Better Page 19

  The park gives each of us a souvenir, a small stuffed koala or kangaroo, on the way out of the park. We both get kangaroos and Adam gives his to me.

  From the park, our group goes to lunch near Leura. After lunch, we have time to wander the town, which has a healthy number of tourist shops. I am with Adam when he asks me to pick out the next charm for my bracelet. I can’t decide between the Sydney Opera House, a boomerang, or a bear. I finally settle on the boomerang just because of the way it was painted, and it would add some color to my wrist. Adam gets me a bear as well, so I can remember Sparky.

  We travel to the Three Sisters next, possibly the most famous landmark within the Blue Mountains. Three rocky peaks, standing side by side. The legend behind the sisters is sad. There were three sisters—Meehni, Wimlah, and Gunnedoo. They lived many years ago in the Jamison Valley and were members of the Katoomba tribe.

  They were beautiful and had many suitors, but they fell in love with three brothers from the Nepean tribe. Tribal law forbid their marriages, and the brothers, angry, decided to kidnap the sisters to force the marriages.

  A giant battle broke out between the two tribes, and in an effort to protect the sisters, a witch doctor turned them to stone. His intentions were good. He had planned to turn them back once the battle was over and they were safe. Instead, the witch doctor was killed during the battle, and there was no one else who could reverse his spell. So, they stand to this day, frozen in stone for all time.

  Our tour takes us to a place called Echo Point. There’s a platform there, overlooking the Three Sisters and the valley. I move away from the rest of the tour to the edge of the platform, not closest to the sisters and everyone taking pictures.

  The three sisters remind me of the relationship I had with my mother and Ally. Ally wasn’t truly my sister, but it felt like she was. She acted in so many ways as the bridge between my mother and me. I can see her represented in the rock, holding my mother and me together.

  I sit down and cross my legs, holding the small plastic box. I speak to her, tell her what Adam shared with me the night before. I wish she could have been there to tell me what to do. I miss her guidance. I tip the box over the edge of the platform, letting her ashes fall into the valley below.

  That morning, when I poured some ashes from the wooden carved box into my smaller plastic box that fit in my purse, I was shocked at how little was left. I only have two more places where I plan to release her ashes. The thought of that, the end of my good-bye trip with her, scares me.

  Adam hangs back, knowing I need my space. When I’m finished, I go to find him. He’s taking pictures of the joints of the railing that enclose the overlook platform. I’m sure he also took pictures of the sisters, but I love that it’s still the way things come together that most interest him.

  We ride a yellow cable car next to get a closer look at the sisters and the valley below. The floor is made of glass, and it’s like we’re floating over the rainforest. The height makes me nervous. I think I would have felt more comfortable sitting than standing. I use Adam for support, wrapping my arms around his waist. My cheek is to his back as he takes pictures of our journey.

  A railway car pulls us backward and brings us back to where we started. The railcar also has a glass ceiling. We sit and look skyward at the full green-limbed branches above us. There are white birds, maybe a type of parrot, with a yellow crest that remains undisturbed by our skyward jaunt. The sensation of being pulled backward and not seeing where we’re going does not agree with my stomach.

  I’m thankful I didn’t get sick from the motion by the time the ride is over. Walking around with my feet on solid ground helps the feeling pass before we get back onto the bus.

  From there, we head to the Parramatta River. We’ll take a cruise back to the Circular Quay of the Sydney Harbor and be back where we started. The boat is crowded but not overly so.

  We sit on the top deck. I pull a hair tie out of my purse and make a feeble attempt at pulling my hair back. It’s grown a bit on the trip but still isn’t long enough to hold in a ponytail. I settle by pulling it half up. My hair still whirls in the wind but now mostly off my face.

  There’s a British family we haven’t met before also on our tour. Their teenage daughter seems taken with Adam. I smile quietly as she asks him questions about his camera and the States.

  “Do you have a car?” She bats her eyelashes at him.

  He inches closer to me on our seat. “Where I live, you don’t need one.”

