Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
Ilias
I was glad we’d been offered Arctic-style hooded coats and gloves before we left the visitor centre on Mauna Kea because I hadn’t packed anything nearly warm enough for a night-time excursion up the side of a dormant volcano. The sun was just starting to set as we drove up the steep side of the mountain to the summit area where we’d get to watch the sky transform into a beautiful blaze of colours.
Oscar sat next to me in the back of the 4x4, gazing out of the window as our guide, Jeff, talked us through some of what we were going to see. Behind us, a second 4x4, driven by Jeff’s husband, Ki, held the other three guests on the evening’s trip. My camera bag sat on my lap, packed full of as much gear as I’d been able to fit inside. I really needed a Mary Poppins-style bag that would let me pull out enormous lenses with ease. It would make travelling so much easier.
“Are you excited?” I asked as we crested the summit and pulled onto a flat area that would allow us a perfect view of the sunset as well as let us watch the enormous telescopes located on the volcano to rotate into position. It felt like I was on the best school science trip imaginable, and I knew I’d easily be able to fill several memory cards with photos before the night was out.
“Yeah,” said Oscar, giving me a small smile as the car came to a stop. “Are you?”
“I thought that was obvious?” I grinned and reached for the door. I wasn’t sure how Oscar had put up with me for the past few hours as we’d toured the visitor centre and eaten dinner because I’d peppered everyone we’d come across with a million questions. This was the closest I’d ever come to living out my childhood dream of being an astronaut, and I was going to savour every moment of it.
“It is, but it’s polite to ask.” He climbed out his side and glanced around us at the snow-covered rock. The sky was starting to set itself ablaze as clouds played around the mountain. We were higher than I’d anticipated, and it had taken me a while to acclimatise to the altitude. It was why, Ki had told us over dinner, we’d stopped at the visitor centre first.
“When you’re ready,” said Jeff as he beckoned to us with a gloved hand, “we can go over to the rest of the group, and Ki can talk about the observatories. You’ll be able to set up your camera too.”
My steps felt full of springs as I followed him, a new giddiness forming in my chest. Oscar walked in step beside me, his face framed by the hood of his coat. Parkas weren’t sexy on anyone, but somehow Oscar looked good in one, and the light of the setting sun played across his face, casting shadows across his jaw.
I’d always thought Oscar was handsome, but there was something different about him in that moment. Maybe it was because I’d started to get to know him better, or maybe it was because the high altitude was impairing my cognitive function, but I had the ridiculous urge to slip my gloved hand into his.
I shook my head, reaching for the zip on my camera bag and fumbling it open as Ki began to talk about each observatory in turn. Across the horizon, the sun turned the sky into an unearthly spectacle of colour and fire. I’d watched sunsets before, hundreds of them, but this one took my breath away in a whole new way.
I slotted my camera together at speed, lifting its bulk to my eye as I attempted to capture the majesty before me. I knew any photo I took would never do the sight justice, but I had to try.
Beside me, Oscar let out a slow breath. I lowered the camera for a moment, turning my head to see his dark eyes fixed on the flaming clouds that danced across the sky.
“Wow,” he said softly. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” I said, never taking my eyes off him. “It is.”
He turned his head, and I felt my face heat as I suddenly pretended to be very interested in my camera, praying he hadn’t noticed me staring at him. Our relationship was supposed to be fake. I wasn’t supposed to be developing any kind of feelings for Oscar. Especially not since my last holiday relationship had ended in heart-breaking disaster.
They were memories I could barely bring myself to relive, even ten years later. I’d worked so hard to pack them all away in a neat little box, but one look at Oscar gazing at the sunset was threatening to bring them crashing down around me.
“You okay?” Oscar asked, and I realised I was staring off into space without focusing on anything, my camera held limply in my hand.
“Yeah,” I said. “Just thinking.”
Oscar hummed but didn’t say anything, for which I was eternally grateful. I lifted my camera again and tried to focus on my job, pushing down the memories that were forcing their way to the surface. Now was not the time to get lost in them, I told myself. It was time to focus on the here and now.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wiggling my toes in my trainers to ground myself.
The sun sank lower, and above us the sky began to darken, promising a glittering blanket of stars waiting to be unveiled.
When most of the colour had faded, Jeff guided us back to the car to take us a little way down the mountain. “The climate and air density is more comfortable there,” he explained as he drove, the car bumping over the rough path. “Makes it easier to stand around for hours stargazing. It’s going to be a good night for it.”
“I can’t wait,” I said, but I knew I didn’t sound as enthusiastic as I had earlier. I pursed my lips, wishing my past would stay buried. Next time, I was going to weight the box and throw it deep into the ocean of my memory, hoping it would get swallowed up and stay there.
