I feel guilty; in all the excitement of taking you, I’d forgotten about her. And here she is, waiting—dying.
Dear Kate,
Maybe I’m reading between the lines, but are you okay? You sounded upset in your last email. Let me know. Your wellbeing is more important than planning my silly old trip. Though, have to say, the stuff you wrote about the desert does sound great and I’d love to know more, love to go exactly there on my trip too!
I look over at you, your eyes shut, your chest rising and falling. I have time to respond; it’s the least Rose deserves before I disappear from her life. What have I got to lose now?
Dear Rose,
You’re right, I’m not myself. So, I’m going away for a bit, somewhere quiet, where I can get my head together. I’m going to find things I’ve been missing. I’m sorry to leave you, though. I know how important your trip is, and I so wanted to help. But I’m worried about that, too—I’ve let my own thoughts take over.
I’m going to pass on your details to one of my colleagues. Charli will be able to help you better than me. Like I said, I’m going away, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. There are things I need to do to find closure. I hope you’ll understand.
But my advice if you do still want to see this land is to learn about it first. The Australian desert isn’t what you think—not the images Qantas and Tourism Australia show us. The land is more than this, and it’s less too. In some ways, it’d be better if you didn’t come and explore it—if no tourists did. The land can heal then, grow, away from the pressures of having to be entertainment, make money. But if you do come, be respectful. I’m beginning to think the tour operators are not helping anyone. They make tourists fall in love with a fantasy, not the real desert.
Your head is resting on the sill of the open car window, the sun on your eyelids. What would you think of my words? You told me once that you knew this desert land better than anyone, but now it seems you don’t care about it at all. You said this land was your lifeblood, that you measured yourself against it. And I came to measure my feelings for you against it, too. When I started to love the land, I started to love you. Without it, there would never have been an us.