Me Without You (3 page)

‘I’ve seen it on Google Earth. It didn’t seem that great.’

‘I saw Paris the first time when I was nineteen. My then boyfriend and I backpacked over the summer holidays. We lived off baguettes and cheap cheese and slept in flea-ridden backpacker hostels. When I saw the Eiffel tower, I was with the man I thought I’d marry. It was like a dream.’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in true love.’ I was irrationally, embarrassingly jealous.

‘Who said anything about true love? It was my first taste of sex that didn’t end in tears and I thought that was special. We sat and watched the snow fall on the Eiffel Tower and shared some cheap food and snuggled and it was
the
most amazingly romantic moment.’

‘So, where was the wicked witch?’ I prompted.

‘Back at the hostel. Later that night, I caught them going for it. Next to me while I slept. On the same bed—they were even under the same
blanket
.’

I winced, and she giggled.

‘It’s a great story, isn’t it?’

‘Is it real?’

‘Every disgusting detail.’

‘So the takeaway message is “go to Paris with someone you love—but sleep with one eye open?”’

‘No, Callum. The takeaway message is “just go to bloody Paris.” It’s not that hard.’

‘You sound like my HR manager.’

‘Oh, well, if you won’t listen to the HR manager, I’m wasting my breath.’ Lilah laughed again, then reached for the menu on the table. ‘For someone who’s not impressed with cashew cheese, you ate pretty much the whole pizza.’

She was right—and I was still ravenous.

‘Oops.’

‘More pizza?’ she suggested, then flipped the menu over and turned it around to display the wine list. ‘Fancy a red?’

I
t took
me about one hour with Lilah to realise that she lived and breathed her job. Up until that moment I’d have said I did too, but Lilah’s job was a cause, and mine was a career. The difference was crystal clear.

‘Do you remember hearing in the media last year about the fight for that tree over near Shelly Beach?’

‘Vaguely,’ I lied. If I’d heard about it, I hadn’t paid enough attention to remember it. I’d probably seen an article here or there and dismissed it as hippy rubbish.

‘That was my firm, my case. A developer wanted to knock down a tree on the edge of the reserve so that he had an unobstructed ocean view from his kitchen sink.’

‘I didn’t even know there was a reserve over there.’ Her eyes widened and I grimaced. ‘Sorry. And this case was a big deal?’

‘A big deal… are you kidding me?’ Her face fell. ‘You didn’t even
hear
about it?’

‘I’m sure I heard about it.’ Another lie, and not a very convincing one this time because she tilted her head at me and narrowed her gaze. ‘I just don’t remember the details.’

‘The whole community got involved, Callum. There were fundraising events every weekend to pay our legal fees! There were public meetings and protests just down the block from here! How do you miss six months of controversy right on your own doorstep?’

‘Wait a minute. All that was for
one
tree?’

‘It was only one tree, but it was two hundred years old. And, remember, the tree’s only crime was to grow directly in front of the view some corporate fat cat wanted to enjoy two weeks a year when he holidayed here.’

‘You spent six months working to save one tree.’

‘You’re missing the point, Callum. Yes it was
one
tree. But it represented something to this community, and we stopped
one
guy and his big fat chequebook from demolishing it. And you know what? In a hundred years’ time that developer will be long gone and the tree will still be there. And we
did
that.’

There was a joy in her eyes, a shining pride and determination, and even speaking about the case was so exciting to her that she’d become fully animated—gesturing wildly with her hands as she explained it to me. When Lilah spoke about her work, there was real meaning to it all—some kind of cosmic importance that I’d never come close to, and even she seemed to get caught up in the wonder of that. She was saving endangered species and fighting for compensation and opposing dangerous mining practices. When she had success at work, the ecosystem was protected or people's lives genuinely improved. When I had success at work, sales were made and products shifted. The generational impact of her profession would be fathomless and positive; the generational impact of mine was probably obesity and a sense of poverty and need, regardless of how wealthy people really were.

The stark contrast should have been confronting, but there was something magnetic about that kind of passion. Maybe it was the confidence it took to commit to something so fully, or maybe it was just the enthusiasm that radiated from her. Whatever it was, I was completely enthralled.

