought of it had her cringing. She’d never wanted to go in the first place. Both Kim and Suni had insisted. It just seemed so—lame.

            Cassie made a decision then that she was sure Coop would understand, and might even be grateful for. “No, the three of us are still going together. I definitely want you guys to meet Coop. But it’s not going to be at the bloody school dance. That’s a sucker move. You know I never wanted to go, so dragging Coop into it seems almost cruel.”

            Now it was Kim looking askance. “But—he’s your boyfriend!”

            Cassie grinned at Kim’s stupefied expression. “There are no rules stating I can’t let my boyfriend sit out the school dance ’cause I already made arrangements with my friends! Coop will be cool about it. It will just feel awkward you guys meeting there for the first time. It’s going to be hokey and I don’t want to have to be worried that he’s weirded out by the whole experience. I’d rather the three of us get weirded out together. We might actually enjoy it.”

            Kim’s smile was bright and a touch grateful. Neither she nor Suni had dates for the dance; Kim because there really wasn’t anyone in her life and Suni because she’d made a promise to her folks to wait until uni before guys came into the picture. And there had been quite a few guys interested.

“I’d like to meet him some day. I mean that. It will be fun if it’s just us. And Steph. Kind of.”

            The “kind of” meaning, Cameron. Who Cassie knew wasn’t that enthusiastic to be experiencing the school formal now that he was an oh-so-mature-uni-student.

Who just happens to be shagging one of my best friends.

            Cassie sighed. “Now that we’ve settled that, I say it’s time to trepan my skull and insert some kind of behaviour modification that allows me to develop a French alter-ego.”    

            “No problems. I’ve got my drill handy.” Kim didn’t miss a beat.

            Cassie snorted. “Bring on the Novocaine. Actually, just knock me out with a sledgehammer. Maybe they’ll give me a sympathy pass if they think I’ve suffered brain trauma and done enough work for the year.”

            Kim rolled her eyes. “You really are a natural storyteller, Cass. You can be so full of bullshit.”

            “Tell me about it,” agreed Cassie sardonically.

31

The sun heated her body and Pen closed her eyes. It was a small bliss after the cold room in the Conservation Centre she’d been stuck in for most of the day.

            She’d just met with her supervisor about the final draft of her thesis. On a whim while returning some books at the Baillieu Library, she’d browsed to find some books on medieval tapestries. Sally was eager for her to understand the history, beginning with tapestries from Egypt, Greece and the medieval period.

            Feeling like a small reward, some time-out sitting on the South Lawn seemed apropos before she headed home.

            Until a shadow was cast across her. Her eyes widened in annoyance, checking the still cloud-free sky, only to discover her own personal cloud in the shape of a man standing above her.

            “Sorry,” he said easily, in a mellifluous British-accented voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just, well, I just couldn’t help noticing—this is going to sound presumptuous—but your hair is the most incredible colour in the sun.”

            Pen gaped, briefly, before remembering an open mouth wasn’t the most attractive thing to see. “Um, yeah, I get that a lot.” What she was really thinking was how this was an uncanny repeat of how she first met Alex.

            “My name’s Liam, and I have to make another admission. I have seen you around campus. Your hair makes you quite recognisable.”

            Liam held out his hand and Pen offered hers for him to shake. “My name is Penelope. Penny or Pen is fine. You teach here?” Pen nodded at the stack of papers under his arm.

            “Yes, I do. History in fact. Classical, Medieval and Renaissance.” He nodded at the grass beside her. “May I? I feel a bit stupid towering over you like this.”

            Pen blushed. “Of course.” Then she made a connection. “Do you happen to know Cooper Maitland?”

            Liam smiled. Pen didn’t even stop herself from noticing he had a great smile. “Yes! He’s one of my best students. Actually, he’s doing research for me over this summer. But how do you know him?”

            Pen’s lips tweaked. “Well, he’s best friends with my brother and now he’s dating my younger sister.”

            Liam burst out laughing. It was warm and open. Like his face, she thought.

“Well, that’s an unexpected connection. Six-degrees of separation and all that. But I’ve just noticed that stack of books. Are you studying? Medieval tapestries, that’s fascinating. The Bayeux Tapestry is of interest?”

            Pen was surprised her tongue wasn’t tied in knots. He had a marvellous speaking voice, and she was beginning to sense the sharp intelligence behind his congenial manner. And intimidating. Academics had a habit of intimidating her. Oh crap, I don’t even know the guy. “I’m actually taking weaving classes, so it’s out of personal interest. My teacher is encouraging me to know more of the history.”

            Liam’s smile broke so easily across his face. And what a handsome face it is, Pen thought wryly. Probably quite the favourite with the students. Although that was a bit judgmental. But she had met her share of lecherous lecturers, as she liked to call them. However, Liam seemed unaffected as if he had no idea he made an impact. There was something quite refreshingly straightforward about him.

            “That’s marvellous! Why weaving? Such an ancient art form. It’s rare to find someone who actually wants to pursue it.”

            It was stunning to hear his enthusiasm—surreal even—but also his appreciation of it as an art form. Since mentioning her interest to Alex, he hadn’t brought it up again.

“I’ve always loved to draw. It’s not something I’ve taken to a professional level. I’m studying to be a paper conservator and I’m a technician at the Potter, but I was passing the Tapestry Workshop a few weeks ago and it was this strong attraction, I guess. I wanted to try it. There was such beauty in the works I saw. I guess I wanted to see if I could make one for myself.”

            Pen clamped her mouth shut. She couldn’t believe she’d just admitted to such a heartfelt desire to a stranger. She felt exposed in a way she rarely allowed herself to be with people she didn’t know.

            Liam was thoughtful and understanding. “An admirable reason to do anything, I believe. To want to create something beautiful.”

            A silence descended that Pen wasn’t sure how to overcome. Liam was looking at her face, not in a sleazy way that made her feel uncomfortable, more appreciative of what he was seeing. Like how a person would view a work of art.

            He cleared his throat. “Look I have a lecture to get to, but would you be around later for a coffee?”

             Pen’s eyes widened. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and she was unable to stop looking into Liam’s incredible grey eyes, almost metallic. With ridiculously long, dark lashes. “I won’t be around later, I’m sorry.”

            Liam’s sunny countenance darkened a little. He was obviously disappointed. “Perhaps another time. I’m sorry. I know it’s a sudden request, but I would love to talk more with you. It’s not often one meets someone with such eclectic interests.”

            He had such a delightfully odd way of turning a phrase. Pen was very tempted to give in because she too would have enjoyed talking to him further. Yet there was a very big impediment, and she wasn’t going to lie about the fact she was in a relationship.

            She chose her words carefully. “I would enjoy a coffee and talking, but I have to be honest, I’m in a relationship. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

            That I’m free, she could have added, resentful that she’d have to add such a clause. And worried that she was resentful.

            Liam’s expression was reflective. Pen could almost see the gears churning in his mind. He’d been impulsive coming up to her, but he’d also noticed her before, which she found startling, never thinking she was on anyone’s radar here at the university. Pen wasn’t so naïve to think that he just wanted a coffee without there being an implied intention of getting to know her.

            Pen’s recent vow to be honest with herself allowed her to acknowledge that she wanted to get to know him. This person who had not only noticed her in the vast sea of people, but who so easily spoke of things that were beginning to become important to her.

            Liam smiled. “Well, I have to admit I’m disappointed. I also have to admit I am unattached. Given your honesty, which I appreciate immensely, I would still like to have a coffee some time if you would agree. In the spirit of friendship and a joint fascination in the historical.” It was offered playfully, and Pen’s spirits lifted.

            When she gave an answering smile, it was glowing. She failed to hear the slight hitch of his breath, because Pen had no idea of the impact she had on people as well.

“I’d like that, Liam.”  

32 

“So, you’re giving me a heads up about your school formal, but you’re not actually inviting me, because you already made plans?”

            Okaaaay, put it like that and it sounded plain weird. Thing was, Coop was smiling that cheeky grin that had her melting.

            It was Cassie’s lunch break at the bookstore, and Coop just “happened to be passing by”, as he so casually put it. Cassie was thrilled. It was the first time he’d visited her at work, and she knew he’d planned the whole thing so they could have some time together.

            “Well, I don’t want you to think I don’t want to ask you, because that’s not true.” Coop kept grinning while he hoed into his ham, cheese and tomato panini. “But I did make plans with Kim and Suni, and neither have dates, and I kind of want to keep to the original plan so that they don’t feel bad…”

            Coop’s shoulders were shaking as he chewed, waving a hand for her to stop.

            “What?” Cassie asked, bemused and a little peeved at being interrupted.

            “Cass, I get it! You want to support your friends. I agree, it will be weird if I’m the only guy, and they haven’t met me yet.” His eyes were creased with the smile he beamed at her. “You’re being a great friend. I’m into it. I also get that you think the whole formal thing is lame—I’ve been there.” Cassie’s eyes popped, wanting to hear that story. “There’s not much to tell. I’m cool with it, okay?”

            Coop gave her hand a squeeze. Cassie breathed out and was suddenly ravenous now that she’d got that load off. “Thanks,” she said planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Coop brushed a finger along hers. “Eat, you haven’t got long,” he insisted. Cassie bit hungrily into one of the mushroom arancini balls she’d ordered.

“But I’ve got one request,” said Coop ominously after they’d finished eating.

“Okay,” Cassie murmured cautiously. “Sounds interesting.”

Coop wiped his mouth with a serviette and slurped his coffee. “I get to see you before the dance, and I’ll drop you off wherever you need to be.”

“What?!” Cassie choked. Coop just grinned and rubbed her back. Cassie took a gulp of mineral water. “But why?”

Coop laughed as if she’d said the most hilarious thing. “Cassie, calm down! I want to see you in whatever fabulous dress you’re going to wear! I want to have a short moment with you if I don’t get the whole night. Is that too strange to ask?”

Cassie’s eyes narrowed, not exactly sure what was so special about seeing her dolled up. She still had no idea what she was going to wear. Coop grabbed her hand and was stroking the soft flesh of her palm. “Unfair,” she whispered, shivering at the simple touch. She was beginning to crave these touches. Being near him. Wanting to touch him.

“I’m incredibly persuasive,” he joked, but Cassie could sense he was serious. He wanted to have some of her time that evening, and Cassie would have happily ditched the whole night to be with him.

“Sure,” Cassie relented. “But no laughing at the dress. I don’t even know what I’m wearing yet!”

Coop’s eyebrows hiked. “Seriously? You really don’t like shopping, do you?”

Cassie smirked. “Mythbuster. Not all girls love to shop.”

“Yeah, I get that. Zoe’s the same. Still, you haven’t got long—”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me! Steph’s dragging me around the city tomorrow afternoon to get something.”

Coop kissed her forehead. It was creased like she was in pain at the thought. “You’ll look beautiful.”

“At this rate, I’m just aiming for turning up clothed in whatever outfit I can find.”

Coop chuckled, then looked at his phone. “Time to go.” Cassie sighed and by the look on his face, he was as reluctant to end what little time they’d had.

“Not long, now. Exams and then you’re free. “They got up to pay at the counter.

“I’m going to forgive you for saying the ‘e’ word, because you tagged on the ‘free’ word.”

“Keep thinking about it, Cass. Whatever gets you through it.” Coop reached for her hand and they walked into the afternoon sun. Cassie shut her eyes, soaking it up.   

“Your hair’s amazing in this light,” Coop said wondrously, his fingers weaving into the heavy curls. Or waves. It was kind of behaving today.

When Cassie opened her eyes, he was staring at her with such ardour she could only wonder what he saw when he looked at her. She’d catch him gazing at her at these odd times, and she had no idea what he was thinking. She wanted to know, because she was sure he was trying to figure something out, like he was puzzling over her. At least that’s what she thought.

She couldn’t help asking, “What are you thinking?”

His voice was as low as hers. “Can’t believe you’re here. With me.”

Cassie had that same thought. Often. She reached up to cup his cheek, loving the slight rasp of his barely-there stubble against her palm.

“Same.”

33

“So did you find the dress?” asked Pen, handing over a packet of gluten free pasta for Cassie to dump into the boiling water, while she stirred the tomato sauce she’d valiantly tried making from scratch. 

Nearly every surface in the kitchen was covered in Pen’s chaotic attempts to cook. Tired of take-out, she’d co-opted Cassie to help. Tanya’s eyes had widened as she arrived from work, and she’d promptly made herself scarce. Cooking seemed to terrify her.

            Cassie was on wash-up duty, the dishwasher already full. “Yep. It was easy.”

            “Let me guess, black?” Pen grinned at Cassie’s smirk.

            “Black with a halter neck and a full skirt that comes to the knee. In Steph’s opinion, elegant, show’s off my curves and sexy. And I stress, in her opinion.”

            Pen chuckled. “Sounds great. Shoes?”

            “Got the black suede pumps mum bought me yonks ago. They fit.”

            “Almost too easy.”

            Cassie snorted. “Not like I’m trying to impress anyone.” Pen spied the flush in her cheeks, and not from the hot water in the sink.

            “You mean Coop?” she teased.

            Cassie handed Pen another dishtowel to dry. “He’s coming over and driving me to Suni’s. Kim will meet us there and we’ll get a taxi to the venue.”

            “Bet he can’t wait to check you out.”

            Cassie glared. “It’s just a dress for freak’s sake! Why is everyone making such a big deal of it?”

            “Because when was the last time you wore one? Or a skirt? And I’m not talking about your school uniform.”

            Cassie scrunched her face, now reddening and shiny from the steaming hot water in the sink. She was silent for quite a while. “Point taken.” 

            They worked companionably. It had become a bit of a routine, getting dinner ready in some shape or form, whether cooked or bought. Cassie often helped if she wasn’t too snowed under with homework. It was a brief respite for Cassie, and Pen was grateful for the extra hands. It gave her something to do. She wasn’t brilliant, but there was no one here who made an effort like Alex had, so she thought she might give it a try. So far, she’d avoided fish. Sometimes there was more than just the four of them depending if Simone and her partner, Peter, or Cassie’s friends came around. More hands to rope in. Pen decided she was good at delegating.

            Pen hesitated before asking, but ever since Sunday when Cassie had mentioned she’d seen Coop, she’d been tempted to ask without seeming too eager.

            “Um,” Pen began, clearing her throat. Cassie handed her a chopping board to dry. “Did you ask Coop about his supervisor?”

            “Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot to mention that,” Cassie spoke breezily. “He’s cool. Really great apparently. Coop said he’s brilliant. Doctorate from Oxford. Taught there before coming here. I think he was involved with someone, that’s why he came here. Not too sure. Coop said it’s our gain, because he’s a brilliant lecturer and he’ll probably supervise Coop’s master’s degree as well. He’s also helping Liam over the summer. Actually, Coop will probably tutor for him next year.”

            Pen mulled over that. She’d figured he was smart. Brilliant, she thought deflating, absolutely intimidating. Not that she was surprised. Coop’s praise was high, which said a lot. And he’d been involved with someone. That explained being transplanted in Melbourne of all the places he could probably go. From Oxford. She wasn’t sure what made her think they could be friends.

            Cassie was giving her sidelong glances as she finished washing the dishes. “How do you know him?” she asked curiously.

            Pen shrugged. “He said hello. We bumped into each other.” Sort of the truth, “We talked and I mentioned Coop. So, I was curious.”

            “Apparently, he’s very good looking. The girls in Coop’s classes are always trying to get him to notice them.” I bet, thought Pen cynically. He didn’t seem the type to take advantage of it.

            Cassie went on oblivious to Pen’s internal musings. “Coop said he’s completely professional. Won’t even close the door when he does consults with students.”

            “That’s wise,” Pen said, secretly pleased to hear that.

            Cassie let the water drain and stripped the rubber gloves from her hands. “Spill Pen. You’re interested in him, aren’t you?” Cassie leaned her hip against the kitchen bench, arms crossed.

            “What?” Pen was taken aback at Cassie’s leap. “I just met the guy once!”

            “And?”

            Pen hung the towel on a rail to dry. “He thought I was free. Asked me out for a coffee.”

            Cassie’s eyes were huge. She grinned wickedly. “And?”

            “Argh! Nothing!”

            “Yeah,” Cassie laughed. “And?”

            “I told him I was in a relationship. He said while he was disappointed to hear it, he thought maybe we could still have a coffee. As friends.”

            “Friends,” repeated Cassie, sceptically.

            “Yes,” Pen answered firmly.

“Right.” Cassie didn’t even ask for Pen to qualify that, which was odd.

            “So, will you meet him?” Cassie was now stirring the tomato sauce, as if it was fascinating.

            “I think so. He’s interested in medieval tapestries. That’s why I think he asked me out for coffee. Common interest.”

            Cassie snorted. “Pen, you haven’t been out of the loop long enough to think that’s the only reason he asked you. I bet he thinks you’re beautiful.”

            Pen blushed, not wanting to mention his “interest” in her hair. Or that he’d noticed her before.

            “Hey, he sounds amazing. It’s not like he doesn’t know you’re with someone.”

            “But?”

            Cassie turned, all humour was wiped clean from her face. “I don’t know. I guess if you were happy with Alex, I bet you wouldn’t give this guy a second thought. Okay, you might admire him for his looks. It just makes me think you’re already moving on in some way. Even if you don’t mean to.”

            Pen’s mouth opened then shut. Whether Pen wanted to acknowledge it, Cassie spoke the truth. There was no judgment in her tone, but Pen couldn’t answer her, because what Cassie said was enough. Pen’s silence only affirmed that fact.

            “Let’s make the pasta and finish this,” Pen said resolutely.

            “Let’s,” Cassie echoed

34

Cassie waited until it was almost 11.00 p.m. before calling Coop. During the week, they’d call late in the evening to catch up, or simply say goodnight.  

            Tonight, Cassie felt restless. In four weeks, she’d be taking her finals. It made her feel sick, relieved and shit scared. But her mind wasn’t on schoolwork or the formal that Friday night. Cassie called Coop, he picked up immediately.

            “Hey.” He sounded a little sleepy.

            “Hey, I didn’t catch you in bed?” Sweet Jesus, the thought made her blush, her skin tingling and she clamped her mouth shut before the visual of Coop in bed had her moaning on her end.

            “Not bed. I’m at my desk, trying to redraft a section of my thesis. I’m totally bored with my own writing.”

            Cassie giggled. “I’m sure it’s brilliant.”

            “So did you get it?” Suddenly sounding more alert.

            “Why is everyone interested in this dress?” she growled.

            Coop thought that was hilarious. He was in stitches. “I love it when you growl! You get this snarly look that’s adorable.”

            “I’m glad I amuse you!” And yes, she was smiling. And still wanting to growl.

            “So, did you?” he pushed, cheekily.

            “Yes!”

            “Describe it.” He was almost purring now. Ugh. He had that low raspy tone that just set something off in her. She wanted him beside her, so she could feel his warmth. Him. She wanted to rub herself up against him. Cassie wanted, no needed, Coop.

