connect verb: to bind or fasten
together
How do you start again? You start with a touch, a word. I have no idea if it will work out between us. I thought it would the first time.
I let that thin thread start to spin out and stretch towards him. It’s fine, barely visible. If we move quickly it will break so we must walk slowly, treat each other carefully.
I watch Gracie play that last game and see a hundred threads, a road map of webs, connecting every living thing to the next.
For the first time in years I’m in a hotel and I’m not lonely. Helen is in the next room. Gracie is down the hall. The winds are quiet. We are all exactly where we are meant to be. I’ve come in from the sea and the waves that have been tossing me around for months are shallow, lapping at sand. I’m playing at the edge; the sun is warm on my face. Helen and Gracie are next to me and we are laughing.
‘So, Dad, are you and Mum back together?’
‘No, honey. It’s going to take a lot of time. Things might not work out between us.’
‘That’s okay.’ I don’t know what to say after that. I’m scared for him.
‘I’m still the same, Gracie. I still love you more than anything in the world.’
‘I understand, Dad,’ I say, and I think maybe I do.
Like he’d always told me, some things are grey. They’re blurred at the edges like the sky when it’s fading into night. It’s a beautiful part of the day, even though you know it’s going to get dark soon. There’s calmness in the night, though; there are people there if you have a bad dream or feel sick. You can listen to the rain and know that you’re safe, inside your house, with strong walls around you.
‘That guy, the defender. He said something about me, didn’t he?’ I’m sitting with Martin out the back of the hotel. It’s cold and wet on the grass but neither of us moves to go inside. I’m taking this as a good sign.
‘I wouldn’t deck a guy over you, Faltrain. I’d just stand back and let you knock him out yourself.’
‘Shut up, Martin, or I’ll hit you.’
‘Exactly.’
‘So are you coming back with us?’
‘Yeah. At least for a little while. I’ll see what happens.’ Martin shifts his leg. Scratches his head. We both get very interested in the grass all of a sudden. I watch his hands, pulling at weeds. If I leave now, and Martin is waiting to make a move, then I’ll have missed my chance. But if I stay, and that’s not what he’s thinking, then it could be awful. Grass-picking definitely wasn’t in the body language book.
‘Just don’t stick your tongue in my ear, all right, Faltrain? I’m not into that kind of stuff,’ he says. There’s my sign. Direct. Just how I like it.
So I kiss him.
Was it good? Yep. Did Gracie Faltrain’s issues with saliva get resolved? Absolutely. And it all happened underneath the stars. It was fate.
‘I like you, Faltrain,’ I say after she kisses me. ‘I like you because you’re going to win me the Championships.’
I know if I say it, then she will.