Chapter 3
I don’t see Millie again until after she’s got the call. We live five minutes from each other, and she’s driven over to go on a walk with me and Murphy.
I know what Millie’s gonna tell me, my mom has already called and filled me in. The best surgeon in the Columbus area has an opening. Insurance has approved her for the procedure. Millie has officially scheduled her double mastectomy and reconstruction for 15th December, a day after she was supposed to land in Australia.
‘I don’t get why all of this is happening so fast,’ I say when Millie explains it to me herself. We’ve stalled on the sidewalk. Murphy is tugging at his leash.
‘I don’t feel like I have a choice. My body is a ticking time bomb.’
‘But . . .’ I trail off. I don’t know what to say. I got my results from the lab a few days ago and found out I don’t have the brCA gene. I’ve spent so many years thinking Millie was the lucky one . . . living like Millie was the lucky one. But looking at her now, about to miss the trip of a lifetime, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. I should be relieved, elated even, but instead I feel heavy with guilt.
‘Andi, I’ve looked into it. I’ve done all the research. I’m going to have to do it eventually, and the longer I wait, the more likely it is something will get worse. I’m going to get it over with.’ Her words are firm, but her voice wavers slightly. ‘I won’t have a good trip with this in the back of my mind.’
‘So . . .’ words fail me again. We both know what Millie has come over to ask.
She takes her eyes off Murphy and meets my gaze. ‘So?’ she asks.
‘OK,’ I say in a small voice. Just as my heart starts to soar at the possibility of going to Australia, a thought comes crashing into my brain. ‘But wait, I’m not going to go to Australia while you’re here having a major operation.’ I don’t voice what I’m thinking – she’ll need me – won’t she ?
‘Come on, An. I have Mom and Dad.’ Millie shrugs her shoulders. ‘Please? I have to find the butterfly wrasse. All my work from the last year hinges on it. I’m convinced it’s out there. I have this feeling – I just know it.’
‘Can’t you go once you’ve recovered? Just call and reschedule. They’ll understand!’
‘It’ll be too late in the season. If the wrasse are out there, the warmer weather is when they’re most likely to be spotted. And I don’t have the money to throw at another trip.’
‘I’ll pay for it.’
‘That is so dumb. It’ll be winter there anyways. It’s now or never. I can’t wait another year. We have to look before they’re certified extinct for real.’
‘I can’t pretend to be you, Mill. I don’t have the training. Can’t you send someone from the lab? Send Bianca!’
‘I can’t send Bianca. I’m not even telling work I can’t go. If you find something we can use, I don’t want them second-guessing the validity because it’s from you and not me. Plus, I can get the tickets transferred to your name really easily. It’s not like I’m asking you to use my passport!’ Millie glares at me, daring me to challenge her.
I groan. Murphy trots along happily, oblivious to the plans hatching behind him.
‘There’s just one snag.’ Millie glances at me.
My lips form a thin line.
‘A snag?’ I ask.
‘Well, the boat I booked, the small one, it’s expensive and non-refundable and I can’t change the reservation, I’ve already called. All they check is my dive certification, and the picture is grainy. We look enough alike. So . . . you’ll have to be me on the boat. I know it’ll work.’
‘I . . .’ I falter and stop speaking. I don’t know what to say.
‘Andi, come on. Don’t make me pull the “I’m-the-one-with-the-shitty-gene card”. Just go. I haven’t seen you happy in ages, maybe this will change something for you.’
I stop short. ‘Really?’ I ask. ‘You haven’t seen me happy ? Did you ever stop to think that’s because I turned down a proposal and somehow that made me a social pariah? Or maybe that all of the people I thought were my friends were actually just “couple” friends who don’t want to hang out with me now that I’m single? Travelling isn’t the problem here, Millie. If I do this, I’m doing it for you, not because going on a vacation is going to magically fix my life.’
Millie glances at her shoes, sufficiently chastised, before saying, ‘All I heard was that you’re considering going, which is all I ask.’
