Corbin had always been an intellectual sex dream. He was bright, articulate and his knowledge base was eclectic. He could tell you the plumage development of a magpie, the science behind the 100 Monkey Effect or contrastingly how the light and colour spectrums worked. It was both fascinating and hilarious.
He also enjoyed a research task so if he didn’t know something, he took the time to learn with a patience I was yet to master. When I’d asked him why a day on Venus was longer than an entire year on Earth – a fact I learnt from a female sanitation wrapper – he told me he wasn’t sure before returning an hour later and explaining it in terms he knew I would understand.
But oddly, through all the years, I’d never actually pictured him in a setting like this. Moving through the mundanity of life with an open laptop and the kettle notifying us of its conclusion with a sharp click.
He was always just Corbin, my little friend who cried just as much as I did when we left for Canada all those years ago. The boy who stood before me and dared me to kiss him the night before the upheaval of my entire world. The boy whose lips were soft and wet and exactly what I never knew I wanted in my first kiss.
I may not have ever been brave enough to do it if he didn’t call Evermore. It was a game we made up, named after our street – just a silly thing where you had to do whatever the other dared, for thirty seconds of laughter and maybe a little mischief. Until that night we’d been doing it all wrong. I’d call Evermore when I couldn’t be bothered to go get us an ice block, or when one of our parents wanted help bringing in the groceries. Forcing Corbin to be my slave or risk the lifelong torture of hearing you were a loser who backed out of a challenge. Only on that last night, I realised the full potential of that little game and wished I’d been smarter for longer. Because he’d thrown me for six when he called it and then dared me to kiss him, his big green eyes round as if he couldn’t believe he said it either. There was a challenge in his stance though. His eyes slightly narrowed as if he didn’t think I was going to follow through, after all, I was moving the next day so it wouldn’t be as tiresome to be the first not to accept an Evermore dare.
Only I had.
With false bravado I’d stepped right up to him, my fists balled at my sides and pressed my lips to his for three whole Mississippi seconds before pulling away triumphantly. And seeing the man he was today; I was glad that I had.
We’d stayed in contact over the years. He’d written me a few letters before technology was advanced enough to communicate without the elongated wait which only snail mail could elicit. As we grew, our contact lessened in length but increased in frequency. A quickquestion here, a random colour to signify mood there. An image of spilt coffee to symbolise the day I was having, my iced cappuccino strewn across my kitchen floor, always going to lead to a follow up text with Sepia as the crayon of the day. I’d caught glimpses in photos from his mum or if he ever posted one online, but since I left, I could probably count on one hand the number of times we had Facetimed and that was usually with our mothers hogging the entire conversation. But never entire images of us – which now I thought about it, was both strange but also part of the allure. Corbin was the faceless friend who knew so much about me, yet nothing at all.
And vice versa.
I could tell you he ran in the morning and drank more water than any other human. That he hated things he couldn’t understand. That he took nothing on face value – requiring research or fact. He also despised people in his space which I knew before arriving and hoped meant my being here was okay. A reflection of my own haste in booking and partially why I was only spending a few nights here. Possibly also because there was an unspeakable pull drawing me back here. To a country which felt oddly like home despite being on the other side of the globe. A silent pull which drew me back not only to Australia, but to him.
Despite that though, there were many things I couldn’t have told you. Including how my little childhood friend had aestheticallymaintained his youthful charm while maturing gracefully. How, for someone who worked in an office all day, his skin held the kind of tan which could only come from being outside and how those hands didn’t appear to be soft and screen-tapped but rather strong and sinewy. My tactile heart was running rampant, and it was only then that I realised I hadn’t even hugged him hello. Something I needed to rectify on the A-SAP. Heading over to where he was grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, I entered his space and grinned at him.
“It’s really good to see you, Corbs,” I breathed before slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, moved in and wrapped my arms around his waist. He stilled for the slightest second before I felt his chest empty on a deep sigh and his arms came around me too. “I know you hate people in your bubble, but I’m so glad I made myself an exception,” I admitted.
“I’m glad you showered before you koala’d me,” he chuckled, and I grinned against his chest. “You’re always the exception,” he added quietly.
With a final squeeze I stepped out of his embrace, but the move was forced. Whether it was the jet lag or that I was returning to a place which felt etched in my soul on an intrinsic level, hugging Corbs was coming back to something deeply familiar, and for the first time since I lost Mum, breathing felt a little easier. The air around me a little lighter.
“You could join me on my trip?” I suggested only half-jokingly. “What screams social life more than travelling? I was hoping I could give you a list of places and you could help me map the best route to take.” I hadn’t yet told him about my exact plans or purpose. All he knew was there were a few places I wanted to visit and otherwise I’d been intentionally evasive.
His reaction was as fleeting as a shadow, but his barely-there pause caught my eye.
“I don’t have a concrete plan,” I added quickly before he could ask, tapping Mum’s diary against the table. “But I have this,” I held it up and he looked at it quizzically as he placed a steaming mug in front of me.
“Okay,” he said, reaching for the journal and flicking through. “Are they our mothers?” he asked incredulously, pulling the page closer to examine one of the pictures.
“Yes,” I snickered, looking at the page he was admiring. “And that’s part of why I’m here.”
“I’m listening,” he leaned back resting against the bench, his legs crossed at the ankle.
“While I was packing up Mum’s things I found this,” I held the time portal up in the air and smiled sadly. “Did you know our mums did some travelling when they were younger? And on that trip, my mum met my dad?”
“Really?” His brows lifted disbelievingly. “My mum hates going anywhere further than the grocery store. Going to Canada recently was an exception.” And he didn’t need to elaborate. We both knew it was because it would be the last time she saw Mum, and nothing would have stopped her when that was the reason.
“Well, this says otherwise,” I said, refusing to open that conversation this early into the trip. “The dates don’t have a specific year to them, but I assume they were young based on some of the things they got up to before she mentions Dad,” I winked coquettishly and then laughed when he choked on his coffee. “I’ll spare you those details, don’t worry. But I brought Mum and Dad’s ashes with me…” I let that hang in the air, a fast jump back to reality.
“I’m going to visit some of the same spots Mum and Aunt Ash did. And I think she would have liked to know that I will leave parts of her and Dad in each of those places, especially because it was on that trip my parents first met. How do you think your mum will feel about that?”
“I think Mum would love it,” he smiled softly. “How are you feeling about doing that though?”
I exhaled deeply through my nose. “Sad,” I admitted. “But it’s time.” I pushed myself to believe it more with a flurry of nods. “Blake doesn’t care, and it just didn’t feel right to have them in Canada when they met and fell in love here.”
The room fell silent while we were both lost to our thoughts.
“Where are you planning on going exactly?” He eventually asked cutting through the quiet.
I lifted the treasure chest of moments, locked within pages of ink and a few polaroids. Flicking through, I rattled off the various locations with limited knowledge of their placement on a map.
“Crimson Coast, Enclave Gardens, The Springs, Lagoon Bar and Spa…” I paused, allowing that one to sink in before rattling off the last few. “High Tea & Co. and Serenity Ride or it could be Ridge. The writing is unclear on that one.” I looked up, my head tilted awaiting his response. The swirl in my tummy indicating his reply mattered more than I realised.
