They shed their clothes like skins on the floor. When he sat back to take in the sight of her, she covered herself with her arms. But he drew them away, pressing one of her hands to his chest. She felt it under his skin and bone, the storytelling of his heart.
He’s here. He’s here.
She drew him close; a sharp intake of breath; he pushed into her. Limbs entwined, indistinguishable. Raw, thrilling. Almost frightening. Sensory fragments in her mind. Wet sand underfoot, lightness in her lungs, salty skin, cawing with the gulls by the silver sea. The drift and tilt of wind through her hair between the green cane stalks. The hush and flow of the river. Fistfuls of red flowers being torn from the earth.
24. Broad-leaved parakeelya
Meaning: By your love, I live and die
Calandrinia balonensis | Northern Territory
Parkilypa (Pit.) is a succulent growing in sandy soils of arid regions, with fleshy leaves and bright purple flowers, which appear mainly in winter and spring. In times of drought the leaves can be a water source; the whole plant can be baked and eaten.
From that night onwards, they spent every spare moment together. Alice knew she was neglecting her other friends, especially Lulu, but she didn’t want to be with anyone else.
As the winter wore on, they lit bonfires and slept outside in his swag, under the stars, Pip always curled up close by.
‘You should change your roster,’ he said one night as she lay in the crook of his arm, watching the sky. ‘I miss you too much on weekends when one of us is off while the other is working. I want to see you more.’
The thrill of it: he wanted more of her. She grinned up at him, smelled the scent of his skin, earthen and green. He took his arm out from under her head and sat up. Untied his leather bracelets and turned back to her, gently taking her hands. She nodded, smiling as he bound the bracelets around her wrists and tied them in knots.
‘Ngayuku pinta-pinta,’ he said, his voice raw.
As he pulled her onto him, Lulu’s voice shot fleetingly through her mind. You’re no safer than the girl in the fairytale who wanders into a dark wood.
‘Ngayuku pinta-pinta,’ he whispered again, his hands around her wrists. My butterfly.
She curled her body to fit around his.
While she awaited approval to change rosters, Alice’s desert life centred around Dylan. If they were both off for sunset, they took to walking the fire trails with Pip; Alice filled her pockets with wildflowers to press in her notebook, while Dylan took photos of her in the melting red light. When she was on night patrol and finished late, she drove straight to his house and often found him waiting with dinner, or a hot bubble bath. On those nights, he and Pip sat by the bath, leaning against the wall, while he read aloud to her. If they had a whole day off together they gardened in the sun until they were distracted by each other’s warmed bare skin; she’d mentioned working in her mother’s veggie garden as a child, and came home from work one day to find he’d made her a bed of dark earth sown through the red dirt. At night, they snuggled on the couch with the heater blazing, the television on the one regional channel with decent reception, watching BBC dramas and antique shows. On rare occasions when the winter sky was cloudy and the day didn’t yield any sun, they stayed in bed. Those days became synonymous with pancakes; Alice would fry up a tower, which they’d take back to bed and devour.
One cold afternoon, after a syrupy feast, they lay watching dust motes float on the grey light falling through a crack in the curtains. Dylan sighed heavily and disentangled himself from her. He’d been agitated, restless, and hadn’t looked directly at her all day, even during sleepy, languid sex. Alice didn’t know what was wrong. And she didn’t know why she was so reluctant to ask him.
She traced circles over his bare stomach and chest, reaching up to his neck and face. He didn’t respond. ‘What’s wrong?’ Alice whispered. Her love could fix it. Whatever it was. He didn’t answer. She waited. Asked again.
‘Nothing,’ he snapped, shrugging from her touch. ‘Sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry, Pinta-Pinta.’ He sat up, elbows on his knees, his head hanging.
She sat up beside him. There was a familiar pit in her stomach that made her deeply uncomfortable. She chose her words carefully so as not to agitate him further.
‘You can tell me,’ she offered, keeping her voice light. ‘Whatever it is.’ She held a hand out gingerly, letting it hover for a moment before she pressed it to his back, holding her palm flat against his spine. He curled towards her touch.
‘I’m sorry,’ he moaned, turning to bury his face into her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not going to fuck this up this time.’
She stroked his hair. ‘I know that,’ she soothed. ‘I know.’
‘It’s going to be better,’ he said, as if to himself. ‘I’m going to be better.’ He kissed her neck, her face, her mouth, his sense of urgency growing as he gathered her into his arms.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut as she kissed him back. What did he mean, better? He was going to be different from what? How? Her chest grew tight.
‘I love you,’ he whispered as he lay between her legs. Whispered over and again.
She breathed in his words and banished the questions from her mind.
Winter started to wane. The mornings grew warmer, finches began to fly and leave their nests, and Alice’s life with Dylan flourished. As her love for him intensified, Alice found it harder and harder to ignore the strain in her friendship with Lulu. Not long after her request to switch rosters had been approved, she saw Lulu checking the noticeboards in the tea room. From the look on Lulu’s face as she read the new rosters, something was very wrong.
‘Hey, Lulu,’ Alice said brightly, taking two clean mugs from the sink. ‘Fancy a cuppa and catch-up before patrol?’
Lulu’s blank expression didn’t falter as she walked right past her.
‘She probably just feels left out,’ Dylan said that night. ‘You haven’t known her that long. I have. She can be jealous and weird about shit like this.’
Alice stirred the spring vegetable risotto she was cooking. It made sense. What other reason could Lulu have to be so cold to her? But the question of Lulu’s history with Dylan niggled at her. She took a sip of her white wine and shot a glance at him.
‘What?’ he asked.
She took another sip, not looking at him.
‘Spit it out,’ Dylan said, smiling. ‘I can read your face like a book, Pinta-Pinta.’
Emboldened, she smiled back. ‘Did you and Lulu ever …’ she trailed off.
‘Me and Lulu?’ Dylan scoffed, shaking his head. ‘I think she might have had a thing for me way back when we first met, but it never came to anything.’ He stood behind her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. ‘Don’t worry so much. It’s all in your mind. She’ll get over herself. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ Alice leaned back against his chest.
Once they were working on the same roster, Alice and Dylan were completely inseparable. They drove to and from work and took lunch together. She packed picnics they never ended up eating, instead sneaking off in his ute to secluded spots behind headquarters, where they could hear their radios but have enough privacy to focus only on each other. After work they shared beers, watched the sky change, cooked dinner over the fire pit and lounged with Pip to watch the stars. Alice never went home, and avoided looking across his yard in the direction of her house, which sat in the dark.