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Afterward, I stand under the hot water for a few minutes as my heartbeat slows, then turn off the shower and leave the cubicle. I dry myself, then go out into the bedroom.
I should feel sated and calm, but I don’t. It hasn’t helped at all. I’m exhausted, but I’m furious, and I have no way of venting it. I’m angry with myself for fantasizing about Aroha, and cross that I can’t have her for real. I know myself well enough to guess that I’m not going to be able to sleep. There’s no point in lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, tossing restlessly.
After pulling on a pair of track pants, I go through to the kitchen, retrieve my glass from the sink, pick up the whisky bottle, and return onto the deck.
I stand on the edge, looking out at the garden, then go down the steps onto the lawn. I feel feverish, burning with resentment and anger, and I welcome the way the grass is cool and crisp on my bare feet.
Glancing around at the manicured bushes, the flower beds, the carefully tended lawns, I swear. I have a small blind spot in the center of my eye. Of course I’m going to have a fucking migraine. If anything was going to bring one on, it would be a day like this.
I should stop drinking, get myself some painkillers, and go to bed, but I don’t want to. Instead, I splash a few inches of whisky into the glass and take a big mouthful.
I wonder how long it’s going to take the police to find Blue, and what he’ll say when they do track him down. Maybe Maddie told him about Leia and demanded he play a part in her life, and he was so angry he pushed her over the cliff. Part of me wants to believe that rather than she took her own life, but it doesn’t ring true. He was an arsehole, but I can’t see him as a murderer. No, I’m beginning to think she walked off that cliff of her own volition, which hurts a thousand times more than the notion of someone else taking her life.
I’ve fucked everything up. My relationship with my parents for a start. I couldn’t save my mother. My father hates me. And now I’ve let my sister down big time. I wasn’t there when she needed me. If I’d gone over there that night, I would have been there in the morning when she thought about calling Blue, and I could have either gone with her to meet him or talked her out of it. Instead, I was too lazy to respond to her cry for help, and now she’s gone.
I welcome the almost-pain of the firewater as it sears inside me. Maddie, why didn’t you tell me how bad you felt? How could you do this to me? And now you’ve left me with your baby—you fucking coward. You couldn’t cope with her yourself so you take the easy way out and leave it all to me? Fuck you.
I throw my glass with all my strength and feel a twinge of satisfaction as it smashes against the trunk of a nearby tree. The joy dissipates immediately, though, to be replaced by misery so immense I can’t bear it. My failures feel so huge they’re like a weighted blanket that’s so heavy I can’t move.
The blind spot has turned into a tiny ring of shining triangles in the center of my vision. I press my fingers into my eyes until it hurts, then have a swig from the bottle. If I’d been a normal guy, I’d have a girl by my side to help see me through this, but I’m not. I screwed up the one long-term relationship I’ve had. I’m not so drunk that I don’t realize Cassie wasn’t right for me. I chose badly, and it’s no surprise it didn’t end well. I should have chosen someone like Aroha, who’s gentle and caring and homely, qualities I realize with some surprise that I value very much.
But I fucked that up too. Falling asleep while making out. Jesus, I’m such an idiot. I’m completely alone, and I’m probably always going to be.
My heart’s racing, and my skin feels as if it’s on fire. I drop to my haunches, tip back onto my butt, then lay back on the grass. The damp seeps into my track pants, but I don’t care. The ring of shining triangles is widening, shimmering. I feel nauseous, but I still lift my head and have another mouthful of whisky. I want to blot it all out—Maddie, today, what happened with Cassie and Aroha, in fact erasing my whole life would be good.
A morepork hoots in the trees, a haunting, mournful lament. I haven’t cried for years, since my mother died, I think. I don’t like crying. It makes me feel weak. I fight the tears, but the grief and unhappiness is too strong, and in the end I just let the tears slide out of my eyes and down my cheeks, as I look up at the silver triangles sparkling around the moon.
*
“James?”
My arm is resting across my eyes, but I recognize Aroha’s voice. “What?”
“How long have you been out here?”
“Go away.”
“Have you been here all night?”
I lift my arm a little. I’m still lying on the grass. The whisky bottle lies beside me, empty. The sky is lightening—it must be around six a.m.
Maddie. The memory comes back in a rush, along with the grief that crashes over me.
The light makes my head bang, and I cover my eyes again. “Leave me alone.”
She touches my arm. “You’re freezing.”
“I don’t care. Go away.”
“James…”
“For fuck’s sake—” I lift my head, then immediately groan and let it fall back, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Ahhh… shit…”
“What? Have you got a hangover?”
“Migraine.”
“Oh, honey…”
