Wyld Times, Episode 30
The elephant sways backward and forward in a small pen, its huge grey ears swinging listlessly, its eyes dull. Kylie pushes up on the metal fence, her small face creased in concern as she watches the giant animal sway repetitively. "She looks so sad, Bru. Is she sick?"
Bruce puts his foot up on the low bar of the dusty fence and leans on his knee with his elbow. "Kind of, kiddo. She's sick in the head."
Michelle chimes in. "Mali is a female Asian elephant. She was sold from the wildlife park she used to live in with a herd and moved to this small city zoo – on her own."
"She must be lonely," says Kylie.
"She is," Michelle agrees. "Asian elephants live in matriarchal herds – groups of mums and babies together. Mali lost her mum, her sisters and her kids when they moved her – and she's been so upset, she's developed some abnormal and unhealthy behaviours."
"It's call zoochosis," says Bruce, tipping up the brim of his Akubra hat. "It's a funny word, but it's no joke. When animals are kept isolated or don't have enough enrichment, the crazy comes out in lots of different ways. Pacing, swaying, biting the bars – and this one is super gross, Kyls – vomiting and eating the vomit over and over again!"
Bruce laughs loudly, but Kylie looks distressed. "Can't we help her, Bru?"
"We already have," says Michelle, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Wyld Times has bought Mali - and the rest of her herd – and we're going to reunite them at a new, purpose-built sanctuary in Thailand."
"Good," says Kylie. She hugs Michelle hard, pressing her tearful face into Michelle's shoulder. "Elephants aren't supposed to be alone. No one is."
It only takes a second from the 'oh no' moment when I realise I've fallen off the stage before I hit the water. Barely enough time to process what has happened: one moment, I'm getting ready to blow out candles, the next, I'm bracing for impact. I close my eyes and manage to take a breath at the last second.
Smack! The water envelops me, icy against my bare arms. It's summer, but we run chillers on the lagoon water to keep the seals and dolphins healthy. I'm not injured, just stunned. For a second – just a single selfish second – I debate sinking to the bottom of the pool and staying there. I'm not suicidal, just exhausted. If I was actually hurt, if I needed rescuing, I could let someone else take over for a while and I could just rest.
I open my eyes beneath the surface, and a memory assails me: another time, another place, cold water, and Bruce- where is Bruce? Bruce is nowhere. I'm alone. Alone in the cold and the dark. Alone.
No. I fight the memory, clawing my way back to the present. Enough. I set my self-pity and trauma aside. Kicking against the weight of my dress and shoes, I power upwards, stretching my face into a wide, comforting smile.
As I break the surface, I see Parker about to dive in after me, his features twisted in open fear. "I'm fine, everyone!" I sing gaily, as if falling on my ass into a pool dressed in evening wear is just a normal event for me. I wave at the phones and cameras aimed my way, laughing for the sake of the millions of people who will probably watch this clip online. I might not have control over what happened, but I do control how I react.
"Hey, Dell!" I slap the surface of the water to attract the attention of my favourite seal. The dolphins won't work unless there's food on offer – if you're drowning in the ocean, the whole saved-by-a-dolphin thing is a myth, they're more likely to wait until you sink to the bottom and then play with your corpse – but the seals are a bit more friendly.
Lindell's giant black head breaks the surface nearby, a spray of mist from his nostrils as he takes a breath and eyes me curiously. "Dell, help me out?" I cue the seal over to me and grab hold of his thick neck. Pointing to the nearest ladder, I say, "Dell – let's go!" and he takes off, towing me on his back, delighted for a chance to play.
The cameras follow me as Dell and I make our way to the side of the pool. Parker races around and leans down, extending his strong hand towards me. I grip his arm tight and he carefully lifts me up and sets me on my feet. Sopping wet, I give a little curtsey to the watching crowd, grateful when everyone explodes into applause.
"My darling!" My mother appears beside me, a Wyld Sanctuary branded towel in her arms. "Oh, you poor thing! Are you alright?"
Mum wraps the towel around me, hugs me and whispers in my ear. "I saw Kylie push you."
I shake my soggy head. "Not now." I'm not convinced Kylie actually meant to knock me in, and even if she did, I can't get into it with so many people watching.
"Go and change, my sweet girl. Don't let this ruin the night."
"Ruin it?" Maeve, my best friend who has dragged her four kids and her hubby up from Sydney for this party, has pushed her way over to us, her eyes bright with excitement. "Are you kidding? That was epic! This time in an hour, you'll be trending, lady! Hashtag birthday seal rescue!"
"Thanks, Maeve," I say dryly.
She waves me away. "If you get changed in your office, I'll bring you something dry to wear. I brought a spare dress because Zackie always gets carsick and I didn't want to risk rocking up at your party smelling of kid vom."
