I remember dragging my arm off my face and turning to Harris. My vision flashed white from the glare, and when I propped myself on one elbow to look around, everything was sepia-toned. Harris looked golden. It was like everything amazing about him was suddenly highlighted. I wanted him so much it was like a physical pain.
So I just…reached out.
He looked so beautiful, and the emotions were so strong inside me, and it was so easy. And the way we caught fire… I can’t think about it without feeling it, deep inside. I can’t stop smiling.
Harris puts his hand in my lap while he’s driving so we can hold hands. I lean my head against his arm. We drove in with this companionable feeling, we were comfortable with each other. But now, driving out, it’s as if something has melted in each of us and we want to run together. The early afternoon sun flares off the rear-view mirror, the visor, and we’ve got the windows down on both sides.
I put the radio on. It’s the end of an old Nick Cave song, and Harris starts singing along. I’m somehow not surprised to discover his voice is a warm baritone. He smiles while he sings, hair blowing in his face, and he glances at me until I laugh and join in.
Is this the guy who was closed-off and broken? Seriously – is this the same guy? I can’t say it’s like he’s let his personality out for the first time because that’s not true: I’ve seen him, I’ve seen the real Harris, seen him laugh and think and feel, heard his nightmares and his dreams. But how much of each of us was caught up in holding ourselves back? It’s as if we can finally relax around each other.
There are so many things I want. I want to lie on my bed with him, just touching. I want to start kissing him and never stop. I want this drive to last forever, but of course it doesn’t. When we arrive at the pipe factory where my car’s parked, we both sigh. As the Pitbull slows, Harris exhales so low his shoulders sink right down.
He pops the handbrake, squeezes my hand. ‘How’re you going? Are you okay?’
‘I’m okay.’ Once I’m smiling into his eyes, I can’t look away. ‘I’m great.’
‘I really want you to be sure about this.’ Harris leans his forehead against mine, watches his own fingers run lightly up from my knee. ‘Lotta people would say you’re insane to get involved with me. With all the shit I’m doing now, I’m inclined to agree with them.’
I lift his chin. ‘Harris. You’re a good guy. I’d be insane not to get involved with you.’
‘I know I called you to the house with Reggie, but I don’t want you anywhere near this stuff,’ he says fervently. ‘I wanna make sure you’re safe. Your dad might be a cop but you’re not, you didn’t sign up for this.’ His face looks slightly terrified.
‘Harris, I’ll be okay. I’m only on the periphery. We’re being careful. I’m more scared for you, right in the middle of it –’
‘Don’t be scared, okay? Once delivery is sorted, I’m done. If things feel too hot after this meeting, I’ll cut out, head back to Ouyen. I can always disappear to Melbourne for a bit.’
‘You could hide in my room for a few days,’ I suggest, twining my arms up around his neck.
‘Thanks.’ He snorts, spans his hands either side of my waist. ‘Your room, eh? What, under the bed?’
‘In the bed.’
He colours. ‘Shit, I’m sorry about the phone, we shouldna had to –’
I shut him up by kissing him, and he just…turns to liquid. His whole body melts under my hands. It’s shocking and thrilling at the same time. His stubble scrapes my skin, and he makes soft needy noises as we kiss, and my belly and breasts start tingling. Now I’m the one who can’t let go.
‘Amie.’
‘Mm.’
‘Amie… Amie, I have to…’ His voice is hoarse and his eyes are closed. I nuzzle his ear, and he whimpers. ‘Ah, god…’
I glimpse the clock on the dashboard and realise his twenty minutes has turned into five. That breaks the spell.
I push him back. ‘You have to go.’
‘I…what?’ He looks drunk. When I tap the clock display, he startles. ‘Oh shit.’
I open my door, grab my shoes out of the footwell, slide one leg out. God, I don’t want to go. And I don’t want him to go, especially not back into that world that only knows the fake side of him, the armoured side.
I cup his cheek in my hand. ‘Call me. About the delivery dates. But call me anyway. Let me know you’re all right.’
‘Okay.’ His exhale comes out shaky. ‘Okay. I will.’
