Chapter 32 #2
“No.” Gemma squeezed his hand. “Seriously. You don’t have to be sorry for not wanting to chuck in your whole career.
Especially for someone you barely know. I mean, neither of us should be.
” She rested back against the table. “It’s good that work’s important to you.
And the AFP still needs someone to crack all those cases. ”
Falk smiled. She was close enough that he could detect the faint scent of her shampoo and fabric softener. When he breathed in, it reminded him of being in her bedroom, with the sun on the sheets. He could feel himself slipping into somewhat uncharted territory.
“I suppose work is pretty important to me. Definitely on some level.” When he spoke again, he took his time. A quiet truth that he’d rarely, if ever, acknowledged was slowly shaping itself into words, and he wanted to explain it right. “That’s not really why I can’t see myself leaving, though.”
“No?”
“No. I mean, that’s part of it.” Falk hesitated.
“But it’s more that walking away from the job doesn’t feel like a real option, because—” He stopped again.
He knew what he wanted to say, but he’d never voiced it out loud before.
“Because I feel like I’ve sacrificed too much for it.
I don’t just mean the long hours and evenings and weekends, I’m talking about things going back years.
Okay, for instance—” Having started, Falk found he couldn’t stop.
“Why did I stay at uni to study all the time instead of going home to visit Dad?” The example presented itself to him fully formed.
“There were so many weekends when I could have gone to watch the footy with him, or catch up for a drink or something. So many. I knew he wanted me to. But I never did, because I was working hard to get the grades I needed to move ahead. And I did get them. But Dad and I didn’t get to the footy. ”
The words carried the acid prickle of a shameful admission, but when Falk looked over, Gemma didn’t seem disapproving or even surprised. She was simply listening, and he could feel the soft, steady movement of her breathing next to him as he spoke.
“And there are other times. I let people I really cared about slip away,” he went on.
“And I could give you lots of reasons why, but the fact I couldn’t find much time for them has always played a part.
Always. I’ve skipped birthdays, things that matter.
Stuff that doesn’t, but kind of does as well.
Friday-night drinks, swims at the beach.
Relationships have just … faded. I barely see the Racos, who are honestly the best friends I’ve ever had. ”
The hills were dark outlines against the night now. Falk could hear the soft hum and rustle of the bushland around them, the familiar sounds like fragments of conversations and faces he hadn’t realized he even remembered.
“The job is demanding. It is. But I knew it would be. And I knew I’d have to give up all kinds of things over the years that I can’t get back now. And maybe that’s okay. But to drop it mid-career, it would feel like—” He found it physically hard to say the words. “Like that was for nothing.”
Gemma nodded, her face hard to read in the dark. The sun was completely gone.
“Anyway, so, yeah. That’s why.” Falk cleared his throat and dredged up a small smile as he checked his watch. “But, look, it’s probably time we—”
Gemma didn’t move other than to touch his hand. Her palm was warm and solid. “We can be a little late.”
Falk hesitated but then settled back on the bench. They sat together in silence for another minute, the night drawing in around them.
“Sunk costs are gone,” he said. “I can accept that. You can’t get them back, but—” He stopped again.
“They still cost you something.” Gemma was watching him with that expression again. Like she was seeing something new. “I know. It’s hard to walk away from that.”
“Yeah. It really is.”
She said nothing at first, thinking. Eventually, she took a breath. “I can’t speak for other people in your life, Aaron, because I don’t know them.” Her eyes met his. “But you knew them. And if you cared about them, I’m assuming they were fairly decent, reasonable people?”
Falk had to smile at that. “Mostly, as far as I know.”
“So would they understand?” she said. “If they’d heard what you just said?”
He thought about it. The answer was clearer than he’d expected. “Probably.”
“They’d forgive you?”
He looked over. “I can see where you’re going with this.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“And now that a bit of time’s passed, would any of these normal, decent people have a huge problem with you forgiving yourself?”
He made himself consider, but he found he already knew the answer. “No.” The word itself felt like a release. “I mean, of course they wouldn’t.” He looked across at Gemma. She still didn’t seem surprised.
“What kind of farming was your dad in?” she said after a moment. “Back in your old town. Sheep, was it?”
“Yeah.”
“What was his general position on chasing losses?”
Falk smiled. “He thought it was bullshit.”
“I’ll bet he did.” Gemma smiled back. “And look, only you know what’s going to be best for you. So I’m really not pushing one way or the other—as much as I’d love to, I’m not. But I do think it’s worth stopping and looking around once in a while. Take stock. See if anything’s changed over time.”
Falk didn’t reply. He gazed out across the darkened valley once more, then he got up from the bench and reached for her hand.
Gemma stood, too, and stepped in close as he wrapped his arms tight around her.
He buried his face in her hair, and the smell of the shampoo and fabric softener blurred with the relief of the conversation and the memory of her sheets in the afternoon sun.
“Thank you,” he said, and he felt her shrug lightly against him and hug him tighter.
“Thank you, too. This was perfect, by the way. Sweeping, romantic. So practical.”
Falk smiled, his lips against her head. Night had fallen fully, he realized, when they eventually pulled apart.
“Well, I could seriously stay here for hours.” He glanced at the sky and reluctantly checked his watch again. “But we had better head off if we’re going to get you back.”
Gemma touched Falk’s chest gently with her fingertips and looked up into his face. “Do you know what my second-favorite romantic trait is?”
“I’m hoping it’s punctuality.”
“You read my mind.”