            “It’s black with a halter top and it flares out from the waist. Just to the knee.” She could barely talk, as if sounds could better communicate this—wanting.

            Coop was quiet. “Coop?” She was sure he could hear how she felt.

            “I’m here.” His voice was like breath against her skin. She clutched the duvet against her and felt like writhing like a cat wanting to be petted. “I’m imagining what that skin of yours will look like against the black. And your hair. God, we better change the subject.”

            Cassie giggled and Coop groaned. Which only made her giggle more. Stupidly, but also, frustrated as hell.

“Cassie,” he pleaded. At least he was having as hard a time as she was with not seeing each other, but also how when they did, the need to feel connected, to be close, just kept getting more urgent. Apart from kissing and some pretty heated make-out sessions, Coop wanted to take it slow. After a particularly amazing time in the back seat of Coop’s car, he’d pulled away, both of them gasping.

“Are you serious?” Cassie had shrieked. Here hands were under his T-shirt, exploring every inch of his chest. Coop’s hands were splayed across her back, so hot they branded her skin. Their legs were tangled, with Cassie almost sprawled across Coop. She was too far gone to blush at how she was close to straddling him.

“Babe,” he said between breathing heavily. “I want to take this further. But not here.”

Cassie’s hands had strayed to his abdomen, her fingers itching, always itching to explore more. Coop moaned, his eyes narrowing as his head tilted back, his stomach muscles clenching under her fingers. Cassie loved how her touch could affect him. Coop’s fingers scraped against her back and she arched forward, wanting more.

“Cass,” he breathed. “Not fair.”

“I don’t care about fair,” she murmured, her mouth inches away from his. Her lips were raw and swollen. She wanted to taste him. Again.

“Cass, listen. If we keep going like this, it’s going to be harder to stop.”

            Cassie couldn’t hide her disappointment. “You want to stop?”

            Coop rasped a laugh. “No! That’s the point. Cass, I want you. Shit, this is hard!” One of his hands slipped from under her top to rake through his hair. The level of frustration and desire between them was hitting the stratosphere.

            Cassie took a deep breath. “Okay. I get it.”

            “No, don’t pull away.” Coop cradled her face with his hands and kissed her, gently, but then deeper and it was like sinking into pure, dizzying sensation all over again. Coop pulled back and his forehead touched hers, his breath warming her face. “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want the first time we’re together to be like this.”

            Cassie grinned slyly. “You mean in the car?” They hadn’t exactly talked about the “first time” or whether for that matter, it was actually Cassie’s first time. She’d been too shy to bring it up despite her raging hormones.

            “Yes!”  

            “Well, we could always go to your place,” she prodded, brazenly.

            “Don’t tempt me! You’ve also got a curfew I’m not going to jeopardise.”

            Cassie deflated. “Don’t remind me.” She was champing at the bit from all these restrictions.

            They’d sat hugging each other, somehow cooling off enough for the reality of the exposure to set in. They were parked in a secluded cul-de-sac by the beach where they’d gone for a walk. Cassie lost all sense of place or time when they were kissing. And it was only getting worse.

            Cassie breathed deeply. She knew she wanted Coop. The fact he wanted her so much made her tremble. She also knew she wasn’t going to fake that she was experienced at this. It was too important. She didn’t want to freak him out, either. Shit, she thought, still wired and high from being so close to him. Just get it out. If he wanted to run, better now than when they were about to do the deed.

            She’d cleared her throat, her mouth dry. “Um, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

            “Mmm?” Coop sounded lazy, drowsy, his fingers playing with her hair.

            Cassie leaned back to look into his face. “I’m a virgin.”

            For a moment they both seemed locked still. Coop’s eyes were riveted on hers. Cassie froze. Then she began to retreat, her cheeks flushing and her eyes smarting. Idiot! she screamed internally.

            Coop stopped her, sliding his arms around her and without saying a word, his mouth found hers and he was kissing her with a wildness that had her reeling.

            Briefly, Coop’s lips left hers just so they could breathe. “I thought you might be. I didn’t want to push you until you were comfortable telling me.”

            Cassie felt boneless in his arms. “You don’t mind? I mean it’s not freaking you out?”

            Coop laughed. “Babe, it just makes the first time more precious. For both of us.”

            “No pressure, huh?” Cassie playfully poked him in the ribs.

            “Just means there’s no way we’re rushing into it. And they’ll be no pressure. It’ll happen because we both want it to.”

            “Like now?” she suggested playfully. Hopefully.

            Coop nipped her lower lip with his teeth. “No pressure,” he whispered.     

Thinking about that conversation, Cassie was both touched at his thoughtfulness, and still wanting to tear her hair out. She decided to cage her hormones.

            “Well, um, I mentioned to Pen what you thought about Liam.”

            “Oh, and?” He sounded more relaxed at the sudden change in topic. Safe, kind of. They were both on edge.

            “I think he’s interested in my sister,” she blurted out.

            Coop gave a surprised laugh. “You’re kidding?”

            “No, he asked her out for a coffee. She mentioned she was in a relationship, but he said they could still go for a coffee, as friends.”

            Coop was quiet, but this time there was nothing suggestive in his silence. “That’s—interesting. Are you worried? I mean he’s a great guy. He wouldn’t come onto her or anything.”

            Cassie stared at the ceiling. She only had the bedside lamp on and the walls were a soft cream. “No—Pen’s not an idiot, and she doesn’t play games. It’s weird, I guess, thinking about a guy interested in her who isn’t Alex. And he’s not here and it just feels like she’s thinking about it being more permanent.” Cassie was babbling, unable to stop. So much needed to just spill out, and Coop made her feel like she could.

            “Okay. I get where you’re coming from. You think it’s ending between Pen and Alex.”

            “Yeah. I mean she hasn’t said anything, but I don’t think she’d meet with Liam if she was still committed to Alex.”

            Coop made a humphing sound. “Not even as a friend?”

            “Sure, but he asked her out first, and not simply as a ‘I want to get to know you as my friend’.”

            Coop chuckled. “Alright, well, he probably is interested. But they’re mature enough to figure out what’s going on between them.”

            Cassie was silent, not wanting to say what was uppermost in her mind. Coop guessed. “You’re wondering if she’ll have an affair?”

            Cassie groaned, shoving a pillow over her face. “I shouldn’t be thinking like this!”

            “Why not? You said Pen’s been unhappy and Alex left without even really consulting her about his trip. And she moved out! Temporarily or not, none of it sounds positive.”

            “I know, but Pen—I mean I can’t believe she’d even consider it.”

            “Maybe she isn’t. Maybe it’s just really great to have someone notice her and he’s an interesting guy. You said he noticed her tapestry books. Maybe it’s all above board for her.”

            Cassie knew he was being pragmatic, but she was trying to find the words that itched at a deeper concern.

            “Cass? What are you really worried about? I mean Pen’s decisions are her own. I get the feeling there’s more.” And that’s one more thing she loved about him. That he could sense her struggle, and he cared enough to want to know.

            Damn, I’m using that word!

            “Can it last?” she asked hesitantly. “Can any relationship ever, really last?” Her throat was tight, and if she kept talking about her doubts, she might cry.

            Coop breathed heavily into the phone. “Oh Cass. Babe, that’s a big unknown. You know about my experience. My parents had a so-called ‘break’ that lasted almost two years! They somehow worked it out. I think because they truly loved each other. I never thought they would, and I’ll be the first to admit I kept asking them when they were getting a divorce.”

            “Zeke said you were pretty angry around that time.”

            “Angry! I was furious. Mostly at Dad because he’d made all these changes that had such a huge impact on all of us. Especially the fact he hurt Mum.”

            “And you,” Cassie said quietly.

            “Yeah. What I’m trying to say is, you can’t know absolutely what’s going to happen. I’ve also been lucky to see my Aunt Lily with her husband Nick. They love each other and show no signs of wanting anything or anyone else.”

            “It is possible,” Cassie murmured, more to comfort herself than being certain.

            “It is,” Coop reaffirmed. “Cass, are you worried about us?”

            Crap, he was clever. Too clever. “I just hate thinking¼”

            “Don’t,” interrupted Coop. “Don’t go there, Cass. We’ve barely begun. I know Steph’s not in a good place from what you’ve said, or Pen, but that’s not us. Please don’t think it has to be like that for us.”

            Cassie swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. It just feels so weird feeling so good when other people are going through all this difficult stuff.”

            “I get that. But focus on the feeling, Cass. Focus on how we feel together, how you feel. I know that I feel just the same way.”

            Cassie wished fiercely that they were having this conversation in person. She wanted to hug him. Kiss him. Touch him. Yet she could hear the truth in his voice.

“Thanks. I just needed to talk about it.”

            “I know, beautiful. Sometimes you have to get it out. You can always talk to me. No matter what. I’d rather know what you’re thinking than be left in the dark.”

            Cassie smiled. “Goes both ways.”

            “Yep. It does.”

            Cassie opened her mouth, but what seemed the most natural thing to say, couldn’t make it past her lips.

            “I’m here, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

            “I know.” And she realised she meant it.

35

Pen wasn’t just nervous, she was freaking out.

            She kept looking at the wall clock, which now indicated 4.35 p.m. She was in the bowels of the Potter Conservation Centre and was mindlessly cleaning yet another box of archives. Selene had proudly informed her she was halfway through the entire lot. Brilliant.

            It was almost a week since she’d first met Liam. She’d given him her number thinking she’d leave it up to him to call her. She was sure her relationship status would truly have turned him off the idea. After that brief chat with Cassie, she was beginning to tie herself in knots thinking of not only how it looked, that she’d agreed to meet him, but also what it truly said about her. And Alex.

            Liam had called and asked if she’d like to meet for a coffee in Lygon Street at Brunetti. She was going to have to take a leaf out of Cassie’s book and make sure she wasn’t too hungry because she could seriously pig out with all the pastries and cakes in that place. The closer it got to 5.00 p.m. she could barely contemplate a coffee. Let alone food.

            What had spurred her decision to accept Liam’s offer was an email from Alex who had just arrived in New Zealand:

Had great fun today—the OZ contingent went bungee jumping in Queenstown. It was a blast! Tried the double jump with Helena—she screamed so loud I thought my eardrums would burst. I know you’d have hated doing it. Wish you could see the mountains! It’s picture perfect. Can’t wait to see the Antarctica scenery again. And the trip over there—it’s an incredible feeling being on the ship—it’s freeing.

            Freeing. Yes, feeling free. He’d asked how she was going and even inquired about her thesis and work. The family. Yet there was nothing intimate. The “I love you”, was reduced to a cursory “love you”, that he signed off with. She felt about as loved as—well, she didn’t feel it, to put it bluntly. Again, there was the mention of Helena. He’d been mentioning her name a lot, and while Pen never thought of herself as prone to jealousy, that name was beginning to glare at her with every message.

            So she called Zeke late Wednesday after agreeing to see Liam the following day, telling about her unease at accepting Liam’s invitation and the feeling she was being a neurotic twit.

            “You’re kidding me,” was Zeke’s first response at hearing about how she’d met Liam and what transpired.

            “Why would I?”

            “I’m being sarcastic! Serious, Pen? What are you worried about? So a friendly, intelligent and good looking guy asks you out for a coffee, accepts you’re in a relationship and still wants to meet with you, while keeping it all above board. Sounds okay to me.”

            “Serious?” She wasn’t sure what to make of Zeke’s almost offhand response.

            Zeke sighed. “Relax. Enjoy. Meeting a co-worker of sorts—and he does work at the same campus—for a coffee is cool. You’ve been honest. So has he. Above board.”

            “But…” But what?

            “Hey, you’re not cheating on Alex. A coffee isn’t getting hot between the sheets.” Pen’s face flamed at the thought. “It’s great that someone has shown some interest. We all need reminding we’re alive, and since your partner isn’t here to remind you, I’m all for it being the sexy history lecturer.” Zeke was positively wicked when he got like this.

            “Ze! I’m not meeting him with anything illicit in mind!” She sounded ridiculously prudish.

            “I know! So don’t sweat it. Enjoy talking to someone with similar interests. Don’t think too much. If you like him and he likes you, keep it as simple as that. You’re jumping to messy conclusions.”

            “I guess so.” She felt fatigued at the to-ing and fro-ing of her thoughts.

            “Let me know how it goes,” Zeke insisted slyly.

            “I’m sure the intricacies of understanding the purpose and technique of medieval tapestries are right down your alley.”

            “Wow,” he said mockingly, “and you’re worried he’s going to seduce you? Oh, I can feel the passion from here!”

            Pen collapsed laughing. “Oh, bugger off.”

            “Yes, be gone! Speak to you tomorrow.”       

* * *

Of course he was on time.

Pen arrived at Brunetti, found a table inside and saw she was five minutes early. Liam came right on the dot.

            Punctual. Then she noticed the jeans and Converse sneakers, the navy V-neck sweater over a pale blue cotton shirt. He’d topped it off with a navy jacket. And glasses. He hadn’t been wearing those before. Gunmetal rectangular frames that brought out the stunning grey of his eyes.

            Oh shit, she thought with dread. I’m noticing details. He’s gorgeous. Which I can’t ignore.

            “Penny.” He smiled warmly and sat opposite her. He placed a book he’d been carrying on the table, Homer’s The Odyssey.

            “Hey Liam,” she sounded surprisingly calm, happy. Light-hearted even, despite a roiling stomach.

            “So, what coffee do you enjoy? On me, I insist since I asked to see you.”

            Pen was about to argue, however she recognised how gracious he was being and silently cut herself some slack. Enjoy. “A latte would be great, thanks.”

            “Excellent. Won’t be a moment.” He moved lithely to the counter to order. In Italian. She could hear him even from where she was seated. Gosh, I wish Cassie had asked for more details. It was a desperate thought. She stopped the mind chatter. This was how you got to know someone. Unless you had a common acquaintance, this kind of revelation was how it unfolded.

            She’d known nothing about Alex, but she’d agreed to get to know him.

            Is that what I’m doing? She didn’t dare answer her own question. She kept repeating Zeke’s mantra to enjoy herself. The KISS principle, she repeated like reciting the multiplication tables: keep it simple stupid. Emphasis on the stupid.

            Liam arrived with a number for the table and just as quick came the coffees and a plate of biscotti.

            Liam smiled sheepishly and Pen couldn’t help but notice his mouth. Full and sensuous. She lowered her eyes quickly, her cheeks warm and no doubt, flushing red.

“I can never resist, so I got a selection hoping you might like something.”

            He sounded like a guilty child caught raiding the cookie jar. Pen smiled unselfconsciously. “I have to admit, I’m a sucker for their biscuits and cakes.” She picked out a chocolate covered biscuit, nearly groaning at the sweet yumminess.

Liam laughed. “Same. It’s too tempting being so near work.”

“I know,” Pen said around chewing, the sugar hit relaxing her tightly knotted gut. “I thought I’d put on weight coming here so often, but luckily it hasn’t happened yet.”

Liam eyes glinted. “Well, I’m all for a healthy appetite, and you have nothing to worry about from where I’m sitting.”

He said it innocently enough, but Pen blushed. She was so used to watching what she ate and the slight digs from Alex about how easily she put on weight, that she couldn’t quite believe the unexpected compliment.

“So,” Liam began enthusiastically, “how goes the weaving lessons?”

What followed was a seamlessly flowing conversation about Pen’s weaving, Liam’s current lecturing and writing, and Pen’s work at the Potter. Liam was intrigued at her work as a paper conservator in training, despite Pen’s insistence it sounded far more exotic than it was. But he was interested. It felt wonderful to have such positive energy coming her way. 

After the second coffee, Liam indicated the book. “I have to admit, when you told me your name and your interest in weaving, a very obvious character came to mind.”

Liam was looking at her, waiting to see if she was on the same page. She wasn’t. Pen blushed, again, and for some reason, Liam’s smile just broadened. At my expense, Pen thought acerbically, but no, he wasn’t like Alex who would trip her up on what she didn’t know. She hated comparing Alex in the negative. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

Liam leaned forward. “Well, I’m happy to be able to tell you something.” He tapped the book. “Homer’s Odyssey, after the battle of Troy, instead of returning home Odysseus spends years facing all these trials and tribulations. However, he was married you see, and left his wife and son to wait for him back in Ithaca, uncertain of whether he still lived. His wife’s name was Penelope.”

Pen could feel her face draining of heat. Her hands felt clammy. Liam was unaware of her very physical response. “Penelope was a weaver, and she used the excuse of weaving a shroud for her father-in-law to put off her many suitors who in Odysseus’s absence saw her as a prospective bride.”

Pen’s mind went blank. Liam noticed her stillness. ”Pen?” his eyes narrowed, honing in on her increasingly pallid complexion.

“Sorry, that—that’s just a bit too close to home.” I can’t believe I’m admitting this. She hadn’t intended for her current circumstances to be a part of this conversation. Yet she was rapidly finding Liam was way too easy to talk to.

“What do you mean?” he was intrigued, and wary.

“My partner, Alex,” she forced the words out, despite wanting to swallow every one of them. “He’s away at the moment. He’s in New Zealand and then he’s travelling to Antarctica with a research team. To Casey Station. He’ll be there for some time. He lectures at Melbourne in Environmental.” Pen sipped her now lukewarm latte. The coffee was a welcome jolt to her system.

Liam’s eyes never left her face. It was unnerving, but not uncomfortable. “I see. That is a striking parallel.” She could tell he wanted to ask further questions. Instead, he spoke pleasantly. “That’s an exciting opportunity. A true adventure, even if it is about work.”

Pen could barely speak to agree with him. Her conflict must have registered. “Is Antarctica a place you’d want to visit?” she asked coolly.

Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly at her tone. Like she’d begun to retreat. “No. I have to admit I’m not one for physical frontiers. I prefer my frontiers to be more about the imagination and the mind. I also prefer Mediterranean climates.”

Pen felt warmth return to her cheeks and extremities. “That sounds just as exciting.”

Liam smiled. “I think so. And you? Would you have liked to have gone?” He was skirting, prodding a little to ascertain her feelings about Alex’s journey.

“No, I have no desire to go.”

Pen was grateful when he turned the conversation to safer waters about travel in general. It was also nearing the time for his evening tutorial, and for her to venture home.

As they walked towards the university before going their separate ways, Liam was quiet for a moment before rushing to speak. “I brought this book thinking you might want to read it, but I’m not sure given your reaction!”

Pen was touched and a little surprised he was being so considerate. She stopped to face him. “Really? For me?” She hated how her thoughts went to Alex again, how for some time he rarely shared with her something as simple as a book. Pen didn’t want to make these comparisons, while finding it hard to avoid them.

Liam was obviously perplexed at her surprise. “Yes. It’s an old copy so don’t be too precious with it. But it seems appropriate.”

Too appropriate. She hadn’t even asked how the story ended.                    

Liam was uncomfortably astute. “There is a positive ending. I shouldn’t spoil it, but perhaps it won’t be so distressing knowing Odysseus finds his way home and his wife recognises him and they reunite.”

