In memory of Nicole Lewanski

Snow Crash
sitting open, by his pillow. “How long are you planning on
staying?” asked Rad.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I will go back.”
“What about Gabe? Is he still in the picture?” he asked, his tone casual.
“No, that ended before I came here.”
He looked thoughtful for a while. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said finally.
He looked down at his hands. “To be honest, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“It was hard to come back home to Sydney. At least in Delta I could pretend I
wasn’t the girl who told that lie.”
“Do I remind you of that?”
“Yeah.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “But not in a bad way. Not anymore.”
He bit his bottom lip, and his expression grew distant, as though he was
thinking hard about something. After a while, he turned to face me again. “Do
you ever think about us, Audrey?”
“Of course I do.”
He looked relieved, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “All the time.” He reached
over, cupping my face in his hands and gazing softly at me. Then he kissed me. It
was a deep, yearning kiss, like his mouth was searching mine for all the words
that belonged to him but had been kept from him in his self-imposed exile.
A deep realization reverberated through my body, like the ringing of a church
bell. All at once, I understood why the pain of separation, that carving out of the
insides, had to happen. I used to have this sense that I felt too much for Rad, that
the feelings inside me would start spilling over and I wouldn’t be able to contain
them. Now I knew why I had been hollowed out, why my insides were chipped
away with a chisel and mallet. It was to make room for this new feeling, this love
that was so vast, so expansive it could not have fit into the vessel I once was.
He undressed me with a rough urgency that felt fresh yet familiar, his fingers
pulling and tearing at my clothes, until I was naked and breathless. I felt a new
strength in his arms as he pulled me down with him onto the tiny bed. “I’ve
missed this,” he murmured, his face buried into my neck.
Afterward, we lay silent, lulled by the hypnotic sound of waves beating against
the rocks. Gradually, I could tell from his breathing that he had drifted into a
peaceful sleep. I turned to face him, my fingers curling gently around his dark

---

brown hair. A feeling of tenderness swept through me like an ache; it almost felt
maternal. “I’m going to take care of you,” I whispered.
T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
we were shy with each other when we made our cups of
coffee with unnecessary clumsiness in the cramped space. “So,” said Rad, letting
out a deep breath, “last night.” I grinned at him, without meaning to. It was as
though my mouth had a mind of its own.
“Last night,” I echoed.
We stood there, half-empty coffee cups in our hands, grinning at each other
with a comical awkwardness that made me want to burst into laughter. Or
perhaps it was because I was so damn happy. He put his cup down and held his
hand out to me. I took it, and he pulled me to him. I crashed into his chest with
a soft thud, and my coffee tipped over the edges of the mug and spilled onto the
linoleum floor in splotches like inkblots.
“What now?” he asked, searching my face.
I kissed him warmly. “If you’re still up for it, I want us to start again. Clean
slate.”
“Yes,” he said, letting out a breath. “I’d like that.”
I
T
WAS
DIFFERENT
this time around. There was a realness to our relationship, a
grounding that had never been there before. I’d never felt so sure about anything
in my life. I knew I didn’t want to be away from Rad ever again.
I moved into the trailer, and we spent one blissful day after another, our hearts
filled with love and our heads full of dreams. The happiness we had found at the
start of our relationship was always tinged with a shade of uncertainty, but now
that had lifted, and I felt like I could surrender myself completely.
“Do you know what I thought, the first day you came here?” asked Rad.
We were cocooned in his tiny bed, where we had spent most of the morning.
Outside, the sky was a moody gray. I looked up at him as the first drops of rain
drummed softly on the tin roof.
“No, what was going through your mind?”
He smiled at me. “When I opened my door to find you standing there, I
couldn’t help thinking, ‘I’ve been here all summer long, but for the first time, the
sun’s come out.’”

---

L
ATER
THAT
DAY
, I was on my way to the shower block when I ran into Maud.
She was just about to take Gin and Tonic for a walk on the beach.
“Audrey,” she said.
“Hey, Maud.” I bent down to pat Gin and Tonic, who were both vying for
my attention by climbing over each other.
“I was actually just about to stop by your place. You know the winter solstice
is next week.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t realize. I’m losing track of the days.”
She smiled at me. “The bohemian life.”
I grinned at her. “So what’s the significance of the solstice?”
“We’re having a party.”
“We are?”
“Yes, we do one every year, over on the shore. We build a huge bonfire and
have a band come out to play. The locals bring a dish each—kind of like a
potluck. We do some fun stuff for the kids as well. Like bobbing for apples, you
know.”
“Sounds fun!”
“There will be fireworks too.”
“Really? I love fireworks!”
“So you and Rad will be there?”
“Of course,” I said. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Wonderful,” she beamed. “I’m picking up some leaflets from the printer
tomorrow. I’ll make sure to drop one by.”
“Great. Looking forward to it!”
T
HE
FOLLOWING
WEEK
, Rad and I stood by a raging bonfire on the beach, toasting
marshmallows and chatting to Linda, who taught at the local elementary school.
The band was a trio of women who played folk music with an assortment of
instruments—banjo, flute, and tambourine. Throngs of children were laughing
and running around with glow sticks and sparklers.
“I can’t wait for the school holidays,” said Linda. “Just four more weeks and
I’m off to Fiji. I love my kids, but it’s nice to have a break every now and then.”
She took a sip of her beer. “How about the two of you? What are your plans?”
“Audrey’s almost finished her first book,” said Rad.
“Really?” Linda turned to me. “What’s your book about?”
“It’s just a collection of short stories.”

---

“Oh, I’d love to read it when it’s done.”
“You’d love it,” said Rad, putting his arm around my shoulder. “She’s a
regular Mary Shelley.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” I protested.
“Sounds like my cup of tea,” said Linda, with a sigh. “Look at you two, a
couple of budding young authors. Living the dream.”
Rad shrugged and grinned. “I’ll admit it’s good to be writing again after a long
hiatus.”
“My friend read