Chapter 37

“Mhuh?” I mumbled blearily.

Nao spoke again. A small voice, slightly muffled by the knees she had drawn up under her chin.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Oh,” I said simply. I didn’t know what to say, but I thought I should say something at least, to let her know I’d heard her. I risked a glance across at her. Her chin was cradled in her knees, and she was staring blankly straight ahead. “I didn’t think you did,” I added slowly.

She acted as if she hadn’t heard me. For all I know, she hadn’t. The way she was speaking, it felt like I wasn’t really a part of this conversation. “I did. For a really long time ... I hated you.” She took a breath. “Or thought I did.”

I let that sit for a while, not wanting to risk saying something stupid. And I was getting really cold, so speaking properly would have involved drawing my head and chest away from the scant warmth of my huddled legs. But as the silence stretched out, I was worried that she would stop talking.

“Why?” I asked.

She sniffed. “Because you got close to me. With my family ... my father and his work ... I learned really early on not to get too close or too attached to any place or anything ... or anyone.”

I frowned. “Why would you hate me? I thought you lo–liked me.”

For the first time since we’d sat down, she looked at me. She turned her head to the side again, resting it on her knees and looked at me.

“I did like you.”

“I liked you too.”

She smiled sadly at me.

“Not enough to reply to my letters,” she said softly.

“What letters?” I said. “The only letter I ever got from you was shoved into our mailbox over Christmas. That’s when I found out your family was leaving. You said you were going to call and give me your number and address.”

“I did call. I left a message.”

I had to think for a moment. “Yeah, well that year we had a massive storm and we got stuck at my sister’s place. By the time we got home the power had been out for a few days and the whole machine was dead. I never got it.” Another memory flitted through my mind. “I was so pissed I locked myself in my room for three days.”

She took a breath.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “But what about the other letters I sent?”

“What other letters?”

“I wrote to you for months, and you never replied,” she said heatedly. “I figured that a teenage guy wouldn’t be the most prolific correspondent, but nothing?”

“I never replied?” I said, testily. Some part of my brain was telling me I should shut up, but I ignored it. “I never replied?” I repeated, sitting up and putting one foot on the cold tiled floor. “I never received anything. And I don’t think my parents were screening my mail, because if something had shown up in our mailbox from you it would have given them a break from my whining self-pity-party.” Despite my feelings for Nao, I couldn’t help myself. My voice rose until it echoed through the empty change room.

Nao straightened up and looked straight at me.

“Seven. Three. One. MacKinnon Road,” she said with fire in her eyes, enunciating every syllable. “I hardly remember any of the actual addresses of the places I’ve lived. Not where I learned to ride a bike, not where I landed a cartwheel in the yard. Not even where I was living when I first broke a state record in the hundred metres. But I remember where the first boy I kissed lived. Where I sent all those letters. That were never answered.”

I looked at her as the echoes of her voice played around the room and died down. She was breathing deeply, her jaw set whilst her eyes blazed.

“Drive.” I spoke quietly. “MacKinnon Drive.” I took a deep breath and shivered as a chill ran through me. “MacKinnon Road was about five kilometres away. We lived on MacKinnon Drive. Mum and dad still do, actually.” I shivered again. The adrenaline of our argument had played out, and I was feeling the cold more than ever. Sitting up to face her had cost me all the body warmth I’d built up whilst sitting crouched over and now my back was against a different part of the wall which felt as cold as ice. “A bit confusing, but they were the Scots family that farmed what later became the eastern suburbs so there are a few places named after them.”

The silence hung heavily in the air. Finally, Nao spoke.

“You lived on MacKinnon Drive?” she asked softly. I nodded. “Not MacKinnon Road?”

“Y-yeah,” I shuddered. “But you got the n-number right at least.” I shivered again. “S-sorry, but this cold is starting to get to me. Didn’t see any lost property around at all? A towel or something?”

She shook her head, staring at the floor. I shivered again. There were some paper towel rolls on the cleaning trolley. I wondered if there were enough to wrap myself up like a toilet paper mummy to keep the chill at bay. I huddled up again, curling my arms around my knees and flexing my muscles trying to increase the flow of blood to generate some warmth. Whilst I knew I wasn’t likely to die from exposure in the change room overnight, the autoimmune issues that caused my rheumatoid arthritis were likely to leave me with a cold or some other flare up I would have to deal with. I don’t know how many minutes passed before Nao spoke again.