Words in Deep Blue by Cath Crowley

Author:Cath Crowley [Crowley, Cath]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan Australia
Published: 2016-12-03T05:00:00+00:00

Rachel

this I love

It’s a relief to tell Henry, to let everything out – losing Cal, how I failed, how it’s all ruined now. It’s a relief to cry and have Henry tell me this is the correct response and to hold out his sleeve.

I feel exhausted afterwards. I feel almost as tired as I did in those days after I dragged Cal out of the ocean and tried to force him back to life on the beach. I sit on a bench and I tell Henry I’m not sure I can get up. Sometimes I feel like running and sometimes I want to swim, and sometimes I just want to sit in the same place forever because I don’t have the energy for another day without Cal in it.

The story he told me about The Log from the Sea of Cortez is perfect. I can see Cal near the register, taking mints from the free bowl and rolling them up and down the counter while he and Henry spoke. Cal loved Henry. He loved telling him strange scientific facts when he came to our place for Sunday-night pizzas.

It starts to rain softly. There are sparks in the humid sky. ‘We need to go,’ Henry says. He’s not a fan of thunderstorms.

‘Maybe I’ll just sit here,’ I say. ‘It’ll stop raining soon.’

‘No,’ he says, and kneels down with his back to me so I can climb on.

He stands and I wrap my legs around his waist and tuck my chin into his neck, like I did as a kid when we were running races in primary school.

‘This is much better,’ I say as we start walking.

‘I’m sure it is,’ he says. ‘If you’re the one on the back.’

‘I did save you the other night,’ I say. ‘So it’s payback.’

‘I’m very happy to carry you as long as you need it. Payback or not.’

The rain starts to soak us.

‘I forget. Do you stand under a pole in a lightning storm?’ Henry asks, moving faster up High Street.

‘Sure, and it helps if you can find a puddle too,’ I tell him.

‘We don’t stand under a pole,’ he says.

‘We don’t stand under a pole,’ I confirm.

It feels good to be weightless and moving. I count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder and tell Henry the charge is at least six kilometres away from us. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe you,’ he says. ‘But I’m making a run for it.’ He sprints the last stretch to the bookstore, and leans so I can open the door with my keys.

He puts me on the floor, and goes upstairs to find some towels. While he’s gone I text Rose to let her know I’ll stay the night at Henry’s. I don’t want to go home. I want to lie on the floor on the same quilt bed like Henry made when we were kids, and talk until I fall asleep.

I say this to Henry when he comes downstairs, and he looks relieved that there’s something practical he can do.

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