Sunshine bounces off the bonnet and streams through the windows, but I’m so busy thinking about deep steady breathing that I can barely talk. Every time we hit a straight stretch of road, Matts turns his head. Am I pale? Am I breathing too loudly? In through the nose and out through the mouth. Through the abdomen not through the chest. He doesn’t drive above the speed limit, but rarely goes below it.
‘Sapphie? Are you all right?’
He wanted to drive all this way. It’ll be his fault if I throw up all over his fancy car and—
‘Stop!’
‘What?’
‘I need …’ I wind down the window. I press the back of my head against the headrest. I close my eyes. I swallow. And swallow again. I slam my hand across my mouth. ‘I’m going to—’
The indicator ticks as the car slows and makes a right-hand turn. There are potholes on the road. Saplings scrape the side of the car. Dust comes through the window. The car stops, my stomach heaves. I wrench open the door and tumble out.
‘Sapphie?’ His door slams shut. ‘What the …?’
The narrow dirt road borders a broad, shallow ditch. My feet hit the ground and my knees buckle and I drop to my hands and knees. But I prefer to be down here where the road isn’t moving towards me and I don’t feel the need to keep watch. I grasp fistfuls of gravel as I retch into the dirt.
He pulls back the hair that’s come loose from my ponytail and tucks it firmly under my collar. He puts his hand on my back. I’m shaky and humiliated but want him here anyway.
‘Sairas pieni kissa.’
Sick little cat. I retch again and again, but all that comes up is saliva. And after a while, there’s barely even that. I’m in no hurry to explain what’s going on, so I turn and face the ditch. I suck in breaths and even through my runny nose, I smell the gum leaves. I draw up my legs and rest my cheek on my knees.
‘Don’t move.’
Didn’t he say that when I fell out of the tree? The rear door slams and so does the glove box. When he comes back, he crouches at my side. He hands me a bottle of water and tissues.
‘I have water in my bag,’ I croak.
‘Take mine.’
I don’t seem to be capable of opening the lid, so he prises the bottle out of my fingers and does it for me.
‘Drink.’
I press the bottle against my forehead. I lift my shirt and wipe my face. I swish mouthfuls of water around and spit them out. Finally, I drink.
‘Sapphie?’ He touches my shoulder. ‘Motion sickness? You never had it when—’
‘I was going to eat but you were early.’
‘You get sick if you don’t eat?’
When I scrabble to my feet, I slip on the gravel and he takes my arm. His hold is firm but impersonal. Isn’t that a good thing?
‘I’m fine.’
He leans against the car and looks at his watch. ‘Do you want to go home?’
I shake my head. ‘It’s not even night yet, so I don’t know why …’ I blow out a breath. ‘Pa and Hugo drive differently.’
He frowns. ‘I wasn’t speeding.’
‘No, but …’
‘When I proposed this trip, Gus said you weren’t keen on going in a car. What did he mean?’
‘Do you remember every single thing you ever hear?’
He shrugs. ‘Do you want to drive? Would that help?’
I take a step back. ‘No.’
‘You have a licence?’
‘Yes, but …’ I take a shuddery breath. ‘Last year, I hit a kangaroo.’ My voice wobbles. ‘It was night time and—’
‘I hit an elk.’
Did it lie on his bonnet and stare at him with dark and lifeless eyes? Does he have sleepless nights and panic attacks? I close my eyes but tears slip out. ‘You don’t understand.’
When he rests a hand on the side of my face, I open my eyes. His thumb slides softly over my cheek. He briefly closes his eyes. ‘Fuck,’ he mutters under his breath.
‘What?’
His thumb is wet with tears; it slips and slides. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’
‘You didn’t tell me about the elk,’ I croak.
When I blink back more tears, he swears again, turns his back and walks a few paces away. I scrub at my eyes with the tissues, open the door and sit sideways on the seat so my feet rest on the running board. I find a banana and mandarin in my backpack. The door is open, forming a barrier between us, but the window is down. Looking anywhere but at him, I hold out the fruit.
‘Would you like one?’
He shakes his head. ‘Eat, Sapphie.’
I sniff and peel the mandarin. ‘I liked Atticus and Alex.’ I chew a segment. ‘I liked Jacqueline much more than I liked Robert.’
His lip lifts. ‘Are you ready to go?’
‘I don’t want to eat by myself.’
He reluctantly takes a segment of mandarin and I peel the banana. The sun is slowly sinking.
‘Should I slow down?’
‘Please.’
It’ll take much longer to get to our motel because Matts keeps well below the speed limit. I leave the window down and do my best to focus on the horizon. Face your fears and push through them.
‘Distraction is good.’
‘I should talk?’ he asks.
‘Yes, please.’
‘What about?’
‘Before I went to Canberra, you said we should talk about the wetlands.’
He reaches across the gearstick and touches my hand. ‘The Macquarie River,’ he says gruffly. ‘What do you know about it?’
‘Assume I know nothing.’
He sighs. ‘It runs from Oberon in the south to the wetlands in the northwest, over nine hundred kilometres. The wetlands drain into the Darling River via the lower Barwon River.’
‘Brindabilly Dam.’
‘When it rains, dams ameliorate flooding in the towns. When it’s dry, they act as an additional water supply and assist with irrigation. But catchments can have a negative impact on the rivers and wetlands—they restrict the natural flow.’
I nod stiffly.
He glances at me. ‘Would you prefer the radio?’
When I rest my head on the window frame, the wind rushes onto my face. My eyes begin to water. ‘Tell me about the marshes.’
‘The Macquarie River contracts in the north to freshwater channels, streams and swamps, and creates a semi-permanent wetland. If there’s sufficient rain, the plains will flood. In the last drought, there was zero surface water.’
‘What are we going to look at this week?’
‘Parts of the nature reserve, and also privately owned land. This will give me an overview. In the next month, I’ll kayak to remote areas that are difficult to access by road or on foot. Eventually I’ll get a team in to look at land contours, biodiversity and other things.’
‘The wetlands are different than they were, aren’t they?’
‘Towns, agriculture, mining, dams, drainage. There are many reasons.’
It’s not properly dark, but by five o’clock more and more cars have their headlights switched on. A truck comes over the crest of a hill towards us.
‘Stop!’
Matts pulls into a layby and I stagger out of the car, putting my hands on my knees and retching into the dirt. He stands back with his water bottle and tissues.
‘Sairas pieni kissa.’