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I nodded. “I’m going to call everyone I can. I’m going to ring every single person in charge until they free him. I’ll visit the prime minister if I have to. Aslan isn’t going anywhere.” My voice sounded strange. So strange. Thick with unshed tears and hollow with heartbreak.
And when an operator finally came on, I sat stiff as a tree and rooted myself in belief that I could fix this.
I wouldn’t stop.
I would never stop.
He’s coming home.
To me.
By sea, moon, stars, and fate, this is not how we end.
This is not how he dies.
Not yet.
Not yet...
Chapter Twenty-Nine
*
Nerida
AGE: 20 YRS OLD
*
(Love in Afrikaans: Liefde)
“WELL, PUT SOMEONE ON WHO CAN HELP then!” I shouted, pacing in my childhood bedroom, rubbing at my heart that’d forgotten how to beat properly without him.
Seven days.
Seven nights.
A hundred phone calls.
A thousand threats.
A million pleas.
And nothing.
Not one person could tell me where he was being held. Not one receptionist or officer could reveal sensitive information about an ongoing case.
I hadn’t wanted to return to Port Douglas.
I’d fought when my parents had packed my bags and ushered me into their Jeep, all while I remained glued to my phone, ringing numbers like a madwoman, my desperation unravelling into something manic.
I couldn’t remember the journey home or why they’d even brought me here. Something about them having to work. Something about me not being safe to leave on my own. Something about sticking together so we could bring Aslan home.
I didn’t care about university.
I forgot all about my classes.
I was in a fugue.
A fugue of panic and regret where I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t stop ringing agencies and government numbers over and over and over again, screaming Aslan’s name, demanding to have him returned to me because it’s all my damn fault!
My tattoo had healed enough to remove the Saniderm bandage.
My neck felt empty from my missing sea lion necklace.
Pinprick wounds dotted my palms from clutching Aslan’s shell so tightly as my last link to him. But no matter how many times I whispered into the singing shadows of its conch, no matter how many times I begged, cajoled, or threatened, it didn’t bring him back.
It didn’t help me find him.
It was just a shell.
A useless, pointless shell just like I was a useless, pointless girl who couldn’t get anyone to talk to her!
“You there, ma’am?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Put me onto someone who’s dealing with the Aslan Avci case.”
“Just like I told you yesterday and the day before that, there is no one by that name being processed.”
“Aslan Kara then.”
“Nor that name.”
“You have to know something!”
“Don’t get irate, ma’am. I’m only trying to help.”
“But you’re not. Not at all! I can’t let him go, do you hear me? I won’t. Get me someone who’s in charge! It’s an emergency. He can’t be deported. I’ll sponsor him for his visa. We’re engaged. Just give me the paperwork, and he can become Australian by marriage!”
“Ma’am, you really need to talk to someone else. Try calling Department of Home Affairs.”
“I did that. I’ve spoken to them twenty times.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“Wait—”
“Goodbye.”
“ARGH!”
Furious tears burned.
Acid splashed in my insides.
Familiar burning, stinging, aching pains of loss and denial swamped me.
I couldn’t survive it.
Couldn’t withstand the rapidly building pressure.
Dialling the number for immigration that I’d grown to know by heart, I listened to the ringing.
While I was trying to find him, I couldn’t break.
While I fought for Aslan, it wasn’t over.
I would marry him tomorrow if it meant they’d leave him alone. I would hand over my childhood diaries of loving him for years. I would show them my tattoo for the commitment we’d made to one another.
They couldn’t deny that he was wanted.
That he wasn’t a valuable member of society because he was.
So, so valuable.
He’s mine.
My everything.
I’ll do anything!
“Hello, Australian Immigration, how can I help?”
“I need to speak to the case officer in charge of Aslan Avci, Aslan Kara’s visa case. I’m his fiancée, Nerida Taylor.”
Silence, followed by a huff. “Ms. Taylor, I told you a few hours ago, there is nothing we can do.”
“Let me see him. I can get this all straightened out. We’re engaged, doesn’t that mean anything?”
“I suggest you wait a few days to hear from Aslan himself. Perhaps then you can—”
“He’ll be dead in a few days!”
“Like I told you before, no one in our custody is in danger of dying. I’m sorry. Have a good day.”
I choked on a howl as the line cut off.
Please.
Someone.
Anyone!
I’d stopped caring about implicating myself.
I gave up my name as if it were bait to trap the monster holding Aslan. If they wanted to know how he’d stayed in the country this long, then fine. If they wanted to arrest me for harbouring him, so be it.
In the dead of night when there was no one awake to call, I researched the trouble my parents would be in if I recounted every year Aslan had lived with us.
