Chapter Thirty-one
Abel had insisted I use his car to take Ebony and the kids to the airport, and while I should have been grateful for the opportunity for a bit more time with them, the air was stiff.
I was a wild mixture of emotions: confused, hurt and even angry with Ebony.
On one level, I wanted to resolve things, but I was still so shocked by what she’d said that I didn’t know how to.
And on top of that, I was incredibly distracted by what had just happened with Abel.
I tried to engage with the kids and relish the last few moments I’d have in their company for a while. Molly requested songs so I sang with her ‘Humpty Dumpy’ and ‘Incey Wincey Spider’ and a dozen more while thinking about Ebony and Mum and Abel and me and my wants and my whole life’s confusion.
I checked through with them and waited in the departure lounge, spotting take-offs and landings with Liam.
There was a defusing quality that children brought to adult disputes.
They carried on bubbly and spontaneous, gorgeously present and riding on the emotions of right there and then.
And it made the absence of communication between Ebony and me less awkward.
I sat down beside Ebony a few minutes before they would be called to board. Molly jumped onto my lap and I wrapped my arms around her tiny waist.
‘I’m sorry about—’
‘Let’s not talk about it.’
It was just as well she cut me off, because I hadn’t worked out how I was going to finish the sentence anyway.
I was sorry. But for what? For caring for her?
For putting her needs first? For wanting the best for her and her family?
I needed to get my head around it all before I would know how to reconcile the situation with her.
‘Well. I’m sad this wasn’t an easy trip. But I’m glad you came and I loved seeing the kids.’ I squeezed Molly tighter. ‘They’re so beautiful.’
‘Yeah. They are.’
Molly leant into me, her soft head finding the hollow of my neck.
‘Hobart seems to suit you,’ Ebony said, her eyes on the tarmac.
‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what to say to that. ‘Well, only another month or so.’
I caught her rolling her eyes.
‘What’s that for?’
‘You like it here,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I guess …’
‘It’s like the geographical version of you.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Lots of cold stone. Icy mountain tops.’
‘Wow. Thanks.’ Her hostility was genuinely shocking.
‘The dude’s cool, though.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Abel. He’s solid. I approve.’
‘Oh. We’re not—’
‘Whatever. Of course you wouldn’t tell. Or care for my opinion.’
‘Ebony. Don’t do that.’
‘Don’t pretend there’s nothing going on then,’ she retorted, her voice rising in frustration.
I sighed. This was hard work. ‘Maybe there is something going on, I don’t know just yet. Okay? I’m not holding out on you, I’m just still confused about it all myself.’
‘Well, don’t be, Mary.’ She was regarding me like she might a toddler. ‘It’s pretty bloody obvious. If you can’t see that, then you really are as emotionally sophisticated as a rock.’
She glared at me and I glared back.
The loudspeaker called for boarding and she stood up to gather her bags and her children. I hugged them tightly in turn, savouring the feeling of their tiny bodies in my arms while trying not to be distracted by Ebony’s harsh words.
After I’d said goodbye to the kids, I turned to Ebony. Would we hug? I didn’t even know.
‘Just start by making a few choices based on what you want, Mary. That’s my Baby Sister Advice. Take it or leave it. You might find that everything else starts to work out after that. Okay?’
She pulled me into a brief, fierce hug. And then she was gone.
Abel was out when I got back from the airport and I had an evening shift ahead. I attempted some study but it was minimally effective. My brain was everywhere. He was still not home after I returned from my run.
My shift was busy enough that I was distracted, but, unusually, I actually wanted to think about my life. I wanted to piece together the scrambled puzzle.
The house was quiet when I got home. The kitchen was tidy but for a bowl of apple crumble on the bench and a note scribbled on a piece of paper.
We’d talked about going to the Peninsula tomorrow? I’m still free if you are. Sleep well. See you in the morning.
The idea of crawling into Abel’s bed crossed my mind but I didn’t want to wake him.
When I woke in the morning, the sun was high, telling me I’d slept well. I wondered if it would feel awkward seeing Abel after the day before, but when I came into the kitchen, it felt as warm and natural as ever. He hugged me tight like I was something precious and asked me about work and Ebony.
We drove out to the peninsula and something happened to me on that journey.
Like the last twenty-four hours had brushed over the surface of my already raw core and the layers that surrounded it were no longer so solid.
