When I wake up, Amie’s here.
She’s stroking my hand, just these feather-light touches, but I feel it in my whole body. I want to tell her that, but my mouth’s not cooperating.
‘Shh,’ she says, smiling. ‘Don’t try to talk until the anaesthetic has worn off. Here, see if you can sip this.’
She holds a straw to my lips. I take a tiny suck because anything more seems to make my head reverberate. It’s only enough to wet my lips, clear the stale taste out of my mouth.
‘The surgery went great,’ Amie says. ‘Your cheekbone is repaired, and apparently after the bruising goes away you won’t even have a scar.’ The wattage of her smile dulls down a notch when she sees my eyes. ‘I know you’ll always remember, Harris. I’m sorry.’
I shake my head a fraction. How I ended up back in surgery, how Ando died… I think about it, mostly at night. Sometimes in my dreams. But it’s not something we should both have to carry.
‘I’m hoping…’ Amie hesitates. ‘Well, I’m kind of hoping that we can smother over the bad old memories with newer nicer ones.’
She gives me another sip of cool water. This sip is easier. She puts the cup back on the nightstand, leans over me. Her hair is loose and it falls on either side of my face, so I feel like I’ve walked into a charcoal drawing – shades of dark brown, sable edges, but mostly black. Soft glossy jasmine-scented black. Our own privacy curtain.
‘Poor guy. Can’t eat, can’t talk…’ Amie’s brown-gold eyes are mesmerising, quirked with laugh lines at the sides. ‘I guess we’ll just have to think of something else for you to do with your mouth.’
Her head dips and her lips are soft, warm, slow as honey. She breathes into my mouth, teases me with the tip of her tongue. It’s like there’s nothing else she’d rather do than kiss me gently all day. And I am totally okay with that.
It takes some of the sting out of the fact I’m recuperating only half a ward away from my dad.
A few days later, when I’m better, stronger, and Amie and her dad have come to take me home, I walk into my father’s room. He’s only half-awake, and our situations are weirdly reversed: now I’m the one with the speech, and the revelation, and he’s the one lying in bed, cringing at the shock of it all.
Dad’s never been a great cringer, though. ‘You can’t fuckin’ leave now!’
‘I’ve paid off all the bills, Dad.’ I gaze out the window. Barb Dunne is out there, sitting on a milk crate with another nurse, both of them having a smoke break. ‘The rent, the pub tab, the groceries, the bookie – everything’s sorted. I’ve done my duty, and then some.’
His face is mottled, pink and yellow. ‘But I’ve got me treatment in a coupla months, you can’t just piss off and –’
‘Remember how we used to go to the rez, Dad?’ I shift on my feet near the window. ‘Remember how you used to pound me for skimming stones?’ I turn fully because I need to look him in the eye when I say this stuff. ‘What about that time you burnt me with cigarettes? Or the day I got into strife for nicking that bloke’s ute – the belt buckle day? You remember that day?’
Dad wriggles in his bed but there’s nothing on earth can stop me now I’ve started.
I straighten my shoulders. ‘I remember all the days, Dad. All of ’em. And you know what it was that really got me? It wasn’t the pain, or the times I ended up in hospital, or even the fact I gave up living my own life to deal with your shit. What got me, Dad? Was that you didn’t care. You still don’t care. You never have.’
‘That’s a bloody lie!’ Dad spits.
‘Is it?’ I make a hoarse laugh, which is crazy, cos my eyes are welling up. ‘Maybe it feels like a lie to you. But it feels like the truth to me. Because if you cared about me at all, you’ve never shown it, and that’s all that really matters in the end. It’s not enough to just think it, Dad. You’ve gotta make it happen. And that’s what I’m telling you now. I’m gonna make my own life happen. And the only way I can do that is to not be around you anymore.’
Dad’s lips are wet with fury, his eyes are bulging. In another time, another life, I would’ve been scared. But that time is over. As I head for the door he makes one parting shot.
‘You’ll never find your mother without me!’ he yells. ‘All that bullshit about meeting up with her and Kelly again, it’ll never happen!’
I pause, my hand on the doorknob. ‘I know. But I made my peace with it. And now I’ve made my peace with you, Dad. That’s…kinda all I’ve got to say.’
He’s still screeching when I leave the room. Closing the door cuts off some of the noise. Thankfully, Amie is standing within arm’s reach. She hugs me hard. ‘You’re shaking.’
‘It’s over.’ My arms slide around her back. My heart’s going like a trip-hammer, and I’m glad, so glad she’s here. ‘Jesus.’
‘You right, son?’ her dad asks. He plucks at the strap of the sling holding his right arm, and I can’t remember when he stopped being The Sarge and just became Amie’s dad, or Derrin.
‘I’m good. I’m all good.’ I pull back, scrub my thumb across my eyes. ‘It’s done.’
‘He was yelling a lot of stuff about your mum…’
It’s hard to talk for a second. I sniff and shake my head. ‘It’s okay, hey. I’ve come to terms with it. Mum doesn’t want to be found. And she set it up that way for a reason.’
The reason is still bellowing curses from the room behind the door, so Derrin ushers me and Amie further along the hall. ‘You shouldn’t have to give up your family just to be free of your dad.’
‘Yeah, but…’ I stop, let out a breath. ‘I gotta let this go. If I don’t, it’s gonna eat away at me from the inside forever.’
‘Look, sorting out problems is kind of my business.’ Derrin’s really frowning now. ‘Like the way I sorted out a place for Reggie with Moira Geraldi – that’s the stuff that makes this job worth it. As far as finding your family goes, I haven’t exhausted all the options. Your mum’s maiden name was McKinley –’
‘Yeah, but she’s gone to ground. Maybe she changed her name, or maybe she remarried or something, I dunno. I’ve tried to find her, I swear to god, I’ve tried every way I can think of –’
Derrin cocks an eyebrow at me. ‘Harris, you know I’m a copper, right?’
