The Aftermath

As the office door slammed shut behind her, she cringed, and her body tightened in response. She hesitated and then lifted her head, squared her shoulders and walked out with a determined gait that she did not feel. “Fake it ‘til you make it” she muttered to herself and began the familiar, yet lonely walk home.

Grace turned towards the beach and stepped on to the boardwalk, wondering if it was safe. Each board creaked beneath her weight and branches had been strewn randomly across it. She looked ahead and the horizon mirrored the bleakness she felt. Orange roadside markers had been set up to redirect her steps onto the grassy park beside her and she obediently left the water’s edge, his words still reverberating in her head.

“You’re done… incompetent… not good enough.” With each step, the words went round and round in her head. She tried to silence them, but they were persistent. “You’re done.. not good enough…”

Grace turned and headed back towards the shore again and was struck by the destruction that had visited this place. A boat listed precariously to the left, its sails shredded, deep holes gouged in its sides, and parts of the frame scattered over the rocks it had been washed up on. She took out her phone and carefully made her way closer to the boat. A loose rock moved under her foot and she put out her hand to regain her balance, unaware she was being watched. After snapping a few pictures, she slowly put the phone back in her pocket, and looked thoughtfully at the boat. She glanced around and seeing no one, decided to move in closer.

The rocks were slippery, and she could hear the boat creaking and groaning as the water lapped around it and the sand shifted under its weight. A few times she needed to regain her footing and when she was close enough, she laid her hand on the side of the boat, feeling the smooth metal under her fingers. She edged herself around, peering in to see what was in the boat and every now and again, gave it a push to see if it could be moved upright.

“What are you doing here?” he spat out and Grace turned around to face the stranger. He was not much older than herself, but his eyes were tired and bloodshot, his dishevelled appearance revealing the hopelessness he had been contending with over the past few days. He raised an eyebrow, stepped back and signalled for her to leave. She wanted to reach out and reassure him, but he shrank back and jerked his head towards the main path. When she was back on solid ground, she heard a low whistle and a brown dog bounded past her, running to his master’s side. Grace turned and watched again until she saw the stranger crumple to the ground, his head in his hands and his dog licking his face, trying to please him.

As she passed the shops that were now closed, Grace became aware of how deserted the town was. Usually it would be bustling with tourists and guides, children laughing, lovers gazing into each other’s eyes and young men bragging of their conquests as they zipped up their wetsuits. But not now. Not today, nor tomorrow, nor any time soon, would it be safe for people to resume the life they once enjoyed here at the waterfront. She crawled over a fallen tree that crossed the path and noticed a nest with broken eggs inside it. The bark and branches scratched at her bare legs and she wondered if this had been a good idea after all.

On the other side of the fallen tree, she stood up, wiped away the dirt and leaves that clung to her clothes, and looked up ahead. She saw a woman with a mop and bucket in her hand, joined by her man and sons, cleaning out their shop. Grace waved when her Aunt looked in her direction and proceeded to pick her way through the debris. “So? What did he say?” and seeing her downcast face, she put the mop down and lovingly embraced Grace. “There, there. Shhhh. It’ll be OK, Shhhh.” She led her into the kitchen and put the saucepan of water on to the camp stove, bidding her sit down in the overstuffed armchair. As Grace sobbed out the story, the older woman clucked and tutted, wiped away tears and handed out reassuring words with the cup of tea.

Her sobs subsided and as she put the empty cup down, her aunt handed her the brown package. “It’s time,” she said gently, and Grace nodded and slipped the package into her backpack. “Goodbye” she whispered, and she kissed the older lady on her cheek and left.

On her way home, Grace saw a group of men circled around a pile of fallen trees, chainsaws and axes drawn, sweat pouring down their faces and backs as they methodically chopped the branches into more manageable chunks and tossed them to the side of the road. The noises of the chainsaws and generators filled the town and would have drowned out the sounds of the curlews and kookaburras if there had been any left to sing their distinctive songs. Houses ascending the hills had become visible where once proud trees had hidden them behind their curtain of leaves. There was no power, no running water and all that was left was the sound of emptiness. The town had been stripped bare.

Her bag felt heavy upon her back, but she kept moving forward steadily. Grace was not going to let this latest betrayal hold her back. She had been knocked down before and she knew the way back up. Time spent with her therapist had reminded her she was not worthless, and she determined not to succumb to the cacophony of voices that threatened to engulf her. She quickened her pace as the sun lowered its gaze and she inadvertently shivered. “Shake it off” she sung to herself.

Nearing home, Grace looked around her and again felt heartbroken at the devastation this town had experienced. Nothing looked the same and it would be a long time before this town, its people, its wildlife and flora, would return to life. As she entered her home, silence welcomed her, and her hand went automatically to switch the light on before reaching for the torch. She grabbed a sandwich and sat down with the brown package on the table in front of her. Even as darkness filled the room, Grace knew it was there and could still see it.

Leaving it on the kitchen table, Grace carefully made her way to the bedroom, her hands outstretched in front of her, feeling for anything that might be in her way. It was so dark, darker than she could have imagined, when there are no streetlights shining and the stars have hidden behind clouds. She tossed and turned, willing the morning to come soon and hearing a knock at the window, she crossed the floor and looked at the town below. The town was bathed in an eerie glow as morning began to break. Grace heard the knock again and saw a branch stretching its fingers towards the window as the tree bent over, wearily.  Her eyes saw it, but her mind was on the brown package.

