The Missing One (24 page)

On the surface the only thing that changed was her routine, because, of course, she didn't go to Sea Park any more. She heard the baby orca died after five days. It couldn't work out how to feed. They moved it to a separate tank and tried to feed it mashed-up cream and fish through a tube but it starved to death within earshot of its distraught parents.

She couldn't discuss what had happened. Gray was away, which made it easier, and she simply told Susannah that she didn't need any more data on the dolphins. Susannah seemed to accept this as an explanation for Elena's sudden presence in the condo.

She told herself that she needed to think it through, rationally, before making any firm decisions or telling anybody, but really, her mind was made up as the film rolled to a close. In just under a fortnight she'd be heading north to British Columbia. The researcher – Jonas – had offered her a ride and a place on his friend's houseboat for the summer. She could meet the others up there, and become part of the
orca-mapping project. Really, there was no dilemma: she still had her small inheritance – she was going.

She spent a lot of time in her room, reading everything she could find about orcas. She read that their bodies were black and white to trick their prey – in the murky underwater world only the white part of the killer whale's body shows up – so they appear far smaller and less threatening than they really are. After reading a paper about the structure of the dorsal fin she realized that Orpheus's dorsal had probably collapsed, not through sickness but through lack of use. In the wild, orcas constantly use their dorsal – they dive deep and often – and so the cartilage is strengthened and bolstered. Swimming circles in a shallow tank was nothing in comparison to the workout of swimming in the wild. It seemed likely to Elena that Orpheus's six-foot fin had simply atrophied in captivity.

She read that the orca survey researchers had already established that Pacific Northwest orcas were divided into two distinct races – residents and transients. Transients had more pointed fins, travelled in smaller groups and ate marine mammals, whereas residents ate mainly fish, and socialized in large groups. Looking at the illustrations, it looked as if Bella were a resident orca. Orpheus had been taken from the waters off eastern Iceland, but Bella was captured in Puget Sound. This meant that her family was among the whales the researchers were counting – somewhere out there, right now, in the Salish Sea.

She read all the reports she could find from the orca survey, and as she read them she understood what Jonas had
been trying to tell her: this was far more than a population study. Identifying individual whales was going to allow for longitudinal studies into social relationships, travel patterns, habits – and communication. It was a way into this hidden world. The scientific potential was huge. She could become one of the first scientists – if not the first – to study orca communication in the wild.

When her head was packed with information, she'd walk down to the beach and sit in the sand, watching pelicans swoop across the sky, or pods of pacific white-sided dolphins cut along the coast. She'd walk through the sand, digging her heels in to find pismo clams, or gathering mussels from the tide pools, then take them home for Susannah to cook in garlic and butter. She had a growing list of questions for Jonas. The questions now filled half a notebook. He said he'd be back and around campus for a week before they went north. She tried not to think about Graham, still in Europe, unaware. She found that she couldn't remember where exactly he was, or why he'd gone there. She had no idea how she was going to tell him about her decision. He might understand – she could explain it, and the rationale behind it, and he'd let her go because he had to, but it would hurt him.

The odd thing was that she couldn't bring herself to talk to Susannah about any of this. A couple of times, when they were swimming together, she thought she'd try to explain what was happening, but then she couldn't work out how to begin. After a while she realized what was stopping her from talking. Her instinct was telling her that Susannah
wouldn't just disapprove; she would be angry. She would take this as some kind of personal affront or rejection. Lately, the friendship had taken on a confusing shape – she felt as if she did not fully understand its rules or parameters. The last thing Elena wanted was a messy confrontation with Susannah.

Elena hadn't spent much time in the condo before, and she was surprised to find that Susannah was hardly ever at the university. The guys rolled out of bed at nine every morning, blearily grabbed bagels or swigged juice from the carton, and, leaving trails of crumbs and coffee, disappeared to their labs. But Susannah was always around. Her teaching commitments were obviously minimal – she only ever spent a couple of hours at a time in the studio. She said this was because every creative urge had dried up since she'd been in California; the light was all wrong, she needed dampness, clouds and drizzle; the dry heat and brightness made it impossible to work. But she didn't do much else, either.