  I slip my arm through his and bite back a smile at her annoyed expression. She finally gives up and leaves to chat up some Australian boys a few rows away.

  “Were you ever like that?”

  I think back to when I was in high school before Ally got sick. “I had a boyfriend for most of my senior year, but I was a bit of a flirt. I don’t think I ever hit on an older guy though.”

  He looks offended. “Older?”

  “I’m not saying you’re old.” I laugh as his expression of mock horror relaxes. “But to her. You might be almost twice her age.”

  “So, if she comes back, I should mention my retirement savings to scare her away?”

  “See, I don’t even have that.”

  “No 401(k)? I only have one because my company matches my contribution.”

  I look out over the water. “I don’t even have a job.”

  He slips his arm around me, pulling me closer. “So, my spoiled comment wasn’t that far off?”

  I do my best to look offended. “I might be unemployed, but I don’t think I’m spoiled.”

  He pretends to think about it for a moment. “I guess not.”

  “I’m not sure what to do once this trip is over. Do I go back to school or just get a job and move out? I was hoping I would have had some sort of epiphany on what to do with my life by now.”

  “I still don’t know,” he admits.

  “You seem to have it together though. You have a job and an apartment, you travel, you…” I wrinkle my nose, trying to think of more things. “Tweet?”

  His brows come together at my last comment, and he shakes his head. “I have a boring job that I stay at to pay the bills. I have possibly the smallest apartment in the city. I’m not even going to touch your tweet comment.”

  “What would you rather be doing?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just treading water until I figure it out.”

  “Are you…do you ever talk to your dad?”

  He inhales sharply. “Not that much. We email more than anything else. He likes me to send pictures from my trips.”

  We’re both quiet the rest of the cruise, the bus ride to the drop-off spot, and then the walk back to the hotel.

  I use his laptop to check my email.

  “Conner can drive up tomorrow,” I tell him, looking up from the screen.

  “Great.” He sounds annoyed.

  “Don’t be like that,” I grumble, knowing he isn’t thrilled to see my partner in bungee-jumping crime again.

  He lifts his hands innocently. “Like what?”

  I set the laptop on the table next to me and walk over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Conner is just a friend. Don’t be grumpy.”

  He leans down to kiss my forehead. “No jumping off of bridges. Deal?”

  I pop up onto my toes and kiss him. “Deal.”

  Wiped from the day and the days before, we order room service for dinner. We then share a bath, now somewhat revived from dinner. There’s a deep circular tub in the bathroom that overlooks the harbor. I sit in his lap, my back to his chest, as we watch the ships pass by.

  We lose interest in our view when his lips move to my neck. Water laps over the edge of the tub and onto the floor as we move together. Any secrets my body held from him in the beginning, he long ago unlocked. He knows where and how to touch me to bring me the most pleasure.

  Conner drives up from his home in Wollongong to meet us at our hotel. We check out and load our ba
gs into his car. His eyes widen when he sees my hand in Adam’s, but he doesn’t say anything.

  I sit up front with Conner. We drive to Bondi Beach. It’s close to Sydney, so Conner can have us back in plenty of time for our flight that night. He tells us all about the rest of his trip with his family, and I tell him all we’ve seen. He seems really interested in going to India. He’s trying to talk his folks into that being their trip next year.

  He parks and looks over at me. “Pity it isn’t warmer. This beach is topless.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and avoid Adam’s eyes, knowing he’s probably pissed. Once we’re all out of the car, he reaches for my hand. I look up at him then, and yep, he’s glaring at Conner. This should be fun.

  We eat at a Japanese place for lunch before walking out onto the beach. Despite the chill, there are surfers in wetsuits catching waves. I carry my sandals in my hand and lift my long maxi skirt to keep it from getting wet. The water isn’t warm, and I back away quickly. Adam looks at me, curious.

  I shrug. “I’ve grown up within driving distance of this ocean my whole life. Now, I’ve seen it and felt it from both sides.”