Pen carefully took the proffered book from Liam’s hand. He had long tapered fingers like hers. Strong hands. Capable.

She didn’t want to notice, but she did.

“Thank you. But I don’t need to know the ending.”

“Why?” he asked abruptly, and then tempered it, “Sorry, I’m just curious.”

Pen met his eyes, not for the first time, drawn to the warmth and intelligence of his gaze. “Endings are never predictable, and I’m not sure what mine will be.”

36

“Just breathe, Cassie,” urged Pen as she finished pinning her hair into a chignon. Tendrils curled loosely around Cassie’s face. She was keeping her eyes shut throughout the process.

            “I’m trying,” Cassie gritted, her hands gripping the seat of the chair positioned in front of the bathroom mirror.

            While Pen had been doing her hair, Cassie heard the doorbell ring; her father was greeting Coop, their voices receding to the lounge. Tanya’s voice was pitched higher from excitement. Ugh.

            “Stop making faces!” chided Pen.

            “I can’t sit still for too long, you know me!”

            “Unfortunately,” Pen jibed.

            “Ha ha.” It sounded flat as Cassie’s gut churned. It’s a freaking dance! She kept reminding herself. She’d been fine the whole day until she’d showered and put on the dress. A slight angling of her head in the mirror to get a look at the back and she’d noticed it—a reddish mark on her neck. She’d blushed thinking it was because Coop had kissed her there, but leaning closer, no. Touching it, the texture was a little rough. She’d swallowed unsure whether it was something to worry about, and then chided herself because she’d been so careful, so it surely couldn’t be serious. She’d dusted some powder over it and promptly forgot about it when Pen finally saw the dress.

            “It’s stunning!” Pen gasped. “It’s a pity Coop’s not going. He might not let you out his sight once he sees you in that.”

            Which was when she’d started feeling sick.

            “Okay, done,” Pen said.

            Cassie opened her eyes and just stared. Blankly.

            “Well? I think it’s perfect.” Pen’s dextrous hands had done a wonderful job.  Cassie so rarely wore her hair up that she felt naked. She stared at her face. Her eyes were huge, and not just with the hint of make-up, expertly applied by Pen because Cassie’s hands were shaking. And her mouth. Luscious, came to mind. Edible. Cassie couldn’t help feeling alarmed.

            Slowly, she stood. The black, silk taffeta halter neck left her arms, upper back and shoulders bare. Her skin had a soft honey tinge. The dress accentuated her breasts, one reason why Steph had been excited by it, but it narrowed at her waist. Cassie hadn’t realised that her waist was so obvious, how the dress flared and swelled over her hips, but her hips weren’t that big that she looked like a puffball. No, the proportions seemed good, even to her critical eye.

            The pumps were high enough, but not too high she’d be doing face-plants and gunning for the podiatrist and the chiropractor in the morning for mangling her feet and displacing her hips in the process.

            Pen squirted perfume around Cassie, and the sudden whiff of the rosy, sensuous scent had her eyes closing, blissed out.

            “I know,” Pen smiled. “The perfume is beautiful. Perfect with the outfit.”

             Cassie’s mouth had gone paper dry. “I can’t go down there.”

            Pen rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a dork. It’s a dress. You’re not naked!”

            “I feel naked. I don’t feel quite me,” she admitted shakily.

            Pen squeezed her arm. “I’ll be right behind you in case you trip and I’ll try and keep you upright. Just breathe and walk.”

            Cassie breathed shakily. “Sounds like a plan.”

            Pen grabbed the black clutch purse Tanya had lent Cassie, and followed her as she made a slow descent down the stairs, mindful of the heels and her dress.

            “Steady,” Pen murmured, and she was Cassie’s crutch as her mind was doing cartwheels.

            Finally, they were in the downstairs hallway. Coop’s voice, her father’s and Tanya’s were audible, almost too loud. Cassie’s senses were on overdrive. Her heart was pounding.

            “Fuck!” Cassie muttered. “I’m being an idiot.” She stalked into the living room with Pen smirking behind her.

            Cassie stopped suddenly, because all three occupants stood as if to attention. As if royalty had entered the room, and their expressions were variously stunned, shocked and disbelieving.

            Coop was wearing his glasses, his eyes huge behind the frames. He stepped forward without thinking and took her hand, holding it tight. His eyes were roaming unashamedly. In front of her father. Richard’s mouth was slightly open and he seemed to have lost his voice.

            “Cassie?” Tanya spoke her name like she couldn’t believe it was Cassie. Then incredibly, “You look amazing!”

            That prodded her father. “I don’t know what to say, but you look…” He couldn’t find the words, his eyes misting in a way that looked suspiciously like tears.

            “Gorgeous,” said Coop. No hesitation or falter in his voice, but Cassie picked up the hint of huskiness, how his eyes had become slightly hooded. A look heavily laced with desire. She felt it as a visceral touch, her skin prickly with heat and electricity. She wanted to forget all propriety and the fact she was wearing lipstick and kiss him. Hard. Passionately.

            Suddenly it was difficult to breathe again.

            “Yes,” her father agreed. “You look beautiful, Cassie. Truly.” Coop let go of her hand and Richard reached for her, grasping her into his arms for a hug.

            “Breathing an issue, Dad,” Cassie squeezed out. Pen and Coop laughed, and the tension eased.

            Tanya kissed her on the cheek, again surprising Cassie with such a rare display of affection. Pen hugged her, more delicately than her father, and then smoothed the skirt of the dress, making sure Cassie wasn’t leaving looking dishevelled.

            “I’m sharing a taxi with Suni and Kim to get home, Dad. Kim’s staying over at Suni’s, so they’ll drop me off first.”

            Richard just nodded, still gazing at her as if he wanted to keep her fixed in place. “Just be safe and have a great time.”

            Coop’s fingers entwined with hers and she was pulled back towards him, although she’d felt his eyes on her the entire time.

“Photos!” piped Pen. “Mum wants some, and so does Zeke.”

“Yes!” Tanya was practically exuberant.

            They insisted on different combinations, with Cassie alone, with Coop who hugged her almost possessively, then her dad, Pen and Tanya wanted a feature. Cassie managed a smile that didn’t feel warped, but her face ached by the end of it.

            “Enough!” Her nerves were fraying being in the spotlight. Suddenly she was Cassie again, and everyone relaxed.

            “Ready?” Coop asked, grinning hugely. Proudly. Cassie nodded, heart swelling to burst. They waved at everyone as they left.

            Tanya had also given her a light, black wool throw for her shoulders, but the evening was almost balmy. Coop opened the car door for Cassie, and that look was there again, hooded and dreamy and that made her feel like the most desirable person imaginable.

            Then he did the strangest thing. They’d driven through the intersection and instead of going in the direction of Albert Park where Suni lived, Coop took a left-hand turn down a side street so that they were driving towards a small park and playground. Coop hadn’t said a word the entire drive and the heat cooled and flared between them. He stopped alongside the verge next to the park.

            “Coop?” Cassie was befuddled.

            Coop grinned mischievously. He found his phone and hooked it up, selecting a song. It was Radiohead’s All I Need. She loved the song, the album. So did he.

            “Thought you’d like this,” he said cryptically. He turned the sound way up, and got out the car, racing round to her door. He opened it and reached for her hand.

            “Coop?” she asked again, unable to comprehend what was happening.

            Coop pulled Cassie into his arms, the door to the car wide open, the music audible. “One dance, beautiful, and you are incredibly beautiful tonight. And I meant it. Utterly gorgeous. I just want one dance before I see you off with your friends.”

            And everything stopped.

Cassie’s eyes were hot with tears threatening to ruin Pen’s carefully applied mascara. Coop’s arms were strong, his hands pulling her close. She could feel them like heated irons through her dress. And protective. He was gentling her. Cassie couldn’t speak, she just nodded, her hand finding his as she twined her other hand around his neck.

            At first they were just swaying, their bodies moving instinctually and Cassie’s tears were replaced by a fizzing warmth suffusing her skin, and that ache to connect embedded in her chest that always reached out to him. Suddenly, Coop released her, twirling her, and she was amazed when she didn’t fall flat on her face. Laughing as she executed the move, Coop pulled her back to him. His smile was infectious, big enough to swallow his face. Cassie’s face was a mirror of his.

            He was a fabulous dancer, a natural. And sexy. He knew how to move. Somehow they found a rhythm, and Cassie didn’t even think how weird it must have looked. Radiohead morphed into Chet Faker’s I’m Into You. Cassie giggled when Coop’s eyebrows wiggled. It was a highly suggestive song. She distantly heard car horns hooting and someone yelling, “Hey hotties!” Coop’s smile was ecstatic.  

            At some point Cassie’s arms circled Coop’s neck and they were pressed close, barely moving. She didn’t want it to end, despite knowing they had to leave.

            “If only I had the whole night with you,” Coop whispered in her ear, kissing a delicate trail along her cheek, her neck.

            “I wish,” Cassie gasped, thinking: what the hell, lipstick be damned! She pulled his face even closer, kissing his mouth so that he was left in no doubt how much she wished it could happen.

37 

“We haven’t argued yet,” Cassie announced while chewing on her usual wheat-free toast with tea for breakfast. She was wearing her school uniform and taking her time. She had a free period that morning and was going in later than usual. This was the dreaded month when all she seemed to be doing were practice exams and revising. Swot Vac was in a couple of weeks and if her brain didn’t melt, she might actually survive to enjoy the end of this phase of her life. The fact it was also her birthday next week had been waylaid by schoolwork.

One day a time, Cass. It was her survival mantra.

            Pen had the day off and was enjoying a more leisurely breakfast as well. They were the only two in the house. Pen was looking forward to a day to herself to finish her thesis that was due that week.

            “Argued? With whom?”

            “Coop!” Cassie almost shouted, the thought distressing.

            Pen eyed her incredulously. “Cass, is that really something to worry about? Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“I know, but you know me. I argue with everyone!”

Pen scoffed. “No you don’t! You argue with Mum, Dad, Tanya and Sim. Mostly.”

“Hmmph.” Cassie chewed busily, masticating that thought.

“So is Coop the hothead Zeke always says he is? Is that why you think you should be arguing?” 

“I haven’t seen him like that. He admits to getting angry easily when he’s upset. Mostly he got angry because of what was happening with his folks. He had a lot of trouble processing it.”

“I can understand that. Probably shouldn’t worry, you’re overthinking stuff.”

Cassie groaned. “Tell me about it.”

“So,” Pen began, tiptoeing, “I heard that Steph rocked up to the school dance having broken up with Cameron?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Zeke mentioned it.”

Cassie sipped some tea. She’d ended up staying at Steph’s for the weekend as well as Monday, so she hadn’t properly debriefed Pen. “It was dramatic.” Cassie smiled wryly at the memory. “Coop dropped me off and Kim and Suni came out to meet him. And then Steph rocked up with her mum giving her a lift, and jumped out and ran to us. The tears were streaming down her face and she threw herself at me. Let’s say it was a pretty full-on way for Coop to meet my friends.”

Pen grinned. “Overwhelmed?”

“Yes. And concerned. Here’s the joke, he ended up driving us to the venue because Steph couldn’t get it together. Kim and Suni had to hold her in the backseat and try and calm her down.”

“God! Was she okay eventually?”

“Yeah. She tidied herself up in the toilets before we went in and managed to put on her brave face.”

“Did she get plastered?”

Cassie grimaced. “At the after party. It wasn’t pretty. Quite a few guys came on to her, and then she was dancing between slugging back drinks. The three of us were on slush watch the whole night.”

Pen snorted. “Bet that was memorable.”

“Absolutely. I won’t be forgetting that night for a while.”

“Good thing Coop didn’t go,” Pen said mischievously.

“Crap! Imagine it! I spent part of the night in the loo holding her hair back while she was vomiting. We all did. Coop might have been called in for puke duty!” Cassie sounded almost gleeful. “I’m just glad it’s over. Now I’ve got to get through exams.”

Pen grimaced sympathetically. “What then?”

“You know what? I don’t want to think about it. I’ll get to see Coop without all these restrictions and I’ll take on some more hours at the bookshop and that’s about it.”

“Good plan. What about Mum wanting you to visit?”

Cassie shook her head vehemently. “Nope. I’ve been hanging out to spend more time with Coop and everyone. I kind of want time to chill.”

Pen got up and gathered their plates. “Make the most of it. Maybe when you spend more time with Coop you’ll get the chance to start some fights?”

Cassie gave her a silly grin. “Don’t jinx it!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!”

Cassie helped Pen clear the table. “What about you? You’ll be free of the whole study thing soon.”

Pen stacked the dishwasher, pausing to consider. “I’m not sure. Bit like you. My contract comes up for review early next year so I might keep working at the Potter. I’m enjoying my weaving classes, so I’d like to do more of that. Not sure what else.”

“A holiday?”

“Right, with who? And where exactly?” Obviously, Alex wouldn’t be involved.

“A friend? Or, maybe you can go to New York instead of me.”

Pen straightened abruptly. She’d never visited Lina in New York, had never found the time. “What are you suggesting?”

Cassie rushed on excitedly. “Mum was going to pay for my airfare. Maybe you can have it.”

“I wouldn’t need money for accommodation, only spending,” mused Pen.

“Yes!” Cassie was practically jumping. “Talk to Mum, I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

Pen closed the dishwasher, leaning against the counter. “Wow. I’ve never travelled to the States. Or by myself. I’ll think about it.”

It struck a chord. Alex wasn’t the only one who deserved an adventure. A sudden anxious twist in her gut signalled how she was making further plans without Alex. Whether she went or not wasn’t going to matter to him at all, because he was already gone. Excitement warred with an ache bordering on breathlessness at how alone it made her feel.

Cassie grinned. “You should definitely think about it.”       

38

“So, how is the weaving progressing?”

            Liam sat at their preferred table at Brunetti. Pen was a little disturbed that they had such a thing as a designated table. She brushed the thought aside as overthinking. Here she was telling Cassie to let things just take their course. However, she and Liam weren’t dating. They just met for coffee. Regularly.

Pen couldn’t stop herself. Every time he suggested another coffee “date”, she reined in the eagerness that welled up and accepted readily. She wasn’t going to lie to herself. She enjoyed seeing him. Looked forward to it with that nervous anticipation that she’d felt in the early stages of being with Alex. Yet this was so different, because Liam was different: incredibly engaging, interested in her world, and overall, wonderful company. Not that Alex hadn’t been wonderful in his own way. They’d had great fun when they were dating. However, Liam seemed more expansive, generous and his knowledge and experience so much more vast. She felt vibrant when she was with him. It was a new feeling; one she didn’t want to relinquish.

            She also knew she should put an end to this before she felt more than she already did. Then she argued with herself that she could manage this, could keep it simply in the friendship category.

            Sure.

            Pen had ordered for them this time and Liam dumped sugar in his macchiato, while she had her milky latte. Responding to his query, she couldn’t halt the irrepressible joy at talking about something she was rapidly coming to love.

“It’s great! I’m beginning to work on the larger project.”

            Liam’s eyes lit with that metallic gleam. “Wonderful news! What did you decide on for the design?”

            “Remember when you asked me about places where I felt most happy? I keep coming back to the beach and the sea. We had these great holidays down near Wilsons Prom when I was a kid. Mum and Dad rented this house at a place called Sandy Bay each summer, and we’d all go and spend most of our days on the beach.”

            “Sounds idyllic,” Liam grinned, delighted at her shared memory. Pen didn’t mention the brief holiday with Alex that had truly inspired her choice. She’d been valiantly trying to keep the two men separate.

            “So the sea. I’ve decided to do a tapestry of the expanse of sea and the horizon.” Sally had been excited at the initial sketches and colour range once she’d finished the smaller tapestry. Ultramarine and cobalt for the sea contrasting with a breathy, white-blue for the sky.

“Here, I’ve got some photos of the sketches and a small version.” Pen handed him her phone and Liam took it, his fingers accidently grazing hers. She almost snatched her hand back at the crackle of electricity as skin met skin. Liam didn’t seem to notice, intent on the images.

He raised his eyes and held hers. Pen held her breath.

“Beautiful. You’re talented, Penny. It’s a gift to be able to create. You should pursue it seriously.”

            He placed the phone on the table and sipped his coffee. Pen’s brain was trying to catch up with her mouth. Sally had been just as encouraging, but coming from Liam, it made what she was doing seem important, validated. She didn’t want to rely on Liam’s opinion like she wasn’t sure of what she was doing. But Liam was simply a generous spirit. There was no underlying need to reassure her. He was just stating his opinion.

            Pen had sent Alex images and told him what she was doing, but his response was disappointing, encouraging in a passing way, but not with such weight, belief. Belief in her. She rarely turned to Alex for approval, but this meant something to her in a way that her university studies never had. Because this was about her, and Alex seemed blind to what mattered to her and who she was. But how well did I know myself when I met him? Not that well, it seemed.

            Liam saw her. Or maybe, she was able to be more open, no real expectations about who she was. What’s more, he appreciated what he saw and seemed to genuinely like her.

            She knew she was thinking way too much about him and what he might be thinking.

            “So how long will it take to do? I can’t wait to see the finished work.” Liam’s smile radiated eagerness. It was almost childlike in its simplicity, but there was nothing of the child about Liam. Apart from his incredible intelligence, Pen had never met a man so comfortable in his own skin. It had intimidated her at first; then she’d had to admit to how attractive he was.

            Pen cleared her throat, took a sip of her latte. She knew what was happening and a part of her was helpless to stop it. “Sometime this summer.” She was proud her voice didn’t quaver, didn’t express the emotion straining for release.

            Liam sat back, his eyes never leaving her face. “It will be an achievement worth celebrating. It’s a pity I’ll be away in Rome, I’d love to see the finished result.”

            “You—you’re going away?” He may have mentioned this before, but she’d completely forgotten. Probably because she’d never thought she’d be seeing so much of him.

            Liam nodded. “Research. I’ll be back before first semester begins next year.”

            Pen couldn’t speak. She was stuck on those two words: next year. She also couldn’t drag her eyes away from his. Liam looked at her steadily, his gaze inscrutable. He’d never given her a reason to think he thought of her as more than a coffee-acquaintance-friend. Whatever the hell that meant.

            Pen cleared her voice. “When do you leave?” It jarred, asking that question. Reminded her of the night Alex told her he was leaving for Antarctica.

It’s happening again, she thought frantically.

            “End of November, actually.” Did she notice how his voice seemed lower? Maybe she was making more of it than she should. Like she shouldn’t be feeling this horrible disappointment. Because she did feel disappointed. Liam was leaving and she wouldn’t see him until next year. For at least three months. Alex was still in New Zealand, the conference had ended but he was doing some research. Soon he’d be in Tasmania preparing to leave for Antarctica. Pen almost laughed. Alex and Liam would be leaving on their respective journeys at roughly the same time.

            Holy crap, this can’t be happening again.

