Effanbee
The Fly
Free Falling
Chapter 11
The morning was sultry and humid, the kind of day when the smallest movement provoked an excess of moisture from every pore. Edge and I breakfasted on the shady front deck, it was too hot to make any energetic plans and we talked lazily about nothing much.
‘I should really ride, but the very thought of it makes me tired,’ I said.
‘Mm. I would have liked to ride, but I don’t think my ankle would stand it,’ said Edge.
‘I really must do something. I’ll go check the horses over at least,’ I decided. ‘Work is a good antidote for heartache.’
Edge smiled a knowing little smile. ‘I’ve tried that remedy myself,’ he said.
‘Was it successful?’
‘To a degree.’
‘Worth a try, anyway. It’s that or the gin bottle.’
Edge laughed. ‘Best not to mix the two, though. Can I use your office, Roo? I promised I’d call Morleigh today.’
‘Yes, of course. Send her my love.’
Edge disappeared to the office and I trudged down to the paddock. The horses stood under a tree in the shade, the only movement being the swish of their tails keeping the flies away.
I sat down near them and Shadow wandered over to lay down companionably by my side.
‘Hello, beautiful midnight horse,’ I said. ‘Fancy going for a nice, long ride?’
Shadow stretched out on his side, closed his eyes and did a great impression of a dead horse. I laughed. ‘Only kidding.’ I told him.
My thoughts turned inevitably to Bono. I wondered what he was doing, whether he was awake or asleep, what he was thinking or dreaming. How wide and cold my bed had been last night, and the thought that it would be that way from now on threatened to pull me down into depression.
I knew I had to take action before the mood spiralled down into blackness. I walked slowly back to the house, trying to think of anything but Bono and failing miserably.
Edge came into the sitting room as I was half-heartedly attempting to mend a china bowl which Bono had dropped a few days before.
‘I think the bowl’s had it,’ he observed.
‘I think you’re right,’ I said, giving up. ‘Beep tripped Bono up and the damn bowl flew about six feet …’ I stopped, thinking dammit, everything reminds me of him, everything.
‘Roo, how do you feel about a little road trip?’ Edge asked.
I heard the excitement in his voice and looked up at him questioningly.
‘Morleigh’s found this fabulous place on the Internet. It’s up north and she wants me to go look at it,’ Edge explained, his eyes sparkling. ‘She asked if you would come with me, she wants a woman’s opinion on it. She says I would be distracted by the acoustics or some such and not notice if it had galloping dry rot or something.’
‘I’d love to,’ I said with a smile. ‘Whereabouts is it?’
Edge got a map and we traced a route up to the top of Northland, working out how long it would take to get there.
‘Let’s go right now,’ I said, caught up in the excitement. ‘I’ll organise a horse-sitter, we’ll have to stay overnight. Can you find a place and book it?’
It didn’t take long to organise and pack a few things. On the way out the door I glanced at the phone.
‘Don’t worry, he’s got your mobile number, and mine,’ said Edge, guessing what I was thinking. ‘I’ll call him later anyway.’
‘OK. Let’s hit the road,’ I grinned at Edge.
He put on his sunglasses and became Mr Cool. We fired up the 4-wheel drive and headed north.
*****
Riding in the air-conditioned car with Edge at the wheel I could let my thoughts float untethered as the landscape flowed past us. We listened to music, sometimes a CD, sometimes a radio station giving local bands some air-time. Edge was fascinated by the rhythms of a kapa-haka performance, no doubt filing it all away in his vast cranial database for later consideration.
I was navigator to Edge’s driving skills and we stopped for lunch in a tiny coastal village. Sitting on a wall looking out over the Pacific to the small islands hazed on the horizon, Bono seemed very far away. Far away but very clear in my mind.
Edge had said something which I’d missed.
‘Sorry, Edge. I was miles away.’
‘Nothing important,’ said Edge easily. ‘It’s OK to be distracted, Roo. You think about him all you want.’
‘You’re a good friend,’ I said to Edge, glad that I was wearing sunglasses as tears filled my eyes. ‘I’m so distracted I seem to have lost myself.’
‘You’ll find yourself again. Give it time,’ said Edge, patting my shoulder.
