Chapter Forty-seven – Andie
Chapter Forty-seven
ANDIE
I ’m walking back to Moorings when the heavens open. The rain comes out of nowhere, and I tuck Jack’s gift under my shirt so that it doesn’t get wet and sprint towards the house. By the time I push open the front door, I’m completely drenched.
I switch on the TV, kick off my soaked sandals and peel off my wet blazer. It’s now less of a sunny yellow and more of a dirty mustard. One of Taylor’s kaftans is draped over the dining chair, so I reach for it and pull it on.
The monotone drone of a newsreader fills the room, informing us of the expected rainfall in the area: a hundred and fifty millimetres in the next twenty-four hours.
Half an hour later, I’m immersed in another rain-filled scene, a universe away – Tom Hanks in his yellow raincoat, checking the letterbox of his Seattle houseboat. I let out a deep breath; Sleepless in Seattle is the perfect balm right now. I turn the volume all the way up to drown out the rest of the noise. It’s better than rehashing what was said in Hazel’s study.
By the time Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks finally meet at the top of the Empire State Building, rain is still pelting against the window, and I’m still on my own. Grace and Lizzie are probably at Keith’s place for one last hurrah with the boys, Taylor is at Clam Cove with Mitch, and I guess Jack is home in his cabin. Alone in his bed.
Do I go there? Ask him to explain why he kept the oyster farm a secret from me? Confess that, yes, this started as a meaningless holiday fling, but it’s become something more. He’s become something more? I imagine a scenario where I creep up to the cabin with a leaf blower, only to be met with laughter at my failed attempt to scare him. I trip over Izzie, he helps patch up my knee, and we end up watching the sunrise together.
But it was evident in every crease of his face, and his disgusted touch as he pushed the Charlie Farleys bag into my hands, that it’s over between us.
We were like one of Hazel’s avocados – picked and given seven days to soften but never having time to reach the desired ripeness.
It’s really late now, and we’re booked on the 9 a.m. river ferry in the morning. I switch off the television, my eyes still damp with tears, and begin collecting stray items for packing.
Grace’s copy of Icebreaker lies facedown on the couch arm. I pick it up and spot a pair of Lizzie’s hoop earrings resting on the coffee table, so scoop them up too. Kneeling, I check under the couch, where my sweeping hand discovers a lost crystal from our moon circle, along with a yellow sock. Although I can’t recall the girls ever wearing anything other than sandals and thongs, I pick it up as well. I balance my finds on the bottom step before moving to the darkened dining room.
I flick the light on and step into the room. The table is empty, but the shelves framing the wall hold a puzzle of belongings. A quick scan confirms that the items all belong to Moorings – photo frames, intricate vases, a ceramic owl, a wooden sailboat, well-worn copies of To Kill a Mockingbird and The Catcher in the Rye , as well as an assortment of smaller knick-knacks whose significance may elude anyone but those who originally gave them a place in Moorings – a die, a thimble, a snow globe, an old pocket watch, a deck of UNO cards. Each item hints at private stories and memories.
Luckily Mum was there to direct when I packed up our family home for sale. Plenty of conversations were started by the selected treasures as I carefully folded the items into newspaper to be stored on the top shelves of my built-in closet. Some had obvious significance, like Dad’s marine biology collection – others I was less certain about. Most of the larger furniture items I sold on Facebook Marketplace, while the rest of the stuff went to Vinnies. It was a massive undertaking – and a highly emotional one.
As long as I have photos and my video clips to anchor my senses, I can fill in the smells, textures and tastes of countless memories – family Christmases, birthdays and beach days.
I stop my browsing and reach for my phone, opening up the Storytime app. As I scroll through the endless stream of videos – Dad on the ocean bench, Mum curled on the couch, Dad in the home, Mum covered in tubes in hospital, still smiling, with Toby perched on the end of her bed – I become so engrossed that I don’t hear someone enter the house.
‘Andie? Are you here?’
I jolt at the unexpected voice and my phone slips from my grip, falling to the floor with a sickening crack. I freeze as a sharp sound echoes through the room.
Next thing I realise, I’m screaming, and Taylor is rushing towards me.
‘Andie! What’s wrong?’
Between my sobs, I can barely form a sentence as I drop down on all fours, my hands scrambling to retrieve my broken phone. ‘Mum. Dad,’ I gasp.
My trembling hands repeatedly press the power button. ‘It won’t work!’ I whimper.
Taylor gathers me into her arms, soothing me with gentle words. ‘Shh, Andie. It’s just a phone. We’ll get you another.’
She rocks me back and forth until I finally calm down. The silence settles heavily around us.
‘Okay, what was that all about?’ she asks eventually.
‘I don’t really know,’ I say, breath hitching as it gradually steadies. My reaction surprised me as much as it did her. ‘I think I panicked because of the videos of Mum and Dad on there. I was terrified I’d lost them – even though I know they’re backed up.’