Something brushed against my hand, and I jumped. Beside me, Oscar pulled his hand away like he’d been stung. Bollocks, I hadn’t meant to frighten him.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to make you jump.”
“It’s not you.” I shook my head and felt my lips form a wry smile. “I’ve just been thinking about something, and it… threw me.”
There was a pause, then Oscar reached out again and squeezed my hand. It sent a warm wave of comfort flooding through me. “I’m sorry. If you ever want someone to talk to, you can talk to me.”
“Thanks. I’ll be fine though.”
“I know, but the offer still stands.” I looked across at him in time to see something flicker across his face. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have said it was fondness.
“Sometimes it helps, especially if it’s painful.”
“Who said it was painful?” I asked more sharply than I’d intended, and I winced.
“Nobody,” he said even softer than before, and there was an echo of pain in his tone like the ghost of a memory dancing across his words. “But you just looked… sad. And I…” he trailed off, then shook his head. “Anyway, I’m here if you want me.”
I suddenly felt a pang of guilt because Oscar hadn’t done anything but offer kindness. “Thanks.”
The car bumped farther down the mountain until we eventually came to a plateaued area. It was more sheltered than the summit but offered a perfect view of the night sky. We climbed out of the cars, and Jeff and Ki began setting up some enormous portable telescopes so we could look for various constellations. Above us, the last veils of sunset had pulled aside, leaving a glittering blanket of a billion stars. Cutting straight through the middle was a hazy band of light, which almost looked like a wisp of cloud amongst the stars: the Milky Way.
I tilted my head back and tried to take it all in, marvelling at the untold beauty before me. I’d seen pictures of the Milky Way before, but I’d never seen it with my own eyes. It was vast and ancient and pulled at something deep within my soul. I felt smaller than before like some mythical giant had fixed its eye upon me. I knew I needed to take some photos, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Oscar said from beside me. “Makes you realise how small and singular you are.”
“Yeah.” I glanced across at him and realised he was looking at me. And he didn’t turn away when his eyes met mine. It felt like I was being pulled into a black hole, powerless to resist the warmth in his gaze.
“Do you want to look through one of the telescopes? Ki said he can point out some of the constellations, and he can talk us through some of the Hawaiian star lines. I think we can see Jupiter as well.”
“Maybe… in a minute.”
“Do you want to just stand here instead?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, looking back at the sky. “I think I do.”
“Do you… do you mind if I stand next to you?”
“No, of course not.” I shot him a smile and watched his face relax. Had he been worried I wouldn’t want him around? The thought made something snarl up inside me so quickly it was painful. We stood in silence for a while, not quite touching but close enough that I heard Oscar’s breathing. It was one of those perfect, quiet moments where everything else just fell away.
“Earlier,” I said eventually, “I was thinking about someone I knew… He, er, he died.”
“Shit,” Oscar said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I shrugged, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. Oscar was the first person I’d told, even vaguely, in years. “I haven’t thought about him in a while, but something about tonight brought the memories back. I thought I’d dealt with it, but maybe…”
“You can deal with death,” Oscar said, “and your feelings about that person, that situation, but it never really goes away. You can’t get rid of it. There’s no magic wand you can wave to erase them from your memories. There’s just time.”
“Your dad?” I asked, thinking back to our conversation over lunch in London.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I was only five when he was diagnosed with lung cancer and six when he died. It was hard because it didn’t really make a lot of sense. And my mum was so busy and tired, and Jules was only four, and Finn was maybe a year…” He thought for a second.
“He wasn’t quite two when Dad died. Anyway, I guess I still have a lot of emotions around that, even though it’s been twenty-six years. My mum did her best and so did the school, but it was still hard. Especially because I was the oldest, and I know she never meant to put pressure on me, but I felt so much responsibility to be good and helpful and to look after the others. And then a year later everything changed when mum and Miranda got together. But that’s a different issue.”
“I’m sorry.” I wished there was something more I could say.
“Thanks.” He tilted his head back, gazing up at the sky. “I guess what I mean is that I get it. I do. Time makes it hurt less, and therapy can help you close up the wounds, but that still leaves scars. And although scars fade over time, they’re still there, and sometimes they pull. I think all you can do is accept that and find ways to carry on. We can’t let grief rule our lives or let it shape our fate. It’s part of who we are, but it’s not everything.”
Something in his words resonated, soothing the ache deep inside my chest that had threatened to tear itself open. I’d never imagined a whirlwind summer romance could change the course of my life, but ever since that final night, I’d closed part of myself off because I hadn’t thought love was worth the pain.
I wondered what would happen if I told Oscar everything. He’d probably understand.
But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words aloud. Not yet.
I’d bared my soul more openly tonight than I had in a long time, and I couldn’t face doing any more. But maybe one day. Soon.
Because it was becoming apparent to me that Oscar might be the one man who could make me do what I’d refused for the last ten years: fall in love.