@hughharris94I haven’t been. All American girls are the same.
‘Mushroom coral!’ Millie barks. We’re getting pedicures. I’m getting my toes painted a safe, wine-coloured red, and Millie has opted for a sparkly turquoise.
‘Ummm.’ I rack my brain. ‘Lots of lines in a circle . . . um . . . the throw pillow one!’
She nods, impressed, and puts down her phone. Ever since I agreed to go, I’ve been studying non-stop. I’ve memorised all the types of coral found in the Great Barrier Reef and can identify them by their photo as well as their defining characteristics. I know almost as much about staghorn corals as Millie does. I know all the fish to look out for, how to take pictures of them without scaring them away, and how to spot their eggs. I’ve absorbed so much knowledge that I would be able to fool Hugh – that is, if we were still talking. After our last conversation, I replaced my Instagram app with a Marine Biology dictionary so that I remember my real reason for Australia – finding the butterfly wrasse for Millie, and so that I would stop messaging Hugh. If I’m going to find the wrasse, I can’t afford any distractions. I also couldn’t think of a comeback, but that’s neither here nor there.
For the first time since graduating, my marine biology degree is proving useful. I’ve started feeling a thrum of excitement when I wake up in the morning. I’ve started humming when I take Murphy out for walks.
‘Stop smiling like that.’ Millie swats at me, giggling.
‘Like what?’
‘You’re smirking like you’re so proud of yourself for getting the answers to my questions right.’
I try to wipe the smile off my face.
‘I’m happy for you,’ Millie says, her voice dipping into sincerity. I know she means it, but I still can’t shake off the guilt I’m carrying for going on her dream trip without her.
‘I’ll be worried about you,’ I reply to Millie, my voice catching.
The day after I’ll arrive in Australia, a week and a half before Christmas, Millie’s scheduled for surgery. Surgery takes six to twelve hours and she’s in the hospital for two days afterwards. The procedure isn’t particularly risky, but I’m nervous. Millie’s kept her cool. She’s even scheduled a spray tan before she goes back to work so everyone will think she went to Australia. She doesn’t want to have to answer anyone’s questions or be on the receiving end of their pity.
‘I’ll be fine. It’s good to see you so . . . so happy.’
I glare at her. ‘It always comes back to my lack of happiness, doesn’t it? I’m fine. I’ve told you that.’
‘You know what I mean,’ Millie murmurs, flipping a page in her magazine. ‘You’re fine, but . . .’ She trails off, letting the words hang in the air with meaning.
Sometimes I forget Millie is my older sister. She’s so exuberant and carefree, and she takes up so much of the spotlight that she feels like the baby. But sometimes she spouts out pearls of wisdom that remind me she’s lived more life than I have.
‘I know,’ I acquiesce. My voice comes out in a whisper.
‘Really, Andi,’ Millie presses, ‘when was the last time you were this happy? Not content,happy? Even with Zach I didn’t think that . . .’ She stops talking, leaving the unsaid words in the air. Even with Zach, she didn’t think I was happy. I try to shrug off the implication, I don’t want to go down the rabbit hole of wishing I knew sooner, wishing I could have avoided all the hurt.
‘Let me think about it,’ I say, partly to get Millie off my back. I settle into my chair and turn on the massage function.
I avoid analysing my last relationship . . . thinking about before it instead . . . maybe during our trip to India. I open my mouth to answer but a memory stops me. I was a senior in college taking my final marine biology lab and I knew I was acing it. I was so ecstatic I felt invincible. Millie was employed at the lab doing research and frequently TA-ed our class, but that day she was pulled into other work. I felt sofreeand so powerful without her there. I finished my lab first and with a perfect score. For the first time I felt like I was where I was meant to be, like I could carve my own space in a narrow field. I was excited for my future.
And then Millie came back. I saw her out of the corner of my eye first, ducking into a neighbouring classroom, her lab coat swishing behind her. Then she popped into our classroom and whispered something to the professor, who burst out laughing, beaming at Millie. She was so at home, so commanding, and I felt all my excitement evaporate. Millie wasn’t someone I could compete with.
‘India,’ I finally say.
Millie nods. ‘I thought you would say that. And this will be even better, trust me.’ She winks.
I’m so intimidated at the thought of pretending to be Millie that I’m not sure if I believe her.
Chapter 4
Murphy knows something’s up because he’s following me around the house like he did when he was a puppy. It started after I brought him his favourite bone from the gourmet store down the street that I usually reserve only for his birthday. Murphy played with it for all of ten minutes before he turned his gaze to me, full puppy-dog eyes, as if he knew the bone was only a way to soften bad news.
That afternoon was when everything really sunk in. I told Matteo I was going away for the holidays. He clapped with glee and leaned into my cubicle in excitement.
‘Where? Where?’ he asked, his hands clasping together at his belly.
‘Australia.’
‘Wow,’ Matteo breathed. ‘That’s reallygoing away. Becca! Did you hear Andi’s going to Australia?’
