She went into her mother’s room. The colorful blanket, crocheted by volunteers, had slid half off the bed. Coralie adjusted it and smoothed her mother’s hair away from her face. Her skin was waxy like a candle. These weeks had been very cruel.
In the vinyl recliner at the back of the room, Dan startled awake. “Oh, Cor,” he said. “The morning.”
“Was it a bad night?”
“No, a lot better. Quieter. Maybe they have the drugs right. She gave my hand a squeeze. I think she knew it was me.”
“She definitely knew.” Dan put his headphones in. “Have a nice jog,” Coralie said. He gave her a gently ironic salute.
She leaned over the bed and spoke in a clear, soft voice. “Mum? It’s me, Coralie. Don’t worry, ignore me. I’ll just be sitting next to you.”
She wrote to HR, telling them she’d be back at her desk in two weeks. An uncommon feeling overcame her:Take it or leave it. They could stop her pay. They could end her employment, undermining the whole basis of her visa and her right to live in the UK. She could wave goodbye to Wilton Way, to Adam, and to Zora. Would that be so bad? Her mother was dying, and Coralie was on the other side of the world, alone. Should she have specifically asked Adam to come?Please be with me instead of writing your election book.She couldn’t do that. She shouldn’t have to. It struck her that she’d invested her life savings into renovating a house she didn’t own: a non-feminist and life-ruining error so huge it was almost funny. On the plus side, most of her stuff was already packed—Adam could just ship it. But to where? Perhaps she’d be here forever, sitting at a deathbed in a hospice.
When she looked up, she realized she hadn’t heard any breaths for a while. She waited for a minute, and then another minute. There were none.
She rang Adam, but her call went straight to voicemail.
She thought of Dan running home through the bush. She thought of ringing him so he could turn around and come back. But that would mean he’d hear the news on his own. She told Katherine on the way out to the car. Then she drove the short way back to Nightcliff.
When Dan saw her in the driveway, he burst into tears and stayed crying all the way back to the hospice.
Hi Dad,
Just thought I’d let you know that Mum died this morning. We’re having the funeral next Tuesday here in Darwin.
Coralie
Hi Coralie,
Nice to hear from you. Any chance you’ll make it down to Canberra on this trip? Jenny and I can’t offer to put you up, but we could recommend you a hotel. Have a think.
Best wishes,
Roger
After the “Roger,” he’d added, in brackets, “Dad.”
That night, Dan disappeared when the sun set. Coralie walked alone to Taj Curry Indian. She’d never taken in her mother’s voice, so she didn’t have anyone or anything inside her saying, in a kind way, “You need to eat.” But if a couple of weeks at the hospital had shown her anything, it was that not eating resulted in death. She ordered butter chicken, basmati rice, raita, and a white wine.Just a bite will do, she made a voice inside her say. She felt self-conscious, like Zora as a five-year-old giving dialogue to her dollies. Saying something like “You must eat” or “Take a rest” or “That sounds hard, poor you”—all that felt natural when she said it to Zora.
When would she have a baby of her own, someone who began inside herself and then came into the world, separate and real, someone she could look after and love, someone she was responsible for and who needed her? Had her mother felt that way about having her? She’d never know. Tears were streaming down her face. The waiter walked up and, without saying anything, put down an inch-thick pile of red paper napkins.
•••
It was themorning but still dark when she heard a small commotion outside. Someone was rattling the flyscreen, and not loudly, butpersistently, repeating “Coralie! Coralie!” No one in Darwin knew her except Dan. Had he locked himself out? She pressed her phone to see the time. Nearly six. She saw she had some texts from Adam.If this sends, I’ve landed in Singapore!Then another, from 5:15 a.m.:I don’t know if you’ll get this, but I’ve landed! CYK!She ran to the door. He was there—Adam. He looked ghastly, with dark circles under his eyes. He smelled like a Pot Noodle. His face, and the V of his chest, gleamed with sweat. But he was there and smiling at her. He had come!
•••
After the funeral,Adam borrowed the car and drove them to a mystery destination two hours out of the city. It was a mild surprise to Coralie when the sleek multilane main roads became narrower, more bumpy, and lined with a thick red dust. Before them, all around them, the sky was wide, blue, and unlimited. She had existed in the hospital and the hospice for what felt like all her life. Seeing so much sky almost hurt.
Adam pointed. “What are these beautiful trees?”
“Who cares?”
“Good question.”
“I’m not an Australian author. Do people who know the names of trees become writers? Or do writers feel like…” She took a deep breath to carry on. “They have to learn names of trees?”
“Fuck knows.” Adam nodded out the window. “Fuck you, trees.”
