Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Danika
They swam, went bushwalking along a section of the Great Ocean Walk, played soccer on the beach, went on a nature walk with torches, constructed fantastical cities out of sand, and ate more than Danika would have thought possible.
Yesterday, giving in to pleas, they drove to Port Fairy and went out on a boat, and, eschewing the leftovers (of which there weren’t many anyway) bought fresh bream from a trawler and marinated tofu from a deli and cooked them for supper.
And nighttime in the tent… Heat steals up Danika’s cheeks at the memory. They didn’t talk about it more. No lesbian processing, as Kim called it. When Danika pointed out that she certainly doesn’t qualify as a lesbian, Kim just shrugged. “Neither do I. I’m bisexual. Maybe pansexual.”
Instead of processing, they kissed. Nothing more. Just long, slow, silent kisses. Lips that drifted and meandered along cheeks. Fingers that tracked the same path, moved wisps of hair out of the way.
Danika isn’t sure what she’s doing. She isn’t sure what this is with Kim.
And, importantly, she doesn’t know what it will be. What it can be.
Danika glances at the rear seat of the car. Bella and Cami are both sound asleep, heads lolling, as Kim drives back to the city.
She looks over at Kim. “Are you okay driving? Want to stop for coffee somewhere?”
“I’m fine.” Kim doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “I’d rather get back. I have a new job starting Monday, and I have a lot to do before then. Including laundry.”
“Me too,” Danika says. “The laundry, not the job. Well, I have to play catch-up for these few days off, but that’s okay. Where’s your job?”
“Oakleigh,” Kim says. “Not too far. It’s someone who came over from England to finalise her estranged brother’s estate. She wants most of it gone.”
“That must be weird. If they were estranged for a while, it’d be like going through a stranger’s possessions.”
“She didn’t say how long. But she’s not too happy about it. My client is the only sibling. The parents are too frail to travel this far, so she had to come.”
“Your job sounds more interesting than mine,” Danika says. “I just type reports about torn ACLs and arthroscopies. They all sound the same after a while.”
“My job can be frustrating. Often, I’m hired by someone who knows they need to declutter, then spends the day telling me why they have to keep every single item.
Clothes that are four sizes too small. Granny’s chipped tea set that’s jammed at the back of a cupboard, books that no one has read for decades and will never read again. ”
“People keep the strangest things, but sentimental value can be strong. A link to the past.”
“I know, and I try to be empathetic about that. But I wish people wouldn’t hire me if they can’t bear to part with anything.”
“You’re part of the process,” Danika says. “Letting go. Maybe it doesn’t work for them this time, but that they hired you in the first place is a step along the way.”
“You’re right. And many of them come back to me weeks or months later.
I just feel bad that I couldn’t do my job the first time.
The ones I find the hardest are older people who are downsizing or moving into aged care.
Often, they have no choice—they have to get rid of so much of their life. There’s been tears.”
Danika thinks of her house. It’s full of Cami’s outgrown toys and other clutter. There are still some of Chris’s things. “I should hire you to help me declutter,” she says impulsively.
There’s a silence. Then, “I don’t think I’m the right person to help you with that.”
Danika closes her eyes. Of course, it would be painful for Kim. “I’m sorry.” She stares ahead at the highway where traffic is slowing. “That was a stupid, insensitive thing to say. It just came out.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Kim says. “I understand. If you want, I can recommend someone else.”
“Maybe I’ll start myself,” she says. “Start small, move to the big stuff.”
“I recommend starting big,” Kim says. “Then you see an immediate difference. Otherwise, you can get hung up on the teaspoons.”
Danika laughs. “You’ve been looking in my cutlery drawer.”
“I have.” Kim’s smile lifts her profile. “There must be thirty teaspoons in there!”
“You can never have too many. Although my mum disagrees. She says her hardest battle in selling real estate is persuading the sellers to remove all their knick-knacks and treasures before an open-for-inspection. Apparently, buyers like to see a blank canvas they can put their own stamp on.”
“I bet Shirley’s great at what she does,” Kim says.
“She is. She was the top salesperson in our area last year. The year before that too.”
Kim slows as they approach Geelong. “I’d rather not stop, but I’d love a coffee all the same. Shall we get takeaway?”
“Absolutely!”
Kim pulls onto the slip-road and into a cluster of businesses where there’s a café. The girls are still sleeping.
“I’ll get it,” Danika says.
She takes her bag and goes into the café. Coffee and Anzac biscuits for her and Kim, and, in case they wake up, some caramel slice for the girls that she hopes won’t make too much of a mess in Kim’s car. A few minutes later, she slides back into the car and hands Kim her coffee.
Kim takes a sip and places the cup in the cupholder. “Thanks. That’s good.” She jerks her head toward the rear seat. “Not a peep from our two sleeping beauties.”
“They had a fantastic few days.” Danika angles her body toward Kim. “And so did I. Thank you so much for including us.”