            Liam went on oblivious to her crippling thoughts. “It’s going to be winter, so not that pleasant, but I’ll be indoors mostly, and then off to Florence. I often rent a villa in Tuscany for a break for a couple of weeks before coming home.”

            The almost casual manner he spoke of his itinerary righted Pen from feeling off-kilter. She had no reason to feel like this. Alex would still be away. She was also mulling over the prospect of visiting her mother. She had no idea what she was going to do with her conservation degree, and yet she was sure of one thing: she was determined to finish the tapestry.

She had wanted Liam to see it when it was finished. Now she wasn’t sure if she’d actually be seeing him again. From the tightening knot in her stomach, she didn’t like that feeling at all.          

39

“Are you sure about this?” Cassie eyed a listless Steph, who was currently draped across her bed.

            “Yeah. It’s good for me to go out.”

            “So soon?” It was the following Thursday after the infamous dance/break-up. Gossip had not been kind to Steph, with various rumours spreading around the school that she’d not only broken up with Cameron, but hooked up with some guy at the after party. A couple of guys. Steph didn’t care that people were calling her a slut; she truly didn’t care what people thought of her because she always saw a life outside of school. She was getting out soon and knew what she wanted to do, which was more than a lot of people could say about their lives. She’d limped through the week in her own world and had latched onto Cassie who was going out that night to see Coop play with Punt at The Prince in St. Kilda.

            Steph rolled to sit. She was even dressed sedately. Skinny jeans, black Converse high-tops and a black off-the-shoulder, long sleeve top. Her hair was in a high ponytail. She looked far from ready to go out. Cassie had an urge to hug her.

            “I just need the distraction. If you’re okay with that? I’ll leave after the gig so you and Coop can hang.” She couldn’t even muster an innuendo.

            Cassie was a sucker for anyone in pain. “Of course it’s fine.” Fingers crossed Steph wouldn’t drink. Otherwise Cassie would be escorting her home and the night would be a bust. She kept her mouth shut, determined to help Steph get through this. She’d felt similarly numb after breaking up with Mike, but then school started and life just went on without him.

            They took a taxi to the gig and Cassie felt the usual thrill of excitement at seeing Coop. She hooked her arm through Steph’s and they found a spot in the Bandroom away from the relatively large crowd. Punt had a following. Cassie tried not to notice how many girls there were.

            “Hey, I’m just going to get a beer,” Steph spoke close to her ear so she’d hear above the noise. Cassie nodded, keeping any comments to ease off on the drinking to herself. Steph must have felt her waves of anxiety.

            “I’m having one beer. Promise.” She crossed her heart. Cassie smiled and pushed her towards the bar.

            Cassie could see Zeke at the front of the stage talking to some guy. She almost waved until she spied Coop. He was off to the side of the stage, head bent and there was a hint of a smile on his lips. Her own lips curved upwards just at the sight of him. People jockeyed for a better position, but it was that lull before the first set, and the atmosphere was spiked with anticipation. She’d wanted to surprise Coop tonight. Zeke had known she was coming so he could list her at the door to get in. Cassie kept her back close to the wall, craning her neck to get a better angle.

            That’s when she saw her.

            Standing in front of Coop was a girl. A gorgeous blonde. Long hair streaming down her back. Head titled up because she wasn’t much taller than Cassie. A flirty smile lit a very pretty face. Her body was lithe but curvy. And her hands were pressed against Coop’s chest.

            Cassie forgot to breathe.

            The details strobed across her eyes. Her brain processed the data.

            Coop’s hands moved to the girl’s arms. The girl was talking. Coop was listening. The smile left his face. He was gripping her arms. The girl was inching closer…

            “Cass?” Steph’s voice cut into her trance. Her nightmare. Because she couldn’t be seeing this. She was going to wake up and somehow find herself in her bed back home. She swayed a little when Steph touched her arm. That simple touch brought her back. Still, she couldn’t look away. “Cass? What’s wrong?”

            It must have been written on her face. She felt a nauseating flood wash through her, bile gushing to her mouth, a numbing ache spreading from somewhere in her chest. The light-headedness wasn’t helping, either.

            Steph held her arm, standing on tiptoe trying to see what Cassie was so fixated on. It didn’t take her long.

“Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered.

            Coop was talking earnestly. Cassie could see the girl’s face, the smile dimming but she also looked determined. Like she was digging her heels in. Cassie wasn’t sure why she could read that, but hanging out with girls at school for three years, she could tell when a girl wasn’t getting what she wanted. She wasn’t sure what to make of it because all she could really see was how Coop was still gripping the girl’s arms, and she hadn’t stopped trying to paw him.

            “Cass? Look at me!” Steph yanked at her, standing directly in front of her.

            Cassie couldn’t speak.

            “Cass, do you know her?”

            Cassie shook her head.

            “Okay, well, I don’t know what’s going on, but you look ready to puke and I don’t think staying here right now is a good idea.”

            “You think?” Cassie wasn’t sure where she found her voice, or the sarcasm. 

Steph rolled her eyes, but her gaze was full of empathy. “Welcome to the reality of dating a muso, love. There will always be groupies and your boyfriend is hot.”

            Cassie wanted to throw up. “Yeah. Well, shit.” 

            That’s when Coop saw her. His face went horribly blank. Then flushed, his eyes sparking with annoyance, a flash of panic. He shoved the girl away. Cassie saw that, but it didn’t help. Zeke also spotted her and was smiling, waving, until he saw the pasty mask of her expression. He swung a look to his left and noticed what she was looking at. The girl was still standing way too close to Coop, with her hands on her hips, looking thoroughly pissed. Coop was wading towards Cassie through the crowd.

Cassie’s feet were stuck in cement. 

            Steph grabbed her arm, speaking calmly, softly. “We need to leave. Now. Let’s go to Big Mouth and stuff our faces with chips and tacos.”

            Cassie nodded, her stomach squeezing in protest at the thought of food. She dragged her eyes away from Coop’s. He was calling her name, walking towards them. Fast. Zeke was yelling after him. Cassie turned away, her body heavy, every move felt like pulling against gravity, her lungs straining to breathe in the stifling room. Her only comfort was Steph’s iron grip on her arm guiding her out of there.

40

“Talk to me,” insisted Steph.

            Somehow Cassie had walked beside Steph down Acland Street to Big Mouth. Steph had held onto her arm the entire time, propping her up. She couldn’t remember ordering anything. Steph ordered for both of them. Before her was a plate of avocado and black bean tacos, chips and a Coke.

            Steph nodded at her drink. “You need the sugar, Cass.”

            Cassie slurped the cold beverage. Shuddered at the hit of sweetness. She still felt sick. Her head throbbed. She absently rubbed the side of her neck, which was beginning to itch. Her skin felt hot. Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her duffle coat. Despite the warmth of the café, she shivered.

            “Better check who’s calling,” nudged Steph.

            Cassie took out her phone. Twenty missed phone calls and texts in such a short space of time. A couple from Zeke and the rest from Coop. She didn’t look or listen to any of them.

            “Talk to me,” Steph gently prompted again.

            Somehow Cassie dredged up words. “I don’t know what to say.” Hot tears surged to her eyes, and her throat swelled tight. She hated crying, especially in public. She gritted her teeth.

            Steph nodded calmly, snacking on chips. “Okay, well I’ll talk then. This is not the end of the world, Cass.” Cassie’s eyes widened, not sure what to make of that. “You have to talk to Coop and not jump to conclusions.”

            “Conclusions? Like maybe he likes the attention and that he really is a player?”

Finally the anger. Cassie flushed with it, welcomed it, hating the feeling of the ground crumbling beneath her. Of feeling so vulnerable when it came to Coop. That maybe she’d got Coop all wrong, believing the best while not knowing him well enough to make that call.

            “Good. Be angry. But don’t start thinking you know what’s going down. I’ve been there, Cass. It’s easy to assume stuff until you hear the other side.”

            “So why did you drag me out of there before I could hear what he had to say?” Cassie barked loud enough that a couple at a table nearby looked over, frowning at the intrusion. Cassie wanted to yell at them to mind their own damn business.

            “Because you eventually get angry and you probably wouldn’t listen to his side. Not there anyway.”

            “So get me out of the environment that’s causing me to explode?”

            Steph smiled. “And away from the groupies. None of it was helping.”

            “Tell me about it.” Cassie slumped, desultorily picking at a chip.

            Steph was happily hoeing in to the tacos. At least she was eating again after nearly a week of starving herself. Kim had dryly called it the Heartbreak Diet: the diet you have when you really don’t want to diet. Steph didn’t have a lot of weight to spare. “The look on his face tells me he was as unhappy about the whole thing as you are.”

            “That he got found out?” Ugh, she sounded horribly bitter. She hated this feeling, like slime coating her skin.

            Steph was shaking her head. “Nope, from what I saw, he was pushing her away. Couldn’t hear what he was saying, but there was a definite hands-off vibe.”

            Cassie had seen how the girl had her hands on Coop’s chest, how she’d almost had her own chest pressed against his; that sultry smile aimed at him—her brain had short circuited taking it in, not registering much else.

            “Has this happened to you?” Cassie wanted a distraction. Anything.

            Steph nodded. “Yep. Well, let’s just say I’ve met some of Cam’s exes and they were pretty up front about still liking him. It’s the horrible relationship reality check. Suddenly you can’t ignore your boyfriend’s history and the honeymoon of ignorance is over. Problem was Cam didn’t tell them to back off while I was around. That was horrible. And yeah, we fought about it.”

            “He’s a prick.” Cassie could at least now vent her anger at Cameron freely. She was still in shock about Coop.

            “Yes and no. He was a bit twisted about wanting to make me jealous. As if that would show him that I cared.”

            “You’re kidding?”

            “Nope. I hated it because I don’t want to be like that. Just another reason it wasn’t going to work long-term.”

            Cassie was beginning to get a bit pissed off at Steph. It was becoming an equal opportunity anger-fest. “Why didn’t you tell me this stuff?”

            Steph looked a little guilty. “I don’t know. I felt awful that I was having so many problems with him. It was bad enough he didn’t want to have much to do with you guys. I ended up keeping everyone separate.”

            And Cassie had been aware Steph was doing it. Cassie picked at the chips, stuffing a few into her mouth. The food hit her stomach like lead, but it felt good to focus on eating and not talking about the shitty night and Cameron the shitty ex-boyfriend. She wasn’t yet able to put Coop into the shitty category.

            Cassie’s phone vibrated. She’d been ignoring it. She peeked at the text.

            I need to talk to you. Please. I’ll keep asking Cass. Please.

            Coop was begging her. She scrolled through the texts. He was desperate. He’d tried following her out of the gig, but she and Steph had made a fast exit. Suddenly, she was glad for Steph’s quick thinking. She’d needed space to breathe. Otherwise, she would have lashed out. Maybe that would have been a good thing. Or disastrous.

            “I’m not good when I get angry,” she muttered.

            “That’s why I got you out of there. I’ve had enough fights with you, Cass. You don’t listen until you get over it. Sometimes that takes days.”

            Cass put the phone back in her pocket. She still felt sick, but the red haze had dissipated. “You know me better than I know myself.”

            Steph scooped a small heap of avocado and black beans. She loved the stuff. “Nah. I just don’t want you to regret it. He doesn’t know you that well yet. Better to ease him into it.”

            Cassie laughed, although it sounded hollow. “You really care what happens to me and Coop?”

            “Of course I do! And for what it’s worth, he looked distraught. Letting him stew for a bit won’t hurt.”

            Cassie relaxed a fraction. She had no confidence in her thoughts just then, but she felt less queasy, decided the tacos looked rather appetizing.

            “Might as well finish these before we head home.” Cassie scooped up a taco before Steph hogged the lot.

            Steph smiled wickedly. “Then the fun can start. Can I listen to you rip into him?”

            Cassie snorted. “Not unless you call up your ex and give him an earful.”

            “Not going to happen.”

            “Yeah, thought so.”    

            “At least your life isn’t as boring as you kept complaining about.”

            Cassie chucked a chip at Steph who looked momentarily shocked. She smirked, chucking one right back.

            “Admit it, I’m right.” Steph couldn’t keep the smugness from her voice. Cassie was about to chuck another chip but caught the eye of a waiter. Not a great idea. She ate it instead.

            “Steph, the one thing I am sure of right now is I’m way past bored.”

            Whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen.

41

“Talk to me,” pleaded Coop. “Please Cassie.”

            It was like Steph all over again.

            Cassie had answered her phone immediately, having texted Coop that she’d listen to what he had to say. She’d waited until she was about to go to bed, hoping he was still at the venue and they could delay the whole thing. Steph was sleeping on a blow-up bed on the floor, and seemed dead to the world. Both of them had the Friday off to study.

            “Hang on,” she whispered. “I need to go to another room.”

            “Why?” came Coop’s sharp question. “Who’s there?”

            “Just me,” groaned Steph, loud enough that Cassie was shushing her.

            “Cassie?”

            “It’s Steph,” she explained, holding back a nervous giggle.

            “I’m awake, you can talk,” mumbled Steph.

            “Yeah big ears. I’ll feel real comfortable doing that.”

            “Spoiled sport.” Steph rolled over and faked a snore.

            Cassie tiptoed downstairs to her dad’s study. She switched on the desk lamp and curled up on the leather sofa. She’d grabbed a throw from the lounge and snuggled into it. 

            “Okay, I can talk now.”

            “I’m sorry, Cass. I’m so sorry you saw that.”

            She blew air from her mouth. “Yeah, me too.”

            “You can yell at me if it helps.” He sounded genuinely contrite. Cassie was finding it hard to believe she could make him feel this anguished. Steph had hit the nail on the head. A tiny part of her was glad. She wasn’t perfect.

            “I can’t yell unless I want everyone to wake up. I don’t want to explain this to anyone else. If you get my meaning.”

            “Don’t worry, Zeke read me the riot act. He was pissed. But as I explained to him, I told Rachel I was with you and she had to back off.”

            Cassie didn’t know how to broach the whole subject. “You know her?” Again, she felt that sour-sick feeling curdling her stomach that kept coming in waves.

            “I did. Emphasis on the past tense. She’s a groupie. She’s hit on all of us. I admit I did kiss her once at a party. That’s all.”

            “I’m assuming you mean kissing, as in plural?”

            Coop actually laughed, uneasily. Cassie couldn’t join in. “Yes. I’m sorry Cass. I admit I haven’t been the most discerning guy in the past. Especially while my folks were separated. I didn’t always care about who I was with.”

            Now they were getting into that messy territory that Cassie didn’t know whether she was ready to enter. How much did she want to know about Coop’s exploits? But after tonight, she needed to know whether she could trust him.

            “Cass? Sweetheart, talk to me.” His voice was low, raw. He cared what she thought. Cassie wasn’t cruel, wouldn’t make him feel bad needlessly, but she wasn’t sure what to ask.

            “Okay, do you want me to talk? Do you need to know more about who I’ve been with or—”

            “I think—look it was a bit of a shock, seeing her coming onto you. I guess it hit me that you’ve been with a lot of girls, and that when I’m not with you—” Ugh, now she sounded jealous and insecure.

            “You’re wondering if I act on girls hitting on me? Is that it?”

            Cassie sighed. “I don’t think you do, Coop. Honestly, I really haven’t thought about it until tonight.” Which was surprising. And really naïve.

            “I’m glad you haven’t because I don’t want to give you any reason to doubt me. We’re exclusive, Cass. I mean it.” Coop paused. “Okay, we need to talk about this.”

            “What?”

            “About my previous relationships.”

            Cassie wasn’t convinced. She wanted to know. She didn’t want to know. Coward. “Um, are you sure?”

              “Yes. I don’t want to hide anything. I don’t want you wondering when you meet a girl I know, what the history is. I’ll be upfront. I want you to believe I’ll be honest with you.”

            “You have been, Coop.”

            “Yeah, I have. So I’m happy to talk about it.”

            “Is this going to take all night?” Cassie asked wryly.

            Coop laughed more freely. “No. Despite what people say, I haven’t had many serious relationships. Actually, other than you, there’s been only one.”

            Cassie nearly slid of the sofa, her body jerking forward. “What? Are you kidding me?”

             “No. It’s the truth.” She could hear the seriousness in his voice, and she was beginning to believe Coop wouldn’t want to lie to her. Still, this was unexpected. Understatement.

            “Okay, I can hear this.”

            Coop told her that the first time he fell in love was when he was seventeen. Her name was Alison. He spoke softly, earnestly. Allie, as he called her, had been his first. The first girl he fell in love with, wanted to date seriously, the first one he slept with. They were together two years when things started getting tense at home and Allie began pulling away.

            “Why?” Cassie couldn’t help feeling indignant. How could this girl pull away from Coop?

            “Thank you for sounding incredulous,” Coop chuckled. “But it was simple. She wasn’t in love with me anymore, Cass. Whatever she felt before, she stopped. I also found out she’d been hanging out with this guy who worked at the café she worked at casually.”

            “She didn’t,” whispered Cassie, unable to comprehend how this girl could hurt Coop.

            “Yep, she did. She cheated on me.”

            They were both silent as Cassie absorbed what he’d just told her. “I’m sorry. That’s horrible.” She tried processing what he’d said. “I can’t get my head around this. I hate that someone hurt you.” She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to cheat on Coop. Admittedly she didn’t have two-years-worth of being with Coop to make any kind of judgment, but she couldn’t imagine feeling that way. Didn’t want to imagine leaving him or betraying him.

            “You’re beautiful. But it was a bad time for me. With Dad leaving and Mum trying not to fall apart. The fact I thought Dad cheated on Mum—let’s just say, it cured me of ever thinking that’s a great thing to do. That and lying.”

            “He didn’t though, your Dad?”

             “No. But I’m telling you this Cass because I’m not wired that way. I know what it’s like to be betrayed and I’ve seen how it hurt my Mum thinking Dad did. I wasn’t great after Allie. I got very cynical about relationships. I was hurt. I’m not perfect. But what I did was to make sure no one got close. I had a few short flings with girls I did sleep with, and I made out with quite a lot of girls. I’m sorry to have to say that. I always made sure they knew I wasn’t asking for a serious relationship, or wanting more. I tried to act respectfully, although they probably thought I was a bit of a dick. I know it earned me a rep as a player. I’m well aware of that.”

            It was a lot to process. Cassie’s chest no longer felt like a deflated lead balloon. Yes, there would always be girls attracted to Coop. She wasn’t an idiot. But Coop wasn’t shallow. She’d come to realise that. He didn’t just get off on stringing girls along, or hooking up only to treat them like dirt. He didn’t need the attention to prove anything. He knew himself better than that, had some self-respect. Importantly, he respected her.

            “Cass? Is it too much?”

            “No,” she began thoughtfully. “Maybe. But I’m okay with knowing. Actually, thank you for sharing it. It does help to know.”

            “Does it put you off? Being with me?” Again he sounded insecure, and a little scared.