‘I’ll show you,’ she said suddenly.

‘Show me what?’

‘The tree. You’ll understand when you see it.’

Lilah and I had finished both the bottle and the second pizza, and the restaurant had begun to close around us. It was time to move on, and I had been hoping to leave with her, but I was thinking we’d head
towards
my apartment, rather than
away
from it.

‘Now?’

‘Yep.’

‘In the dark?’

‘It’s a fifteen-minute walk and there’s a path the whole way. I could find my way there blindfolded. Couldn’t you?’

‘Actually…’

Her eyes widened, then narrowed.

‘Please don’t tell me you’ve never been there.’

‘Well, I know it’s there; it’s just that the main beach is closer and I’ve heard Shelly Beach is tiny.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me. You live in Manly and you’ve never been to Shelly Beach?’

‘There are plenty of things here I haven’t done.’

‘What
have
you done? You’re never going to make it to Paris if you can’t even get yourself to Shelly Beach. Come on.’

‘But… you don’t have any shoes.’

‘Why would I need shoes to go to the beach?’

‘So you don’t tread on a syringe?’

‘Oh, Jesus, Callum, if I avoided risks that remote, I’d never do
anything
,’ Lilah laughed, even as she shook her head at me. She was already reaching for the bill and I moved to take it from her.

‘Oh, let me—’

‘I wasn’t going to pay.’ She shot me a pointed glance. ‘I’ll pay half.’

The stubborn determination in those wide-blue eyes told me not to bother protesting.

‘Of course.’

We stepped from the warmth of the restaurant into the semi-darkness of the street. There was a chill to the air, and as I moved to protest one last time against the late-night trek, Lilah silently slipped her hand into mine. My words died before they even left my mouth and I automatically closed my fingers through hers.

It was such an innocent gesture, and of course it was nothing—nothing compared to the intimacy I’d shared with other women, or even the intimacy I was already hoping to share with Lilah at some point. But her hand in mine, the fragile softness of her skin, the warmth of our palms together… it was breathtaking. I looked down into her eyes and the promise and the excitement that simmered there. We shared a smile. I’d have stood there for longer, enjoying the peaceful simplicity of being connected, but Lilah apparently had other plans, tugging gently at my arm as she led me towards the ocean.

‘I can’t understand how someone could live in this suburb and have never snorkelled in Cabbage Tree Bay. You know it’s an aquatic wildlife reserve, right?’

‘I do now.’

Lilah half-laughed, half-groaned.

‘It’s the only aquatic reserve in Sydney. And people come from all over the world to see it; there are nearly two hundred aquatic species in the reserve including five that are endangered. Have you ever been scuba-diving?’

‘No… I wouldn’t mind giving it a try though. I love photography; I thought one day I might try some underwater.’

‘There are dive schools right here in Manly; you don’t even have to leave home.’ I could hear the confusion in her voice, and I actually understood. My own inertia had been bewildering me too. It was like I couldn’t get myself into gear to do even the things that I desperately wanted to do, and so what I
did
do—sometimes
all
I did do—was work and procrastinate.

‘So you scuba-dive too?’ I asked her.

‘Actually I don’t enjoy it. I’ve done it and it makes me feel claustrophobic. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying.’

We’d come to a road, and stopped to wait for a break in the traffic. Our hands were still entwined between us. We each walked with our laptop slung over our outer-most shoulder.

‘What
do
you do to relax, Lilah?’ I asked her.

‘Relax?’ she repeated. ‘Isn’t this relaxing?’

‘Running towards a beach in the middle of the night with an environmentally uneducated near-stranger is relaxing?’

‘
Strolling
towards the beach in the moonlight with a
new friend
is relaxing. Are you one of those people who think you can only relax while you’re still?’

I laughed.

‘Actually, yes.’

As we wound our way away from the commercial precinct and towards the reserve, shop lights faded to street lights which then faded to the light of an almost full moon. The transition was steady but subtle, and along with it came a new quiet, the bustle of traffic and voices giving way to the sound of waves and words spoken more softly.

‘Have you really not been over here? Not ever?’ she asked.