“You made it better by being there,” Kim says. “You and Cami.”
“You made it for me.” Danika says the words softly over the sudden thundering of her heart. “Kisses.”
It’s the first time either of them has mentioned them aloud.
It was as if, by tacit agreement, they pushed that part of the weekend aside—at least for their time away.
How could they address it with Cami and Bella there?
How could they see what they might be—if anything—when the trip was about the girls, and nature, and good fun times and making special memories?
They couldn’t.
Even now, Danika is aware of their daughters. But she wants to acknowledge what they shared before they get back to Melbourne. It’s as if once there, the city and their everyday lives will engulf them, and they will push those kisses aside and never mention them again.
Danika doesn’t want that.
She doesn’t know exactly what she wants, but she’s not prepared to dismiss it.
Kim picks up her coffee again, removes the plastic lid, and blows on it.
Danika sees the movement for what it is—a way of buying time—and her heart sinks. “It’s okay if you don’t—”
“No.” Kim takes a sip of coffee. “I want that. My heart is joyful that you do too. But we have to take this slowly.” She inclines her head to the sleeping girls.
“Yes. I want to say can we see where we go with this, but it’s not that simple.
But Kim…” Danika takes a breath, and for a moment she’s lightheaded.
The words she wants to say, words that sounded so right and easy in her head as she practiced them in the coffee shop, are now jammed in her throat like a dammed creek.
She swallows, and the lump disappears. “I want to see this through. It wasn’t a kiss-and-run, not for me.
I want you in my life, in every way. I don’t know where we go from here. There’s still so much entangled.”
The smile breaks over Kim’s face like the sunrise. “I don’t know either, but we can try. Together.” She puts the lid back on her coffee and replaces it in the holder. “But now, we’d better keep driving.”
Keep driving. Keep on keeping on. Her life, for as long as Danika can remember. Certainly since Chris died, yes, but before that. Keeping on. The routines, the predictability. Yes, there was love and happy times, but even those had a sameness to them.
But now… Now the future seems golden and glowing.
“So, you’re a camping convert now.” Her mum rolls her eyes. “When you were a kid, you refused to go. And now you love it.”
“We never went camping when I was a kid!” Danika stares at her mum across the kitchen bench. “We always rented a cabin somewhere.”
“Because you refused to camp. You were such a nervous little thing back then, we didn’t force you.
And”—she leans forward confidingly, even though her dad is outside with Cami—“I hate camping. Your father, though, loves it. He would jump at the chance to go with you and Cami. I’ll have to work that weekend, though. Whenever it is.”
Danika laughs. “We’ll have to do that. Cami hasn’t stopped asking when she can go again.”
Her mum stands and gets the biccie tin from the cupboard, opens it and pushes it across to Danika. “And how did it go with Kim?”
Danika hesitates. Some things aren’t for sharing, and so her answer needs to be curated. “Good,” she says finally. “We got on well and had a lovely time.”
“And?” Her mum arches an eyebrow.
“We swam, bushwalked, saw kangaroos and—”
“You sound like a tourist brochure. What aren’t you telling me? Did you and Kim have a falling out? Or”—her sharp eyes sweep over Danika’s face—“did you get on all too well?”
Danika concentrates on selecting a biscuit. “You’ve eaten all the macadamia shortbreads.”
“Don’t change the subject. And there’s some in there if you look.”
“It’s complicated. Kim and I are becoming…close.” She keeps her concentration on the biccie tin, finding a broken shortbread in the corner.
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” her mum says. “For Cami’s sake. And Bella’s. She seems like a lovely kid. Maybe we should invite her and Kim here for a barbecue one weekend.”
“That would be good. Maybe on a Saturday, after soccer. It starts again in a month.”
“Dani, I don’t just mean it’s good for the girls’ sake. I think it’s good that you and Kim are finding each other for your sakes. Whether you’re friends, or…something more.”
Danika jerks. To hear her mum say it is unexpected. Oh, she knows her parents have no issue or judgement when it comes to same-sex relationships, but it’s never been her they have to accept, and Danika knows some parents turn their backs when it’s their child that’s involved.
“I don’t know what it is yet.”
Her mum studies her. “And you don’t want to talk about it. I understand. Just know that you can, if you want to.”
“Thank you. You’re the best, you and Dad. You’ve always been there for me and Ronan.”
“Your brother was very needy when he was in his teens,” her mum says. “But after he found Leanne, and they moved to Perth, he’s been better.”
“Or maybe Leanne is now his emotional sounding board,” Danika says.
“That’s more likely. As it should be. But you, Danika, you hold things close for a long time. Too close, maybe.”
She thinks about how long it took her to tell her mother about Kim and Bella. “I think you’re right, but it’s how I am.”
“You do you, my love. That’s how it is. But don’t wait for soccer to restart. Invite them next weekend.”