            She didn’t have to think. “No! I knew you had more experience, Coop. I don’t think less of you. The fact you can be honest about it says a lot about you. You’re human Coop, not a freaking angel!”
            Coop barked a laugh. “A fallen angel?”

            “Yeah, a sexy, fallen angel.” Cassie couldn’t help smiling.

            “God, I love you.”

            The words didn’t quite register. Cassie’s mind went fuzzy. Her mouth hung open. “What—did you just say?”

            Coop didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Cassie. I love you very, very much. And I wish I was saying this face-to-face, but I can’t stop myself.”

            Cassie’s eyes flooded hot. She’d had one hell of a night and this was almost too much. Now her chest felt like the balloon was inflating to pop. “You really mean it.” It was a cross between a statement and a question.       

            “Cass, I’ve been bursting to say it for ages. I just hoped you’d feel it.”

            And she had. Did. Even if she questioned it because it seemed too good to be true. Even when she doubted him—doubted herself—like tonight.

            “I’m not expecting you say it in return, Cass,” he whispered.

            Cassie’s voice was hoarse. “I hoped you’d feel it, too. How I feel about you.”

            “I do.” God, she wished she could see him. Hearing his voice this late at night while everyone was asleep felt intimate. Like they were the only two people awake in the world.

            “I love you,” she whispered tremulously, but absolutely sure.

            “That means the world to me,” his voice was thick. “I want you to know, I never felt like this with Allie.”

            “What?” Her mind kept reeling at his confessions.

            “I never felt this deeply. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”

            Tears slipped over her cheeks. She clenched her teeth, unable to contain the small sob that escaped. When she was emotionally overloaded she’d default to tears or anger. It had been a roller coaster of a night.

            “Cass? Babe, what’s wrong?” he asked frantically.

            Cassie was crying, and laughing quietly all at once. Suddenly one of the worst nights had become the best. “Nothing. I mean, nothing’s wrong. I feel—I feel great.” She couldn’t stop the snort that came from laughing. And crying. She probably didn’t sound great. She sounded crap, clogged up, her voice a rasp.

            “I’d come over just so I could hold you and say it all again in person.”

            “I’m free tomorrow in the afternoon if you want to come over.” She desperately wanted him to say it to her in person. She desperately wanted to see him.

            “I’ll be there.”

            “Good.”

            “You better get some sleep, beautiful.”

            “You, too.”

              “I love you, babe. So much.”

            Cassie took a big, shuddering breath. “I love you, Coop.”

            They didn’t hang up right away, just listened to each other’s breathing until Coop said the softest good night and Cassie echoed him.    

42

“Sally, have you read Homer’s Odyssey?”

            Pen and Sally were seated cross-legged in Sally’s backyard, sketchbooks propped on their laps as they worked. The routine of arriving, sharing tea and then sketching before entering the studio was something that Pen increasingly looked forward to. She’d even broached the possibility of more hours once she’d finished her studies. Sally said she had Saturday morning free. Pen didn’t have to think when she agreed to the extra time.

            “Ah, you’ve discovered Penelope.” Sally stopped sketching, an expanse of flowers, spring cherry blossom, forming on her page. “I was going to bring her up. If you’re going to delve into the history of weaving, might as well get acquainted with the myths as well.”

              “So, in your view, what’s the significance?” Pen hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the story since Liam gave her the book.

            Sally shrugged. “Penelope the weaver. The faithful wife. In a sense, the act of weaving had a purpose. To delay having to make a decision about her suitors. To give her time to see whether her husband would come home.”

            “Which he did.”

            Sally nodded. “I guess the act of weaving requires patience, diligence. It’s a craft and an art form. In this story, it’s almost symbolic, a metaphor for her faithfulness to her husband. Although there’s a bit of Odysseus in her. It took cunning, skill and deception to put off her suitors by unravelling the shroud. It’s also a sign of uncertainty, as well as a delay tactic.”

            Pen’s mind jerked against the implied passiveness of the role. “Or maybe she was putting off making a decision out of fear.”

            Sally stopped drawing. She smiled. “I like that. Makes her seem more real and not just a means to illustrate some kind of virtue. I’d say fear and also grief. The shroud may have been for her father-in-law, but for much of the time she was waiting she thought Odysseus was most likely dead.”

            Pen was slowly reading the epic poem. The language flowed, had a music to it that required attention. She didn’t want to see a parallel with her own situation. And just saying those words to Sally felt like admitting to something that had been brewing for weeks.

            That she was delaying making a decision herself.

            Sally resumed sketching. “You should read Margaret Atwood’s play, The Penelopiad. I went to see a performance of it at La Mama Theatre. It focuses on reimagining the story from Penelope’s point of view and of her maids. It’s funny and irreverent. Tragic and quite disturbing. A good companion piece.”

            Pen smiled. Sally had an unusual way of seeing things, and a great sense of humour. “Nothing is fixed,” Pen commented quietly, not quite sure why she said it.

            “No. Interpretation is fluid,” Sally paused and gave Pen a pointed glance. “We write our own stories. Myths are great, because the stories are often patterns that ordinary mortals such as ourselves find we repeat. I suppose the stories can be a guide. A lesson. But they don’t fix human behaviour in stone.”

            For a moment, Pen stilled. Then the thought: her life was her own.

            It was her choice how she wanted to live it.    

            As if tuning in to her thoughts, Sally spoke, “If you want my opinion, life is meant to be lived, despite the actions of others and how they impact on us. Finding what anchors and gives you purpose, what inspires you, becomes a way of finding who you are. I have to admit I made up a different version of Penelope’s story.” Sally smiled sheepishly. “I imagined that despite her husband’s absence and the uncertainty of his return, she took up weaving to express her longing, her yearning and her grief. If she unpicked it, it was out of frustration at not being able to express herself well enough. She wove as an act of love. The gods recognised this. They saw how she honoured her husband with her faithfulness, her love. But I also believe she was faithful to herself. She didn’t give in to the suitors because in her heart, there was only one man that she wanted. In the end, the gods granted her heart’s desire—that the one she loved would return.”

            Pen was almost too choked to speak. “When she realises what she loves.” 

            Sally nodded. “When she knows herself and what she loves. Exactly. I guess I reversed the story so it’s about being faithful to yourself. Not just to someone else. I never liked the idea of her just waiting, of being chattel and never having a choice.”

            They both became lost in their own thoughts. Pen mused over Sally’s version, preferring it to her own reading of the tale. It made sense to her. Pen’s hand moved in fluid lines as she sketched the blossom tree. It was bristling with soft pink blooms.

New life.  

            Spring was the perfect time to begin something new.

43

“How’s my favourite niece?”

            Cassie snorted at her uncle. She’d called just wanting to hear his voice. He had a way of making her laugh at herself and see that living wasn’t always a heavy weight; that you needed levity to balance out. She needed a lot of levity.

            “Nate, you say that to all of your nieces.”

            “Yes, but it depends on my mood. Today you’re definitely my favourite because you called me! Haven’t heard a peep out of the other two.”

            Cassie laughed. “I’ll remind them they’ve been lax in their attention.”

            “No, then it will be an obligation and I will not feel inclined to favouritism if they only call because you tell them to.”

            “Convoluted thinking, Nate.”

            “Yes, well, I’m writing something rather twisty at the moment. I’ll say sorry beforehand if I don’t sound all here.”

            Cassie lay back on her bed. “What’re you writing?”

            “Oh, stuff about pharmaceutical drug companies and AIDS in this country. Can’t really talk about it.” It was Nate’s political writing that was causing her dad to seriously worry about his brother. He’d moved away from writing about music, a fact that saddened Cassie.

            “You’re picking up the mantle,” was how he’d phrased his pleasure at Cassie deciding to pursue her music writing.

            “Hey, I think you’d like my last post.” It felt like she’d written it ages ago, but it had only been a week.

            “What’s it about?”

            “Nick Cave’s album, The Skeleton Tree.” It had been incredibly difficult to write about as it involved the death of Nick Cave’s son, Arthur. She cried every time she listened to it.

            Nate paused. He was a big Bad Seeds fan. “I’ll read it as soon as we finish.” He paused. “Did you write true, Cass?”

He often asked this and it harked back to a piece of advice he’d given her about putting her writing out into the world online: “Only do it if it means something. Otherwise, it’s just words in the ether. Too much of it as it is. It’s just noise. You’ve got to write true, Cass. Write true. If you’re spouting bullshit your readers will smell it and throw it right back at you.”

            Cassie had howled at that.

They chatted about family and how Cassie was managing at school. The subject of her “young man” came up, but Cassie shied away from details. Her father had sent a photo of her wearing the dreaded dance dress with Coop, which apparently had Rainer squealing in delight.

            “You looked smashing, love. Rainer thought your man looked pretty gorgeous. I was almost jealous.”

            Cassie barked with laughter. “She adores you.” They all loved Rainer. Cassie’s mum said Rainer was like the sister she’d never had. Cassie’s mood plummeted thinking of how scattered her family had become.

            “Yeah. I’m the luckiest man alive. When she’s not nagging me to take a break from writing.”

            “She’s pretty lucky as well.”
            “See, you say stuff like that and of course you’re my favourite niece!”

            “Okay! I better quit before you change your mind.”

            Nate was chuckling. “I’ll call again soon, Cass.”

            “Good. Keep safe, Nate.”

            Nate paused. “I’m fine, love. Don’t listen to your dad’s whining about me sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. He’s always been a conservative know-it-all.” That was Nate being polite. She’d heard the more colourful version enough times.

            “Well, call soon. I need a distraction from studying.”

            “I will, Cass. And take care of yourself. Your mum has been gossiping with Rainer about your final year and all that. There’s life at the end of this.”

            Cassie had a hard time seeing it. “Yeah, I will.”

            “Keep writing.”

            “You too.”

            That was how they always said goodbye. Cassie curled up and closed her eyes. She was tired from little sleep, but happy after she and Coop had cleared the air. More than cleared the air. Steph had wanted a blow-by-blow account, but she’d hoarded the words that had floored her like treasure. Those simple words had made her feel anchored and special and connected to Coop. Now she understood why Steph had kept so much to herself. Some moments couldn’t be shared. 

* * *

Cassie must have fallen asleep, because when she woke, someone was stroking her cheek, the bed suddenly smaller with a body lying beside her.

She peeked through her lashes. A Spinal Tap T-shirt greeted her. She smiled. “Hey,” came the amused and husky voice she knew so well.

Cassie opened her eyes, her grin widening. “Hey.”

Coop’s thumb grazed her lips, and then he manoeuvred himself so his arms wrapped around her, pulling her in for a hug. It was the best wake-up she’d ever had.  

            They held each other silently, their faces inches apart as Coop’s head rested on her pillow. What would it feel like to wake up to him in the morning?  She’d never thought they’d get to a place where she’d even think this. But here they were.

            “Pen let you in?” Cassie’s voice was sleepy, low and rough as his had been. Coop licked his lips and Cassie was all too aware they were lying on her bed. Her face was heating up, and not just with embarrassment. This kind of intimacy was new.

            “Yep.” Coop’s eyes were tracing her face. His arms locked her against him, but her own hands were beginning to twitch and explore his back. It was a slow, lazy feeling, as if her whole body was waking up. She wanted to get closer and her legs moved of their own volition, twining with his. She sighed, her eyes fixated on his mouth.

            “Cass,” he whispered, a moan tugging his voice. When their lips met all thought fled as Cassie got lost in his kisses. They were urgent and deeply needy. Like they both wanted to crawl inside each other’s skin. All that had been said the night before had cut through the awkwardness Cassie initially felt when they touched. Just a momentary disbelief that kissing and touching Coop was actually real. Not this time. This felt as real as it could get. And right. So right her body was instinctually meeting his, answering a call in a language only they understood.

            Coop trailed kisses down her neck; then his fingers replaced his lips, tracing a line that made her shiver.

            “What’s this?” he murmured.

            “What?” Cassie couldn’t think with his mouth so close to her skin.

            “This red mark?”

            “It’s a small rash. It’s nothing.”

            “Are you sure?” She finally opened her eyes to see his narrowed in concern.

            “It’s been there a while and hasn’t changed. I’m putting cream on it. I think it’s just irritated.”

            Coop didn’t say anything, just traced around the mark. He nodded before kissing her neck gently. Cassie’s eyes closed again at the touch, her hands were exploring skin, having quickly slid under his T-shirt. And so was he. God, it felt amazing. It’s like she’d never known her skin could actually hum and buzz at being caressed. They rolled so Cassie was on her back, Coop’s weight pressing her against the bed.

            Then he stopped. Breathing heavily, his eyes glazed, and Cassie could see her own mussed up face reflected there, eyes hooded, but glossy with a desire that was combustible. She couldn’t speak. Her lips were swollen and hungry.

            This was the line. She was very familiar with it, and they kept getting closer to the edge where neither would pull back.

            “Pen,” he said. One word. Cassie’s eyes darted to the door. Coop had left it ajar. It was the rule in this house that had been there for each of her siblings. Door ajar when a boyfriend/girlfriend was in the room.

            Reality check.

            “Dad and Tanya are away until next week.” Cassie was ever hopeful.

            Coop’s grin turned wolfish. Cassie wriggled beneath him and he shut his eyes groaning. “Devil,” he muttered, giving in, kissing her fiercely.

            Coop shifted, so they were lying side-by-side again, and Cassie knew, in some still cognisant part of her desire addled brain that this was not going to be the time and place when they could let go.

            The kisses slowed, becoming languorous. When her eyes opened, so did Coop’s. Their lips parted, but they lay there, breathing together.

            “I love you,” he whispered. His fingers were drawing circles on her back, while her own fingers were mirroring the movement of his.

            Cassie couldn’t speak. Lying here with Coop was almost too perfect. Like this moment ripped through the fabric of her everyday life and didn’t quite fit. She didn’t want it to end. She moved a fraction so that she could kiss his lips, a feather light kiss that was more a touch of air and skin.

            She breathed the words into his mouth. “I love you.”

            Coop pulled her closer and they lay there, hearts slowing, body heat cocooning them. Cassie wasn’t sure if she dozed off when she closed her eyes, but she drifted and at some point a voice intruded.

            “You guys want Japanese? I’m ordering,” Pen called from downstairs.

            Cassie’s stomach rumbled in answer and Coop laughed, his body jerking and Cassie’s own laughter rippled through her.

            She looked at Coop. “Hungry?”

            With that impish grin she adored, “More than you can imagine.”

            She poked him in the ribs, and angled away to yell, “Yep, we’ll eat. You order whatever.”

            “Okay. But you better come down when it’s delivered. I don’t do room service!”

            That just set them off, and they were laughing and rolling around the bed.

44

The next couple of weeks were a blur for Cassie before Swot Vac, which marked the end of the school year before the final exams.

There were days when all she could think about were the few hours ahead when she was studying, trying to sleep, the occasional glimpse of the people living with her, and Coop who never failed to check in at least once a day to see if she was getting enough to eat and how she was going. Coop visited to hang out while she studied, quizzing her if she felt up to it, reading practice essays, or just silently reading a book to keep her company.

            She was so in her head, she couldn’t even be distracted by the fact he was lounging on her bed. When she needed to relax, he’d take her for walks or ice cream. What she loved most was when he brought his acoustic guitar and played for her. Often, she’d be lying on the bed with him, while he sat beside her propped up with pillows and she’d drift dreamlessly to sleep to his music. She was beginning to fantasise about nights with Coop, falling asleep together. Not that she voiced it because the thought of being that intimate still had her squirming uncomfortably and desperately aching hoping it would finally happen.

            “Not long,” he’d whisper, another mantra that kept her focused, kept her grounded. 

Amid the daze of studying she had her eighteenth birthday. Despite her parents being absent, Pen insisted on a dinner. Cassie chose pizza with wheat-free bases and a flourless chocolate cake to share with her closest friends and family. She never wanted a big eighteenth celebration. She’d got used to birthdays being splintered with her mum in the States and her dad’s frequent overseas trips. She’d make do with a gathering of whoever was around. This time, there was Coop, Steph, Kim and Suni, as well as Zeke, Simone and Peter. It was laid back and fun. But the best present was having the people who meant the most to her in one place, despite a few absentees. For one night, the looming exams and talk of revising was off-limits.

            What made it extra special was when Coop stayed behind and gave her his present. She’d been too scared to ask if he’d actually got her anything as everyone gave her their gifts, mostly books and music which she was thrilled about. Zeke had got her a Black Rebel Motorcycle Club T-shirt. She’d tackle hugged him she was so happy.

            “It’s a tiny gift, but with a big heart behind it,” Coop teased as he gave her a small perfectly wrapped box.

            Small boxes. Cassie’s brain jammed. Small boxes had…

            “Open it!” Coop was literally bouncing up and down in eagerness.

            Cassie fumbled with the wrapping, her palms suddenly slick with sweat.

            “Just rip it!” Coop growled and Cassie bent double laughing.  

            “Okay!” He was stressing her out with his eagerness as she fumbled. Finally, she held a white box, a gold embossed name she didn’t recognise on the lid.

            Coop took it gently from her, opened it, and turned it so Cassie could see its contents. 

            A thin silver disc stamped with the word “LOVE” and threaded with a red cord. It was delicate and impossibly beautiful. 

            Cassie hugged Coop hard enough that his breath came out in a huff. He laughed softly as he hugged her back.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s wonderful.”

            When Cassie let him go, Coop took the bracelet from the box. “It’s meant to stay on, so don’t take it off. The cord can be replaced.” He slipped it on her left wrist and then tightened the cord, the two ends were looped through a tiny bracket so the length could be adjusted. Cassie would have a hard time tightening it herself unless she used her teeth. The jewel rested on the inside of her wrist, near her pulse point.

            Coop held both her hands, turning her other wrist so the inked zero was visible.

            A beginning and an end.

Or, no end and no beginning.

            All or nothing.

Eternal.

            Never ending.

            Cassie’s mum had called her to wish her a happy birthday, teary as she always was on this day when she was so far away.

            “Never forget how much I love you, darling. That’s all that truly matters. It’s energy, and I’m sending it to you, always. I know you might not feel it, but it’s the one thing that can’t end. Not if it’s true.”

            Cassie had cried silently hearing those words. Wishing her mum was here with her. Wishing she’d never left.

            And now Coop was holding her hands, her heart a compass, her home shifting with the people she loved, with how she saw herself.

45

“I wish you were coming on this trip, Pen,” confessed Alex. “You could still come and see me in Tassie before I leave.”

            His words startled her. They’d been missing each other’s phone calls and emails and texting proved easier. Pen did miss his voice, and she was surprised at that. When she heard him it hit her how much she missed speaking to him.

            Alex would be leaving the following week for Tasmania to prepare with his team. Pen had considered seeing him while he was in Hobart, but the timing was atrocious. She had assessment for her course and Cassie was about to do exams. Alex still mentioned Helena in passing, but mostly in relation to work. Pen almost felt guilty for having not once mentioned she’d befriended Liam.

            Just thinking about Liam had her stomach in knots.