‘I want to hear your voice.’
He laughs suddenly, breathless. ‘Will you get outta the car, please? Cos I haven’t got it in me to make you leave.’
I don’t kiss him one last time because I wouldn’t be able to stop. I squeeze his hand and jump out, shut the door. He gives me a final look, swings the car around and drives away.
*
I’m a horrible person to be around for the rest of the day.
The clock ticks over from three o’clock, past four, towards five. I thought I would’ve at least had a text by now. I can’t sit still. Nani finally stops me while I’m reading aloud to her from one of her poetry books. ‘For goodness sake, Amita, what is it? You’re like a dog with fleas.’
I throw down the book. ‘I wish it was fleas. You can get rid of fleas.’
‘What is bothering you, bebe?’
‘What do you do when you’re worried or afraid, Nani?’ I try to clarify. ‘Not for yourself. For someone else.’
She regards me. ‘Don’t you do enough of that?’
‘This is different.’
‘Well, then,’ she says calmly, ‘usually I pray. And when I’ve done all the praying I can do, I talk, or walk, or try to stay busy.’
I’ve done a little praying in my head already so I decide to take her other suggestion. I send off a text to Harris – Pls contact hospital when available – then go for a walk, tramping down the street in the dusk.
While I’m out of the house I call Dad. ‘Harris says the dates should come through today.’
‘Hallelujah,’ Dad says. ‘When does he find out?’
‘He should’ve found out by now,’ I say, fretting. ‘I’ve been waiting for him to get in touch.’
‘Maybe he’s been held up,’ Dad offers. ‘He’s been reliable up until this point, hasn’t he? Just give him some more time. What else has been happening? Are you right up there?’
I haven’t told him about the conversation with my aunt. Hansa keeps giving me sideways looks, waiting for me to give some sign I’ve come to a decision. Putting her off is getting more difficult.
‘Auntie Hansa wants me to become Nani’s carer,’ I say bluntly. ‘Nani is getting too frail to be left on her own, and after that wandering episode we’re concerned about her. Hansa’s asked me to quit my job and come live with them.’
‘Really?’ Dad sounds odd. ‘Right.’
‘I mean, I’m kind of well-qualified to look after Nani. She definitely needs someone.’
‘And that someone has to be you?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘But it would be better than dumping her in a nursing home. Hansa’s offered to pay me a wage, and I could do nursing training up here…’
‘Is that something you really wanna do?’
I hesitate. ‘I feel sort of like I’ve been preparing for it. And, well, it’s Nani.’
‘I know you care about her, love, but…’ There’s a pause on the line. ‘Look, I know about the residency.’
‘What?’ My stomach drops.
‘I found some papers in your room…’ Dad sounds pained. ‘Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me?’
I can’t reply, because of course I didn’t tell him. I never wanted him to know I was weighing his health, our life together, against something as frivolous as photography.
‘You should do it.’ His voice has a gruff urgency. ‘They want a reply by Friday, right? You should say yes, and you should –’
‘Dad, I can’t accept a residency.’ I sound flat, weird. ‘You know I can’t accept it. With you and Nani sick –’
‘Amita.’ I can hear him glowering. ‘Please don’t say you’re knocking this back. And don’t use me and your grandmother as an excuse.’
‘It’s not an excuse!’
‘Isn’t it?’ His words lose their sharp edge. ‘Amie, I have a heart condition. It’s not terminal and I’m not an invalid. I take my pills, I look after myself –’
I make a noise, which he hears.
‘All right,’ he admits. ‘Maybe I don’t look after myself as well as I should. But maybe if you weren’t around to coddle me, I’d get better at it. I don’t need a nursemaid. And I sure as hell don’t want you refusing an opportunity so you can stay in the Mallee and look after me. Jesus, Amita. Your mother would tan my hide if I let you do that.’
My brain spins slowly on some invisible axis. ‘Y-You don’t want me to stay?’
