Sara Foster - Come Back to Me

That afternoon she told him the story of the past ten years, all her adventures – as bold a narrator as some returning conquistador. She described climbing mountains, rappelling off cliff faces, rafting through white-water gorges, snorkelling in coral seas. And he stared at her in open amazement.

Yet in between each word she spoke there was the void of everything she left out. She held his attention with the solidity of her words, distracting him from the great white sea of absence around them. What would he see, she wondered, if he could peer into this ocean of things held back? And what would he think of the terrible thing she hadn’t yet told him? Would he understand that she had tried to live the life they had dreamed of having together? Or would he see that when she went rappelling she had been praying the rope would have an undetected fray; that halfway through her descent it would snap, leaving her plummeting to earth. Or that her life jacket would deflate, her scuba tank be empty of oxygen, her foot brush against a deadly creature that would not hesitate to bite. That she had spent the years since death first took a long, appraising look at her, actively seeking it out once more. But because of the promise she had made to her mother – and perhaps also the prospect of facing her father in the afterlife – she couldn’t empower herself to take charge of her destiny. How galling it was that as much as she had become a victim of life, she was still forced to wait to be the victim of death – it was out of her hands, there was nothing she could do.

When she had finished talking, they both said little. The atmosphere in the cramped flat was dense.

After a while, he whispered to her:

‘It wasn’t easy for me, Amy. I was miserable for a long, long time. I even went back, you know – to Perth – a couple of years later. I thought I could play detective somehow, that if I found the men who attacked you, I might somehow karmically bring you back to me. But it was a waste of time, of course. There were no unsolved precedents to your attack; nothing new to uncover, however long I wandered around for. I didn’t really know what I was looking for anyway, and the police didn’t have time for me. I gave up after a few weeks and came home. Then I drank for a while… but pulled myself through that eventually when I realised how much I was upsetting my folks. And I tried to support your mum, until she cut me off. I checked in with missing persons regularly. I saw you everywhere, on the street, waiting for buses. I thought about you all the time, every minute…’ His voice trailed off. Silence reigned again.

After an age, Alex lifted his head and said softly: ‘I haven’t changed my mind, Amy. I’ll come with you… to Australia.’

‘Alex, you really don’t have to… there’s no point,’ she replied, hardened against his emotion.

‘Yes, I do,’ he answered, reaching across to tilt her chin up so she could look him in the eye. ‘And there is a point, of course there is. I’m sorry, it’s just that Chloe…’ His voice cracked on her name and he shook his head as he added, ‘God knows what she’s thinking, I can’t even find her to talk to right now. It’s not an easy situation all round,’ he finished.

Spite ran through her like an electric current. ‘I’m not asking you to risk your perfect marriage,’ she spat at him. ‘I haven’t asked you for anything.’

‘I know,’ he said, studying her face. ‘But if you want to go back, then I will go with you,’ he added, and there was fire in his eyes.

The bitterness ebbed in her as fast as it flowed. She looked down. ‘Thank you.’

Alex reached across and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She had to stop herself from leaning into the pressure of his fingers. ‘It will be okay, Amy. You can do this. I think maybe you should do this. I think perhaps I’ve come back into your life for this.’

She nodded, looking down at his chest. ‘I know,’ she said as he pulled her close. She wanted so much to believe in his words. She was praying that now he was back with her, Alex could make it all right.

An avalanche of decisions and deliberations came crashing over her, and she realised she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough. What was she thinking? But she had no choice now. She had to go to Australia. If she backed out, then Alex would disappear from her life again.

Alex began to tell her that he was trying to reshuffle his client commitments for the next few weeks, and some were being more cooperative than others. He spoke anecdotally, but she felt guilty. It hadn’t really registered or concerned her at all that he was risking his marriage for her, as a large part of her thought that he shouldn’t be married in the first place. But causing his business to go on the slide suddenly felt like too much to ask.

‘Alex, you don’t have to -’ she began.

‘Amy, stop it. I’m coming.’ His voice was firm. Then he paused, and she could tell he had something more he wanted to say to her by the stiffness of his shoulders and the set of his jaw. He took a deep breath. ‘Amy… your dad…’

‘Is dead,’ she said in a monotone. She put down a biscuit she had been nibbling on, which seemed suddenly dry and stale.

Alex nodded. ‘I went to his funeral,’ he murmured. ‘I was hoping you would be there.’

‘I couldn’t…’ she said, staring at the wall behind his head.

‘I know. I spoke to your mum. She was very upset.’

Her gaze moved to meet his. ‘Al, what is this? Are you trying to give me a guilt trip? You don’t need to, okay? I already feel responsible. If it hadn’t happened, if I hadn’t run away, caused him so much stress…’

Alex looked alarmed, and she saw the knife edge he was on, trying to talk to her yet worried she might snap at any second.

‘No, no, that wasn’t what I meant. I just -’

She held her hand up. ‘I just couldn’t, okay? I hope perhaps Mum understands now – now it was so long ago. At the time it was too… difficult for me.’

‘Of course,’ Alex nodded, and his hand moved to cover hers. She let it, but her eyes slid away from his, down to her lap. Because she couldn’t deny it any longer – she was still lying to him. He thought he knew everything now but he had barely scratched the surface. And what would he think of her when he did?

‘Sit down, Mark,’ Neil said from behind the desk as Mark appeared at his office door. He waved a hand in the direction of a vacant chair.

Mark sat.

‘Now then,’ Neil began, leaning forward. ‘You two give me a rundown of exactly how far you’ve got with the Abbott research.’

Mark stared at his yellow legal pad uncomfortably, waiting to see if Chloe would speak first, but she appeared to be deferring to him.

‘Anytime now would be good,’ Neil said, leaning back and steepling his fingers.

Mark looked up. ‘I’ve been going over everything,’ he said. ‘And I’ve found a few interesting and relevant precedents. When I’ve finished I’ll draw up a memo -’

Neil held up a hand. ‘The time for memos has long passed, Mark.’ He leaned forward again, and this time there was menace in it. ‘Do you realise,’ he growled, looking between the two of them, ‘that we begin in two weeks? It is undoubtedly the biggest case we have ever had in this office and we are woefully – WOEFULLY – under-prepared.’

Mark surreptitiously looked at Chloe, wishing she would join in. She glanced at both of them, then back to the files on her lap. Mark was alarmed to see her eyes were moist. Oh god, Chloe, don’t cry. Not in the office.

Mark’s gaze moved back to Neil, unsure of what to do next, but to his surprise found that Neil was distracted, staring over Mark’s head, his face alarmed. Mark barely had time to turn around before he registered, with dismay, a booming voice.