  We do the cliff walk from Bondi to Coogee. We stop in Bronte for a smoothie and watch the surfers. The water is beautiful, almost mint-colored from our vantage point. It’s nice to focus on that instead of Conner and Adam trying to one-up each other. When we were in Africa, the vibe I got from Conner was almost brotherly. Here, he’s definitely flirting with me.

  When we get back to Bondi and Adam is out of hearing range, I call Conner out on it. “Why are you acting like this?”

  He glances around, making sure Adam isn’t near us. “Just having some fun, driving your fella mad.”

  I smack his arm and point at him. “Stop it. I’m stuck on a plane with him tonight.”

  He drapes his arm around my shoulders in a move I know will piss Adam off and hugs me to him. It’s pointless. He’s having too much fun. Adam doesn’t look happy when he walks up to us moments later.

  Conner grins. “If I’m ever in California, will you be my tour guide?”

  I slip out from under his arm and put some distance between us. “Of course.”

  Adam is quiet during the trip to the airport.

  As Conner pulls away from the curb, Adam turns to me. “Still don’t like that kid.”

  “He’s not that bad,” I argue, following Adam into the terminal.

  We’re flying to Argentina. From there, we have a connecting flight to Rio de Janeiro. By tomorrow evening, we’ll be back in the Americas, one stop closer to our trip being over.

  I’m trying to keep what Adam said in my mind, that we’re together now, but I can’t stop thinking about when we’ll have to say good-bye. I’m obsessing over it. That, and the fact that we’ll be staying with a friend of my mom’s. I’m dreading the sleep-arrangement conversation. There will be no way to disguise we’re something more than just travel companions.

  Constance and my mom were college roommates. Constance moved back to Brazil after getting her degree. She and her husband, Raul, never had children. I’ve never met her, and I can only hope she’s cool. South America has a large Catholic population. I’m worried about her opinion on premarital sex.

  “Worst case, we can always get a hotel,” Adam reminds me once we’re seated on the plane.

  “Part of the reason my parents were cool with me even going to Brazil is because we’d be with someone who lives there.”

  We’ve both seen the news. Brazil, Rio in particular, does not have a reputation for being the safest place. At least Constance lives in Leblon, a safe, high-end neighborhood.

  I have a hard time sleeping on the plane. There’s a toddler a few rows behind us who cries off and on for long portions of the flight. I pity the parents while I wish the little one would just go to sleep.

  Adam sleeps straight through. I eventually find a documentary in which the narrator’s monotone voice lulls me to sleep. However, I’m still exhausted by the time we land in Argentina.

  Not caring that I take up an extra seat at our next gate, I lie down with my head in Adam’s lap. We have a three-hour layover before our flight to Rio. I sleep through most of it and can still hardly keep my eyes open once we board.

  Our flight to Rio isn’t long but going through immigration is. It’s over an hour before we make our way to baggage claim.

  “Aubrey?”

  I turn to see a slim dark-haired woman behind me. “Mrs. Alberto?”

  “Please, call me Constance,” she says, opening her arms to hug me.

  I introduce her to Adam. We wait together for our luggage and then follow her to the parking area. She drives a high-end compact car. Adam loads our bags in the trunk, and at my insistence, he sits up front to have more legroom.

  With traffic, it takes some time to get to her apartment. Constance points out landmarks along the way. She parks in an underground lot beneath her building. Her apartment is on the ninth out of twelve floors. It’s light and airy with big floor-to-ceiling windows in the main living and dining areas.

  “Your rooms are this way.”

  We follow her down a hallway, and when we get to the rooms, I clear my throat.

  “Would it be all right if we shared a room?” I ask, my face getting red.

  She looks at Adam and then back at me. “Does your mama know about this?”

  I slowly shake my head.

  She takes a deep breath. “You are both adults. I appreciate you being upfront and asking. Of course you may share a room.” She pauses. “The blue room has a bigger bed.”