She didn't seem to have other friends, or anywhere else to go. She seemed to be perpetually lingering – in the kitchen, brewing another pot of coffee or chopping up a cob salad for lunch; sitting on the patio with a sketchpad or holding out a cold bottle of beer at the end of the day. Sometimes, Elena would come across her just sitting at the breakfast bar, preternaturally still, staring into space. It occurred to Elena that Susannah might be around all the time because of her. Lately, she had begun to feel waited for. Whenever she went into a room she half expected Susannah to step out of the shadows.

On the surface, everything was pretty much the same. At the end of every day, they'd walk along the road together and climb down the stone steps to the beach. They'd clamber over the rocks to their cove and swim, and then they'd lie for a bit in the sand, chatting as the sun went down. Back at the condo, Susannah would cook.

But one day, when she'd been down at the beach alone, Elena got back to the condo to find Susannah hurrying along the hallway towards the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder sharply as Elena stepped through the front door.

‘Hi.' Elena threw her sunglasses onto the table.

But Susannah didn't move, or speak.

‘Are you OK?'

She said nothing. Then she turned, and walked, slowly, into the kitchen.

Elena went into her room and tossed her book on the bed. Then she saw that her journal was open on the duvet. She had hidden it, as always, in a box of tapes, before she went to the beach. She went into the kitchen, determined to confront Susannah, but she wasn't there. For once, she didn't come back until late. The next day, nothing was said. They went to the beach in the evening, as always. Though this time they swam more, and talked less.

The problem was that Elena just wasn't used to being around another person this much. During her whole time at the university she'd always lived on her own – even as an undergraduate she'd managed to get herself a single dorm room. Her entire childhood had been solitary. This situation
would be unbearably claustrophobic if it wasn't for the fact that in under two weeks she'd be gone.

They'd probably stay in touch. Maybe they'd even visit each other. No doubt they'd write. They'd always have these shared memories of the condo and their evenings on the beach, and they really had connected – perhaps because of the parallels in their childhoods they had recognized something in each other that normally stays beneath the surface. But over the years that too would fade. They'd forget the uncomfortable stories, or the moments when they'd looked at each other and understood, and not needed to say anything else. Elena wasn't sure how sustainable a friendship like this could ever be in the real world.

*

It was late afternoon, the day before she left, when it finally came to a head. Susannah knocked on Elena's bedroom door. ‘Hey – I made iced tea. You want some?'

‘Well … actually … I'm kind of … ' She dragged herself off the bed and opened the door, but Susannah was gone already, assuming she'd follow.

It was still very hot on the patio. Susannah had her eyes shut and her face tilted skywards. She was in cut-offs with her athletic brown legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, barefoot as usual. The soles of her feet were dun-coloured and dusty. Behind her the branches of the apple tree burst with pale flaky petals.

Susannah didn't move or open her eyes as Elena approached, but her lips curled into a smile. On the
wrought-iron table the iced tea sat in two identical glasses, with stalks of mint. Elena felt the garden close in.

She didn't sit down. She had been intending just to slip out at dawn the next day, leaving a note. But there was something about that smile.

‘Listen,' she said. ‘You know what? I have some news: I'm quitting my PhD. I'm leaving town.'

Susannah's eyes snapped open.

For a moment, all the garden sounds – a buzzing bee, chirping birds, the breeze rustling through the apple blossom – seemed to pause. Susannah slowly drew her legs in.

‘I'm heading up to British Columbia. I've … well, tomorrow, actually.'

‘You're leaving
tomorrow
?'

‘Well.' Elena pushed her hair out of her eyes, scooping it all up behind her head and tying it there with an elastic band from her wrist, too tight. ‘Yes. I guess I am.'

