Beneath the Surface(40)

As dreadful as the moment of trying to scramble memories together was, it was nowhere near as excruciating as the one that followed. The one during which she was engulfed with shame. With the bitter taste of her own failure—once again.

Sheryl swung her legs out of bed and went in search of Kristin. She wasn’t in the spare room, where she sometimes ended up when Sheryl snored too loudly. Sheryl headed downstairs and found Kristin asleep on the sofa, the TV still on.

She looked at Kristin as she stitched last night’s memories together. The call at the bar. The walk home. Kristin’s disappointment at the sight of her. The collapse in her arms. Nothing after that. Sheryl’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. The inside of her skull felt like someone was taking a jackhammer to it, adamant to make it through the thick bone. How had she ended up at The Flying Pig again? She had no idea. The reason usually disappeared. The reason for this embarrassment. For having her partner retreat to an uncomfortable sofa to sleep on. For that spark in Kristin’s eyes to dim so swiftly at the sight of her.

Through the muddiness of her brain, and because she had no choice—because she always needed something to cling on to during those desperate moments in the middle of the night—the thought formed that things would be different now. Kristin had quit her job. Just like that. She hadn’t even discussed it with Sheryl. The furthest they got in discussions about Kristin’s job was how her ridiculous hours influenced their relationship, but Kristin was always careful not to promise something she couldn’t deliver, not even in her personal life, hence she had never actually made Sheryl any promises. For a long time, guilt had eaten at Sheryl for not wanting to move to Hong Kong, for nipping that dream in the bud before it even had a chance to bloom, despite knowing, more than anything else, that it was the right thing to do for their relationship.

Things could truly be different from then on.

She pondered waking up Kristin and asking her to come to bed, but she figured she’d be better off with uninterrupted sleep.

She went into the kitchen and drank water straight from the faucet, eagerly gulping it up, and remembered an image of her father when she’d walked into the kitchen as a girl in the middle of the night. He’d stood there, his neck craned awkwardly toward the sink, trying to get as much water into his mouth as he could—trying to quench a thirst that would never go away.



For the past fifteen years, mornings had been a mad scramble to get out of the house. Sheryl could walk to the university from the house they’d bought ten years ago in Camperdown, whereas Kristin had to negotiate her way through early morning traffic in Sydney. Which, most of the time, meant that Kristin rose first and, by the time she was ready to leave, Sheryl’s eyes only began to flutter open.

That morning was different, because Kristin had quit her job. Last night, after putting Sheryl to bed, she hadn’t been able to sleep. Not only because of Sheryl’s heavy breathing, but because of the decision she had made to just stop working. Her parents would never understand, though Kristin would tell them that weekend. She wasn’t the type to keep secrets from them, not anymore.

She would still go into the office, but when she struck things off her to-do list, they would not be replaced by new tasks. She would be working toward the end. It was a strange sensation, a bit like taking her very last exams at university. Relief mixed with uncertainty. Whatever would come next?

Kristin had already polished off three cups of coffee by the time Sheryl came downstairs in an old robe that hung off her weary-looking limbs.

“Morning,” Sheryl mumbled. Her facial expression resembled a puppy’s who had been told off for an accident on the carpet. It was almost more than Kristin could bear. “You’re still here.”

“It’s strictly nine to five for me from now on.” Kristin rose from her chair at the kitchen table and slung her arms around Sheryl’s neck. “How are you feeling?”

“My hair hurts.” Sheryl cracked a tiny smile, showing a glimpse of the woman Kristin had fallen for so quickly years ago. “I’m sorry about last night. If I’d known…”

“We have all weekend to celebrate.”

“The fact that your pending unemployment is cause for celebration really says it all.” Sheryl curled her arms around Kristin’s waist and pulled her close.

“I know.” Kristin put her head on Sheryl’s shoulder. “I should have discussed it with you before pulling the plug like that.”

“I’m just glad you finally made the decision.” Kristin tried to detect passive-aggression in Sheryl’s tone, but she only heard fatigue.