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.
During my second year of computer engineering, I got serious about photography as a hobby. A senior of mine noticed it and referred me to some gigs. It's been a beneficial side hustle so far. More importantly, it keeps me busy. I usually take evening jobs, after college hours, and prefer to cover events where I'm free to take photos of subjects of my choosing.
For this reason, I prefer covering music events. It's a chill work, capturing the emotions and passion of the musicians and the audience. Plus, I get to listen to some rad music, too, while working. Always a plus.
After dropping me at the event, Claire leaves to see her boyfriend, Nigel. When she finally started dating again, after our move here, I thought she would revert to her old ways of casual hookups. But she and Nigel have been going steady for three years now.
I'm not complaining, though. I like Nigel. He's cool, and he makes her happy, as happy as she can possibly be at our circumstances.
When I walk through the passageway to the rehearsal area, the band manager, Jane, notices me. "Hey Rose, you're early!"
"Wanted to take some pre-show shots."
"Great. You're lucky. Kyle has come today for the rehearsal. He usually skips them."
I groan inwardly. I'm not particularly looking forward to seeing Kyle. Kyle reminds me of him. A bit of Kyle's appearance, his mannerisms, and his sometimes cocky attitude is similar to someone I've been trying to forget.
Everything that happened between the day I got shot and the day Claire and I left Moore Cliff is something she and I have constantly been burying within us. Even when it's just us, we don't mention it.
The band's drummer notices me first and announces my arrival to his members. I instinctively look at Kyle. He doesn't bother looking at me and continues to tune his guitar. He's the composer and the lead guitarist of the band, Black Sun.
While they practice, I take some candid photos of the group, making sure I capture Kyle only once.
Once the show begins, I take a few more photos of them and also of the crowd. The band has a lot of female fans. They are popular. After the show ends, I pack up my camera bag.
The crew asks me to join them for dinner. I check my watch. It's not too late yet. I text Claire I'll be having dinner outside so she doesn't expect me to cook dinner for us tonight.
During dinner, Carter, the band's lead singer tries to flirt with me, yet again. I, as usual, ignore him with a polite smile. After finishing my food, I leave first and wait outside for my cab.
Kyle comes out of the restaurant after me and lights up his cigarette. Unconsciously I wonder if he smokes, too, now.
"Why don't you just accept his advance? It's not like you're seeing someone," Kyle says.
Kyle is not known for his subtlety.
"I'm not interested in him," I say.
"Then who are you interested in?" Kyle asks in his Aussie accent.
"No one."
"That's sad."
"Look who's talking?" I say. In the time I've known him, I've never seen Kyle with anyone.
The cab arrives, helping me escape having to talk to Kyle any longer.
––––
I peel the back of the tile and carefully align it on the floor before pressing it down. Vinyl tiles — who knew such a thing existed? And it's not just these tiles, I know a lot more about interior DIYs now. For the past two weeks, I've been helping Claire set up her shop during my free time.
She recently graduated from fashion school. Her course runs a year shorter than mine. With her two college friends, Patrice and Song, Claire is opening a boutique. She'd already got a one year lease on the shop and is in the process of setting it up.
I peel the next tile and gingerly place it near the one I put down before. Once I'm satisfied with its position, I press down again.
Nigel walks in and sees Claire painting the walls. "Need any help?" he says and starts to walk towards her.
"Stop right there!" I tell him. "If anyone is getting help in here, that's me."
He laughs and comes to me. With his help, I finish the remaining flooring in just twenty minutes.
After our hard work, we decide to go to the beach. Nigel is a pro surfer. If he and Claire are not having sex in his place, they are probably at the beach, surfing. Or he's just surfing and she's trying to perform some ocean rituals to the seagulls.
I find my sweet spot on the sand and sit down. While Claire and Nigel are changing into their swimwear, Nigel says, "You know Peter was asking about you the other day."
Peter is one of Nigel's friends I briefly dated last year. I've been dating now and then but nothing ever led to a serious relationship and I end up breaking up with the other party.
"I told you, Nigel, I don't want to date him again," I say.
Nigel sighs. He reminds me of Claire's brother, Mike, a lot. Mike always worries about me over the smallest things. And then there's my brother, Sid.
I turn away from Nigel and look at the horizon.
Besides him, I also have been trying not to think about Sid. My brother and I didn't part on good terms. And we haven't talked much since the great fallout. Whenever I call back home I get to talk to only my parents, Claire's parents, and Mike.
Every time I ask Mike if Sid is there, Mike would say he isn't. Mike's apologetic tone lets me know that's not true. Sid is there. He just doesn't want to talk to me.