‘Oh. How long for?'

‘A while. I'm not sure.'

‘You're not sure?'

‘I don't know.'

‘What are you saying, Elena?'

‘I'm saying it's all wrong here – this whole thing, my life here, my work – Sea Park – it's all deeply wrong. I shouldn't have been a part of it in the first place.'

‘Your life here is deeply wrong?' Susannah's face froze.

‘At Sea Park. I can't be a part of that any more.'

‘You aren't a part of Sea Park – you're just an observer.'

‘Observation is participation.'

‘Yeah?' Susannah's lip curled. ‘And who told you that?'

‘What? Nobody told me anything.'

‘Well.' Susannah took a long breath in. ‘This is kind of dramatic, Elle, I've got to tell you.'

The air between them tightened a notch. Maybe it was because Susannah had been in the condo first – standing in the kitchen that day, doling out the eggs – but she'd always assumed a sort of unspoken dominance. Elena realized that, since they met, she had been tiptoeing around Susannah, not wanting to stir anything up, unconsciously perhaps, making sure to be even-tempered and calm. Well, this was the end of it. Elena looked right into Susannah's furious pale eyes. ‘It may seem dramatic to you, Susannah. But it seems perfectly sensible to me.'

A sweet, fresh smell drifted from the apple blossom. Warblers sang in the trees. A breeze rustled the leaves and lifted a few strands of Susannah's golden hair. Petals drifted down between them, like confetti.

Then Susannah said, ‘Tomorrow? You're leaving tomorrow?'

‘I've been offered a ride … one of the researchers is heading north.'

‘So when were you going to tell me?'

‘I'm telling you now. I really only just decided. I'll honour the rest of the rent, don't worry … '

‘The rent?' For a moment, she looked confused. Then she straightened. ‘You only just decided? Really?'

Elena remembered her journal. She opened her mouth
to say something about it, then decided not to. In a way, Susannah's prying made things easier.

‘So. What exactly are you planning to do up in British Columbia?'

‘I'm going to study killer whales in the wild. There's a photo-identification project going on – a survey of all the orcas in the region – and I'm going to help.' She began to pick a small scab near her thumb. She could feel Susannah staring at her, rooted to her chair. ‘But ideally, I want to listen to them too. I want to record them. Maybe I'll see if I can get funding.' She picked the scab again; it was coming loose. ‘But I'm not sure about the practicalities yet.'

‘It all sounds admirable, Elle. But what's the rush? Why not finish your PhD? You can't just quit. You have … you have commitments here.'

‘But I don't want to finish my PhD. That's the whole point. That's what I'm telling you. It all feels artificial. I don't want to understand dolphin play behaviour if it's just evolved as a response to captivity – I'm not even sure I know what play means under those circumstances … it's just … ' She looked up at the sky, at the blossom swelling behind Susannah's head. ‘This all feels like a great big lie.'

‘A lie?' Susannah tilted her head to one side, with her lips thin and tight. Her irises were only a few shades darker than the blossom. It occurred to Elena that they were both talking about different things. ‘You know what's a lie, Elle?' Susannah continued. ‘This whole conversation. That's what's a lie. This isn't about whales, or your PhD, is it?'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘You know what I'm talking about.'

‘I really don't,' Elena said. ‘I really have no idea.'

The scab had begun to bleed, a little red bubble that quickly turned into a streak – way too much blood for such a tiny scab. She sucked at it.

‘What about Gray?'

‘Graham will be fine. He's busy – he's in Europe right now. He's applying for some … something … he's—'

‘You haven't told him either, have you?' Then suddenly, Susannah sat up tall and her eyes brightened. ‘OK. Wait. I get it. I get it!' The tension in her face melted. ‘I get what's happening here. You're afraid. You're freaking out about the marriage proposal—'

‘Actually, no – no. I'm not freaked out about that. And this isn't about fear. I'm not running away from him – or anything else. I've never felt less afraid in my life.'