Fourteen
I arrived at the café where April had arranged for me to meet Rad. I found a corner booth and sat down, staring out the rain-splattered window where intricate letters spelled out the words “Callisto” in reverse. Every so often, drops would burst onto the glass like newly formed stars on a flat, translucent galaxy.
I checked the time on my phone. He was ten minutes late. I drummed my fingers nervously on the table. It felt like a lifetime since we last spoke. A teenage girl with frizzy brown hair walked by with a handful of dirty plates. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she said before disappearing behind the counter. She came back a few minutes later with a menu. “Give me a holler when you’re ready.”
“Sure, I’m just waiting for someone.” Just as the words left my mouth, I saw Rad outside the window, pulling up his coat collar against the rain. Moments later, he was through the door. His eyes scanned the café as I stood up.
“Hi, Rad,” I said, as he strode toward me.
“Audrey?” he said with a jolt of recognition. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m with See! Sydney. I’m here to interview you,” I explained.
He broke into a grin and shook his head in amazement. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“But you’re barely out of school. How did you become a journalist so quickly?”
I shrugged. “You know, slept my way up.”
He laughed. “God, what a strange coincidence.”
“Isn’t it?” I said. “Congratulations on your book, by the way. I had no idea your name was Colorado.”
He grimaced. “Mum is the only person who calls me Colorado. To everyone else, I’m just Rad.”
“You know, I had this poster of Colorado stuck on my wall when I was a kid. Come to think of it, that’s probably what started my fixation with snowcapped mountains in the first place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that weird? It’s like something out of a novel.”
“Well, that supports my theory—you know the one about us being characters in a book.”
“I can’t argue with you there.”
The waitress walked by our booth and threw us a look. “Do you want a menu?”
“Yes, thanks,” Rad said.
Rad slid into the booth opposite me, and the waitress came back with a menu. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Rad took off his dark blue coat and put it on the bench beside him. His hair was wet from the rain, and he reached up and ruffled it with his fingers.
“Nice day, huh?”
“Not so much,” I said, a small smile crossing my lips.
“Parking was a nightmare! How did you manage?”
“I caught the bus.”
“Really? In this weather?”
“I’ve been meaning to go for my driver’s license, but things have been so hectic over the last few months.”
He nodded. “I can imagine.”
“So, I have to ask. How did you wind up with a name like Colorado? There must be a story there.”
“Well, my mum was obsessed with the book On the Road—do you know it?”
“Yeah, by Kerouac.”
“That’s the one. She was saving up for a big road trip across America, but then she met Dad. Soon after, she was pregnant with me.”
“So she never went?”
“No, though she still talks about it sometimes. She had this affinity with Colorado. It used to be a running joke with Dad—the closest she ever got to Colorado was me.”
I smirked. “Very funny.”
“My dad used to think so, but he was probably the only one.”
“So are you still living at home?”
“No, I moved out a few months back. I just needed a change of scenery. I couldn’t walk down the street incognito. Everyone I bumped into would give me that look. You know, that ‘There’s the guy with the dead girlfriend’ look.”
I nodded.
“So I got a job stacking shelves at the supermarket and signed a lease for a shoebox apartment in Paddington.”
“Oh, that’s not too far from me.”
“You moved out too?”
“Kind of. I’m house-sitting with Lucy at her uncle’s place. We’re in Surry Hills.”
“Really? Hey, that’s great! How’s Lucy?”
“Really good. She’s studying business at Sydney U. Freddy’s there with her—they’re enrolled in the same course.”
“I have to give Freddy a call. I owe him a beer,” said Rad. “I’ve literally been a hermit while writing this book. It’s time to come out of hibernation, I suppose.”
“What was that like? Hibernation, I mean. A lot of writers talk about this creative vacuum when they’re busy working on a project, and I’ve always been curious about it.”
“You kind of lose perspective after a while. At least, it was that way with me. You become insular. I barely left my apartment the whole time I was writing Snowflake. I kept odd hours. I was stacking shelves at night, so I would sleep in during the day. There’s a café downstairs, which was handy. Sometimes, if I felt up to it, I would walk up to Centennial Park, feed the ducks.”
“It sounds perfect, actually.”
“Oddly enough, I did enjoy it, but only because I was working on something I cared about. I think I’d go crazy if I was just doing time.”
“I can’t believe you talked about doing something and actually accomplished it. I mean, not only did you write a book but you also got the Elliott Tate nomination.”
“It was a nice surprise,” he said, with a shrug. “But the biggest thrill was getting the publishing deal.”
“How did it happen? Take me through it.”
“I didn’t have an end goal in mind when I was writing Snowflake. It was something I was compelled to do—I felt like I would go mad if I didn’t. Writing was cathartic for me. Before I knew it, I’d finished the book, and I parked it to one side for a few weeks. Then, one night I was surfing the web, and I came across a competition that Geidt & Ekstrom was running. Do you know who they are?”
“I’ve heard about them. They’ve only been around a few years, but they’ve published a string of hits.”
“Yeah, they’ve had a good run.”
“I wasn’t aware of the competition, though.”
“I don’t think it got any media attention, probably because it was the first year they ran it.”
“That makes sense. So how did it work?”
“They were on the lookout for a novella. The prize was a publishing deal and a decent sum of money. Kind of like an advance.”
“My editor, Sam, was telling me that novellas are coming back in vogue.”
“Yeah, there is definitely a trend, which is great. Some of the best classics are novellas.”
“I know. Animal Farm is one of my favorite books.”
“Same.”
“And I’m guessing you won the competition?”
“I did.”