I felt rudderless, sensing the steeliness of my discipline had let me down in my relationship with Ebony, so holding onto it had begun to feel pointless.
And as emotionally exhausted as I was, it felt easier just to let the walls of my defences fall.
I no longer had the will to pick them up.
Abel and I didn’t talk much on the drive but the silence felt comfortable, and the tight layers around me seemed to continue loosening, the further we drove from Hobart.
I stopped feeling like Mary within the constraints of what usually defined me and started to let myself listen to the emotion within me, the desires within me.
It was scary and uncharted territory, but I found myself allowing those feelings to sit without shying away.
I thought about everything that had been said over the last few days.
Ebony’s comment about Hobart suiting me had been brutal in its delivery but when I examined it, I realised there was truth in it.
More than just the cold rocks and the icy mountains, I loved the nature in a way I hadn’t thought I could ever appreciate.
I loved the elegance of the city. The snow-capped Mt Wellington, sweeping like a maiden’s dress to the city and encircling the river.
I loved the history; the classiness of the old buildings set within the geographical features was charming and timeless.
And the weather, with its crisp, clear days, as well as the bitter, windy ones, gave a sense of the seasons that was grounding and comforting.
It invited cosy fires and warm coats in a way that the mild Sydney winters never did.
And, of course there was Abel, right at the heart of it. At the heart of me.
A song I didn’t know came through the car stereo and I felt myself sinking into the moment.
The scenery rushed past my window like a montage.
The warmth of the heater filled the space between him and me.
My chest felt swollen with emotion, hurt feelings and tender feelings, and when I reached across to take Abel’s hand, his fingers laced with mine like they were lacing right around my heart.
The road took us along the coast and all the way to the southern tip of the peninsula, where the land dropped away in steep cliffs beside the parking lot and a wild ocean pounded at the coast below.
When he pulled out two boogie boards to strap to his backpack, I had to laugh. ‘Can we just keep in mind who your companion is today?’
‘Trust me.’
‘I do but … boogie boards?’
‘You’ll see.’
The track was spectacular, demonstrating a new side to the Tasmanian scenery I hadn’t yet experienced.
‘You’re just trying to mess with my head, bringing me places like this, aren’t you?’
‘It’s an awful view, isn’t it?’
‘Awful.’
There was no wind and the only sounds came from the roaring of the ocean against the sea cliffs below. Birds soared above and the sun beat down, unexpectedly warm on our shoulders. It was beauty, in a raw and unrestrained sort of way that seemed to speak to something right in my heart.
Its majesty wasn’t quite expected. Startling in its wildness.
Australia’s east coast was the sort of seascape I was familiar with, but the mild temperatures, white sand, turquoise water and postcard waves had a predictability that had always jarred with me, like I wasn’t quite typical enough to fit in there.
Yet this place, with its volatile weather and dark waters, with belts of kelp licking back and forth, and the rocks that tumbled around as though they’d literally just fallen from the sky, surprised and humbled me.
I felt like I could fit within it. A spectator and a participant of this landscape.
We stood side by side at a view point and, as though sensing my awe, Abel didn’t say anything, only allowed me to sink into the moment.
‘I love it,’ I whispered. ‘I love it so much.’
The track crested the rise and a new scene came into view: a perfect bay, exquisitely beautiful, breathtakingly carved in an arc of white against blue, and framed with the jagged cliffs that stamped its Tasmanian character.
We followed the zigzagging track leading down to the water and when it opened up at the waterside, we had reached the most beautiful place I could ever imagine. And it was deserted.
‘Welcome to my favourite beach.’
‘This is unbelievable.’
He pointed to a huge sand dune in the middle of the bay. The lines down the slope gave away the clue.
I baulked. ‘That’s not what the boards are for …?’
His grin told me all I needed to know.
He untied the boards and took me by the hand. There was nothing to do but be led across the sand.
‘Come on. I’ll show you.’
He climbed the steep slope with his board, then, on his knees, rocketed down at a terrifying speed, coming to rest on the flat just before the water’s edge.
‘Ha!’ His face was exuberant, pink cheeked and boyish. ‘Just as fun as it was when I was six.’
I laughed. He looked so joyful, this late-thirties man as delighted as a child.
‘You came here when you were little?’
‘Always. I grew up just around the corner.’
‘Really?’