Chapter 27 Shipwreck
shipwreck
The past lying in ruins beneath the surface.
The ghost sits between us, unacknowledged.
I find a fifty-cent coin and fiddle with it. Ship, head, ship, head over my knuckles. We’re talking. Both of us. Back and forth to fill the space, to cram the car full of words like they might shove The Ghost out the vents.
But I still feel her at my lips.
There’s the briefest lull in conversation so we blurt into it. Weather was pretty crappy in Wellington while you were gone.
Hopefully picking up now I’m back.
Nothing beats Wellington on a good day.
Right? It’s like living in a postcard when the sky’s blue.
What are we talking about? How much more weather can we talk about?
Should be a clear night, stars will be out.
I grind my teeth. “It was good weather the night my sister died.”
The truck slows a fraction. Trent looks at me.
If we can’t talk about one ghost, we can talk about the other.
We pass fields with teams playing soccer. I think of the ball-like rug in our shared room.
The indicator clicks, blinking left. “How did Ika die?”
A pause. “Also car accident.”
“Bad weather?”
“Collision.”
I nod.
He adds, “Not Ika’s fault.”
“Beth wasn’t at fault, either,” I say. “I was.”
Trent stiffens, pales. “You . . . were driving?”
“Fighting with her from the back seat. I didn’t want to be back there, all crammed up. She said drunk teens will be treated like taxi passengers. In the back. Fifty bucks cleaning fee if I puke.”
I shrug. “Turns out, that’s what saved my life. She was a protective sister to the end. While I was a right drunk prick.
“Her phone went off—Mum. She asked me to answer. I put it on speaker, complaining that Beth was bullying me.
“Beth got irritated. Told me I shouldn’t have gotten plastered like this in the first place.
She had an exam the next day, she was supposed to be studying not dragging my butt back home.
Mum couldn’t pick me up either, she was heavily pregnant.
Dad wasn’t around, but he hadn’t been for months.
He couldn’t handle raising a kid all over again.
“So it was Beth in the car.
“I threw up over the back of the seat and her shoulder. She jerked—reflex—on the gas. Whipped her head towards me.
“The rest of it is . . . a collection of senses. Sudden pressure. Screeching rubber. Crunching metal. Buckling. Something digging into my side.
“And Beth, her head, hanging forward.
“I tried calling her, but I lost my voice.
“The phone was somewhere, Mum’s voice was hysterical, shrieking.
“People rushed to the car. Blurred faces, sirens sirening.
“Then, hospital. Beeping machines.
“When I woke up, a nurse was there. I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I desperately wanted them just to tell me: Beth’s safe. Fine.
“I think I already knew.
“There were murmurs after that. Accident. Collision. Two fatalities. The mother went into early labour. Father unreachable.”
I stare out onto the road and laugh. Sharing this, in a vehicle. It feels like the place I should feel least comfortable. Ironic.
“Later, days later, a mate visited from school. I asked him to tell me what happened.”
Trent breathes out so carefully, like he’s afraid to make any sound.
I’m telling you, so I’ll tell you everything.
“Mum had a difficult birth. Ended up a few days in hospital. Nurse found out for me; a baby girl. Holly. Mum would be fine.
“When I was discharged, that mate came again to collect me. Mum had my stuff outside on the veranda, waiting.
“Didn’t answer the door. I could hear Holly crying.
“They’d held Beth’s funeral two days before. Without me.
“I called for Mum to please open, please. She spoke calmly through the door. Said I was eighteen now anyway. Not her responsibility. I was the reason Beth died, I could live with the consequences. She never wanted to see me again. Have a good life, were her last words.”
I tighten the sunglasses against my nose.
“I dropped out of the last half year of school. Had enough credits to get into theatre. Got a loan, moved to Christchurch to study, then came back. Tried to contact Mum.
“She had a neighbour tell me not to contact her again. She was happy now, she’d started over, a new life without me. Look.
“And when I looked, I glimpsed Holly over the fence running around the yard, Mum chasing her with the hose.”
I catch my reflection in the sideview mirror. There’s a strange, stiff smile on my face.
None of it makes sense.
I glance at Trent carefully watching the road, carefully attuned to every single word.
“I felt . . . It was Beth. Her spirit got reborn into Holly.
“I still believe it.
“And this time, I wanted to do right by her.”
My throat is sore, but I keep filling every silence. “How much do you hate the one responsible for taking Ika away?”
Trent’s throat juts; his eyes tighten on the road. Then his voice takes over. “I used to hate them. But . . . How can I hate . . .” His voice keeps breaking. “Hate doesn’t change anything.”
The road hums under us. His eyes keep sliding to mine, and like that first moment I saw him . . . I taste the scent of an oncoming storm.
It’s thickening now.