I huff at her and nudge Murphy along.
‘It’ll be warm,’ she says. ‘You’ll finally be tanner than me for once. Not to mention, if you find the wrasse we’ll get Hugh Harris back for pointing out your grammar misstep.’
Hugh. Much to my own irritation, I can hear his voice echoing in my brain, the way he pronounces ‘Graht Bayreer Reef’. I watched a few of his lectures. They were informative, or at least the young women who flocked to the comments section seemed to think so. I thought he sounded condescending and was too dry on stage, but apparently, I was the only one. I was watching them to better prepare for the day when our DMs veered towards marine biology. He still thought I was Millie, and I wasn’t about to let it slip that I was her younger sister. I told myself it was only an added benefit that I could find out what Hugh looked like by watching his lectures.
Unfortunately, they were all filmed in a lecture hall on a university budget, so the clarity was lacking. Even his University of Sydney thumbnail was grainy and unfocused, like he took an old picture of his student ID photo and reused it. All I could tell was that he was blond and tanned, with a somewhat crooked smile.
I try not to overthink our conversations. Technically, I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m defending my sister’s honour as the outstanding marine biologist she is. And it feels so good, so thrilling, so unlike me to have this little secret. Plus, I like having the last word. And even though I hate to admit it, Hugh is a worthy sparring opponent, despite how annoying his saviour complex is. It’s like he can’t fathom that anyone else cares as much about the ocean as he does.
I notice Millie looking at me intently, waiting for me to respond.
‘But what if I go all the way there and I don’t find them?’ I ask. ‘It’ll all be a waste.’ I can’t believe I’m even entertaining going on my sister’s dream trip while she undergoes major surgery. Her eyes water.
‘That’s OK with me. As long as we tried. And . . .’ she pauses, her eyes twinkling ‘. . . no good tan is ever a waste.’
‘Ugh,’ I groan. We both know I’m going to go. Even though I’ve never travelled alone, even though I’m overwhelmingly underprepared, even though I’m terrified.
@millieandipaxton Let’s say someone is forced to go to Cairns for two days (no one would give up Columbus for Cairns on their own volition). What would you tell them to do (besides scuba, of course)?
@hughharris94 Depends on whose asking.
@millieandipaxton Me.
@hughharris94 Hmm . . . Unfortunately, we don’t have a Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame here, so you may be disappointed.
@millieandipaxton Okay, forget I asked.
@hughharris94 What time of year?
@millieandipaxton Let’s say summer.
@hughharris94 Is this your way of telling me you’re coming to Cairns in the next month or two?
@millieandipaxton I knew I should have gone straight to Tripadvisor.
@hughharris94 Well, I’m not from there but I’ve been a couple times. Probably have better recommendations than Tripadvisor.
@millieandipaxton Tripadvisor would have taken me less time.
@hughharris94 Fine. Since you’ve made it abundantly clear that you like poisoning yourself with coffee, I would tell you to start your day at Cairns Cup. Get a flat white. Then go to marina and do the walking path along the shore, but the Americans usually talk so loudly they ruin the path for the rest of us. You should get up into the rainforest, there’s some great hikes (and plenty of places to contemplate how we drove the butterfly wrasse to extinction). And, because I know you’ll ask, Vinnie’s in Portsmith has great thrift shopping. Although you’d think your fancy university pays you enough to buy new clothes.
@millieandipaxton Woah.
@hughharris94 What?
@millieandipaxton Nothing. Thank you.
@hughharris94 No, really. What?
@millieandipaxton I didn’t realise you had actually been listening to me.
@hughharris94 I haven’t been. All American girls are the same.
‘Mushroom coral!’ Millie barks. We’re getting pedicures. I’m getting my toes painted a safe, wine-coloured red, and Millie has opted for a sparkly turquoise.
‘Ummm.’ I rack my brain. ‘Lots of lines in a circle . . . um . . . the throw pillow one!’