            “You’ll be so caught up in the preparations you won’t even notice I’m not there.” Huh! Let him stew on that. The anger had lessened. She’d been so involved in her work and life, reconnecting with things she loved, discovering new things. And she’d been doing it alone. She might not be living alone, but she’d been living her life with Alex ostensibly absent. There was still a connection, but her everyday life had shifted; had become full of what she wanted to do.

            “How’s the weaving?” He now asked once he’d realised she was serious, and she was grateful for this small acknowledgement.

            “Good, I’m starting on the large tapestry next week.” Sadly, she was unable to engage with Alex on the subject in the same way as with Liam.

            She really needed to stop thinking about him. The fact he’d texted her to say he was looking forward to seeing the finished tapestry on his return. It was a friendly text, light and casual. Too casual. She hated herself for wanting more.

            Alex spoke about his preparations. It was easy to let him talk. He asked about the family. She’d popped into the apartment a few times to check on things. It felt like someone else’s home. Not hers.

            There was a tense silence when Alex stopped. Pen didn’t know how to fill it, but Alex surprised her.

            “Was it a mistake me agreeing to go on this trip, Pen?”

             Pen couldn’t answer immediately. She’d never expected him to ask such a question, not since those early discussions before he left.

            She cleared her throat. “I think it was important for you to go because of your work and it means so much to you. In that way it wasn’t a mistake.” She paused thinking carefully how to word what had become the foundation of a wall rising steadily between them. “But I also think it was a decision that had nothing to do with me. That hurt. I understand pursuing your passion, but we’re also in a relationship and I thought that was something that mattered to you.”

            I thought I mattered.

            Alex didn’t speak and Pen tensed, waiting for his words. For anything that would speak of his true feelings.

            “Have I lost you, Pen?” He spoke hesitantly, painfully. It gave her a glimpse that he was truly saddened by the rift widening between them. She was also disappointed that he was throwing it back to her to speak of how she felt; and that whatever happened between them seemed to be her decision.

            She breathed to steady herself. Her father had been right when he’d advised her that you had to be careful about what you said or did, because once it was out there, you couldn’t take it back. What she said next would change everything.

“I think you have. I’m sorry Alex. But I think you have.”

46

The exams came all too quickly with the English exam first.

            Cassie couldn’t believe that all these years of school now came down to these final exams and then she was free.

            “How did you go?” Kim asked when they came out three hours later, jittery and drained. Suni looked relieved, while Steph propped herself against a wall, looking ready to fall asleep on her feet. She hated exams and couldn’t relax beforehand.

            “Good,” Cassie admitted, quietly confident. “Just don’t ask me that after the French exam.” Kim smiled knowingly.

            It was one of those ridiculously intense periods of her life when she was focused on just getting over one hurdle, then the next. So when the final exam came, she walked out of it in a daze. Disbelieving that this was it. She was done! She walked around in circles, not quite sure what to do with herself.

            Standing outside in the sun, Cassie felt drained yet buzzing with adrenaline at the same time. Steph, Suni and Kim hadn’t done French, so they weren’t around. If Kim had asked her about how well she’d done (or not), she would have got down on her knees and mock-prayed for a miracle.

Cassie watched students she’d known for three years walk out of the exam room, many looking as washed out as she did. She pulled out her phone and took a photo of the sky and sent it to her three best friends. She typed one word. FREE!

            Cassie called Coop. He picked up immediately.

            “It’s over?” he asked, eagerly. He knew her exam timetable by heart.

Cassie laughed, a deeply satisfying laugh. “I’m done. I’M DONE!” she yelled. She turned quite a few heads with that statement, and the fact she was twirling around.

Coop was laughing with her. “Brilliant! I’m coming to get you. Time to celebrate, babe!”

Cassie shut her eyes, head turned to the sun. “Yep, definitely time to celebrate.”

“Congratulations, beautiful.”

Cassie sighed, happy that she could share this moment with someone so special to her. “Thank you. Couldn’t have got through this without you.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I’ll meet you in an hour. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

Cassie smiled and blushed at the way his voice deepened in that way that felt like it was just for her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve been hanging out in your bedroom being an absolute gentleman. The frustration is killing me! You have no idea what it’s been like watching you sleep beside me and keeping my hands to myself.”

Cassie laughed joyously. “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, we better hang out at your place.”

“We’re totally on the same wavelength.”

47

“Are you sure about this?”

            The same question her father had asked when she’d moved back to the townhouse. Now it was Zeke asking as they prepared to get the rest of Pen’s stuff from the apartment.

            “Yes,” Pen enunciated the word so he knew she meant it. 

            “Okay, let’s do this.”

            Zeke had borrowed Henry’s Jeep, and they unloaded flattened boxes, tape and packing material. Pen looked up at the balcony she had sat on so many times, enjoying the city view. What had once made her feel free now seemed a cage.

            “Did you ask Cass if she wanted to help?” Zeke was worrying they didn’t have enough hands-on-deck.

            “You saw her. She’s still in bed recovering. Her excuse.”

            Zeke hooted. “She’s literally letting go. She also sounds like she’s got a cold.”

            Pen opened the door to the apartment foyer. “She was out late. With Coop.”

            “Oh. Enough said.” Neither of them wanted to speculate.

            At the front door, Pen paused. Alex had barely spoken after she’d confessed she was unhappy about being in the relationship. No pleas, apologies, nothing. Quietly she said she’d move her stuff out. Each word felt heavy, stamping “the end”, while her heart raced. She’d hung up and vomited. She’d gone to bed and cried. When she didn’t get up early the next morning, Cassie knocked softly. Pen croaked an answer, Cassie came in, asking if she was sick. Pen shook her head, although she was. She was heartsick.

            “It’s over. With Alex,” she’d mumbled, miserably.

            Cassie stood by the bed. Then she crawled behind Pen and put her arm around her. “I’m sorry.” She said nothing else, but she held Pen as the tears kept dripping unchecked.

            “I mean it, Pen—are you really sure about this?” asked Zeke. “Maybe you need to wait until he comes back.”

            Of all the people to try and talk her out of this! Pen knew Zeke was only thinking of her well-being and the fact she looked like a ghost.

            “I am,” she said firmly, opening the door.

            Stepping inside, she surveyed the place she’d thought of as home. However, she’d only thought of it as home because of Alex.

            Alex was gone.

            But Pen was here, and she was no longer waiting. 

            “I’m ready,” she said, determined.

48 

It was a day like any other.

It was a day Cassie would remember for the rest of her life.

            Like the day when her parents sat them all down to reveal they were separating and getting a divorce. While she’d had some idea that trouble was brewing with her parents, on this Thursday evening, nothing prepared her for what was to come.

            Cassie was lying on one sofa, Pen on the other. For the past week since she’d finished, Cassie had battled waves of exhaustion, a giddy elation, and the strangest feeling of aimlessness since she had so little to do. She’d gone out for a celebratory dinner with her girlfriends; went to the airport with Kim and Steph to see Suni off for her holiday in India with her family, and she and Coop found any excuse to see each other, which felt like a luxury. Suddenly they had nothing but time.

            This evening, she’d crashed. A cold was threatening and she definitely had to deal with the fact there was now a flaming rash on the side of her neck that she was sure was creeping up to her cheek. She’d call Dr. Richter and make an appointment. She’d upped her vitamin and seaweed intake that the holistic physician and nutritionist her mum had dragged her to had recommended as a way to alkalize her blood and prevent inflammation. Cassie knew she was seriously run down. Getting up each day was a challenge. She’d put it down to post-exam fatigue. Cassie also debated calling Steph and going to see Punt playing a gig. Since that disastrous night that had turned unexpectedly wonderful, she hadn’t seen them play. It was time to get back on the horse, so to speak.

            She looked at Pen from her lame attempts to focus on Jane Eyre. “Hey, are you up for going out to see Punt?” Pen had been understandably quiet. Despite Cassie’s self-absorption during exams, she’d noticed the way Pen would drift somewhere, out of reach. It had been happening before she’d broken things off with Alex.

            Pen glanced away from the TV. “I’m not sure—” She didn’t finish as the house phone rang. It was such a rare sound, they both whipped their heads to look towards the study where Richard was currently working, hearing his voice as he answered.

            Cassie raised her eyebrows at Pen who shrugged. “I have no idea—could be a work thing.”

            “Mum?” Cassie barely got it out when she heard the crash in the study. Both she and Pen shot up and ran, with Tanya charging down the stairs.

            “What’s wrong?” Tanya asked them urgently. Pen was first to find Richard bent double over his desk, the framed photographs scattered on the floor.

            Pen and Tanya both reached for him, helping him to stand. Cassie couldn’t move, paralysed, her stomach plummeting because she knew, she just knew something terrible had happened. Chills ran across her skin, her blood icing with every thought of all the people that could be hurt, could be…

            Richard sat heavily on the desk chair. His skin was bleached. His hands were trembling.

            “Darling? Richard, tell me what’s wrong, please,” pleaded Tanya. Cassie had never seen Tanya look so afraid. Pen’s face was shockingly pale. They were all holding their breath.

            “It’s Nate,” Richard got out shakily. Cassie’s hands came to her mouth. The reflex was to be sick or scream. “He’s—” Her father sobbed, unable to complete what he was about to say. He took several deep breaths. Tanya was biting her lip, her arms hugging his shoulders, while Pen gripped his hand, tight. “He’s been shot. It’s bad. That was Rainer. He’s at the hospital, in surgery.”

            Shot.

            The word hit like a bullet.

            Cassie felt herself swaying. She could hear her dad as he spoke, but the words were buzzing, slurring, sounding ever distant. The blood had leached from her head; her heart pounding and bile swilled threatening to spew from her mouth. Black blobs smeared across her eyes, getting bigger each time she blinked.

            Cassie collapsed in a dead faint.         

49 

There were voices, but they sounded far away, distorted.

            Cassie blinked; she was sure her eyes were moving. There were hands cradling her head. Flashes of light through her closed eyelids. But what she could feel—a strange surging through body, like her blood was going in one direction straight towards her head. It felt hot, prickly and heavy.

            Hazily, she opened her eyes. Pen’s face was above her, panicked. So was Tanya’s, warped in her blurry vision. The nausea was like a wave, and the weird buzzing under her skin was dulling all sensation except for the throb along the side of her neck. She wanted to scratch her skin, wanted water for her suddenly dry mouth and throat, and when she breathed—        

            “Call the ambulance! NOW!” shouted Pen and Tanya at once.

            She wanted to claw at her throat because it felt tight. Her face was blazing, the skin feeling stretched. Too hot and scratchy and she took another breath and—

            she heard the rasp, felt the burn of her throat, lungs.

            She was struggling to breathe.

50

Pen felt frighteningly numb.

            Richard and Tanya were standing by the curtained-off emergency room where the doctors were stabilizing Cassie with epinephrine and oxygen. She’d looked in once to see Cassie, exhausted, eyes shut with her face swollen, skin a burnt red, but she was breathing. Her airways hadn’t completely closed up.

            They were waiting for her to be transferred to a hospital room for monitoring.

            Pen hadn’t been at home the last time Cassie had landed in hospital. She hadn’t ever felt that scared, that close to the possibility of Cassie not being able to breathe. The sheer suddenness that her life could have been in danger.

            And Nate.

            She closed her eyes and forced air into her lungs, savouring every bit of oxygen she could get. She couldn’t block out seeing Cassie fighting to breathe, the fear and panic in her eyes. She wanted to vomit at the memory.

            “Pen!” Her eyes snapped open to see Zeke, running through the emergency centre doors with Coop.

            Zeke grabbed her in a crushing hug. “How is she?”

            “Stable.”

            They just stared at each other until the tears she had felt, but couldn’t summon, fell. Zeke hugged her. She lifted her head and saw Coop talking with an ashen faced Richard.

            Sitting, they gripped each other’s hands. “They’ll move her soon. She’s not in any danger anymore.”

            Zeke nodded, looking just as freaked out as she felt. He was looking over at their father. Coop had slipped into the alcove to see Cassie. At this moment, he was family.

            “What happened with Nate?” he asked, having only got the most scant details from Pen as she’d frantically called him, grabbing the car keys to follow the ambulance to the hospital.   

“He was shot outside his house. He was getting out of the car when some guys came up to him. They wanted the car. I’m not sure what he said, but they shot him and took it. Rainer was inside and came out when she heard. I think that’s what saved him. She reacted so quickly. Got the ambulance. She tried to staunch the blood. She said Nate was still conscious. The doctor said the bullet damaged his liver. He’s in surgery.”

It exhausted her to give this short account.

Zeke bent his head. “Shit. Did he know the guys who shot him?”

It was always a concern. That Nate could be targeted for his political writing. But this was almost random. Maybe they’d staked him out. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence and both Rainer and Nate refused to live in a gated community. He didn’t even drive a flashy car. In the end, he could have just been seen as an easy target.

“No.” said Pen. “It’s not being treated as suspicious. Just a carjacking.”

Just a carjacking. That could cost Nate his life.

Pen couldn’t hold it back. Sobs wrenched from her mouth.

            Zeke moved to hold her. “Cry, get it out, Pen.”

She heard a voice calling out, “Dad!” Raising her face, she and Zeke turned to see Simone rushing into the emergency room with Peter. Simone was still wearing her work clothes. Peter, with his sandy hair cropped short; his brown eyes earnest, was also still wearing a suit, minus the tie. His mouth was grim. Pen barely heard Simone’s pressing voice asking questions.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Zeke’s voice was drained, muted, as if keeping a tight grip on his emotions. 

“I know.” She didn’t have the energy to say more.

51

It felt like hours, but time stretched molasses slow as they waited.

            Cassie was eventually moved to a private room. They all followed to a nearby lounge. Only one or two people were allowed to sit with her as she was kept under close supervision. The swelling had receded a little, but it was still a shock to see her.

            Simone sat with Peter, quietly talking. Zeke got tea and coffee for all of them and then sat beside Pen. Coop had hugged Pen fiercely, sitting with her and Zeke, until Richard had said he could sit with Cassie while he had calls to make. He looked bereft, and Tanya didn’t look much better.

            Zeke hated waiting, couldn’t keep still. He finally said he needed to walk and Pen joined him, loathing the tension, the stark sadness and fear.

            Outside they found a table in a courtyard. Pen felt she could finally breathe again.

            “Dad said they’ll have to wait to go to Johannesburg,” announced Zeke.

            “Because of Cassie?” Zeke nodded. “Just them?” She’d been wondering if she should accompany them.

             “Dad doesn’t want anyone else. Not until we know…” He couldn’t finish, but Pen knew what he meant. If Nate didn’t make it, they’d all go over for the funeral.

            She blocked the thought, not wanting to even consider it. Not yet.

            “I can’t remember when I last spoke to him,” Pen confessed. She tilted her head. The sky was studded with stars. A clear night. And the bizarre thought: Alex was heading south. He was on that boat and he seemed as remote as the lights above her.

            “Cassie was the closest to him. Of the kids,” stated Zeke.

            It seemed futile to talk. As if words were meaningless when Nate’s life hung in the balance, and they were so far away. And Cassie. The inevitable questions had come up about how this had happened again. With the exams and pressures and the shock, it wasn’t a leap to imagine why. Coop brought up that he’d noticed the rash but that Cassie said it was manageable, which had Richard blanching and Tanya looking tight-lipped to stop from crying. He’d already been on the phone to Lina, and Pen could only imagine how explosive her mum would be to hear this. All her fears about Cassie had been realised. But the doctors had informed them this wasn’t as bad as the last episode. The swelling was coming down quicker and the build up to this attack seemed much sharper than the last time. Meaning she might not have the horrid after effects like before. It was small comfort.

God, she was sick of waiting. Pen felt limp with how ineffectual she felt, in not being able to do anything.

            “I do remember the last time I spoke to him,” said Zeke in the silence.

            “Nate?”

            “Yeah. I’d asked him why he returned to South Africa after travelling the world, focused on his music writing or writing about cultural stuff. Why he stayed.”

            Pen hadn’t understood, either. She’d never tried to understand the politics of a country she’d felt no real ties to. She was born there, but that was it. Her father’s work still tied him to South Africa, but her life was firmly rooted in Australia.

            “But Nate told me,” Zeke continued, “that when apartheid ended, he wanted to go back and see if he could come to terms with the place that had shaped him. To deal with all the contradictions. Whether he could find himself by going back to the one place he still considered home. And whether he could stop hating it because for so long he couldn’t stomach the thought of what was going on there, and that he didn’t know how to fit in.”

             “That he was white?” Pen asked.

            “Yeah. He was white, privileged, that his father and brother had both worked with companies that profited by exploiting blacks, that he knew the kind of violence that was perpetrated against blacks in that country because of being a journalist. He knew and he said he often felt powerless to do anything; that the words started to mean nothing. Didn’t make a difference. He said he left South Africa full of self-loathing. And he felt like a coward. Like he was running away.”

            Pen had no idea about this. Which said a lot for how well she knew Nate. But she was equally unsure how her father felt about the country that for so long had been his home as well. Except she remembered Richard saying he’d wanted to leave that country for years because he was so tired of living in fear, and wanting to protect his kids from the everyday injustices.

            “Perhaps that’s why he can’t leave, Ze. He’s still got so much to work through.”

            Zeke nodded. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. Pen studied him. His eyes were bloodshot, he hadn’t shaved recently, and he’d tied his hair back hastily.

            “And then he asked me if I’d forgiven Dad.”

             “Oh Zeke,” she whispered, knowing what he was referring to; an event that occurred when both their parents were still in their twenties, when Simone was still a baby. Zeke had found out by overhearing a conversation between Richard and Lina around the time of the divorce. It wasn’t something they’d wanted the kids to know about, and Pen had wondered if it was from shame, or that it was simply too painful. But Zeke had told her, anguished and furious. She had no idea if Cassie or Simone knew.    

            “What did you say?” she asked.

            Zeke swallowed hard. “I said I think I had, but I still found it hard to accept.”

            “That’s understandable.”

Pen found it just as hard to get her head around what happened or how she felt about Richard’s involvement. That the company her dad had been working for had been aware that conditions in one of the mines had become increasingly dangerous because of the use of explosives. Despite not being involved in the mine operations, when Richard found out he’d tried to intervene insisting work should stop immediately so they could assess the mine. He’d been vetoed by the board because of worries about profit margins if there was a delay. The mine kept operating. Then it collapsed. Hundreds were trapped. Hundreds died. Hundreds.

            Lives. People. Human beings.

Richard had almost quit on the spot except he kept thinking about his family and how he was responsible to them and their future. So he’d reached out to Nate. They hadn’t spoken for a long time, but he reached out to his brother because he wanted Nate to write something. To investigate. Nate wasn’t in the country, but he got someone else he knew to do it.