When morning came, Grace pushed aside the tiredness, packed the remainder of her belongings and headed to the kitchen. She gave a cursory glance around her, picked up a pear and the package and headed out the door. Dropping her keys into the mailbox, she took one last look at the house behind her and got into the car waiting for her. She smiled at the driver who politely greeted her but the drive to the airport was otherwise quiet. No sooner had she paid him than he was gone, and Grace joined the other few passengers who were also trying to escape the aftermath.

As she buckled up her seatbelt, Grace looked around and noticed the gruff older man sitting near the window reading the paper, the harried parents trying to sort out the snacks and electronic devices for their children, and the elegant young woman texting furiously before take-off.

A nudge beside her broke her reverie and she looked at the older woman who was trying to get comfortable. The air attendant saw the commotion and reassured Sally that her bags would be safe and would arrive at her destination on the next flight. The large woman complained loudly that she would be telling the authorities of the airline’s negligence and informed anyone who would listen about the valuables that had been misplaced. Others ignored her, all trying to sort out their own losses and problems until finally the plane began its ascent into the clouds and Sally covered her ears, listening to the podcast.

Grace watched out the window, as the town, her home for the past five years slowly disappeared, and she leaned back, breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. “Want some gum?” Sally asked but received no reply as Grace feigned sleep. She was not ready to deal with an overbearing person right now and retreated into her memories for a moment.

“Fasten your seatbelts. We will now begin our descent” the co-pilot’s voice was heard through the speakers as he spoke reassuring words of weather reports and congratulated them all on a good, safe flight. The flight attendants checked the cabin and prepared themselves for landing, too. As Grace stood up, her head bumped the overhead lockers and she ducked and moved into the aisle. She reached for her backpack and held it in front of her as she disembarked.

Holding the rail for safety, she followed the yellow lines and entered the building. No one was there to greet her, and Grace watched as other passengers ran to the arms of their loved ones. She bit her lip and hitched the backpack on to her shoulder, pulling out her phone to check for messages and was confronted by the image of the broken boat. She sighed and got into her hire car, driving along the unfamiliar roads with the voice of the GPS guiding her. She wondered what tomorrow would bring and heard an impatient horn sounding out behind her. “Oops,” she responded and made her way across the intersection.

She parked near the picnic area, pulled the brown package out of her backpack and headed towards the tables. The box wasn’t heavy, and Grace noticed the paper was torn in the corner. She unwrapped it and folded the paper away, caressing the top of the box. As she opened it, a tear fell and landed on the photo she held, and she quickly brushed it away before it could damage the blurred image in front of her. The photo was of her mother, herself and her young son, all standing on a platform together. The boy was holding the hands of both women, leaning forward, laughing and both mothers were smiling in response. Grace remembered that day so well, a bittersweet time as through their laughter and fun, she had first discovered her mother was dying. The next photo she picked up was of her son wearing a clown’s costume, entertaining young children at a party and she laughed when she remembered him trying to fit his tall, gangly body onto the small, green bike.

Grace put the photos away and looked up. The sun felt warm upon her face and the sea beckoned her to come closer. She ran down to the beach, removing her shoes as she went, the sand tickling between her toes and she drank in the smell of the salty water, sunscreen and sausages sizzling on the outdoor barbecue near the café. She kept running forward and felt the cold water embrace her and she deliberately tumbled, fully clothed, beneath the waves. She came up gasping for air, giggled at her recklessness and then dived under the frothing wave coming towards her. As she stood up on the sinking sand, she felt a strong hand grasp hers and she looked up at him. The sun shielded his face, but she knew who he was in a heartbeat. “It’s you,” she breathed, and as he leaned towards her, another wave came and swept them both off their feet.

They frolicked like the children they once were, ducking and diving under the waves, laughing and cajoling each other to go deeper and their competitiveness urged them on. Finally, out of breath, they made their way back to their belongings and dropped down onto the sand. Brad picked up the box and looked at her. “This it?” he asked as he turned it over and waited for her response. Grace nodded her head and answered, “Aunty Marg gave it to me before I left town. Everything’s in it, even her diary.”

He ran his rough hands over the box, outlining the engravings on the lid and handed it back to her. “You’re going back there now?” and when she nodded, he continued, “Do you want to come home and see Liz and the kids first?” Grace shook her head and replied, “No. I need to get going. I said I’d be there this afternoon.” Brad got to his feet and pulled her up and hugged her. “Well, you know where we are. Stay safe, sis” and as he walked away, she watched him, and debated running after him. He turned and waved and then continued to jog his way back to work while Grace headed for the car, the precious box tucked under her arm.

“On the road again,” she sang, but her heart wasn’t in it and she stopped singing and turned up the radio.

It was going to be a few hours before she made it to the house and her father would be there waiting. It had been a long time; she knew that better than anyone, but she was ready now, ready to put past hurts behind her, settle down and begin the next chapter of her life. She pressed the buttons on the dashboard and when he answered, Grace said, “I’m on my way home, Dad. I’ll be there at five.”