Page 30 of One Night on the Island

‘Dad?’ Relief loosens my shoulders when Leo joins his brother on the other line. They’re both here.

‘There’s my guy,’ I say. ‘How are things going back home?’

I listen to them tell me about their days, my eyes screwed shut, my cell tucked into my hood so the wind on the top of the hill doesn’t steal their voices from me. It’s nine in the evening and pitch-black for me, end of the school day for them. Nate aced his spelling test, Leo made the team. Big things and small things I’m missing; it turns my heart heavy in my chest not being there to high-five them. I’d give everything there is to be where they are right now. I hugged them right before flying out and it struck me how narrow Leo’s shoulders still are, how fragile his frame is. So much growing still to do. I had so much shit dumped on my shoulders at his age, it’s a wonder I ever stood straight again. Whatever happens between Susie and me, my boys will stand tall and unencumbered.

‘Mom said we need to go get ice cream now,’ Nate says, his voice edged with worry. That kid loves ice cream more than just about anything in the world. I do him the favour of not making him choose.

‘Then go get it, kid. Tell Mom I said you can have extra sprinkles.’

I trust Susie to give him the extra sprinkles. She won’t withhold them to score a hollow victory over me that I wouldn’t see anyway. Nate blows kisses through the line, laughing as he hangs up, his mind already on ice cream.

‘You sure you’re okay, Dad?’ Leo asks, so grown up my heart fractures.

No, my lovely boy, I’m not, I think. I’m lonely and blue without you, and I miss your mom. ‘I’m doing great,’ I tell him, forcing a smile so he can hear it. ‘I’ve taken some pretty cool photographs and I’ve made a couple of friends too.’

‘Will you send me a photo so I know where you are?’ he says, and I rock inside my coat because I think he might be trying not to let on that he’s crying.

‘Soon as I get off,’ I say. ‘Promise. Love you, bud.’ I hear Susie calling him in the background. ‘Now go get your ice cream before it melts.’

I sit for a while after he’s gone, wondering if he’s okay. It pains me to hear him down, he should be bouncing off the walls with excitement about making the team. Maybe I’ll get in touch with Susie, make sure there isn’t anything underlying we need to keep an eye on. It’s a cold, clear Salvation night. I look west out over the ocean towards where they are, eating ice cream, three instead of four. And then I look down towards Otter Lodge, the welcome light on the porch switched on to guide me home. Except it isn’t home. Nowhere really is right now.

Cleo has her huge headphones jammed on when I head back inside. Her fingers fly over her laptop, a sure sign that my neighbour wants to be left alone. That’s okay, I’m not in the mood to talk either. I’d kill for a long shower, the powerful kind that feels somewhere between a sports massage and being beaten up. A soak in the bath just doesn’t cut it. I do it anyway, but I don’t enjoy being alone with my thoughts so I pull the plug, restless. I’ve made a decent start workwise at last, that’s something positive. It was therapeutic unpacking all my gear, turning it over in my hands, working out how to best capture the first light this morning. The familiarity of the frayed leather strap was like an old friend’s hand resting on the back of my neck this afternoon as I snapped the otters emerging from their den, the blue-black gleam of a seabird’s wing, the comedic scuttle of a hermit crab who’d outgrown his shell. He’ll find another that fits him better soon enough; life is definitely more straightforward for crabs than humans.

Beer in hand, I lean against the kitchen counter and idly watch Cleo work. She’s been out most of the day. I’m guessing that’s what has her typing so vigorously tonight. My fingers reach for my camera on the kitchen table, operating on impulse to capture the moment – the low flames in the hearth, the warmth of the lamplight, Cleo lost in her work. Have I turned into a creepy stalker neighbour spying on the girl next door through an invisible window? I lower my camera and it’s good timing because she closes her laptop and pushes her headphones off.

I don’t say anything as the first rule on the fridge list is staring me right in the face. No chatting. I watch her throw her blanket aside and get to her feet, stretching. Is she balancing on one leg? From the way she’s swaying, I’d say she is.

She turns and catches me watching her, and gives me a small, embarrassed wave, the kind you might give your neighbour who just caught you doing something weird.

‘Yoga?’ I guess when she comes over to the kitchen and pulls the wine from the fridge.

‘Something like that,’ she mutters, reaching for a glass. ‘Can you stand on one leg with your eyes closed?’

I can’t say I’ve ever tried. ‘Of course.’

‘Go on then.’ She sounds a lot like a teenager issuing a challenge.

‘Now?’

She nods towards my half of the lodge. ‘Over there in the clear space in case you fall.’

I scoff. As if. I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, and because this admittedly bizarre one is momentarily pushing the rest of my crap to the back of my head, I go with it to distract myself.

‘I will if you will.’ I put my beer down. ‘You on your side of the line, me on mine.’

We cross to the space behind the sofa and stand opposite each other, a couple of feet behind the line.

Cleo ties her hair up securely and rolls her shoulders like a fighter.

‘Someone’s been watching too much Rocky,’ I say.

She ignores my jab. ‘Don’t forget to close your eyes, that’s important.’

‘Why?’

She frowns. ‘Because I say so.’

I sniff. ‘Bossy.’

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