I nod, my face still frozen in a false smile for the benefit of everyone else. Someone clears the way for me and I walk through the crowd. People pat my shoulder and check that I'm okay as I pass. "I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise!"
It's not until I reach the relative quiet of the corridor leading back to the reception building that I realise Parker is still beside me, silently shadowing my steps. "I'm fine, Parker," I say, my chattering teeth telling a different story.
"You're shivering."
We turn into my office. "I'm just cold."
Parker closes the door behind us. It's the first time I've let myself look at him tonight, really look. He's incredibly striking, with the red of his hair contrasting with the lines of his elegant black suit. His pocket square is the same shade as my dress, and I let myself hope for a beat that it's not a coincidence, that he was thinking of me as organised his outfit. His deep green eyes seem to see through my bluster as he says softly, "Mish..."
"I'm fine. I'm just cold. And tired." But the door is closed and it's just us; something goes slack inside me. I don't have to pretend in front of Parker. "I'm cold," I say again. "And I'm tired. Because I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this – but apparently, I don't have a choice."
I begin to pace like a caged animal, feeling my entire life close in around me. "Did you hear those birthday videos tonight? Did you hear every single person congratulate me for the work I'm doing here? That I'm 'the face of Australian conservation' and that I represent the next generation of eco-warriors and oh how proud Bruce would be. Cate Blanchett –Cate freaking Blanchett – tells me that I've made a huge impact in the last decade and she can't wait to see how much more I can accomplish in the decades to come – decades, Parker!" I laugh bitterly, but the tears are streaming down my already damp face. "I don't think I have even one more day left in me. How can I keep this up for decades?"
As I stalk back and forth, I strip the sopping dress from my body and kick it angrily to the corner. Parker holds out a fresh towel in silence and I wrap it around my body, still talking. "I'm alone, Parker. I'm completely isolated. I come to work and I'm on my own because everyone else here loves what they do. Then I go home, and I'm even more lonely because that's how everyone needs it to be! Poor Michelle, the tragic widow, alone with Bruce's memory to keep her warm. It's a heartbreaking and beautiful tale – unless you're the one who's living it."
I can feel myself hyperventilating, something I thought only happened to hysterical people in the movies. But I can't seem to draw enough oxygen in, and I breathe faster and faster, trying to gulp more air and alleviate the unbearable tightness in my chest. I pace quicker. "I'm trapped, Parker. I'm trapped and miserable and lonely."
"What do you need?" His voice is low and comforting, and I turn towards him like a sunflower seeking the sun. He stands with his back against the door, arms open, his face filled with empathy. "What can I do for you?"
The answer is so simple. In three fast steps, I close the gap between us. "Kiss me," I say, reaching for him. "I need to be kissed, Parker."
There. A different expression crosses Parker's face: not the concerned compassion he's been staring at me with, but something new. A cautious look, underwritten by longing. I'm not imagining this. He wants me too.
I say it again, lifting my arms and resting my hands lightly on his shoulders. "I need to be kissed."
Parker doesn't move; he just continues to stare at me. "Do you just need to be kissed? Or do you need to be kissed by me?"
I realise how deep this question runs, and my heart aches for Parker. I've leaned on him so many times, especially since Bruce died. He's been my business partner, my cheerleader, my counsellor. He's the one I ring at two am when a call comes in from the coast guard that we have to go to a stranding or a rescue. He's the first person to show up at the park in the mornings and the last one to leave at night. He's my rock.
But it never occurred to me that he would feel like a placeholder, like his role in my life was replaceable. I love Parker; I've loved him for a long time. I love him – and I can never have him, because of the man who used to link us and whose memory haunts the air between us.
I can't have Parker, but I can give him this. I run my fingers down his stubbled jaw, watching his eyes close in pleasure at my touch. "Parker... I need to be kissed by you. I need you."
His eyes open, fragile hope in their verdant depths. I tilt my face up, our lips less than a breath apart now. "Please, Parker. Please."
He hesitates for one more second, then slowly, so very slowly, he closes the gap between our faces. I brace myself; it's been a long time since I was last kissed and I remember how savage it always was with Bruce. He kissed to consume, his lips wide, his tongue insistent. His aim was to overpower me when we kissed. It was almost always a precursor to something more – sex or a favour of some kind – never just a kiss for the joy of kissing.
And, I can't lie, there was something intoxicating by being so thoroughly owned, by being overpowered by someone so large and commanding. But I always felt as though I wasn't really part of the kiss; that somehow, I was simply a prop or a vessel for Bruce and his intentions.
But even as I steel myself for Parker, I realise that I won't need to. Gently, he brings his forehead to rest against mine, and my skin burns as it connects with his. His hands softly cup the sides of my face as if I'm precious to him, then slowly, he tilts my mouth up to meet his.
