‘Made a bed for her in the storage shed.’
‘Seriously?’ I remove the binoculars from my eyes to stare at you. Your lips are twitching. ‘Thought you said she’d kill everything if we encourage her?’
‘She will.’
‘Then…why?’
‘Ah, what’s the fucking point anymore, Gem? If you don’t look after the things that stick around, what else you got?’
This time you give me a broad smile, an acknowledgement that you’ve backed down. A change.
It’s you, back.
You, almost beautiful.
You tap the hood of the car.
‘It’s getting there,’ you say, shrugging. ‘I dunno.’
I stay silent. I’m glad you’re bringing something back to life, but I’m sad it’s the car. If you succeed, will you still drive off without me? Or will I drive it away from you? Opening the back door of the car, you rummage through the department-store supplies, then start laughing like a jackdaw.
‘What the hell?’ you say, pulling out the iron. I notice a streak of your dried blood still on the base. ‘Why’d you bring that out here? You nuts or something?’
I don’t answer. So you don’t remember I used the iron to knock you out when I took you?
You tip your head back and laugh. ‘What did you think we’d be doing, going to a ball?’
You grab the cord with your right hand and, in one sharp movement, try to yank it from the iron, but it doesn’t snap.
‘Bloody thing. Give me your knife.’
And I do, because maybe I do trust you. Because now I’m more curious about how things will play out between us. You slit the cord and take it around to the hood of the car, where you try to tie it to something inside, swearing loudly. Suddenly,the cord flies across the sand behind me.
‘Fucking thing!’
I guess the iron cord is not the missing link to our departure. Your head comes up from the engine and you throw the knife at my feet. I wipe it on my shorts and smile.
‘Fucking iron,’ I say.