FIVE YEARS LATER
AUSTRALIA
"That's far enough!" I shout at Claire who is climbing an insanely tall tree. I bring up my hand to shade my eyes from the ever-sunny sun.
"No! I need to go to the top!" she shouts back.
Ugh. It's all that Shaman's fault. I don't care if she falls to the ground. The earth is soft enough and her fall will be slowed down by the branches. But on the other side of the tree is a deep cliff, opening to a turbulent ocean bank that's lined with sharp upright stones.
The tree is standing right at the edge of the cliff as if it wants to jump but the ground beneath it caught it on time.
"Are you there yet?" I shout. I can't see her anymore. She's too far up.
"No!"
"How much distance to the top left?"
"I don't know!"
I bury my face in my palms.
Claire met a Shaman in a cave we dived into. Underwater cave diving is one of the many water sports Claire and I picked up after coming here.
She took her meeting that Shaman as a sign, like a miracle, because her latest hobby is to find a way to connect with dead people.
After being exiled to Australia, to the Germund pack, a pack lead by Claire's uncle, Claire has become diversely spiritual.
She went through an astrology phase where she wouldn't even let me touch the TV remote during Mercury retrograde out of fear that the TV will stop working. I, on the other hand, still don't know what a Mercury retrograde is.
Then she moved onto crystals and energy stones. She collected stones of different colors and sizes and kept them in our apartment. They were everywhere and slowly becoming health hazards. One of the bigger stones she kept in our closet for good luck almost severed my toes when it fell on my feet.
As of yet, her worst spiritual journey is the one she's currently on now, to become a medium.
Unlike the position of the planets on the sky or the imaginary aura of the stones she had acquired, which do not have any damaging effect on me, it's very scary to wake up in the middle of the night and see her performing a ritual to contact with the spirits.
But I let her have it. She's not the only one who had to do something to keep herself from going insane after we moved here.
I see twigs falling to the ground from the tree. "Claire!" I call her.
"It's done," she exclaims. "I'm coming down."
The Shaman told her to write the name of the deceased person Claire wants to talk to and tie it at the top of the tree closest to the cliff. She wrote her grandmother's name. As sweet as it is of her to want to see her granny, I hope her grandmother visits her only when I'm not around.
When she's halfway down, she pauses and gauges the distance between her and the ground. I know what she's thinking. I move away from the tree. She makes a clean jump.
I can't help but smile proudly at her. That was impressive.
We return to our home after that and I take a shower to get ready for the evening concert I'm hired to photograph. If Claire has her spirituality, I have my photography.
Once we started college here, we moved out of the Germund's packhouse and rented an apartment. Our place is not too far from the packland, but far enough to feel like we're independent.
