As Darkness Falls

4

Zoe came back over to the couch, and sat down beside Sara, but sat a little way away from her, leaving a space between them. It might have been unconscious, Sara thought, or it might not. If it was deliberate, Zoe was probably hinting that she wasn’t ready to be touched just yet, so Sara didn’t reach over towards her.

She just sat there, and looked at Zoe.

Zoe lit a cigarette and hugged herself with one arm and smoked. Her hands were trembling slightly.

They didn’t speak for a while. Zoe was quiet, and Sara wasn’t sure what to say. That she was sorry it had happened just seemed obvious and inadequate. So completely inadequate that she wasn’t sure she should even try. Especially when Zoe seemed mostly in control of herself, and wasn’t acting as though she was especially upset. Zoe seemed unsettled, and fairly bleak, but she wasn’t actually crying or anything, and when she wasn’t obviously distressed, sympathy didn’t seem completely right, Sara thought. It felt as though it might somehow cheapen Zoe’s strength.

Sara thought for a moment, and then said, “I love you.” It was the simplest way to say what she wanted to say.

Zoe nodded.

“I’m glad you wanted me to know about this,” Sara said. “I mean, I’m glad you trusted me.”

Zoe shrugged, and then sat there. After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Showing you that.”

“No, it’s…” Sara stopped. It wasn’t fine, or okay, or anything else. She didn’t quite know what she meant.

“You needed to see it to understand,” Zoe said.

Sara nodded. She actually got that. She might even have done it that way herself, she supposed, if she was Zoe. If you wanted someone for the rest of your life, if you wanted them to know all of your life, then sometimes they had to see it, not simply be told.

“It’s fine,” Sara said in the end.

“Well, I’m sorry. Just so you know.”

“No,” Sara said. “You don’t need to be…”

“Well, I am.”

Sara nodded. “Should I hug you?” she said. It seemed easier just to ask.

She sometimes asked, when Zoe was obviously upset. She’d realised, after the first few times it happened, that although Zoe wouldn’t usually actually stop Sara touching her, there were times she’d rather Sara didn’t. She was too stiff, too rigid, uncomfortable, if Sara did anyway.

It was easier to ask, so Sara did, and Zoe nodded, and leaned closer, onto Sara, so their shoulders touched. Sara hugged her and pressed her face against Zoe’s neck.

“Part of why I love you,” Zoe said, “Is your uniform. People who wear clothes like yours saved me from this. You know that, right?”

Sara nodded. “I know. I guessed.”

“And another part is because you’re good and strong and gentle and kind and patient,” Zoe said. “You’re everything I never knew in someone growing up, and that’s important as well.”

“I’m glad you do,” Sara said. “Love me.”

“I am too.”

“Because I really love you,” Sara said, wanting to make sure Zoe knew. “I love you, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Whatever I can do to help.”

Zoe sat there for a while, as if she was thinking, and then she said, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Zoe took a piece of paper out her pocket. A letter, folded in three. She handed it to Sara, who read it. It was a form letter, a victim notification letter from the department of corrections saying that a prisoner was about to be released, and the recipient was on a notification register. Sara didn’t understand at first because it was addressed to someone else, not to Zoe.

“Oh,” Zoe said. “My name isn’t really Zoe.”

Sara looked at her for a moment, and then decided to ask about that another time. She read the letter again, and realized it must be about Zoe’s father.

“He’s going to be released?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“How long was he in prison for?”

“Seven years.”

Sara sat there for a while. “Only seven years?”

Zoe nodded.

“Oh fuck, Zo, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Zoe said. “I got used to it.”

“But still…”

Zoe shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” Sara said.

Zoe nodded. “So,” she said, after a moment. “You’ll do anything?”

“Of course.”

“Absolutely anything?”

“I will.”

“Good,” Zoe said. “Because I might want to kill him.”

Sara sat there for a while and thought about everything she was, and everything Zoe meant to her, and how badly life went wrong sometimes. How badly the system went wrong, that was what she really meant. The system she was a part of.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Zoe said, after a moment. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“Oh,” Sara said.

“Would you?” Zoe said. “If I needed you to help me?”

Sara looked at her, speechless.

If she did this, Sara thought, and if she was caught, she would go to prison. There was absolutely no question about that. A revenge-killing by a cop was a bad, bad thing, and worse in New South Wales that anywhere else.

Zoe might have a chance if they were caught, Sara thought. A sympathetic jury might accept her abuse as a justification. Not Sara, though. Sara would have no excuse, not one that a prosecutor couldn’t twist all around and make sound wrong, and turn into something about anger and hate and misusing the power of the police. And the police would have to turn on Sara, too, and show they weren’t involved. Everyone would have to turn on Sara, and even if she got away with it, her career would be over. She’d have to resign, if she did this. She would have to, for herself, because she couldn’t keep going to work knowing she’d become one of the bad guys.

Zoe was asking her to give up everything she cared about, and she thought very carefully for a moment about exactly what that meant. She thought, too, about how serious Zoe might be, since people sometimes said things which they didn’t completely mean at moments like this. They said odd, scared, boastful things that shouldn’t be taken completely seriously, except that Zoe never actually did that. Zoe was a very calm person, a thoughtful person, and she usually only ever said precisely what she meant.

And now she was saying she was thinking about murdering her father, utterly calmly. Which probably meant she was completely serious.

Sara thought about the things people said. About threats they didn’t mean, and about promises they made, too. People said they’d do anything for someone, but they didn’t always mean it. They meant almost anything, or a lot of things, or anything that was convenient and not too much trouble.

People didn’t always mean it when they said they’d do anything, but Sara had meant it utterly. She thought for a moment, carefully, and decided that she had. By saying she’d do anything, she’d made a promise to Zoe. She hadn’t quite known what she was getting into, and she might not have said it so quickly if she had. But that didn’t actually matter. She loved Zoe, and she’d made a promise, and she was going to keep that promise now she had.

She loved Zoe, she thought. She actually, honestly did love Zoe more than anything else in her life, and more than anything else in the world, and she actually would do anything for Zoe that Zoe needed her to do.

“Okay,” Sara said. “If you want me to, I’ll help.”