‘I only want you to be happy. That’s all any parent ever wants for their kid. And I’m sure Nani would say the same thing. But you have to think about what you really want.’ He sighs heavily. ‘I know you’re living up there, in the middle of it, and Hansa’s probably putting the screws on you to make a decision –’
‘Nothing’s been decided,’ I say weakly.
His voice stiffens. ‘Just make sure you don’t let anybody else do the deciding for you. It’s your life, Amita. I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.’
The conversation ends with stilted goodbyes and by the time I click off I’m wishing I hadn’t called. It’s done nothing to make me feel better about Harris, and it’s just added to my misery about the residency deadline and Hansa’s request. Apparently, no matter which way I jump someone’s going to get their feelings hurt.
The evening seems to drag endlessly. Where on earth is Harris? My brain is full of anxiety and starts to cannibalise itself. I’m used to dealing with images, and now images are what I get: mental pictures of Harris shot through the head, his face beaten, legs broken. Sitting in front of the TV with Hansa and Beena and Nani becomes unbearable, so I make an excuse and go hole up in my room. Close to ten o’clock at night I finally tap out another text.
Pls contact hospital asap.
I check my phone at half-hourly intervals – well, okay, more often than that – until one in the morning, when I finally fall asleep. At five a.m. I snap awake, and there’s still no news.
As soon as the hour gets respectable, I call Dad again.
‘I know you’re worried, love,’ he says. ‘But there’s not a lot you can do. I can call Ronnie Murphy, get him to send a car around to Harris’s sharehouse if you think there’s a genuine issue –’
‘No. That wouldn’t be a good idea.’
‘Then I’m not sure what else to say. I think you just have to wait for Harris to get in touch. He knew he was putting himself out on a limb after the Tulane Road homicides. Maybe he’s being extra cautious.’
At nine, Hansa tells me she and Nani have another set of appointments up at the hospital after lunch. Beena is off to classes and then to a study group. So I’ll have a whole three hours to myself, which is just what I need: three vacant hours spent waiting to find out if Harris is alive or dead. Then I realise something else: if I take the job here I’ll be with Nani all day and surrounded by my family at night. Maybe vacant hours are something I should start to appreciate. I may not have many more of them.
At half past ten my phone rings. I excuse myself and take it into the bathroom.
‘Amie, it’s me,’ Harris says. ‘It’s okay, I’m sorry I couldn’t call, you won’t believe the stuff that’s been… Amie? Amie, are you crying?’
‘No, I’m…I’m fine.’ I straighten up from curling over the bathroom sink, grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe my eyes.
‘Ah, babe…’ His voice is soft. ‘Amie, it’s okay. Jesus, I’m sorry. I couldn’t call earlier because there was a big meeting with Mazerati’s crew and we all surrendered our phones.’
‘It’s fine. It’s… I’m just glad you called.’
‘I didn’t mean to stress you out. I need to tell you what’s been happening –’
‘Can you meet me?’ I’ve suddenly hit on an excellent idea. ‘I mean, today? Around twelve-thirty? You can tell me about it then.’
‘Sure, I can be at the river –’
‘Not at the river. Here.’
‘You wanna meet at your place?’
‘Yes.’ It’s like I’ve been seized by a fever. ‘Because everyone’s going out after lunch and I’ve got the house to myself until half-past three.’
‘Really?’ I hear him swallow. ‘Then…yeah. Okay.’
‘Okay,’ I echo, and I smile. ‘Great. All right, I’ll see you here in two hours. Do you remember the way?’
‘Uh, yeah, sure.’ He sounds dazed.
‘Cool. I’ll see you then.’
Hansa and Nani take ages to get organised. Nani has to find the right dubatta, then my aunt starts searching for her car keys. I watch the clock and dither around, making a mess of being helpful. Twice I hand things to Hansa she’s already picked up and put down again.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ she says to me, casting a critical eye over my face. ‘You look flushed. Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?’
‘I’m –’ I start, then I see Nani, her eyebrows raised. ‘Uh, well, actually, I do feel a little off. Maybe I’ll just have a lie down while you’re all out.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ my aunt says. She pats my arm. ‘You should look after yourself, Amita. You spend so much time looking after other people.’