            From what Zeke heard Richard did eventually leave the company, but not before he set up a fund using money they’d been saving to buy a house to help the families of the men who’d died. In Zeke’s view it was all too late. He’d raged at Pen about the fact there was a riot in a nearby township. People had marched to the company headquarters, demanding justice. Listening, Pen could predict the outcome. Too many stories ended this way in that country. The police had rounded up and arrested the protestors. The company denied any responsibility. Said it was an accident; an explosive set off prematurely causing the collapse. They tried covering it up. That’s when Richard left, but not before making them aware he’d do everything to get the truth out there.

            “Nate reminded me that to this day Dad still makes sure there’s money in that fund to support the families of those who died,” Zeke said, his voice ragged.

            “I know you have trouble with him, Ze. I get that. But I still think he’s a good person. It’s the system that shaped the country and the people that’s truly rotten.”

             Pen was aware Richard had tried to take some responsibility for what happened. The journalist hadn’t been able to corroborate everything Richard knew of the mine collapse, but he dug up the company’s history and its repeated violations of dangerous work practices. It was enough to get an investigation. What infuriated Zeke was how Richard continued to work in the industry. Yet there’d been danger implicit in staying as well. Richard’s connections had protected him, because everyone feared there’d be a backlash and the company would try and get back at him, which amounted to a physical threat to Richard and his family.

             “But you know what I thought?” said Zeke. “I thought he wasn’t good enough—that he should have got out of that industry entirely. Nate agreed with me on that, especially now with all the environmental issues. That he should have been horrified and disgusted at the fact people were dying or being exploited or living in horrible conditions while he worked for that corporation. That he was supporting the racist bullshit that defined that country. Which made him a racist, too. That he had blood on his hands and it could never wash off. That’s what I thought, Pen. I thought he was too weak to make hard choices. No matter that he tried to make amends. Because how do you give back a life once it’s gone? How do you give back hundreds of lives? You can’t!”

            He turned to Pen. “And I told him this, Pen. All of it. After I overheard everything. That anything he did wasn’t enough. Would never be enough.”

            Pen was stunned. She’d never known he’d spoken out. Zeke’s distress was obvious. The guilt he felt.

            She got up and hugged him.

            “I can never take it back, Pen. Shit, I was such a self-righteous prick,” he murmured into her shoulder.

            “You have your beliefs, Zeke. Your feelings. They’re absolutely valid.” What could she say? This was the irony of the country that for years had such a hideous racial divide cemented in law: the situation wasn’t black and white. Nothing was straightforward. Doing what was “right” was a minefield. Often, choices came down to the brutal fact of just trying to survive.

            Pen sat back down, yet kept hold of Zeke’s hand.

            “He took it. That’s what makes it worse somehow. Dad just took what I said and never defended himself. He let me rant and said nothing.”

            “He loves you,” Pen insisted. It was true. She never doubted her father’s love. For any of them.

            Zeke bowed his head. “I know. I think I stayed away so long because I never knew how to say sorry. I am sorry.” He looked up. “The last time Nate and I spoke I also told him about what I said to Dad.”

            “What did he say?”

            “That I should never apologise for my beliefs, but I should take responsibility for my actions. That if my conscience says I need to apologise, then do it. To have courage and be able to admit I was foolish or hurtful. But he also agreed how hard it was to reconcile dad’s continued involvement in an industry that was profiting from a racist regime.”

            Pen nodded. “He’s right.” And didn’t that say something of the man Nate was. Brothers with such opposing views and far from perfect. But good. Or at least, they tried to be.

            Zeke sat back. He was spent. Pen felt rung out. She thought of her father. There were no easy choices. She didn’t understand completely, never would. But one thing about Richard, he took responsibility. Never made excuses.

            “I love him,” Zeke said, his voice constrained by so much emotion held in check, and his face was tilted, speaking to the stars as much as to her. “But for so long, I’ve hated him as well for what he’s been involved in. Some days it just doesn’t make sense, how I feel about him. Some days, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make sense of it.”

            Pen squeezed Zeke’s hand, had nothing to say that could unravel the mess of his feelings, how lost he seemed. If she’d had any tears left, she would have wept for him, for her father, for all of them. 

52

Cassie’s head felt huge. And heavy.

            She managed to open her eyes and they didn’t feel like slits. Shifting her vision to the left she saw him. “Oh God,” she whispered.

            Coop smiled, it was strained and tired and relieved. “Hey,” he spoke softly standing to kiss her gently on her very warm forehead.

            Her throat was incredibly dry. “Water.”

            Coop deftly grabbed a glass and filled it, holding the glass for her to sip. He picked up a small container as well. “Ice chip?” He asked. She nodded. Sucking on it was heaven.

            He moved the chair closer and Cassie had trouble meeting his eyes.

            “Hey,” he said again. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

            She gave a shuddering breath. She could breathe. It felt good. “I never wanted you to see me like this.”  

Her eyes were hot, yet she couldn’t muster the energy to cry. Coop held her hand gently, being careful of the IV drip. She still felt a bit dopey. 

            “Don’t you ever feel self-conscious about not being well, especially something so traumatic. I don’t care how you look, babe. All I care about is you get better and that we get through this. Okay?”

            “My head,” she choked. “My head feels huge.”

            He chuckled and kissed her hand. “It’s not that big and the swelling is going down. You do look very flushed and that rash you downplayed looks like it’s spread. But your dad said they got it under control quick. He said it’s not nearly as bad as the last time.”

            She shut her eyes, tears leaking. Coop brushed them away.

            “I never wanted this to happen again. I tried so hard…”

            “Stress and a big year and—”

            Cassie’s body jolted. “Nate!”

            “Shhh,” he kissed her hand again. “He’s in surgery. For the bullet wound. Your dad said he’ll keep us updated.”

            “Oh God,” she moaned, and then the weight in her chest caved in, seemed to push up into her now clear throat. “Oh God,” she whispered, then she was sobbing, the only release for the pressure, the pain.

            Coop climbed carefully onto the bed. There was barely any room, except she curled into him as best she could and he held her, shielding her from the reality of being back in a place she hated and that somewhere, across the ocean, her uncle was fighting for his life. 

            “I got you, love. I’ve got you,” he murmured, over and over until whatever was in that drip helped her fall into oblivion.

53

Eventually, they left the hospital as visiting hours were closed. Cassie slept, was healing.

            Coop wanted to stay, but Zeke urged him to crash with him. That’s when Pen suggested they come stay at the townhouse. She didn’t want to be alone, especially as Richard was locked in his own grief, all of them still anxious about whether Nate would pull through. Nate’s wife, Rainer had promised to call the moment Nate came out of surgery.

            When they got to the townhouse, Coop crashed on one sofa and Zeke on the other. Pen found extra duvets and pillows for them and dragged the sofa cushions from the study and made a makeshift bed on the lounge floor.

            She must have dozed when she heard the ringtone of Richard’s phone. She blearily got up, tense. Zeke stirred. Coop, exhausted, was still asleep.

             Richard answered, talking urgently. Finally, he came out of the study. Shoulders hunched, his face was creased with worry. He gave a wan smile. Pen reached for Zeke’s hand and gripped hard. He didn’t flinch.

            “Nate made it through the surgery. He’s in Intensive Care and the next forty-eight hours are critical. But he’s stable.”

             “Thank goodness.” Pen sagged back onto the cushions. Zeke rubbed his face, relieved. Coop, roused at the news, then pulled out his phone. Pen knew he was texting Cassie.

             Zeke got up and walked over to Richard. He stood in front of him for a moment before quickly embracing his father. Richard visibly stiffened before his arms came around his son.

            “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so, so sorry.”

Pen’s hand went to her mouth, watching as Zeke held Richard tight. Like he didn’t want to let go. It was the first time in years that she’d seen Zeke hug their dad.

            Richard’s eyes were swimming. “I know, Zeke. I know.”

Zeke stepped back and then dashed upstairs. Richard wiped a hand over his eyes.

“Tanya and I will fly over there once Cassie’s out of hospital. Lina is coming to Melbourne, with Aaron and the kids. She should be here by the end of the week.”

“What?” Pen gasped. 

Richard smiled. This time it seemed lighter. “She’s coming here for Cassie, but she wants to be here for everyone. Whatever the outcome.” He swallowed hard. “They’re staying at an apartment that Aaron’s law office owns. Not far from here.”

Pen tried absorbing the sudden rush of events. “That’s good,” she said, although she wasn’t sure how Cassie would feel with Lina about to descend and having a conniption about Cassie’s relapse. Since Richard and Tanya were leaving, she could only feel grateful.

Coop was frantically texting. No doubt giving Cassie a heads up that her mum was about to crash into her life.

“I suggest we all try and get some sleep,” Richard said before he disappeared into the study. Zeke came back downstairs and Pen noticed how drained he looked. How red his eyes were.

“What did I miss?” he asked noticing Pen’s dazed expression.

“Mum’s coming home.”

He sat heavily on the sofa. Coop was grinning tiredly. Zeke’s head flopped back, eyes to the ceiling.

“Fuck.”

Pen laughed for the first time in what felt like forever.        

54

It was a few days before Cassie was discharged.

Pen had been fielding her mother’s calls, trying to take in all the advice Lina had accumulated from Cassie’s last attack and the aftercare required.

            It was exhausting.

When Cassie finally returned home it was to a madhouse.

            A sombre but bustling madhouse.

            Pen and Zeke took charge of cooking for the growing number of people. It was one way to calm her fraying nerves. With Richard and Tanya having left for Johannesburg as soon as Cassie was settled, Kim and Steph decided to crash at the townhouse, bringing sleeping bags and supplies for what seemed like an indefinite stay. Simone and Peter also decided to invite themselves over. Simone’s eyes widening at the sight of the lounge turning into a campsite, insisted she and Peter should have the spare bedroom, inconsiderate that it was now Pen’s. 

            Cassie sat propped up on the sofa, bookended by Kim and Steph. Zeke and Coop were in the courtyard, with Coop playing his acoustic guitar, too quiet to really hear. Peter was at the dining table with his laptop open, working. Simone was rifling through the pantry looking for snacks.

            “We need to go shopping,” Simone announced.

            Pen sighed. She finished loading the dishwasher. She was on a cycle of cook, rinse, pack dishwasher, unload and then repeat. She was also monitoring everything that Cassie was eating. The smell of bone broth was nauseating. Cassie was downing it like water.

            “Yeah, I know.” Pen hadn’t slept well since that horrid day. No one had. Seeing her father’s face before he and Tanya left had been a claw to her heart. Not knowing whether he was going to see his brother die, or find him recovering.  

            “Okay, make a list and Pete and I will go shopping. I need to get out for a bit.” Ever blunt and practical. If it weren’t for the post-crying eyes, Pen wouldn’t be able to tell how Simone was feeling. There had always been that distance between them. Pen watched as Simone hoed into a bag of pretzels. And the bizarre thought: How would I be feeling right now if it was Simone in hospital fighting for her life?

            Simone had always just been there. They didn’t have the history Richard and Nate had—the closeness and distance, the arguing, friction and desperate worry. No. But she’d hate to see Simone hurt; she didn’t want any of her siblings hurt. She was sick and tired of wondering if things would fall apart.

            Like Alex.

            She stomped on that thought.

            She’d had an instinctive urge to call him, to tell him about Nate and Cassie. Then she remembered: he was gone and she’d ended their relationship. It seemed ridiculously false when she still wanted to talk to him. To share what she was going through. She stopped herself calling and it was one more step of moving in a separate direction.   

             Zeke looked towards her as if sensing her distress. He came inside and leaned against the island bench. Simone just kept eating. She was like a machine. It was also a sign she was anxious. She stress-ate and she’d always tried to hide that fact as if it would be a black mark against her character. 

            “Coop and I thought maybe we should have a barbeque. We can do it all.”

            Pen almost collapsed with relief. “That sounds great.”

            “Sounds good,” said Simone.

            The three of them just stood there, together, bewildered, and yet quietly appreciative, an acknowledgement that for once, they needed each other to get through this.

55

“What’s she doing?” asked Zeke the next morning.

            Cassie sat nursing a cup of tea, her head woolly from sleep. If she’d known how many people had set up residence since she’d been in hospital, she might have stayed.

            Pen, who was also at the dining table and looking as much of a zombie as Cassie felt, turned to see what Zeke was staring at. In the courtyard, Kim was dressed in workout gear and moving so slowly, so gracefully, that Pen twisted to sit so she could keep watching her.

            “I think it’s Tai Chi,” Cassie explained. “She teaches it.”

            “Teaches?” Zeke sounded incredulous. He was dressed in the clothes from the day before, jeans and a T-shirt. His hair was a mess, a little greasy. He watched Kim, mesmerised.

            Cassie spied Zeke’s slightly baffled but admiring look that he was aiming at her friend. “Oh,” she said grinning with cheeks still a bit puffy.

            “What?” asked Pen.

            Cassie kept grinning. “Nothing.”

            It was then that the house phone rang.

            Even Kim stopped. Simone charged for the study before anyone else could get there. Peter was at her heels. Coop came downstairs, having just showered. He walked straight for Cassie. She instinctively knew it was her father with news. Coop’s arm went around her shoulder. He sat on the adjacent chair and pulled her onto his lap.

            “Hey,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

            She nuzzled his neck, not wanting anyone to see her tears. 

            It felt like an eternity, waiting for Simone to get off the phone.

            “I hate this,” muttered Zeke, pushing back his chair and walking into the courtyard. Kim was standing just by the door. Cassie glanced over Coop’s shoulder and saw how Kim’s hand went to touch Zeke as he passed, but fell as quickly as it rose.

            Simone strode into the lounge. “That was Dad. Nate’s conscious. He’s going to be alright. Dad’s with him. He’s going to pull through.” Simone smiled. A bright smile. Peter grabbed her for a hug just as she burst out crying.

            “Sim?” Pen stood up reflexively.

            “She’ll be fine,” Peter said, gentling Simone as she sobbed into his chest. “It’s the relief. It always hits her after the fact.”

            Pen sat down as Zeke came back inside. He took one look at her and then hugged her. Cassie was glad she had someone to comfort her. She’d got the feeling how at odds Pen was feeling with everyone. Not having Alex here to be with her. Cassie almost wished they were still together.

            Tears coursed her still flushed cheeks. “He’s fine, love. He’s going to be okay,” Coop whispered as he rocked Cassie, arms tight.

            “I know. It’s just the pressure. Too much going on,” she muttered into his shoulder.

            “He’s fine,” he said again. Coop had been shielding her from everyone, just so she could get some rest. She knew he’d been shocked by what happened to her, and while he didn’t show it, seeing her in hospital had been frightening. It was hard to reassure him she was fine so soon after everything that had happened.

            It had shifted something though, Coop seeing her like that. She’d been mortified waking to find him there, but his simple acceptance, the fact he tried to put her at ease, to not let her see the panic and fear, it stripped all self-consciousness. Like he could still see her inside the shell of her swollen, blistering face, and the wreck of her own grief and shock. She’d never felt as close to him as she had when he lay beside her in that hospital bed and just held her so she could cry and sleep. So that she’d feel safe.

Cassie wiped her face, skin still tender, a bit sore and beginning to peel as the swelling subsided, like a bad case of sunburn. Simone had commented she was like a snake shedding. Cassie had felt like biting her.

She spied Kim and Steph grinning, arms around each other. Cassie reached out to them, and they didn’t need any encouragement trying to hug her with Coop mashed in the huddle.

            It was right at that moment that the front door blew open.

            “Hello! It’s me darlings, sorry we just came from the airport!”

            “Mum?” Cassie’s head whipped around. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. In a good way. She untangled herself and ran towards Lina.

            “Baby!” Lina’s arms wrapped around Cassie in a vice grip. “What are you doing up! You should be resting.”

            “Mum!” That one word was packed with disbelief, joy and an aching grief.

            Lina held Cassie’s face gently in her hands, looking intently. “Not as bad as before if they let you out so soon. The swelling is going down well. Your skin isn’t peeling as much this time, either. But you need to take it easy.” She hugged Cassie fiercely. It was like she’d never left.

            “She’s here,” said Zeke, incredulously.

            “Thank God,” Pen said.

56

Lina took charge.

            It was chaos; the kind of organised chaos their mother thrived on.

            “Okay, Pen, you and I are going shopping for dinner tonight. Aaron darling, you keep an eye on the girls and see when the apartment is ready for us. Cassie love, rest! And keep up your fluid intake. I’ll pick up some more vitamins for you. Zeke, if you can clean the barbeque so we can use it that would be wonderful. Simone, call Richard and tell him we’re here.”

            No one batted an eye at Lina’s demands, they just followed orders; grateful that at least someone knew what they were doing.

            Cassie was sprawled on the sofa with her sisters Rose and Bella, who were delighted at seeing her again. Apparently they had pictures of all their siblings in their bedroom. Coop had a silly grin on his face watching Cassie being used as a climbing frame and having her hair petted and pulled.

            “Mummy’s hair,” yelled Bella. Or Rose. Pen wasn’t able to tell them apart.

            “Apartment is ready for us this afternoon, darling,” called out Aaron. Handsome, thought Pen, very handsome. She was stunned she’d never truly noticed before. He was the tall, dark and handsome type. And so not like her father.

            “Great. Pen, we should pop out while the girls are occupied.” Lina proceeded to pull Pen behind her towards the door.

            Once outside, Pen squinted at the light. She felt like she’d been living in a cave.

            “Mum, are you sure about this?” She traipsed after Lina who was moving quickly towards a sleek BMW.

            “Of course! You need to get out of there. Nate’s going to be okay, Cassie is stable, and I want to spend some time with you.”

            Pen almost blurted out “Why me?” Because there were two other siblings Lina could be dragging to the supermarket. Pen gave in and let Lina drive like a maniac to the South Melbourne market. How could she have forgotten how badly her mum drove?

            They didn’t immediately go food shopping.

            “Coffee first!” insisted Lina.

            Pen felt like a bedraggled mess in her jeans, a plain white T-shirt and beat-up Converse sneakers. Her hair was up in a ponytail because she hadn’t washed it. Somehow despite having just got off a plane (although they’d flown business class) Lina looked impeccable. Beautiful. Vibrant. No wonder Aaron’s face melted every time he looked at his wife. Pen hadn’t noticed that before, either.

            They found a couple of seats at Gas, ordered coffees and a couple of pastries. Pen’s stomach growled. 

“You’ve lost weight, darling.” Not a rebuke, just an observation.

            Pen shrugged under her mother’s scrutiny. “A lot’s happened.”

            The coffees and pastries came and Pen almost wolfed the lot.

“I know,” said Lina in such an understanding tone, Pen’s eyes smarted.

            Lina took Pen’s hand gently, rubbing her fingers. “Why do you think I asked you to come with me? I know Cassie’s been going through a lot as well, but she’s not the one dealing with all of this alone. Is she?”

            Tears trickled down her cheeks. Pen grabbed a serviette and hastily swiped them. “Sorry,” she murmured.

            “Don’t ever apologise for showing how you feel. I love you. I’m here for you.”

            Pen took a big breath and sipped her latte. She’d put extra sugar in it. “Where to start?” She hiccupped-laughed as Lina grinned.