Time. Stretching away like a desert and just as arid. Time to live, time to die.
Time to go.
We reached Cloudy Bay as the afternoon was mellowing into evening. Edge had booked us rooms at the only hotel, which was tiny and friendly, and we dumped our luggage and met up in the bar.
‘Shall we go and have a look at the house before dinner? Just a reccy, we’ll have a proper tour of it tomorrow.’ Edge was quietly excited and slightly nervous, drumming his fingers restlessly n the table.
‘Sure. Let’s go now, before it gets dark.’
We drove around a narrow coast road and parked at the end of a long driveway which wound across a valley and up to the house.
‘How much land is there, Edge?’ I asked.
Edge consulted his notes. ‘About 20 acres. Pasture, some bush and a private beach.’
We got out of the car and gazed over the land. It was breathtakingly beautiful, the sea on one side and gently contoured land on the other. Pockets of bush and stands of trees studded the paddocks.
‘It looks pretty damn good from here. What d’you think, Edge?’
Edge stood with a dreamy smile on his face, his exotic eyes taking in the scene, already hopelessly in love with the place.
Oh, dear, I thought, smiling to myself. I hope the house is sound or Morleigh will shoot us both.
******
In the midnight hour, in a narrow hotel bed, I listened to the call of a Morepork outside my window. The tiny owl had a loud voice, crying his request repeatedly, persistently. I thought of all the other people in the hotel rooms, of couples sleeping secure in each others’ warmth, or making love, of Edge dreaming about a new home with Morleigh. Sleep was for others that night, except for others like me who had no-one to share their dreams.
Is he sleeping? I wondered. Or is he … no, don’t go there. Don’t torture yourself that way. I threw back the covers and went to the window, drawing back the curtain. A bright silver moon hung high over the sea, stringing a necklace of light on the water.
I sat by the open window, breathing earth scents of ground still warm from the day, faint tang of salt adding a bass note. Night-scented jasmine threaded through, an airy counterpoint to the elemental melody.
You should be here to share this, I thought. My heart ached so badly surely it must stop beating, what relief that would be. But it didn’t stop, just plodded on, doing its job as efficiently as ever.
My phone beeped, sounding almost apologetic for the lateness of the hour. I flipped it open.
‘Insomniacs Helpline, Roo speaking,’ I said.
A low chuckle in my ear. I knew it was Bono, who else would call in the middle of the night?
‘I guessed you weren’t sleeping, angel,’ he said, speaking quietly.
‘Now however could you know that?’ I said ironically. ‘I could be at a wild party for all you know.’
‘Are you?’
‘No.’
‘What are you doing, then?’
‘I’m sitting by my hotel window being serenaded by Mr Morepork.’
‘Who?’
‘An owl. What are you doing?’
‘Phoning you,’ Bono paused. ‘Missing you.’
I was stunned into silence. You can’t be missing me, I thought stupidly. You made your choice …
‘Are you still there, Roo?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m here, Bono.’ I swallowed, rubbed tears from my eyes. ‘Are you near a window?’
‘Yes, I’m on the top floor of the Hilton. Penthouse suite, wouldn’t you know.’ Bono sounded unimpressed by this extravagance.
‘Tell me what you can see.’
‘The harbour. Loads of boats moored, they look like ghosts, shadows in moonlight. City lights, all those windows with people behind them. The bridge, like a dinosaur crouching down to drink. The moon, it’s so bright I can barely look at it. What do you see, Roo?’
‘Hills in darkness. An empty road. the garden, all secrets and shadows. The sea, with a ribbon of light all the way to the horizon, cast by a moon so bright I can barely look at it. We see very different things, don’t we?’ I said softly.
‘Except the moon. We both see the same moon.’
‘Only while we’re in the same time zone. And that won’t be for much longer. Then you’ll miss me a bit less, every day, until you won’t miss me at all. And that’s how it should be, dearest of all men.’
‘Is that how it will be for you, Roo? It’s different for you, being on your own. I feel such a bastard, doing this to you.’ Bono’s voice cracked a little.
‘I’m not entirely on my own, Bono. I have good friends,’ I said. ‘Please don’t feel bad about it - we’re doing what we have to do.’
