“Are you writing the great Australian novel?” Gretchen asked.
Arthur glanced up, slamming shut the notebook. “No,” he snapped. He’d thought she’d gone up to the top deck, but she stood in the doorway, a cautious smile on her face.
Her smile faded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
She moved away before he could apologise for snapping. Damn it. He always took too long to consider his words, to make sure they couldn’t be misconstrued, that inevitably the conversation would move on before he had a chance to speak.
Anxieties courtesy of his father.
He sighed as she climbed to the top deck and he heard her speaking with Sam. Hopefully she didn’t mention the notebook.
After a week on the boat, the stress of keeping his drawing a secret was wearing on him. At times it was easier not to draw because it was too difficult to focus on the page as well as what was going on around him. But now he had rediscovered his love of drawing, the forced inactivity was driving him crazy.
Instead he chopped fruit and sat in the cabin listening to everyone have fun outside.
His leg ached, the pins and needles back with a vengeance and his stump sensitive from wearing the prosthetic leg all the time. He only moved when he had to use the toilet, and even then, he had to time it so that he went out when the passengers were in the water. Not how he wanted to spend his days from now on.
He ignored Sam’s repeated suggestions to go swimming, just like Sam ignored his requests to stay at home.
He wanted the opportunity to draw people and settings, but it was too much of a risk to reveal what he was doing.
Drawing was a useless hobby.
The only thing that had ever given him joy.
The one thing he’d kept secret from his father.
The one thing he could still do.
Voices at the stern of the boat made him glance up. The passengers were back.
He tucked the book away as Sam and Gretchen climbed on board, and spent the rest of the trip watching the passengers interact.
All happy and whole.
The love between family and friends was clear from the shared smiles, good-natured teasing and laughter.
Comfort. Ease. Two things he’d never had in the army. He rarely allowed himself to fully relax even when he was just with his teammates.
As the passengers disembarked to return to their accommodation, the rest of the crew cleaned equipment and did dishes. Gretchen entered the cabin carrying the last of the plates from afternoon tea. He hadn’t had a chance to apologise about being abrupt a few days ago, but now he could. Arthur pressed himself to his feet and shuffled across to the sink. His steps were still hesitant, always waiting for the prosthesis to fall off. Gretchen glanced up, a question on her face. He took the tea towel from where it was hanging on a hook and dried the dishes.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded. It was the least he could do. He swallowed, trying to figure out the right words. Was it even worth apologising over something that she’d probably forgotten about?
Don’t be a coward.
His father’s words made him straighten his stance. He cleared his throat. “Ah, about the other day…”
Gretchen glanced at him, a slight frown on her face.
“I didn’t mean to snap.”
She tilted her head as if she wasn’t quite following him.
“When you asked me about the notebook.” Her eyes widened as she realised what he was talking about. Obviously she hadn’t given it another moment’s thought.
“It’s fine. I was being nosey.”
