Walter stroked his forefinger against the ridge of his thumbnail. The naked glare of the lightbulb cast shadows as it swayed above the kitchen table. It exaggerated his wife's expression. He thought about leaving. He imagined the sound of the chair scraping the floor, the gape of his daughter's expression as he walked out and the pause before she started her litany of why he was a bad father. It felt as though the walls might close in on them. No. On him. The pressure on his chest morphed into sharp pains in his ribs. Something was going to explode. He stroked the gap between his eyebrows and cleared his throat.
"How long have you known?"
He already knew the answer. He'd known it the second Charlotte had walked in and expressed an urgent need to speak to them. She had spun some kind of yarn that had required her to backtrack and modify and correct details as she relayed them. It was never her fault. She was the victim.
Walter watched Doreen's shoulders slump under the weight of the news. He waited for Charlotte to stop speaking.
"You haven't answered my question. How long have you known?"
Charlotte spat the answer. He raised his eyebrows. His hunch had been right.
"You can't live here."
Doreen's shoulders stiffened. "She's our daughter."
"I'm still in the room."
"She can't live here."
"I have nowhere else to go."
"See? She has nowhere else to go. Besides it would only be for a little while. Only until she's back on her feet."
"I said no."
"How can you be so cruel?"
He scraped the chair as he stood. It made the hairs on his neck stand on end. The keys jangled and the front door clicked shut. Peace and quiet awaited him in the car. He felt for his mobile and texted one word. Rumi. He saw the ghostlike faces of Charlotte and Doreen in the window as he reversed out. Once he reached the bottom of the road, he felt himself exhale.
The drive was a long one, but it was necessary. It helped him ease out the kinks in his mind, and sift through the emotions he'd kept in check. His mobile buzzed again. He didn't need to look to know what it said. The CD of Oscar Peterson kept him company as the buildings gave way to grassland, then canola fields, the forest and, finally, Lake Rochester.
Walter parked alongside Millie's car. The last time they had been here, she'd left her lights on and he'd had to give her a jumpstart. The engine was warm in the cool air and he watched the steam waft off his bonnet. She opened the door and his face relaxed into a smile. He kissed her cheek and smelt the comfort of her perfume.
"I brought a thermos of coffee."
"You think of everything."
"How are you?"
"Charlotte came back. It's a mess."
"How long will she stay this time?"
"She won't, if I have anything to say about it."
"Doreen disagrees?"
"If you already know, why are you asking?"
"Because I know you don't want to talk about it. I'm helping you cut to the chase."
He watched a dove walk across the bonnet to warm its feet. "I don't think I can go back."
"I can't help you there. Hold this."
Millie handed him the lid of the flask. He saw his face in the coffee and shuddered. He drank it in one gulp, swallowing the scene of horror. The dove fluttered off.
"Do you remember when we were kids? We used to come here at night and lie under the stars and dream about being grownups."
"We believed we could do what we wanted." Millie laughed. "I don't think we could have predicted how far that was from the truth."
"And I wouldn't have believed it if anyone told me either."
Millie put the thermos away. Cold coffee pooled in the bottom of the plastic bag.
"Hold me, Walter."
They shuffled to the centre of the car, getting as close as they could without knocking the gear stick.
"How is Bo?"
"Getting worse. I had a nurse show me how to change his nappies."
Walter snorted.
"It's not funny."
"It is sort of funny. You have to admit that."
"Ok, you're right."
"It probably looks like you're trying to put a nappy over a turkey's head."
Millie shook against him as she laughed. "Trust you to think of that."
The windows fogged up around them.
"What advice would you have given yourself?"
"What do you mean?"
"When we were kids, staring at the sky. What would you have told yourself then?"
"That's easy. 'Don't marry Bo.'"
"Is that all?"
"Floss your teeth because dentures are a pain in the arse."
"Good thing time travel isn't a possibility."
"Oh, all right. I was trying to lighten the moment. I would tell myself to stop being so afraid. To stop worrying about what other people think or say. I would tell myself that true love is worth fighting for. Because the last thing you want is to have to drive two hours to see the man you love for a few minutes every once in a while." She looked up at him. "There. Are you happy?"
"No."
"I can't seem to please you today."
"No, I'm not unhappy about that. Your advice is great. I'm not happy in my life for exactly the reasons you just said."
"And here we are."
"Yes."
"We have lived our lives."
"For better or worse."
"Walter?"
"Hmm."
"I never stopped loving you. But I don't think we could have survived what life threw at us if we were together. You probably would have grown to resent me, as you do Doreen."
"How can you say that?"
"Because we can't know that things would have worked out differently for us. We made our choices and this moment is the culmination of all those choices."
"That's crazy talk. We're perfect for each other!"
"In our fantasies, yes. But you've never seen me in the morning when my face looks like a punching bag and my breath reeks like a bog."
He took her face in his hands. "I wouldn't care. Because when I look in your eyes I see the real you. I see the girl I fell in love with under the almond tree at the edge of your father's farm."
"Take off the rose-tinted glasses, Walter."
"I never put them on."
"You're a terrible liar."
He kissed her. "My heart belongs to you."
On the drive home, Walter made up his mind. He would move out as soon as Bo died. That would be any day, based on what Millie said. They could be together and spend the sunset of their lives celebrating their love. He smiled at the thought of waking up with Millie and sharing every moment with her. His car hit a pothole and Oscar Peterson got stuck mid-chorus. The button to release the CD was jammed, so he leant forward and prodded it harder. When he looked up again, he was staring into the headlights of a runaway truck. The bile in his mouth tasted of regret.
Before he knew it, he was on his back, looking at the same stars he'd once tried to count with Millie. He thought that if he could hold on to her, and hold on to that memory, then he would be all right. Love would conquer all.
To his right, he saw his father.
"Come on, Walter. It's time."
"But Millie..."
"She'll be along soon."
"We made a mistake."
"That's life."
His last thought was that dying felt like lying in a bath and going underwater. Before he surrendered, he murmured Rumi's lines and the promise that bound him to Millie for eternity.
Those tender words we said to one another
Are stored in the secret heart of heaven.
One day, like the rain, they will fall and spread
And their mystery will grow green over the world...
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