A smile graces his lips as he continues the story. “I told them I wanted to show them a new dance routine.”
“Dancing?!” I exclaim, the smile on my face reaching ear to ear.Dancing was my thing.Every time we had guests I would sit them all down, bring out my CD player and make them watch a dance routine I had spent the whole day putting together.
We sit for what feels like hours, watching the shade of the oak tree move slowly, sharing stories and reminiscing about our shared childhood. After a while, I stand up brushing the leaves and dirt off my ass. “Where to next?” I ask.
Running his hand through his wavy blonde hair, he speaks with a forever playful tone in his voice, “What makes you so sure we aren’t just going back home?” The raised brow gives him away, he is so full of shit.
“Because we have ‘heaps to do’today.” I mimic his earlier statement. Picking up the esky, I turn to walk back towards the car.
“Wait up,” Jesse yells. I don’t stop though, nor do I turn to look back. I’ve spent enough time here today, the small beads of sweat beginning to form on the back of my neck are a telling sign to get the hell out before I crumble.
Back in the car, I grab my phone out of my purse as Jesse slumps down into the driver’s seat beside me, I can feel his eyes on me, watching me stare at the blank screen.Turn the damn thing on Kinsley, you can’t ignore this forever.It’s not even something I want to ignore, I haven’t had any leads, from the Private Investigator I hired, for months now. I look up at Jesse and hand him my phone. He powers it on, not even questioning me. This guy knows me better than I know myself, sometimes it kind of scares me.
“Three missed calls, one voice mail, all from an unknown number,” he says.
I nod, letting him know to play the voicemail.
“Miss Fallon, my name is George Watson. I have some information that I need to share with you. I cannot leave you my number, however, I can make another attempt to call you again tomorrow.”
My lungs scream at me to let out a breath and I offer Jesse a tight smile. He hands my phone back to me, turning his focus to driving.Driving toGod knows where.I’m just glad he isn’t asking any questions.
When the car hits a pothole in the road I startle, I must have passed out. I tend to do that on days where I allow myself to remember, tofeel. It takes a physical toll. My stomach rumbles and I glance down at my phone, it’s close to 3pm. We have been driving for almost an hour. Where the hell are we? Almost like reading my mind, I feel Jesse’s eyes on me.
“Welcome back, Meadow,” a teasing voice says from beside me. He pulls over, parking the car on the side of a dirt road. I sit up and look around, still half dazed before I realise where we are. “Bring your coat, we need to walk the rest of the way.”
“Wait, Jesse! It’s trespassing …” I whisper-shout, even though no one is around.
Ahead of us a long dirt road winds through the scattered gum trees, with a little man-made track to the right. The type farmers would use to access paddocks or graze cattle in a drought. Rolling hills line the horizon and the tree line continues off the roadside, scattering through the paddocks that surround us. I’mhome. Memories flash through my mind.
“Higher, Daddy, higher,” I giggle. Clinging with all my strength to the ropes of the tyre swing. Looking out over the rolling countryside, I feel like I’m flying. “One more push then I really need to go to work, Meadow,” he says, as he pulls the swing back before pushing me forward. The rush has me squealing. With each swing I try to see beyond the horizon, as if the higher the swing could take me, the further I could see. “See you tomorrow, darling,” Dad calls as he walks over to his car, “I should be home for dinner.”
I pull myself out of one of the last memories with my dad; my finalhappymemory with him. Scrambling out of the car and shrugging on my coat, Jesse has already turned right, walking up the track that follows the boundary of my childhood farm. From where the car is parked the house is only five hundred metres straight ahead. Though you can’t see it through the trees. I jog to catch up to him as he climbs over a gate into the paddock, which sits behind the house.
“It might not even be there anymore,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
But what if it is? What if the one place that holds so many memories is still sitting there? My body begins to shake and despite the cold, my hands are clammy. This is too much, I’m too vulnerable at this moment. Flashbacks come flooding back of the countless sunrises and sunsets, I have watched from the very secret spot Jesse is now taking me back to.
I take a moment to calm myself, counting my breaths in and out. Standing here, in the silence, I can almost hear Mum and Dad’s voices calling me in for breakfast.Wouldn’t that be a sight for sore eyes.
I walk further into the paddock. Allowing the long golden strands of wispy grass to tickle my palms. Then I see it.My secret place; the concrete tank that I spent so many hours on. Countless sunrises, sunsets and nights spent under the stars. I would watch the whole world pass by when I was up there.
It was my escape.
My fingers wrap around the steel ladder, and adrenaline shoots through my veins. When I reach the top, Jesse is already there pulling things out of his backpack. The cold concrete bites at my skin through my jeans when I plop down beside him. Being the middle of winter, the sun will set soon and with it will come a chill you can feel deep in your bones. “Whatcha got there?” I quirk a brow towards him.Please be food.
“Well …” he starts in his matter-of-fact voice,brace yourself Kins he’s about to hang shit.“Whilst you were having your Nanna nap, I decided to grab us some lunch … which has now turned into dinner.”
I flip him the bird, taking in the spread of food. Cheese, crackers, dip, andtwiggy sticks,I laugh as I grab one. “These were Kyle’s favourite.”
“I know,” he says and he grabs us both another beer. The look in his eyes says everything that he doesn’t put into words. An apology for all the pain I feel, the pain he has no reason to take accountability for. It all swirls behind his emerald gaze. “Happy Birthday, Meadow.”
A single tear falls down my cheek, and I smile. A real smile. “Thank you, Jess.”
Chapter Three
Kinsley
When I was eight years old, my dad went missing. Little did I know, that day on the swings, was the lastnormalmorning we would have as a family. Then, two years later, on my tenth birthday, my brother died. I think they’re connected, I just don’t know how.