‘It’s just not right,’ Bono insisted. ‘I’ve never been in this situation before.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose it’s a lesson I needed to learn, but it’s so damn difficult.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed. ‘I should have learned it years ago, it seems I needed to repeat it after all. I know you won’t have to though, you’re a better student than I ever was.’
‘You have more faith in me than I do,’ said Bono.
‘You’re all I have faith in, Bono. At least you have your faith in God to help you through. I’m certainly for the fiery pits, damned several times over, I should think.’
‘I want to be with you now, damned or not,’ said Bono. ‘Are you staying up north for long, angel?’
‘I’m not sure. We might hang around up here for a couple of days. It’s probably good to have some miles between us right now, Bono.’
‘Well, I’m not leaving without seeing you. Everything else can go to hell,’ said Bono vehemently. ‘Unless you’d rather not see me again?’ he added with less certainty.
‘There’s nothing I want more,’ I said, tears flowing yet again. ‘I miss you dreadfully, Bono. I’m trying to be hard-headed and sensible about it, but in truth I’m not making a good job of it.’
‘I could drive up tomorrow,’ Bono suggested.
‘You know I’d love that, love to be with you …’
‘There’s a “but” coming, isn’t there?’
‘You know it,’ I sighed. ‘It would only make it worse, Bono. Every time we see each other, we have to let go all over again. And you need to be where you are, not taking off after me. You’re where you’re needed most.’
‘OK, OK, Roo. You’re right, I suppose. I’ve lost the plot a bit tonight. I’ll get back on track tomorrow, refocus.’
‘I know you will. Get some sleep now, Bono. Rest easy, I’ve got Edge for company and he’s being his brilliant self and watching out for me.’
‘I’ll call you tomorrow, then. Sweet dreams, angel.’
Dream, that’s all I do nowadays, I thought. I seem to have stepped outside the world and all that it contains. It’s all unimportant and totally indifferent to me and Bono and all our pain.
I was wrong, of course, but in that time when everything seemed to be lost, it felt like the truth to me.
Chapter 11
The morning was sultry and humid, the kind of day when the smallest movement provoked an excess of moisture from every pore. Edge and I breakfasted on the shady front deck, it was too hot to make any energetic plans and we talked lazily about nothing much.
‘I should really ride, but the very thought of it makes me tired,’ I said.
‘Mm. I would have liked to ride, but I don’t think my ankle would stand it,’ said Edge.
‘I really must do something. I’ll go check the horses over at least,’ I decided. ‘Work is a good antidote for heartache.’
Edge smiled a knowing little smile. ‘I’ve tried that remedy myself,’ he said.
‘Was it successful?’
‘To a degree.’
‘Worth a try, anyway. It’s that or the gin bottle.’
Edge laughed. ‘Best not to mix the two, though. Can I use your office, Roo? I promised I’d call Morleigh today.’
‘Yes, of course. Send her my love.’
Edge disappeared to the office and I trudged down to the paddock. The horses stood under a tree in the shade, the only movement being the swish of their tails keeping the flies away.
I sat down near them and Shadow wandered over to lay down companionably by my side.
‘Hello, beautiful midnight horse,’ I said. ‘Fancy going for a nice, long ride?’
Shadow stretched out on his side, closed his eyes and did a great impression of a dead horse. I laughed. ‘Only kidding.’ I told him.
My thoughts turned inevitably to Bono. I wondered what he was doing, whether he was awake or asleep, what he was thinking or dreaming. How wide and cold my bed had been last night, and the thought that it would be that way from now on threatened to pull me down into depression.
I knew I had to take action before the mood spiralled down into blackness. I walked slowly back to the house, trying to think of anything but Bono and failing miserably.
Edge came into the sitting room as I was half-heartedly attempting to mend a china bowl which Bono had dropped a few days before.
‘I think the bowl’s had it,’ he observed.
‘I think you’re right,’ I said, giving up. ‘Beep tripped Bono up and the damn bowl flew about six feet …’ I stopped, thinking dammit, everything reminds me of him, everything.
‘Roo, how do you feel about a little road trip?’ Edge asked.
I heard the excitement in his voice and looked up at him questioningly.