She nods, impressed, and puts down her phone. Ever since I agreed to go, I’ve been studying non-stop. I’ve memorised all the types of coral found in the Great Barrier Reef and can identify them by their photo as well as their defining characteristics. I know almost as much about staghorn corals as Millie does. I know all the fish to look out for, how to take pictures of them without scaring them away, and how to spot their eggs. I’ve absorbed so much knowledge that I would be able to fool Hugh – that is, if we were still talking. After our last conversation, I replaced my Instagram app with a Marine Biology dictionary so that I remember my real reason for Australia – finding the butterfly wrasse for Millie, and so that I would stop messaging Hugh. If I’m going to find the wrasse, I can’t afford any distractions. I also couldn’t think of a comeback, but that’s neither here nor there.
For the first time since graduating, my marine biology degree is proving useful. I’ve started feeling a thrum of excitement when I wake up in the morning. I’ve started humming when I take Murphy out for walks.
‘Stop smiling like that.’ Millie swats at me, giggling.
‘Like what?’
‘You’re smirking like you’re so proud of yourself for getting the answers to my questions right.’
I try to wipe the smile off my face.
‘I’m happy for you,’ Millie says, her voice dipping into sincerity. I know she means it, but I still can’t shake off the guilt I’m carrying for going on her dream trip without her.
‘I’ll be worried about you,’ I reply to Millie, my voice catching.
The day after I’ll arrive in Australia, a week and a half before Christmas, Millie’s scheduled for surgery. Surgery takes six to twelve hours and she’s in the hospital for two days afterwards. The procedure isn’t particularly risky, but I’m nervous. Millie’s kept her cool. She’s even scheduled a spray tan before she goes back to work so everyone will think she went to Australia. She doesn’t want to have to answer anyone’s questions or be on the receiving end of their pity.
‘I’ll be fine. It’s good to see you so . . . so happy.’
I glare at her. ‘It always comes back to my lack of happiness, doesn’t it? I’m fine. I’ve told you that.’
‘You know what I mean,’ Millie murmurs, flipping a page in her magazine. ‘You’re fine, but . . .’ She trails off, letting the words hang in the air with meaning.
Sometimes I forget Millie is my older sister. She’s so exuberant and carefree, and she takes up so much of the spotlight that she feels like the baby. But sometimes she spouts out pearls of wisdom that remind me she’s lived more life than I have.
‘I know,’ I acquiesce. My voice comes out in a whisper.
‘Really, Andi,’ Millie presses, ‘when was the last time you were this happy? Not content, happy ? Even with Zach I didn’t think that . . .’ She stops talking, leaving the unsaid words in the air. Even with Zach, she didn’t think I was happy. I try to shrug off the implication, I don’t want to go down the rabbit hole of wishing I knew sooner, wishing I could have avoided all the hurt.
‘Let me think about it,’ I say, partly to get Millie off my back. I settle into my chair and turn on the massage function.
I avoid analysing my last relationship . . . thinking about before it instead . . . maybe during our trip to India. I open my mouth to answer but a memory stops me. I was a senior in college taking my final marine biology lab and I knew I was acing it. I was so ecstatic I felt invincible. Millie was employed at the lab doing research and frequently TA-ed our class, but that day she was pulled into other work. I felt so free and so powerful without her there. I finished my lab first and with a perfect score. For the first time I felt like I was where I was meant to be, like I could carve my own space in a narrow field. I was excited for my future.
And then Millie came back. I saw her out of the corner of my eye first, ducking into a neighbouring classroom, her lab coat swishing behind her. Then she popped into our classroom and whispered something to the professor, who burst out laughing, beaming at Millie. She was so at home, so commanding, and I felt all my excitement evaporate. Millie wasn’t someone I could compete with.
‘India,’ I finally say.
Millie nods. ‘I thought you would say that. And this will be even better, trust me.’ She winks.
I’m so intimidated at the thought of pretending to be Millie that I’m not sure if I believe her.