The first kiss is so soft, I barely feel it against my skin – but the connection between our lips sends a pulsing wave of emotion rolling along every inch of my body. I gasp against his mouth and press up, needing more. Parker draws back, just enough to communicate his intention to take things slowly, then he soothes me with a second, sweet kiss.
A noise escapes me: a combination sigh of relief and mew of desire. His arm wraps around the small of my back, supporting me as my body goes limp, submitting to this moment, to him. Our mouths stay connected, sharing kiss after kiss. Parker tastes exactly right; I can't explain it better than that. I draw his breath into my body, addicted to the feel of his hands against my skin and the way he fills me so utterly.
I lift my hands, threading them through his hair, and my towel falls to the floor with a soft thump. He groans against my lips, and the sound causes my skin to goosebump. Leaning into him, I lift my leg and hook it around his waist, holding him with as many limbs as I can manage and still stay standing. Parker slides his hand down to support my knee, his broad fingers soothing my needy skin. The heat between our bodies is unbearable; he's wearing too many clothes. I need to feel his flesh against mine, to press into him until there's nothing between us.
The kiss becomes deeper, but not more insistent, just more intense. Our lips part more with each connection, our tongues tentatively pressing forward, meeting and sliding away. It's slow and perfect. This isn't a kiss, not really. We're having a conversation, sharing all the things that have been unsaid between us for years. And because Parker is holding me, because I know I can trust him and he won't try to consume or control me, that conversation doesn't frighten me anymore.
"Knock, knock!" Maeve's voice calls from the other side of the door, her fist banging only inches from our heads. "Michelle, are you in there?"
Parker and I break apart reluctantly. We grin at each other, our lips swollen and our faces flushed, like naughty teenagers. "Hang on," I call out, reaching for my fallen towel and opening the door.
Maeve bustles in, carrying an emerald green dress in a dry cleaners bag. "Oh, thank god. I forgot which office was yours, this was my fourth try. Anyway, this should fit you; my boobs are a bit bigger than yours - thanks so much, breast-feeding! But it's a stretch velvet, so it should be fine and it's better than a towel."
Parker and I watch Maeve as she busies herself pulling the dress off its hanger. He hasn't moved, and neither have I; I can't bear to step away from him now that I've been so close.
"There." Maeve nods at the dress draped over my desk with approval, then glances over and seems to notice us properly for the first time. "What are you two doing? You should be careful, standing that close. People will talk!" She wags a finger at us, as if we're just two more of her unruly children in need of guidance.
"Maeve-" I begin. I'm not sure what I'm going to say next, but telling Maeve will make this thing – whatever it is – real. And I need it to be real, to have this one real thing, one thing that belongs just to him and me.
Maeve laughs. "I'm just kidding, you guys! I know you're only friends – Parker, you're an amazing second best friend because I'll always be number one, lol. But oh my god, can you imagine the media frenzy if someone thought you were actually a thing? They'd tear you guys limb from limb - then the sanctuary and everyone you've ever known. Ugh, I can picture the headlines – 'Bruce Wyld's bestie and missus – were they actually having an affair? Did they conspire to murder Bruce? Tune in at five to see our recreated footage of Mrs Wyld and Parker screwing on Bruce's grave!"
Parker and I are frozen; we haven't moved, but suddenly, he might as well be on the other side of a glass exhibit wall. Because Maeve is right: the press would crucify us. I could handle it if I only had to consider myself, but there's so much more at stake. The reputation of the sanctuary, our fundraising for wildlife initiatives – and Kylie. I don't know exactly how she'd react, but I'd bet on every fish in the seal freezer that she wouldn't take it well.
And if anyone goes digging into Bruce's death... It's not an exaggeration to say that lives would be ruined – forever.
I break my trance, stepping forward and picking up the dress. "Thanks for this, Maeve. Hey, Parker? Can you go with Maeve and find some extra fish to give Dell please? He did a great job tonight – and so did the both of you."
I hold Parker's gaze and force myself to say, "You're the best friends I could ever ask for. Please don't ever let that change."
Maeve smiles, oblivious to the tension. "Aw! You're such a sweetheart. Of course, we'll never change."
Parker's reaction is different: his face crumples in stages as he realises what I'm doing, putting distance and walls between us again. Then, he tightens the lips I was pressed against only moments before and says, "Sure thing, Mrs Wyld. Whatever you need."
They leave and I am alone again, the sound of my married name hanging in the air like a toxic gas, slowly poisoning me.
I seem to have only two writing modes: paralysis for months at a time where I produce nothing, or spewing 20k words a week, forgoing sleep and social contact because I have to get the story out. I clearly have issues with moderation, but at least I'm in my creative flow at the moment.
All of that to say - I'm really grateful to have you reading, so here's a lovely sexy chapter to keep you going. I'm posting as fast as I'm writing, about a chapter a day, so hopefully the story will build quickly. Please remember to vote if you're enjoying it so far!