‘So, they’re definitely backed up?’ Taylor confirms.
I nod, struggling to keep my tears at bay.
‘Okay, good. We’ll go to the Apple store as soon as we’re back in Sydney. I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m really sorry for everything. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the awful things I said to you tonight.’ She reaches for my hand.
‘It’s okay. And I’m sorry too, Tay. I know that I haven’t been myself for a long time. Just look at me – I’m crying over a stupid iPhone.’ I laugh weakly. ‘I guess –’ I pause, searching for the right words. ‘I feel like I’ve been operating with two brains. One of them has been consumed for eight years with worries about my parents – and even Toby, although I know he’s an adult now – while the other, the smaller one, has been solely focused on logistics. It hasn’t left much room for anything else. I’m sorry if that’s made me a shit friend.’
‘It hasn’t made you a shit friend! I should never have made you feel that way,’ she exclaims. ‘I guess I wish that we could talk like we used to. I love you so much, and it’s been hard seeing you so weighed down by life that it seemed like you weren’t really living it. But I have no right dictating what is right for you. Grief is such a personal thing, and I’m learning that so deeply right now.’ Her voice is heavy, but her expression is hard to decipher – intense, yet hinting at something else.
‘Tay, what’s really been going on?’ I ask gently.
‘Are you sure you want to hear it?’
‘Yes!’
She takes a deep breath. ‘Let’s sit at the table.’
‘Sure.’
We both stand, Taylor pulls out a chair at the head of the table, underneath the framed yin–yang pearl, and I sit next to her.
‘Well,’ she begins, her voice hesitant. ‘I kinda misled you before. I was the one who made Mitch break up with me. He kept telling me that he didn’t mind whether or not we had a baby, and that he’d be happy with me regardless. But I thought he’d wake up one day and realise he’d made a mistake. So I decided to beat him to it. I lied and told him I’d cheated on him and that I wasn’t in love with him anymore.’
‘Oh, Tay!’ I gasp, my heart sinking as I jump out of my chair and wrap my arms around her. I can’t imagine what she’s been dealing with. ‘What on earth were you thinking, you silly girl?’ I murmur tenderly into her silky blonde mane.
She hiccups. ‘I don’t know.’
‘So what now?’ I ask, taking a seat once she’s finished hiccupping. ‘Do you want to try to repair things with Mitch?’
‘I think so. He wants to, and I do too. I’m going to stay on the island with him for a few extra days, see where things land after that.’
‘That sounds like a really good idea.’
‘Sorry that my divorce trip ended up not being very divorcey,’ she says sheepishly.
I wave off her apology. ‘Ah, the penis pinata will keep. Actually, it already had an unfortunate end in the fire pit, didn’t it?’
‘Yeah, Grace saw to that,’ Taylor snorts.
‘I know I went overboard. I just hope you understand that everything I do is because I care about you so much. Is logistics a love language?’ I joke.
Taylor chuckles. ‘I’m not sure, but lemons certainly are. Seriously, though, Lizzie, Grace and I all agreed that you can dial it back a bit. No more group dinners booked, or gifts organised. Focus on yourself for a change!’
I nod, taking her words to heart.
‘Is it time for my confession?’ I ask.
‘Shit. What now?’
‘I did book the trip here to try to feel closer to my parents,’ I confess.
‘Oh, Andie.’
It’s Taylor’s turn to push back her chair. It bumps against the wall, causing the yin–yang frame above her head to wobble slightly. We look up, waiting for it to settle, before embracing each other.
‘Maybe we can get matching pearl artworks for our thirty-year friendiversary,’ I suggest.
‘And have Jack make them?’ Taylor asks hopefully.
My shoulders slump. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s possible. I’m pretty sure I messed that up.’ I didn’t even get a chance to thank him for the thoughtful documentary dedication, I realise, my stomach swimming with guilt.
‘I bet it’s not as bad as you think.’
‘He gave me a gift,’ I say, reaching for the Charlie Farleys bag on the table in front of me.
‘What is it?’
‘A T-shirt with a quote on it.’
Taylor’s brow lifts. ‘Like your mum used to wear?’
‘Sort of. It’s not exactly a movie quote, but yeah . . .’
I pull the T-shirt from the bag and hold it up to reveal the words printed on the front: ‘If you’re a seagull, I’m a French fry.’
Taylor wolf-whistles. ‘Okay, girl, so he like, likes you! You need to go and talk to him.’
‘Now?’ I glance out at the rain-streaked window.
Before Taylor can respond, Charlie Farley bursts into the dining room, dragging a suitcase behind him, another figure close on his heels.
‘Where have you been, Andie? I’ve been trying to reach you!’ Toby cries.