But once I became a cop I was able to pull myself through the days a little more easily. See a direct line from A to B and feel clearer about how I was going to get there. The basic principles of right and wrong seemed solid and I grabbed on to them with everything I had.
And then I fell pregnant with Ben and that awful idea of the future loomed again. The idea of a baby terrified me. The concept of being parent to a child or a teenager was beyond comprehension. And the sudden introduction of Scott’s feelings into my life was even more difficult to navigate. I’m just not great when it comes to other people. That’s probably what makes me a good cop and is probably why I made detective so quickly. ‘Like a robot that just so happens to eat,’ Jonesy used to say affectionately.
Of course, Ben changed things in all the ways that everyone said he would. But I remained wary. I held him close at night and blinked away the thoughts that had me dying at gunpoint and leaving him all alone. I would fetch him in the morning and worry that I would have a heart attack after Scott went to work, or that I would slip in the shower and crack my head open. I comforted myself with the thought that Ben was probably better off with just Scott anyway. That my confusion confused things. That my ability to be the kind of mother he really needed was horrifically limited.
So I kind of just put one foot in front of the other and bathed him and fed him and held him, but I was still cautious about the future. I never let myself picture him in primary school or as a teenager. I didn’t make plans too far ahead. I lived in the moment and I placated myself with the notion that mindfulness is what half the world is seeking at any given time. I had just managed to find a version of it that had been born out of necessity rather than aspiration.
And then Felix arrived in Smithson and everything went out the window. I was giddy. Blindsided. I was a new mother and a young detective and all I could think about was him being inside me. I felt raw. I developed insomnia. Anxiety. But at the same time I’d never felt so happy. It was like having Jacob back again. The blood seemed to flow more smoothly around my body. For the first time in years I willed time to move faster. Our connection was so instant, so overwhelming, that everyone else in my world faded. I wanted his opinion on everything. I thought about him constantly and felt the deep guilt of someone who wished for a different life. At night I would turn over and over in bed beside Scott until, finally, I would give up and go to the couch in the lounge, where I would stare through US talk shows and wonder how it had come to this. Why did I have to meet Felix after Ben was born? Why did Scott want to be with me? Why didn’t Jacob just come find me that day? Why didn’t he think I was worth living for?
Within days we were brushing past each other, his hand touching mine as he handed me some papers, my arm glancing off his as I passed him at the printer. Less than a month later we were kissing in my car and making plans to do more. I could not get enough. I felt alive, charged with an invisible energy source.
The truth is, I never really got over Jacob. I’ve never quite managed to understand how it all went so wrong. How he could have left me like that. I loved him so much and after he died I had no anchor. Until Felix came along I felt like I hadn’t really spoken to anyone properly for years. Felix makes me want the future: to pull it towards me, grab hold of it, breathe into it. I know it will be messy and complicated and difficult, but the way I feel about him means I can’t see another way.
These thoughts invariably swarm around my mind. It’s exhausting but it’s better now than it was. Better than last summer, when I struggled to eat and found being around Felix akin to having a non-fatal heart attack. I can wait for our future. We are in this together, figuring it out as we go. Patiently yearning. But Jacob is always in my head. He’s always just below the surface.
And that’s why I almost faint when I walk out of Nicholson’s office, into the sunlight, and straight into him.
Chapter Twelve
Monday, 14 December, 9.52 am
My head spins. My throat feels like it has disappeared and I make a strange choking sound. Jacob, my brain chants over and over as I stare at his face. It’s the same slouched posture, the same rich brown hair. I’m conscious of Felix beside me and I feel suddenly confused about where I am and what year it is.
‘Gemma?’ The boy’s voice is not right. It’s lower, huskier. He’s not Jacob. His eyes are red raw and freckles dust his cheeks. Jacob’s skin had been clear.
My mind stumbles into reality. ‘Rodney?’
He nods.
‘Rodney, what are you doing here?’
The boy shuffles his feet. He’s wearing tight jeans and a loose black t-shirt that hangs like a dress on his slim frame. I realise the last time I saw Rodney he was seven years old. He shrugs and tilts his head so that his hair falls to the side, out of his eyes. ‘This is my school. A whole bunch of us decided to meet here this morning. We didn’t know where else to go.’ He looks down but not before I see his jaw shudder. I notice the pulse in his neck is throbbing.
Nicholson has followed us out and is nervously surveying the scene. He mutters under his breath and then says, ‘Well, I guess it’s good for you to be with each other.’ He rocks manically on his feet and looks beyond us to where a group of students are hugging one another and crying in a small circle. One of the girls tucks the hair of another girl behind her ear and then runs a thumb under her eyes to wipe tears away. A tall ginger-haired boy is rubbing slow circles on the back of another girl as she stares at the ground. I can remember that closeness. That intimacy. That comprehensive, inexplicable human connection you can have at that age. I can feel Janet holding my hand as we wove through parties, her doing my make-up, her eyes inches from mine, her tongue sticking out in concentration. I remember Sandra teaching me how to backflip, holding my stomach in and pulling me up into the right position. Waking up next to her after sleepovers, rolling towards her and tickling her back. Brushing her hair. I remember Fox guiding my fingers, teaching me how to roll cigarettes, laughing when I dropped the contents all over the ground. Sneaking up behind me and covering my eyes with his hands. Jacob kissing my feet, playing with my hair, breathing me in. Fox, Janet and Sandra comforting me after Jacob died. Touching me. Holding me. It was like we shared skin, space and everything in between. I remember needing them like air.
But after school that closeness evaporated.
Jacob is dead. Fox, I barely see. And I have no idea where Janet and Sandra are now. They moved away years ago and we don’t keep in touch.
A new girl joins the group and starts to sob as the others pull her into their circle. I look away, feeling intrusive and oddly jealous. Their sense of belonging is palpable.