Page 73 of Head First
‘But . . .’ I falter. We’re both holding onto the paper now. He’s pushing it into my hands, but I’m refusing to take it. ‘You said we were OK, that I would see you in Boston. How . . . how are you refusing to sign it? We saw the fish.’This isn’t happening, I’m thinking.He’s not going back on his word already. He’s not changing his mind about us already. He’s not doing this to get back at me . . . is he?
Hugh takes a step back, putting distance between us. ‘Andi, I can’t sign that.’
‘What do you mean you can’t?’
‘I don’t understand how you’re asking me that. That is an official Global Marine Biology record log. And it’s false. I can’t sign it.’
‘But we both saw the fish!’ I say, exasperated. My voice is louder than I intended. I feel anger surging in my chest. My heart rate is rising again.This can’t be happening.
‘But you’re not Millie. And it says Millie right there.’ Hugh points at the paper. His jawline is more pronounced than usual, like he’s clenching his perfect teeth.
I know I’m not Millie!I want to scream. I want to reach out and touch him, I want to shake him back and forth, erasing the anger from his face. I want to break down the wall I feel like he’s building.
‘But I’m doing thisforMillie. I thought you understood that.’
He doesn’t budge.
‘Hugh, you can’t be serious,’ I say through a clenched jaw. I can feel him shutting me out. My chest tightens. My heart rate picks up. I don’t know how we got here.Weren’t we just making plans to see each other in Boston?I think.How do I get back to that?
‘I don’t know what to tell you, you’re not a marine biologist. It wouldn’t be ethical.’ Hugh’s expression hardens with frustration.
‘I can’t believe you,’ I say, fighting back tears. ‘This is it? You’re just going to refuse to help me? After everything?’
‘Look, I’m sorry.’
‘You’re sorry?’ I sputter back.
‘Andi, you can’t make this my fault.’ Hugh is incredu-lous. ‘First you lie to me for days and now this? Asking me to sign something that’s false?’ He hesitates. ‘I thought I was going to get over you lying. I thought with time we could move past it. But, Andi, this is too much. I don’t see how you can’t understand why I don’t want to do what you’re asking me to do.’ And the way he says my name, with such finality, such resignation, completely does me in.
‘I really do want the best for your sister,’ he says, but he’s already turning to leave.
‘But,’ I say, refusing to believe that this is how he will leave me, that a stupid falsified dive log will be his last straw, that he will really go without giving me the one thing that I’m desperate to do for my sister. I can’t wrap my head around him walking away from me, from us, after the last five days we shared together.
But he does. He leaves without so much as a wave goodbye.
I am left standing on the kerb, watching helplessly as he gets into an Uber, my dive log fluttering uselessly in my hand.
Chapter 28
Life on land
I make it onto the earlier flight, probably because I sobbed to the gate agent incoherently until she rebooked me. I try to call my mom one more time, but she doesn’t answer. I leave her a message with the details of my flight.
The plane hurtles into the night sky. The man next to me nods off, his head dropping towards his chest. I hug the window, pressed to the side of my seat. Only when the flight attendant asks me nicely what I would like to drink do I realise that I have just been sitting, staring out the window, for the better part of an hour.
‘Um,’ I fumble.
She rattles off options. ‘We have water, soda, coffee, tea, wine—’
‘Wine,’ I interject. ‘Red wine, please.’
She sets down a flimsy plastic cup and I take a big sip, the acidity tingling the back of my throat. I resist the urge to knock it all back at once. I stare at the screen in front of me some more. Nothing is playing. I watch the flight tracker blip, flickering in and out. I alternate between staring out the window and falling into fits of sleep. I’m too shocked to be angry, and I’m too numb to be sad. That will come later.
My mom picks me up from the airport, and we drive straight to the hospital where my dad is waiting for us. As soon as I breathe in the cold Columbus air, I want to turn around and go back to Australia. I miss it already. I feel like I’m being pulled back to it, even from this far away, and I don’t think it’s just because it’s a balmy summer there and the icy dead of winter here.
My mom fills me in on the way. I learn that Millie’s surgery had gone well, better than they hoped even, but things took a turn the second day she was back home. She had a bad fever and chills, which she dismissed as post-surgery exhaustion. Eventually, my Mom called the doctor, just to check and see if Millie’s symptoms were normal. They ended up rushing to the hospital because the doctor thought it sounded like Millie had a blood infection, which she did. The infection overwhelmed her body, her blood pressure dropped so low that the only way to stabilise her was to keep her overnight and for a couple of days.
Mom retells it with a shaky voice.
