Downfall by S.D. Wasley

  ****

  Without Albion, the second week in Darbon was much quieter. Vanessa talked me into checking out a few local sights: the natural rock bridge formation known as Damian’s Gate, and Teacake Rock that stuck out of the ocean like a layered cake iced with seabird droppings. There were caves in the area so we went to one of those, too, but Vanessa got claustrophobic and had to get outside after a few minutes. I stayed inside alone on the viewing platform that overlooked the largest chamber within the cave. The dank air was cool on my cheeks and I could almost imagine the concealed electric lights dotted around the cave walls were candles. Holding onto the metal rail, I closed my eyes and tried to remember the sensation of Cain’s arms around me.

  Back at the beach house Vanessa made up a fancy cheese platter and poured us glasses of sparkling wine.

  “Drink up,” she ordered when I didn’t keep pace with her. “Let’s play Trivia Masters.”

  She pulled out her phone and opened the app. Her attention consumed by the game, I sneaked half my wine into her glass.

  “What would Dad say?” I said with an attempt at a smile. “The Carver girls boozing it up at the beach!”

  Vanessa giggled. She read aloud from her game. “Which B-actor was rocketed to international notoriety when she gave an anti-migrant rant at the FreeTV awards?”

  I lay back, pretending to consider the question, but she shocked me with a sudden change of subject.

  “Do you still miss touring?”

  I looked at Vanessa quickly. Really? She was going to go there now? Surprisingly, her question didn’t sting as much as expected.

  “Uh, not that much anymore.” I wanted to apologize for blaming her and saying all those horrible things a couple of weeks before, but the words stuck in my throat.

  Vanessa didn’t seem to hold it against me. “Good. I’ve been feeling really bad about that.” She gulped her wine.

  “Do you miss ... Brendan?”

  Now it was her turn to fidget. “I’m over him. He couldn’t have backed out of the relationship quicker once he found out I was pregnant.”

  We lapsed into awkward silence so I checked my phone. Another message from Starr. “It’s kind of like I never lost my job anyway, with Starr constantly emailing,” I said with half a grin.

  “I knew she was dumb but now she’s proving it.” She frowned at her own screen. “Was it Cameron Franklin who did that anti-migrant rant?”

  “Maybe. How many letters?”

  “Oh, no. Only six.” Vanessa sipped again. “Yeah―Starr. Dumb as a brick. You know what she ordered at that seafood restaurant in Halliburton City?”

  I did but made as if I didn’t. I wanted to hear Vanessa giggle again. “What?”

  “Crumbed Kalahari.” My sister grinned at me. “She meant calamari.”

  “Oh, good Lord,” I groaned as Vanessa burst into laughter. “She doesn’t even seem to be learning, you know. Whenever I tell her the answer to something I get the same question again a few days later.”

  “Oh, hey!” she exclaimed, the giggling ceasing. “Would it be Sharna Dunford? The anti-migrant B-actor?”

  “Oh, yeah, of course. Sharna the psycho racist.” I read Starr’s message again. “Dammit, Ness, she’s stuffed up the inspirational keychain consignment. Get this, she asked for two thousand instead of twenty thousand.”

  “Wow, even I know that’s nowhere near enough, and I’m a rubbish PA.”

  “I think I’m going to have to call them.”

  “The signal’s bad here, Frankie. Go up the top of the dune.”

  I left Vanessa to her wine and trivia, and trudged to the top of the nearest sand dune to phone Dad’s merchandise supplier. I could practically solve Starr’s screw-up in my sleep so I let my mind wander, picking at gray beach grass and trying to keep the phone out of the wind. I thought back over the touring conversation with Vanessa but it lacked its usual sharp edge. Wow. Maybe I really was getting over it. Or maybe the loss of Cain had eclipsed everything else I cared about.

  The week continued that way. Vanessa caught up on some television series she’d downloaded. I read. When it wasn’t too cold I went to watch for dolphins at the beach. We drank a lot of tea. I spent up to an hour a day answering Starr’s ditzy emails. It was all very dull but very safe. The safety made me reluctant to leave Darbon when our time in the beach house was up.

  Despite my apprehension, things were quiet when we got home. No more phone calls, notes or break-ins. I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed but it did help me move on just a little more. If it wasn’t so difficult for Cain to get on with things in my absence, even after the intensity of us being together, then surely I could do it, too. I completed my midterm exams. My lackluster essay responses were an obedient regurgitation of lecturers’ opinions, gleaned through a quick read of downloaded lecture notes an hour or two before each exam. Enough to pass me but not enough to impress anyone. I even started going out again. Not much: a movie with Albion and weekly grocery shopping; the occasional coffee with Vanessa at Dad’s house. Albion was careful, always checking if the coast was clear before I left the house. He was still convinced I was tangled up in some sort of crime syndicate but kept his promise not to involve the police.

  After exams there was another short break before classes resumed. Phase four: distraction. I threw myself into my studies, getting completely up to date with my reading and assignments. I even kept the house tidy. Albion stayed home most nights, which wasn’t usual. Maybe he’d decided to keep me company during my exile. Vanessa visited often. I tried not to think, turning away from thoughts of Cain when they hovered too close. After five weeks, I could even let some of the thoughts in without much reaction, skirting around the memories while holding the feelings at bay.

  With this distance and detachment in place I knew I’d made the right choice. The five who met under Gaunt House had, by now, enough time to know I was truly gone. Hopefully they were firmly back into analyzing their visions and rescuing people in need. Jude and Owen would be having the complete visions only fully-fledged saints were able to see and Cain had probably resumed having visions again, now he was distraction-free―or he would soon enough. They might even see my intrusion as a positive thing now: proof they were strong enough to withstand serious upheaval.

  It was a shock when the phone calls recommenced, and with even more intensity. Out of the blue, two or three calls or text messages started coming in on my mobile each day, as well as at least one message on the answering machine. It was usually Owen. Jude came around a couple of times so I had to hide out in my darkened room while Albion told him the ‘vamoosed’ story. One time, Jude arrived on foot while Albion wasn’t home. I heard the front gate and ran for the bathroom where I sat on the closed toilet lid to listen. He went around the house, testing doorknobs. When he got to the bathroom he pressed his face against the opaque glass window, which was how I knew it was Jude. That black band T-shirt and golden hair. I stayed completely still until he left through the front gate.

  Why wouldn’t they just leave me alone?