There’s no reply I can make to that, because I can hardly point out I’m about to make looking after somebody my full-time occupation. Also, if I reply it will mean more conversation, which will mean more time, and oh my god, they’re taking forever to leave. It’s nearly twenty past twelve. Shrieking at them and herding them to the door is starting to seem like a viable option.
Finally, Hansa and Nani exit for the car. I wait until I hear the engine turn over and the car back out, then I rush through to my room. I change into a fuschia-coloured tank and an orange buttoned shirt. My cut-offs are still okay. I’ve just dashed to the bathroom to unravel my hair from its plait when there’s a knock at the door.
Calm, calm… I don’t run to the door. I take a breath, reach for the door handle, and then Harris is there, and I –
Basically throw myself at him. Which is fine, because he hugs me back with equal enthusiasm. There’s a lot of gasping, and I breathe into his neck, lean my cheek against his. I can’t get over the fact I can touch him now. I squeeze the tops of his shoulders, needing to feel the solidity of him.
Harris clutches my nape and kisses me. His lips are firm, warm, and I get a sudden unravelling rush in all my muscles. My pulse beats in my fingertips. Before things go completely nuclear, we both ease back to inhale.
‘Wow, okay, it’s nice to see you, too,’ Harris says, with a goofy grin.
‘It’s partly relief,’ I say, ‘but it’s also just…’
‘I know.’ He runs his fingers down my arm until he’s holding my hand, our foreheads pressed together. ‘It’s been hell on my concentration, I’ve gotta tell you.’
He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt with his hoodie unzipped. He looks tired. His T-shirt is wrinkled but clean, I notice.
I push the door closed, pull him out of the entry way. ‘Explain all the stuff that’s happened. But do it quickly.’
He keeps hold of my hand. ‘The batch is going out the day after tomorrow. Some of it goes to Melbourne, like I said. Ando and Snowie will shift the bulk of it – Barry’s wording up a few new recruits.’
I nod for him to go on.
‘After we met with Leon, we were told to wait at the club. Then, about eleven, we got the news there was gonna be a chat with one of the other crews. It all went down out in a shed east of the main drag. Our boys, their boys, everyone lining up on opposite sides. Weapons and phones surrendered into a bag until the chat was over.’
The thought makes me shiver. ‘My god, that sounds freaky.’
‘It was very very weird,’ Harris says. ‘I felt like I was in a movie. I dunno what I was doing there, to be honest, I don’t think I look that threatening. Anyway, Leon and Maz talked in the middle of the room for a bit. A few of the words got heated and everyone started squaring up. Then the bosses stepped off and settled us all down, and that was it. Leon’s not too happy, but some agreement was reached. Apparently there’s nothing solid to say Maz’s crew did the job in Tulane Road, and they’ve proved that to a certain level of satisfaction.’
‘What was it that tipped Leon off in the first place?’
‘I got no idea. Anyway, we all tramped back to the club and had a drink, cos we needed it, and by the time I got back to Amblin Court it was nearly three in the morning. I didn’t think I should call you at three in the morning –’
‘Just call me next time, okay? I don’t give a crap what time it is.’
‘Noted. And that’s the end of the story, apart from the fact that I slept until nine and I’m still a bit hungover from last night. Oh, and Reggie’s looking better.’
‘I’m glad to hear Reggie’s looking better,’ I say, but my eyes are focused on his lips. I trace his bottom lip with my thumb.
Harris swallows involuntarily when I touch him. ‘God, it’s nice to see you,’ he repeats in a whisper.
The moment is broken when I hear the unmistakeable sound of a key in the front door lock. Before I can do any more than push Harris and myself a respectable distance apart, Nani comes tottering back into the house.
‘Oh, Amita, I forgot my –’ she starts, but her eyes widen when she sees Harris. ‘Ah! You have a visitor!’
‘Um, yes,’ I say, waving a hand at Harris completely unnecessarily. ‘Harris has dropped by. For a quick visit. To…return the clothes he borrowed.’ My brain is working really hard right this second.
