Page 84 of Night and Day
“That’s not true.”
“What?”
“You were four or five when we flew to Christchurch. You were so excited you peed yourself. We had to go super early because you wanted to watch the planes take off before boarding.”
“Huh?” Izzy lifted his head, taking in his brother’s cheeky grin.
A faint memory floated from somewhere, of pressing his hands and nose against a giant window, listening to the hum of engines as they accelerated along the runway. Mac was three years older and sometimes dropped these childhood memories of things he couldn’t quite remember himself.
“I wish I had that enthusiasm now,” Izzy sighed, getting up to find a T-shirt. It was getting cold. That breeze again. Where the hell was it coming from?
“Do a practice run,” Mac suggested. “I know Mum and Dad think you’re this fragile flower that can’t handle anything and have to be protected from the outside world, it’s not true. You’re not an agoraphobe—“
“A what?”
Mac lifted a finger. “Ha! I looked it up. It’s a person with an irrational fear of open spaces and crowds and that sort of thing. But you’re not. You’re just out of practice. You’ve been here for too long, like an old lighthouse keeper, but you’re not broken. You can move, you’ve just forgotten how. I know I should have dragged you out of here a bit more, but I don’t have magic lady parts so...”
Izzy flinched. He appreciated Mac’s pep talk, but he knew he wasn’t just out of practice. He had some things to work through. But it didn’t mean others had to coddle him. “Just for the record, I don’t need anyone protecting me from the outside world. Mum or Dad or you...”
“That’s what I told them!” Mac threw himself on the unmade bed, arms behind his head. “Where’s that breeze coming from?”
Izzy crossed the floor, pulling up his shorts. “You feel it? I’ve been trying to figure that out...”
Mac stuck a finger in his mouth and lifted it in the air.
“Ah, the world’s most inaccurate and disgusting wind meter,” Izzy commented, stepping out of the bedroom.
Mac got to his feet, following his finger to the living area. “Is there a window behind the bookcase?”
“No... Oh, wait!” Izzy stuck his head through the crack between the bookcase and the wall. “I forgot! There is a window but you can’t even open it from the inside.”
“Maybe someone opened it from the outside.” Mac wiggled his hand through the gap. “I can almost reach the latch. If my arm was skinnier...”
Mia. She’d opened up his house from the outside. Why? Izzy trailed Mac out the sliding doors leading to the backyard, picking his way through the long grass around the corner. And there it was, an open window, sticking out of the wall like an advent calendar on first of December. Mac reached out to close it.
“Don’t!” Izzy raised his hand. “I think I prefer the breeze. It’s been a bit... stuffy in there.” He picked the T-shirt fabric that attempted to stick against his chest. Post workout sweats were still pushing through.
Or maybe it was the image Mac had planted in his brain of himself at the airport, watching those planes take off, getting on one with hundreds of people and heading to the other side of the world. Him. The guy who’d quit the gym and ordered groceries online. He was pathetic. Except if he did it. If he flew to Finland. No one in his family had made it further than Australia. They wouldn’t dare pity the man who flew to the other side of the world. He’d no longer be the delicate flower they had to protect from the world... or whatever Mac had said. Christ Almighty that sounded bad.
Izzy stepped back inside the basement, surveying his cosy den. It had served him well, but it was time to break free. He no longer cared how much it hurt. He hurt already, how much worse could it get?
He stared at his computer screens and the ergonomic chair he’d spent most of his time in during the last five years. It all looked the same, yet everything was different. Wait. Somethingwasdifferent. His camera bag, usually hidden away under the desk, sat next to his computer screen, half-open. Had someone moved it? Izzy reached into the bag, pulling out his camera. At least it was still here. He flicked it on and his knees buckled. Mia. Naked Mia filled the viewfinder screen, smiling at him, her cheeks flushed, face half-hiding behind ruffled hair. Drops of water glistened on her skin and she held a towel in her hand. She’d taken the photo right here, exactly where he was standing, and left it for him to find.
“What do you have there?”
Mac approached him and Izzy jumped, hiding the little LCD screen. “Um... nothing.”
“Sure, nothing.” His bother grinned.
Izzy dropped the camera into its bag. He’d have to hide the memory card, to not risk anyone else seeing his photo. It had already etched itself into his mind, probably going straight into long-term memory. He’d go back to it, he already knew it, like a junkie... even if it didn’t make him feel better, only sadder.
“Why’re you so jumpy?” Mac took a step closer, trying peer into the camera bag. Izzy yanked it out of his reach, sending a pile of twenty-dollar notes flying. They must have been hiding underneath. Mia’s debt – he knew it instantly. He’d refused the money, but she’d left it behind anyway. What part of ‘no, thank you’ did she not understand?
“Do you not have a wallet?” his brother grumbled, crouching to pick up the wayward notes, handing them back to him.
“It’s not my money.” Izzy crossed his arms.
Mac stared at him, jaw hanging. “Who else keeps money on your desk?”