  Adam moves our bags into the blue room. Thankfully, the master bedroom is on the other side of the apartment.

  Adam and I shower separately and change into fresh clothes before meeting her in the living room. It’s strange being observed. If we had been in a hotel, we might have made love already and ordered room service. Instead, she has a tray prepared with sliced meat, cheese, and crackers. We snack and hang out on the balcony until Mr. Alberto, Raul, comes home from work.

  Constance wants to hear about our trip. She has Adam power up his laptop, so she can see all of the pictures he’s taken so far. Once Raul retires, they plan to travel the world.

  “Don’t wait. Go now while you can,” I burst, out of nowhere.

  She looks at me, eyes wide. When it hits her, she puts her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss, querida.”

  That night we go to Platforma, a place where we have dinner and then watch a carnival-style samba performance. The costumes are incredible, and while some of the dancers give lackluster performances, the show overall is a lot of fun.

  As we walk back to their apartment, Raul goes on about Carnival. “Sure, getting around town is miserable during the carnival, but this is Rio, and you must come back sometime to experience it. There is nothing like it.”

  Constance rolls her eyes at his exuberance but agrees that if we ever want to see the real carnival, we’re welcome to stay with them.

  “Thanks. Might take a break from traveling for a bit after this trip though,” I admit.

  Sinking into Adam’s waiting arms is the best part of my day. I’m tired of traveling, tired of seeing new places. As much as I don’t want the trip to end, I crave normalcy. Adam has become that for me—my constant. He folds me into his arms in yet another new bed. We don’t make love that night. Sleep takes us away before anything can happen.

  I awake to his lips on my skin the next morning. He’s making up for lost time, wanting to taste me before he has to share me.

  We’re comfortable lovers by now, our rhythm down. My hips rise to meet his in our choreographed coupling. We’re quiet, and he’s gentle.

  I’m in love with him. I wonder how he feels about me, but I’m too scared to ask. I don’t want to ruin our last days together.

  I leave him in bed as I go shower. When I come back into our room, he pulls me back into bed and licks stray beads of water from my neck and shoulders.<
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  We freeze when Constance knocks on our bedroom door. “Do either of you drink coffee?”

  I cover myself even though I know she can’t see me through the door. “Coffee would be great. Thanks.”

  After another lingering kiss, he takes his shower while I get dressed. I don’t wait for him, and I join Constance on the balcony. He is there, with us not long after.

  That day, we go to Corcovado to see the Christ Statue. It’s crowded, but the views of the city below are amazing. We have lunch in the city afterward.

  “And how is your mother?”

  I have to think for a moment. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. “She started volunteering at an animal shelter. It makes her happy and gives her something to do.”

  “Your aunt.” She shakes her head. “It was such a shame.”

  “It was,” I agree.

  Adam reaches under the table to hold my hand, his thumb moving back and forth across the top of it. His simple gesture pierces my careful mask. I don’t break down, but I have to blink away tears that were not there a moment ago.

  After lunch, we make our way to Sugar Loaf Mountain. There’s a cable car that takes us to the top. My mother told Constance that I would have some of Ally’s ashes with me to spread. It was my mom’s idea to do it here. I can’t decide which view is better, Corcovado or Sugar Loaf.

  What is nice about Sugar Loaf is that there’s more room to move around and explore. There’s even a small gift shop where Adam finds another charm for my bracelet. As I wander off, trying to find the perfect place, I come across a couple of small monkeys.

  I don’t approach them. I just stand still and watch them as one climbs up on a post and looks back at me. He’s a furry little guy with dark hair all over, except for the white tufts of hair at his ears. If I wasn’t so scared that he’d probably bite me, I might try to get closer to him. Given the amount of people that visit each year, I wonder how tame the monkeys are.

  I take his appearance as a sign of where Ally should rest. Up this high, there isn’t a bad view, and somehow, the fact that the little monkey watches me spread her ashes comforts me. It makes me feel like I’m not leaving her alone, that maybe he’ll continue to watch over her.