His expression suggests that he’s wondering if I’m really smart enough to be dating his daughter.
But when I look over at Amie, she’s smiling like she just found out the world is made of rainbows.
*
‘Are we close now?’
‘We’re close.’ Amie glances over at me. ‘I was going to get you to cover your eyes, but I don’t think that will work.’
‘You’re right, it won’t work. It would never work.’ I couldn’t keep my eyes shut if I tried. I want to see everything, all at once. My blood is churning in my veins. ‘It’s good you’re driving. I mean, I can’t stand it, but it’s good.’
She snorts. ‘I can handle the Pitbull. But can you handle me driving it?’
‘For special occasions, totally.’ I clench my hands on my knees. They’re trembling too much to deal with steering. One of Amie’s hands slides off the wheel onto my thigh, and I take a breath. ‘Hey, concentrate on the road.’
‘I am!’ Her hand squeezes, and she grins.
‘Amie –’
‘All right, fine.’ Her grin bubbles into a laugh. ‘But if I can’t distract you then you have to talk.’
‘Okay. Okay, all right, I’ll talk.’ I watch the houses thin out, the trees and shrubs changing into different types, more salt-tolerant types. ‘Last contact from Ronnie Murphy, he said they picked up Leon’s trail just north of Sydney. But they’re having some jurisdictional problems with the New South Wales police, so that’s slowing things down.’
‘But they’re definitely getting closer.’
‘Yep. It’s just a matter of time now, Murphy reckons. He also said they busted two lieutenants from Mazerati’s crew, which could be enough to break up the whole show depending on the info they get outta them. That’d mean Little Toni will be the last man standing, providing no outliers pick up the supply chain.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Honestly, I think it’s winning the battle but not the war. Keeping the town clear of ice is a tough prospect. There’s a lot of other factors, not just on the supply side. I guess we’ll see how it goes.’
Amie nods slowly, like she’s philosophical about it. She’s driving about ten kay under the speed limit – way slower than I would be, but I might be feeling it more because every atom in my body wants to move fast. I try to watch the scenery, keep my mind busy.
‘What about the results of your interview?’ I ask. ‘Have they emailed you about it yet?’ I’m pretty sure she’d tell me if they had, but I was a bit preoccupied this morning. She might not have wanted to spoil the mood.
‘Yes,’ she says. She doesn’t say any more, but she doesn’t need to. I can see it in her eyes.
‘They said yes, right?’
She smiles then, can’t seem to help it. ‘Yes, they said yes.’
I turn myself sideways in the passenger seat. ‘Well, hey, that’s awesome! Shit, shouldn’t you be jumping up and down or something?’
‘I can’t do that while I’m driving!’ She laughs, then sobers, and her hand slips onto my leg again, but it’s a different kind of squeeze this time. ‘Well, yeah, I’m happy, but… You know it means we’ll be apart.’
‘For six weeks – yeah, I know that. I knew when you went for the interview, Ames. It doesn’t mean I don’t want you to go.’
She swallows as she watches the road. ‘Nepal is a long way away, that’s all.’
I put my hand over hers, curl our fingers together. ‘I know. But you should still do it, if it’s what you want. Is it what you want?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘After I’ve finished my month residency in Chitwan, I can go south to Amritsar. Nani suggested I get in touch with family there, which means I’ll have accommodation for the last two weeks of my stay.’
‘Amie, that’s… It’s gonna be amazing. Think of the photos. The rivers. The mountains…’
‘The mountains,’ she says, nodding. ‘The horizon.’
Her eyes catch fire as she looks forward, through the glass, and I want to keep encouraging her. It’s what she’s always done for me. ‘Nick said I can have the room at his place, so I’ll be waiting at Tullamarine airport for you when you get back.’
She bites her lip at me. ‘You might have a crew cut by the time I get back.’
I snort. ‘Babe, I don’t think you need to worry. Police Force applications take a fair bit longer than six weeks to process.’
‘Promise me you won’t cut your hair before I arrive home!’
She makes me swear it, even while we’re laughing, but I think it’s all part of her distraction technique. Because a few minutes later there’s a sign to Silver Sands. Then we’re driving into the car park, and I’m so close now I can feel my breathing getting light.
Amie parks the Pitbull and we get out. The breeze pushes past us, flips the black velvet mass of Amie’s hair around as she locks the car and comes around to give me the keys. ‘Your fingers are cold.’
‘I can’t feel my fingers, I’m that fucking nervous,’ I confess.
She hugs me quickly, looks at my feet. ‘Take off your boots.’
‘What?’
‘It’s the beach, Harris. You’ve gotta take off your shoes.’ She grins at my expression. ‘Just trust me on this one, all right?’
So I pull off my boots and socks, and Amie slips off her sandals. We hold them in our hands as we walk up this little rise, which is sandy, I don’t know why I’m so surprised. At the very top, I stop dead.
For a second I can’t take it all in – it’s so big. Blues and greys call out for attention. The ocean, I’m seeing the ocean, with waves and salt and shit, spread out there like a full hand of cards.
Amie squeezes my arm and suddenly something in me tugs to look along the beach. Just down there is a woman with blonde hair like mine, and a girl the same shade of gold. They’re collecting shells, the girl’s dress whipping around her knees.
Suddenly my heart lifts so high it’s like I’m flying on this breeze, jumping into this sky, soaring on clouds. I’m expanding, spreading out but still whole, filling this seam of heaven and sea, weightless, limitless…
The moment they look up and see me is the moment I become infinite.