‘Morleigh’s found this fabulous place on the Internet. It’s up north and she wants me to go look at it,’ Edge explained, his eyes sparkling. ‘She asked if you would come with me, she wants a woman’s opinion on it. She says I would be distracted by the acoustics or some such and not notice if it had galloping dry rot or something.’
‘I’d love to,’ I said with a smile. ‘Whereabouts is it?’
Edge got a map and we traced a route up to the top of Northland, working out how long it would take to get there.
‘Let’s go right now,’ I said, caught up in the excitement. ‘I’ll organise a horse-sitter, we’ll have to stay overnight. Can you find a place and book it?’
It didn’t take long to organise and pack a few things. On the way out the door I glanced at the phone.
‘Don’t worry, he’s got your mobile number, and mine,’ said Edge, guessing what I was thinking. ‘I’ll call him later anyway.’
‘OK. Let’s hit the road,’ I grinned at Edge.
He put on his sunglasses and became Mr Cool. We fired up the 4-wheel drive and headed north.
*****
Riding in the air-conditioned car with Edge at the wheel I could let my thoughts float untethered as the landscape flowed past us. We listened to music, sometimes a CD, sometimes a radio station giving local bands some air-time. Edge was fascinated by the rhythms of a kapa-haka performance, no doubt filing it all away in his vast cranial database for later consideration.
I was navigator to Edge’s driving skills and we stopped for lunch in a tiny coastal village. Sitting on a wall looking out over the Pacific to the small islands hazed on the horizon, Bono seemed very far away. Far away but very clear in my mind.
Edge had said something which I’d missed.
‘Sorry, Edge. I was miles away.’
‘Nothing important,’ said Edge easily. ‘It’s OK to be distracted, Roo. You think about him all you want.’
‘You’re a good friend,’ I said to Edge, glad that I was wearing sunglasses as tears filled my eyes. ‘I’m so distracted I seem to have lost myself.’
‘You’ll find yourself again. Give it time,’ said Edge, patting my shoulder.
Time. Stretching away like a desert and just as arid. Time to live, time to die.
Time to go.
We reached Cloudy Bay as the afternoon was mellowing into evening. Edge had booked us rooms at the only hotel, which was tiny and friendly, and we dumped our luggage and met up in the bar.
‘Shall we go and have a look at the house before dinner? Just a reccy, we’ll have a proper tour of it tomorrow.’ Edge was quietly excited and slightly nervous, drumming his fingers restlessly n the table.
‘Sure. Let’s go now, before it gets dark.’
We drove around a narrow coast road and parked at the end of a long driveway which wound across a valley and up to the house.
‘How much land is there, Edge?’ I asked.
Edge consulted his notes. ‘About 20 acres. Pasture, some bush and a private beach.’
We got out of the car and gazed over the land. It was breathtakingly beautiful, the sea on one side and gently contoured land on the other. Pockets of bush and stands of trees studded the paddocks.
‘It looks pretty damn good from here. What d’you think, Edge?’
Edge stood with a dreamy smile on his face, his exotic eyes taking in the scene, already hopelessly in love with the place.
Oh, dear, I thought, smiling to myself. I hope the house is sound or Morleigh will shoot us both.
******
In the midnight hour, in a narrow hotel bed, I listened to the call of a Morepork outside my window. The tiny owl had a loud voice, crying his request repeatedly, persistently. I thought of all the other people in the hotel rooms, of couples sleeping secure in each others’ warmth, or making love, of Edge dreaming about a new home with Morleigh. Sleep was for others that night, except for others like me who had no-one to share their dreams.
Is he sleeping? I wondered. Or is he … no, don’t go there. Don’t torture yourself that way. I threw back the covers and went to the window, drawing back the curtain. A bright silver moon hung high over the sea, stringing a necklace of light on the water.
I sat by the open window, breathing earth scents of ground still warm from the day, faint tang of salt adding a bass note. Night-scented jasmine threaded through, an airy counterpoint to the elemental melody.
You should be here to share this, I thought. My heart ached so badly surely it must stop beating, what relief that would be. But it didn’t stop, just plodded on, doing its job as efficiently as ever.
My phone beeped, sounding almost apologetic for the lateness of the hour. I flipped it open.