‘Uh, hi, Mrs Kaur.’ Harris does a slightly blushing version of a namaste in her direction.
‘Well, this is very good.’ Nani’s cheeks are round with delight. ‘I will find my handbag and then you will have time to chat.’ She meanders towards the couch in the living room.
I exchange a fast frantic glance with Harris before rushing to help Nani. Harris trails behind. My grandmother’s handbag is on the coffee table.
‘Nani,’ I say, as I pass it to her. ‘So it’s okay? Harris is just stopping by for an hour or so.’
Nani waggles her fingers in the air. ‘Pfft, he may stay for a visit, that is all right with me. Your auntie and I might stop for tea after the hospital. We won’t be home until at least four-thirty. But you are a good girl, I am sure you will be responsible like your father taught you.’ Nani swivels back to Harris suddenly, skewers him with her saucer-eyed glare. ‘Her father is a police officer, you know.’
Harris nods his head. ‘Yes, ma’am. You told me.’
‘I did? Very good,’ Nani says, smiling. ‘We have nice chilled mango cup in the refrigerator, Amita will show you. Now I must go. I don’t like to make Hansa wait.’
Nani settles her handbag strap over her arm, adjusts her dubatta and toddles out of the house. We hear the door clunk behind her, the whack of the fly-screen door. There’s the snick of Nani’s shoes on the concrete outside, her quavering call to my auntie near the gate, then the sounds tail off. And then it’s just me and Harris, standing together in the living room.
‘Right.’ Harris’s eyes are dancing. ‘Okay, then.’
‘Hm.’
When we look at each other we can’t look, because we keep cracking up.
‘Your nanna,’ he says.
‘Yep.’ I finally stop giggling. ‘My nanna.’
Harris rocks on his heels. ‘She’s subtle.’
I completely lose it.
‘You’ve got a subtle nanna,’ he says, and I think he says it just so he can keep watching me laugh.
Then we both seem to subside on the echoes of our laughter and we turn to each other fully. Harris is looking at me like he wants to absorb my eyes, my whole face. I can’t stop staring at him, either. He looks at my lips, open and waiting. Our hands reach out and when our fingers touch, these feelings inside us flare brilliantly to life.
We pull together, tumble together, and Harris starts kissing my lips straightaway. I can’t seem to stop running my hands over him. There’s so much panting and gasping I have to push back for a second, to catch my breath.
Harris looks at me with a stunned expression, his mouth open and his chest moving fast. ‘We should take our time. She said until four-thirty, which means we’ve got hours, we should –’
I cut him off when I kiss him hard, unclasp our lips with a smacking sound. ‘We should go slow.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, we should.’
‘We should go out into the back garden and have a glass of mango cup. Relax.’ I start unbuttoning my shirt.
Harris watches my fingers. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Then cosy up on the couch for a while, until things get serious.’ I’m working open the button on Harris’s jeans. When he lets out a long shaky exhale, I feel his abdominals clench.
‘Yeah.’ He tugs his hoodie off, yanks his T-shirt up and over his head. ‘Yeah, I don’t think we’re gonna do that.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Nah, yep.’ He pulls us both towards the hallway. ‘Which way’s your room?’
Once we make it to my room, Harris slides his hands into my hair, tilts my chin back. He nuzzles his way down from my throat, drops to his knees with a groan. Luckily, my legs are right up against the bed; I sink down with him, and we both squirm back until we’re on the sheets, still kissing, half-dressed and desperate.
‘Oh shit.’ The words slip out of Harris’s mouth. ‘I left my shirt in your nanna’s living room.’
I laugh even as I’m kissing him. ‘Later. Go get it later.’
Harris’s skin is tanned and smooth, with a lovely lustre of sweat. The sight of his golden cheek against my brown breast makes my heart feel like bursting.
Our sounds fill the room, expand outwards, and something inside me shouts that I get it now, I understand. Life, love, the way we all live, the way we intertwine, the way we move together.
Because this is how the world works. This is how all the terrible things people do is cancelled out: by the energy – the radiant sparks and flares – we emit during this exultant act.