I’d never even been to the main beach at night, let alone the secluded smaller beach that Lilah was hauling me towards. I’d seen the path and vaguely understood that it led to a tiny beach, but hadn’t been interested enough to walk it myself at any point.

‘I genuinely have not. Is it really that fantastic?’

‘You’ll see for yourself in a few minutes. Well, you’ll see the night-time version.’ After a few steps, she glanced at me. ‘I don’t get that. How can you live so close and not go exploring?’

I shrugged.

‘I’m exploring it now. I like to wait for adventure to find me. It’s safer that way.’

‘There is nothing safe about that,’ she assured me. ‘It sounds like you’re at serious risk of dying from boredom.’

‘I’m not bored,’ I said. There was a thread of defensiveness in my tone and I hastened to add, ‘I’m content. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to strive for in life?’

‘It depends on who you ask.’ She stopped suddenly and pointed in front of us into the darkness. ‘There’s the rock pool down there, so we’re halfway.’

‘Do you do things like this often?’

‘Like what?’

‘Late-night environmental education sessions with dates.’

‘Well, for a start, I don’t go on
dates,
’ she laughed. ‘I’m not quite sure what happened back there on that ferry actually. I’d normally have shot you down in about a millisecond.’

‘I’m really glad you didn’t.’

It was a funny thing to be walking in the moonlight, hand in hand with her, the clear night sky above us and the waves crashing onto rocks below us. If I’d had six weeks to prepare a special night and an unlimited budget to create atmosphere, I could never have topped it. It was as if the night itself was gently nudging us, pushing us nearer to each other. Even as we neared our goal, I noticed that our footsteps had actually slowed and we’d each relaxed our joined arms, as if we’d been holding hands and walking in step for decades.

Then the beach was before us in the moonlight, the sand surprisingly bright against the darkness of the rocks around it.

‘Where’s this tree—’ I started to ask, but Lilah let go of my hand and ran ahead of me, down towards the water.

‘Beach first,’ she called back. ‘Come on!’ I laughed and shook my head, watching as she sat her handbag on a flat rock and then sprinted down towards the water, her hair blowing behind her like a jet stream. Then I winced as she failed to slow down even as she neared the water’s edge.

‘Lilah, that water is going to be freezing!’

‘I’m not going swimming! But you can’t go to the beach and not stand in the waves—it’s against the law you know,’ she exclaimed.

‘Well, you
would
know.’ I muttered, although I knew she wouldn’t be able to hear me; she was now well ahead of me. The beach was sheltered and the waves were low. Lilah dropped her pace at the last minute but splashed her way into the water anyway. I sat my laptop down beside hers, and then walked slowly across the sand.

‘Okay, no shoes was strange, but this is certifiably crazy,’ I informed her.

‘Are you kidding?’ She turned back momentarily to give me a pointed look I couldn’t miss even in the darkness. ‘You’re not coming in?’

‘Not coming in? Of course I’m not coming in!’ I laughed.

Lilah spun around, so that her back faced the bay. She edged backwards until the waves were lapping mid-calf, and then extended a hand towards me.

‘You’re coming in, Callum.’

‘Seriously, it’s not happening.’ The very idea of it had me shivering. I laughed at the determination that marked her face and her stance. ‘I’m enjoying the view from here—there’s no need for me to get wet.’

‘There’s
every
need for you to get wet,’ she frowned. ‘You can stand there and watch me enjoy it, or you can take your damn shoes off and try it yourself. You know this water covers seventy per cent of the earth’s surface, right? Take two tiny steps in front of you and you can temporarily be a part of something that’s nearly as big as the earth itself.’ She extended her hand again, her grin both playful and patient. ‘It’s really that easy, I promise.’

‘It’s
freezing
.’ I somehow decided that it was time to point out the blatantly obvious to someone who knew even better than I that I was right. Maybe I was running out of excuses.

‘It’s not so bad once you’re used to it.’ She gestured towards me, beckoning me. I hesitated, and then was startled to realise how close I was to diving in after her. My resolve, or maybe my sanity, resurged and I took a determined step back and shook my head.

‘I’m
not
coming in. I’ll get sand in my shoes!’