‘Insomniacs Helpline, Roo speaking,’ I said.
A low chuckle in my ear. I knew it was Bono, who else would call in the middle of the night?
‘I guessed you weren’t sleeping, angel,’ he said, speaking quietly.
‘Now however could you know that?’ I said ironically. ‘I could be at a wild party for all you know.’
‘Are you?’
‘No.’
‘What are you doing, then?’
‘I’m sitting by my hotel window being serenaded by Mr Morepork.’
‘Who?’
‘An owl. What are you doing?’
‘Phoning you,’ Bono paused. ‘Missing you.’
I was stunned into silence. You can’t be missing me, I thought stupidly. You made your choice …
‘Are you still there, Roo?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m here, Bono.’ I swallowed, rubbed tears from my eyes. ‘Are you near a window?’
‘Yes, I’m on the top floor of the Hilton. Penthouse suite, wouldn’t you know.’ Bono sounded unimpressed by this extravagance.
‘Tell me what you can see.’
‘The harbour. Loads of boats moored, they look like ghosts, shadows in moonlight. City lights, all those windows with people behind them. The bridge, like a dinosaur crouching down to drink. The moon, it’s so bright I can barely look at it. What do you see, Roo?’
‘Hills in darkness. An empty road. the garden, all secrets and shadows. The sea, with a ribbon of light all the way to the horizon, cast by a moon so bright I can barely look at it. We see very different things, don’t we?’ I said softly.
‘Except the moon. We both see the same moon.’
‘Only while we’re in the same time zone. And that won’t be for much longer. Then you’ll miss me a bit less, every day, until you won’t miss me at all. And that’s how it should be, dearest of all men.’
‘Is that how it will be for you, Roo? It’s different for you, being on your own. I feel such a bastard, doing this to you.’ Bono’s voice cracked a little.
‘I’m not entirely on my own, Bono. I have good friends,’ I said. ‘Please don’t feel bad about it - we’re doing what we have to do.’
‘It’s just not right,’ Bono insisted. ‘I’ve never been in this situation before.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose it’s a lesson I needed to learn, but it’s so damn difficult.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed. ‘I should have learned it years ago, it seems I needed to repeat it after all. I know you won’t have to though, you’re a better student than I ever was.’
‘You have more faith in me than I do,’ said Bono.
‘You’re all I have faith in, Bono. At least you have your faith in God to help you through. I’m certainly for the fiery pits, damned several times over, I should think.’
‘I want to be with you now, damned or not,’ said Bono. ‘Are you staying up north for long, angel?’
‘I’m not sure. We might hang around up here for a couple of days. It’s probably good to have some miles between us right now, Bono.’
‘Well, I’m not leaving without seeing you. Everything else can go to hell,’ said Bono vehemently. ‘Unless you’d rather not see me again?’ he added with less certainty.
‘There’s nothing I want more,’ I said, tears flowing yet again. ‘I miss you dreadfully, Bono. I’m trying to be hard-headed and sensible about it, but in truth I’m not making a good job of it.’
‘I could drive up tomorrow,’ Bono suggested.
‘You know I’d love that, love to be with you …’
‘There’s a “but” coming, isn’t there?’
‘You know it,’ I sighed. ‘It would only make it worse, Bono. Every time we see each other, we have to let go all over again. And you need to be where you are, not taking off after me. You’re where you’re needed most.’
‘OK, OK, Roo. You’re right, I suppose. I’ve lost the plot a bit tonight. I’ll get back on track tomorrow, refocus.’
‘I know you will. Get some sleep now, Bono. Rest easy, I’ve got Edge for company and he’s being his brilliant self and watching out for me.’
‘I’ll call you tomorrow, then. Sweet dreams, angel.’
Dream, that’s all I do nowadays, I thought. I seem to have stepped outside the world and all that it contains. It’s all unimportant and totally indifferent to me and Bono and all our pain.
I was wrong, of course, but in that time when everything seemed to be lost, it felt like the truth to me.
More snogs and hugs, 
)...Let B and Roo be together 
Apologies for lack of rumpy-pumpy etc.
see how you lot are perverting my angelic mind already 
trying to manage the creative flow.
yay!!! Best news I've had all week! 