            “Anywhere you want. We’ve got time.”

            By the end of the day Pen was beginning to think there was a higher power. During dinner, Lina and Aaron announced they were moving back to Australia. Aaron was now a senior partner and shareholder, heading the Melbourne and Sydney offices, so they’d be based in Sydney.

            Pen couldn’t get her head around her mother coming home.

            Suddenly, their family was expanding, not contracting. It would never be quite the same, but Pen wondered if the differences somehow made it better.

            The crowd rapidly dispersed later that evening with Kim and Steph pleading a need for their own beds. Zeke kindly offered to drive them home (surprise, surprise!). Pen and Cassie exchanged a knowing look. Zeke never did anything without a reason.

            Simone and Peter decided to vacate Pen’s room for their own home, promising to come over the next day to spend time with Lina. Simone was rather smitten with Rose and Bella, which had Peter a little bemused and Lina smiling as if she could sense her daughter’s cluckiness.

            Cassie insisted Coop get some sleep in his own bed despite his insistence the sofa was fine so long as she was there. Pen smirked at that. Lina, Aaron and the kids swept out as they’d swept in, like a mini tornado, promising they’d be over in the morning for breakfast.

            Finally, Cassie and Pen found themselves collapsed on the sofa, the only two people in the house, exhausted. 

            “I can’t believe she’s coming back,” said Cassie, sounding groggy with tiredness. Pen had heated more bone broth for Cassie who groused she’d been peeing all day and couldn’t take another sip.

            “I know,” was Pen’s profound reply.

            They couldn’t find the energy to say much else.

            Cassie reached for Pen’s hand and squeezed. They looked at each other, stupefied. Like two survivors beached after a shipwreck. 

57

“Don’t you ever do that again!” growled Cassie into her phone.

            Nate laughed hoarsely. “Cassie love, I can say with the utmost sincerity I do not want to get shot ever again.”

            The words were still chilling. It wasn’t long enough to be over the fright of it. It was just over a week since it had happened. Cassie was similarly recovering, but between her mother and Pen and Simone, she was getting enough care that she was on the verge of yelling at everyone to bugger off. At least her face was face-sized again. Last time she’d had the extreme allergic reaction so much of her skin peeled off she’d literally had mostly new skin, whereas this time it was more like patches of sunburn that Cassie kept slathered with vitamin-e cream. Like Nate, Cassie did not want to go through this again. Ever.

            “You scared the crap out of me, Nate.”

            “Not the only one. Your dad has been swinging from melancholic, furious to downright joyful. I’ve never seen so much emotion from that man.”

            “He’s happy you’re alive. We all are.” Just like that, the tears pushed to spout from her eyes. She’d become a regular water fountain.

            “So am I. And my beautiful wife.”

            Cassie had spoken to Rainer often, each time she’d dissolved into tears between swearing at her husband for his lack of any sense of self-preservation.

            “He knows not to park outside and to come straight into the garage! It’s the risk we take living here. But no! He thinks he’s invincible!” Cassie had wanted to laugh at Rainer’s ranting, but there was truth there as well. Nate could be fearless, especially when he was chasing a story, and that fearlessness somehow transferred to the rest of his life. However, there were other people who cared whether his life was at risk, even if he didn’t.

            “He’s insisting I come and live in Australia.”

            “Dad?”

            “Who else? It’s an old story between us.” Nate sounded tired, emphasising the old part.

            “Do you want to?” Cassie was hopeful. Suddenly she wanted to surround herself with her family. She also wanted her freedom. She still wasn’t sure what she wanted some days. So much had changed that her sense of who she was felt like a swinging pendulum. She could revert back to old patterns of thinking and behaviour in a flash; then just as quick she’d be left wondering who the hell she’d become because she felt so different.

            But there were enough constants to remind her of what mattered.

            “Let’s just say I’m thinking about it. We’re definitely planning a trip now that Lina is moving back. Kind of like old times.”

            “Kind of,” Cassie echoed wryly.

            “Enough about me—I hear you’re finally a free woman!”

            Cassie did a good imitation of a donkey braying. “Hilarious! Yes, free of school.”

            “Well, you have to admit it’s a bit like a jail sentence.” Nate had hated school and was happy to commiserate when Cassie felt the same.

            “I also just did a blog post. I’d like you to read it.”

            “Absolutely. I’m sadly electronic free at the moment, although Rainer is madly happy I haven’t got my laptop. So any hints what it’s about?”

             “I decided to write a more biographical piece, about the person who’d been my biggest influence to write about music in the first place.” She’d never written anything so personal before and felt queasy when she’d posted it.

            There was silence. Cassie swore she heard Nate sniff. He was not a sentimental man. “Did you write true, Cass?” his voice a little husky.

            “Yeah, I did, Nate. I wrote true.”

            “Good.”

            “Keep writing, Nate.”

            “You too, darling.”

* * *              

“Hey.”

            Coop looked up at her voice. “Hey.” He’d been playing his guitar propped up on his bed. She’d surprised him.

            He ditched the guitar and Cassie couldn’t help staring. It caught her unawares just how beautiful he was. When he was lost in his music, she could stare at him for hours.

            “Come here.” He’d been giving her space this past week with her mum back, treading carefully around her emotions, trying not to sound overly worried about her recovery. He was though, and she could only reassure him she was fine without sounding too snappy. She wasn’t a great patient.

            She also didn’t want him to tread carefully.

            Cassie stepped into his room and closed the door. Coop’s eyebrows hiked. He also smiled that impish grin she’d been missing so much. Cassie crawled onto the bed and then Coop had his arms around her and she sighed as they lay side-by-side, a breath apart.

            “Zeke drop you off?”

            She nodded. “He said he needed his refuge. Rose and Bella adore him and he’s a little overwhelmed.”

            Coop laughed. “That would take some getting used to. And your mum?”

            “Larger than life. Wonderful. In my face.” She groaned and burrowed her face into his shoulder. Coop was shaking from chuckling so hard.

            They cuddled. Coop stroked her back. Cassie peered at him through her tumbling mess of hair. 

            “You look serious. What’s up?”

            “Not serious.”

            “No?”

            “Or maybe yes. But it’s a playful kind of serious.”

            Coop smiled, his fingers already finding her skin, sending delightful shivers up her spine. “Clear as mud, babe.”              

            “I don’t really feel like talking.”

            “Uh huh.” Cheeky. He darted a kiss, teased her lips.

            “No. I have more serious things to do.” Two could play this game. Cassie’s tongue swiped across his mouth. Coop’s breath hitched and he pulled her closer.

So close, and just where she wanted to be.

            “Like what?” He kissed her, gently, slowly.

            She could get lost in those kisses. Her heart was pounding and he could feel it. “Love me,” she whispered.

            Coop’s body went rigid at her tone. He knew what she was saying, asking of him. His expression was suddenly tense. Cassie couldn’t breathe.

            “Cass?”

            She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to question this.

            “Babe…” Cassie pressed her finger against his lips. She was as sure about wanting Coop, of wanting this, as she was ever going to be. It felt completely right being with him.

            Coop rolled them so she felt his wonderful weight. She hooked her legs around his waist. She let her body talk, because there was another language that had grown between them. One that mattered just as much as words.

            “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

            It snapped—a current of electricity, a cord, an irresistible connection. Coop kissed her as if they had all the time in the world, as if it was the most urgent, most desired thing in his life.

            When he pulled away, he was breathing heavily. “I won’t unless you want me too. We’ll take our time. No pressure, remember?”

             Cassie felt an exhilarating recklessness, something close to joy.

            “I love you. But I really want to stop talking now.”

            Coop gave her that wicked grin. “Talking is so not what I want to do.”

* * *

Cassie was well beyond talking, sleepy and happily exhausted. Yet she felt alive. Limbs entangled, Coop’s fingers trailed her back as they lay in each other arms.

            “Can I stay the night?” Cassie whispered. Somehow day had become evening and she hadn’t noticed.

            Coop kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. “Definitely. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every night.”

            Cassie giggled. “I could get used to this.”

            “What exactly?” Coop moved against her in a way that had her wanting to writhe in her skin. She’d had no idea how good she would feel. How amazing it would feel to make love with Coop. She felt like she was stretching into a new skin. She nearly laughed at thinking of Steph’s reaction when Cassie finally revealed that the box of condoms Steph had snuck into her birthday present was actually being put to good use.

            “All of it.”

            Coop’s eyes sought hers, serious, always that hint of longing. For her. “Love you, Cass.”

She kissed him, whispering against his mouth, “Love you.”

            Cassie didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know if there was such a thing as forever. She didn’t believe in fairy tale endings, because she’d seen relationships end. Witnessed pain and heartbreak that could easily lead to bitterness about whether love existed at all. She’d never had an ideal in her mind about who she’d love, or whom she’d be with in a relationship. But Coop had always shone for her; stood out so far from the rest she’d never questioned how she felt. Recalling her mum’s words about love and energy, that it was this that mattered, she could imagine that whatever happened between them, he’d always be in her heart, always be a part of her.

            Right then, that’s all she needed to know; that she believed in what they had, together.

Epilogue

Four months later…

“I can’t be bothered going to my lecture,” said Cassie drowsily.

            She and Pen were lying under one of the trees on the South Lawn. Summer lingered into early autumn, heat hazing the air, but there was a breeze that made it bearable.

            Pen snorted, eyes shut. “Didn’t get enough sleep last night?” she teased.

            Cassie swatted her arm playfully. “How would you know? I wasn’t at home last night.”

            “Yeah—that’s why I know,” Pen laughed.

            Cassie somehow managed to spend half the week staying over at Coop’s and the other half at the apartment she and Cassie now shared in South Melbourne. She tossed out a lame excuse that Coop’s place was easier since it was in Carlton near university. Pen scoffed and said one word every time: “Liar.”

            They’d caught up for lunch on the lawn as Pen was still working at the conservation lab. Selene had graduated Pen to working on more interesting jobs after her contract was renewed and she’d been awarded her degree. The fact Pen had stuck it out seemed to convince Selene she was serious enough. And she was. Pen was good at her work and while she had the balance of doing something creative, the boredom had tapered off.

            “What’s the lecture?” Pen murmured, loving the feel of the heat on her skin. Cassie wore her standard jean shorts, T-shirt and flip-flops. Pen had on jeans and one of Punt’s band T-shirts with her white Converses. She was beginning to wonder if their clothing choices were rubbing off on each other.

            “Poetry,” Cassie said dreamily, and not about the poetry. She looked seriously ready to fall asleep. She was sprawled on the grass with her head resting on her backpack. “But I’m sticking around because I’m meeting Suni and Kim for coffee later.”

            “And Coop?” Pen asked slyly.

            “Mind. Out. Of. The. Gutter. Please.”

            Pen giggled. “Last time I saw you on the South Lawn, the two of you were doing a heck of a lot more than eating lunch.”

            Cassie just smiled. “It is rather fortunate that we’re both studying at the same place.”

            “Yes, so fortunate. And so fortunate that your friends just happen to be here as well.”

            Cassie’s eyes opened a fraction. “Incredibly fortunate. Although, weird.”

            “Not having Steph around?”

            “Yeah. Coop and I will see her in Sydney for semester break, which helps. But yeah. I miss her.”

            Pen didn’t even think as her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Alex. She did that at odd times. They’d seen each other when he came home. It felt like the right thing to do, to speak face-to-face. He’d emailed and called her from Antarctica and the pleading had resumed. He hadn’t wanted it to end. He said he loved her. Said he knew he’d been taking her for granted. Yet Pen’s resolve was steely about her decision. She’d changed too much, become more than she’d been before. She couldn’t go back, although she still cared about him. There were nights when she’d wake and her pillow was wet with tears. There were moments when his face would flash before her eyes and she’d forget to breathe.

            He may have been the one to leave on an epic journey, but she’d moved on without him.

            “Do you want to know something funny?” Cassie was grinning impishly. Sometimes Pen swore that smile was exactly like Coop’s. 

            “What?”

            “Zeke enrolled in Kim’s Tai Chi class!”

            “What? No way!”

            “Yes! I always thought there was something going on when she stayed with us after I got back from the hospital. Zeke looked at her way more than if he wasn’t interested.”

            “You think?” Pen wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful or stunned. Zeke and Kim? It didn’t quite make sense, but who knew what attracted someone? Pen was the last person to judge.

            “Yep. He started dropping in these questions when we talked, asking about her. He’s seriously impressed about her martial arts. I think he’s a bit shocked actually.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “That he never noticed her before.”

            “He never really knew her, I guess.”

            “Yeah, but he thinks she’s gorgeous. He let that slip and then tried to cover it up.” 

            “Bloody hell,” murmured Pen. Maybe Zeke was serious? She couldn’t quite believe that.

            “Hey! Isn’t that Liam with Coop?” asked Cassie excitedly. She was half sitting, leaning back on her elbows. Her eyes literally glowed in the sunlight. “Come on! Let’s go see them!” Cassie was up and hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder.

            “But they might be talking about work!” Pen spluttered. Cassie grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

            “Who cares! When was the last time you saw him?” Cassie asked astutely. She was literally frogmarching Pen across the grass.

            “Last October,” gritted Pen. She suddenly felt icy despite the heat.

            “Seriously? God, time to catch up then!” Cassie flashed her that wicked grin. Pen felt like taking that backpack and braining her with it so she could escape.

            Coop spied them first and the smile that lit his face at seeing Cassie had even Pen’s stomach flipping. Liam followed his gaze. Both were wearing their glasses. Both looked gorgeous. Pen’s eyes suddenly met Liam’s metallic grey and she couldn’t look away.

            Liam smiled. A slow, welcoming smile.

            “Hey, beautiful! And Pen!” Coop grabbed Cassie in a hug, but his smile included Pen as he winked at her. Pen rolled her eyes. Liam’s smile widened. Pen felt self-conscious at seeing Coop and Cassie so comfortable being openly affectionate. Liam seemed to like it. Pen had to admire a guy who didn’t care about showing his feelings.

            “Hey you!” Cassie’s gaze wandered to Liam. “Hey Liam,” she said casually.  

            “Cassie, lovely to see you.” It was such a Liam greeting. A little formal, but they obviously saw each other enough to be familiar given Coop was his research assistant and tutor while doing his master’s degree.

            Liam slowly turned to Pen. “Penny,” he said softly. “Good to see you again.”

            “You too, Liam.” Her voice didn’t quite seem hers.

            “Coop, I’m off to my lecture, want to walk with me or are you and Liam busy?”

            Coop’s eyes widened. “Um, nope, we’re done. So, yeah, let’s walk if you want.” Pen could tell they were having one of those wordless conversations. She knew what Cassie was trying to do. 

            Liam hadn’t stopped looking at her. Pen focused on Cassie.

            “See you later?” Cassie’s eyes were huge, encouraging. Pen wanted to strangle her.

            “Sure,” she said casually. “Let me know what you’re doing tonight.” Pen could tell Cassie would probably stay at Coop’s so she didn’t get an earful. Cassie seemed unabashedly gleeful.

            “Absolutely!” She winked at Pen as she and Coop said goodbye, walking off hand-in-hand. Blah! Her sister was positively evil.

            “So, I take it you and Cassie are living together?” Liam’s question seemed light, but his eyes were far from it. She felt those eyes like lasers.

            Pen nodded, mouth dry. “Just before uni started.” God, breathe Pen!

            Liam was uncharacteristically silent. Pen had the blazing thought that maybe he was uncomfortable. Maybe he met someone! She had visions of gorgeous Italian women throwing themselves at him.

            She felt inexplicably close to tears. “I—I need to go back to the lab. Work.” There, she’d offered him an out. She itched to run away. She also wanted to stay. She’d tried not to think about him this entire time, failing miserably.

            “Would you mind if I walk with you?”

            “Sure, that would be nice.” Pen hadn’t expected the offer. They began walking at an easy pace, neither of them in a hurry.

            To say she was confused would have been an understatement. Pen hadn’t heard from Liam the entire summer, which made thinking about him feel even more ridiculous. Whatever she thought might have been between them, obviously wasn’t. At least on his side.

            “So, did you finish the tapestry?”

            “Yes, I did, thank you.” Pen sounded cagey. The tapestry was now hanging in her and Cassie’s apartment. Lina had gushed at seeing it, praising Pen’s talent effusively, and offered to recommend her work to clients. Pen had been too stunned to disagree.

            “And, did you finish The Odyssey?” Did he sound slightly nervous? Or was she imagining that?

            “Um, yes, I did.” She was unable to come up with an astounding interpretative revelation. The Odyssey was far from her thoughts, and she was no Penelope. Although that had been a huge revelation.

            “I remember you saying you weren’t sure of your own ending. Are you now?”

            Pen glanced at him, surprised he’d remembered, and by the earnestness of his expression. He very much wanted to know. She wished she hadn’t looked at him, because she was struck again by how gorgeous he was.

            Not helping. She bit the inside of her cheek.

            “Not the same ending,” she said dryly. “I—uh—didn’t end up waiting. I guess that’s one way of saying it. Alex and I broke up.”

            Liam didn’t miss a beat. “I was wondering about that. When Cassie mentioned you were living together, it sounded like you’d made some important decisions.”

            Pen was grateful that he didn’t make light of it, because she felt far from light about Alex. It still weighed on her, how it had all come to an end.

            “I’m sorry. Breakups are never easy.” He was genuinely sincere. Pen gave him a small smile, but said nothing. What could she say? She’d kept so much of what was going on with Alex to herself.

            “And you, did your research go well?”

            Liam’s smile was a little self-deprecating. “I wouldn’t say well. I got quite a bit of work done, but it was far from engaging.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I had a lot of difficulty focusing on the task at hand.”

            “Oh?” Pen stopped walking, not sure what to make of the sheepish confession.

            Liam’s cheeks were actually flushed, and not just from the heat. “My mind kept wandering. I couldn’t stop thinking about a certain woman with beautiful red hair and imagining whether she’d finished her tapestry.”

            Pen’s mouth fell open. Then shut.

            Liam went on, “And I kept wanting to contact her, but I was determined I shouldn’t.”

            “Why not?” Pen blurted, and sounded very Cassie-like in her directness.

            Liam threw his head back and laughed. “Because I was—to be very honest—scared of how much you’d come to mean to me. Not simply as a friend. I couldn’t lie to myself about that. I couldn’t contact you knowing you were in a relationship. The best thing to do was to stay away.”

            “And now?”

            Liam stepped closer and his hand brushed hers. Her eyes almost closed at the touch. “If I was to ask you out for dinner—and not just as a friend—would that be something you’d want, Penny?”

            It was one of those moments in life when thought and feeling just collided. Pen didn’t have to think. Her smile was answer enough and Liam’s fingers threaded through hers.

            “I’d love that, Liam.”

            For once, Liam seemed at a loss for words, but his smile spoke volumes, and the fact he didn’t once let go of her hand as they continued walking.

© Angela Jooste 2026