Broad-leaved parakeelya
Meaning: By your love, I live and die
Calandrinia balonensis | Northern Territory
Parkilypa (Pit.) is a succulent growing in sandy soils of arid regions, with fleshy leaves and bright purple flowers, which appear mainly in winter and spring. In times of drought the leaves can be a water source; the whole plant can be baked and eaten.
From that night onwards, they spent every spare moment together. Alice knew she was neglecting her other friends, especially Lulu, but she didn’t want to be with anyone else.
As the winter wore on, they lit bonfires and slept outside in his swag, under the stars, Pip always curled up close by.
‘You should change your roster,’ he said one night as she lay in the crook of his arm, watching the sky. ‘I miss you too much on weekends when one of us is off while the other is working. I want to see you more.’
The thrill of it: he wanted more of her. She grinned up at him, smelled the scent of his skin, earthen and green. He took his arm out from under her head and sat up. Untied his leather bracelets and turned back to her, gently taking her hands. She nodded, smiling as he bound the bracelets around her wrists and tied them in knots.
‘Ngayuku pinta-pinta,’ he said, his voice raw.
As he pulled her onto him, Lulu’s voice shot fleetingly through her mind. You’re no safer than the girl in the fairytale who wanders into a dark wood.
‘Ngayuku pinta-pinta,’ he whispered again, his hands around her wrists. My butterfly.
She curled her body to fit around his.
While she awaited approval to change rosters, Alice’s desert life centred around Dylan. If they were both off for sunset, they took to walking the fire trails with Pip; Alice filled her pockets with wildflowers to press in her notebook, while Dylan took photos of her in the melting red light. When she was on night patrol and finished late, she drove straight to his house and often found him waiting with dinner, or a hot bubble bath. On those nights, he and Pip sat by the bath, leaning against the wall, while he read aloud to her. If they had a whole day off together they gardened in the sun until they were distracted by each other’s warmed bare skin; she’d mentioned working in her mother’s veggie garden as a child, and came home from work one day to find he’d made her a bed of dark earth sown through the red dirt. At night, they snuggled on the couch with the heater blazing, the television on the one regional channel with decent reception, watching BBC dramas and antique shows. On rare occasions when the winter sky was cloudy and the day didn’t yield any sun, they stayed in bed. Those days became synonymous with pancakes; Alice would fry up a tower, which they’d take back to bed and devour.
One cold afternoon, after a syrupy feast, they lay watching dust motes float on the grey light falling through a crack in the curtains. Dylan sighed heavily and disentangled himself from her. He’d been agitated, restless, and hadn’t looked directly at her all day, even during sleepy, languid sex. Alice didn’t know what was wrong. And she didn’t know why she was so reluctant to ask him.
She traced circles over his bare stomach and chest, reaching up to his neck and face. He didn’t respond. ‘What’s wrong?’ Alice whispered. Her love could fix it. Whatever it was. He didn’t answer. She waited. Asked again.
‘Nothing,’ he snapped, shrugging from her touch. ‘Sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry, Pinta-Pinta.’ He sat up, elbows on his knees, his head hanging.
She sat up beside him. There was a familiar pit in her stomach that made her deeply uncomfortable. She chose her words carefully so as not to agitate him further.
‘You can tell me,’ she offered, keeping her voice light. ‘Whatever it is.’ She held a hand out gingerly, letting it hover for a moment before she pressed it to his back, holding her palm flat against his spine. He curled towards her touch.
‘I’m sorry,’ he moaned, turning to bury his face into her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not going to fuck this up this time.’
She stroked his hair. ‘I know that,’ she soothed. ‘I know.’
‘It’s going to be better,’ he said, as if to himself. ‘I’m going to be better.’ He kissed her neck, her face, her mouth, his sense of urgency growing as he gathered her into his arms.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut as she kissed him back. What did he mean, better? He was going to be different from what? How? Her chest grew tight.
‘I love you,’ he whispered as he lay between her legs. Whispered over and again.
She breathed in his words and banished the questions from her mind.
Winter started to wane. The mornings grew warmer, finches began to fly and leave their nests, and Alice’s life with Dylan flourished. As her love for him intensified, Alice found it harder and harder to ignore the strain in her friendship with Lulu. Not long after her request to switch rosters had been approved, she saw Lulu checking the noticeboards in the tea room. From the look on Lulu’s face as she read the new rosters, something was very wrong.
‘Hey, Lulu,’ Alice said brightly, taking two clean mugs from the sink. ‘Fancy a cuppa and catch-up before patrol?’
Lulu’s blank expression didn’t falter as she walked right past her.
‘She probably just feels left out,’ Dylan said that night. ‘You haven’t known her that long. I have. She can be jealous and weird about shit like this.’
Alice stirred the spring vegetable risotto she was cooking. It made sense. What other reason could Lulu have to be so cold to her? But the question of Lulu’s history with Dylan niggled at her. She took a sip of her white wine and shot a glance at him.
‘What?’ he asked.
She took another sip, not looking at him.
‘Spit it out,’ Dylan said, smiling. ‘I can read your face like a book, Pinta-Pinta.’
Emboldened, she smiled back. ‘Did you and Lulu ever …’ she trailed off.
‘Me and Lulu?’ Dylan scoffed, shaking his head. ‘I think she might have had a thing for me way back when we first met, but it never came to anything.’ He stood behind her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. ‘Don’t worry so much. It’s all in your mind. She’ll get over herself. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ Alice leaned back against his chest.
Once they were working on the same roster, Alice and Dylan were completely inseparable. They drove to and from work and took lunch together. She packed picnics they never ended up eating, instead sneaking off in his ute to secluded spots behind headquarters, where they could hear their radios but have enough privacy to focus only on each other. After work they shared beers, watched the sky change, cooked dinner over the fire pit and lounged with Pip to watch the stars. Alice never went home, and avoided looking across his yard in the direction of her house, which sat in the dark.
On their first four-day weekend off together, Dylan woke her early with a cup of coffee and kisses on her face.
‘Come with me,’ he said, wrapping her naked body in the doona and leading her to the front door. She rubbed her eyes and cradled her coffee to her lips as he swung the screen open with a flourish. Outside the morning was crystalline. She squinted in the sunshine. His battered four-wheel drive was packed, with his double swag strapped to the roof racks.
‘Wanna get out of here?’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘We’re running away to the west coast?’ she asked.
‘Don’t reckon we’d quite make it there and back in four days,’ he joked. ‘But I know a place nearly as good.’
‘Road trip,’ Alice sang as she sidled up to him.
Dylan eyed her wrapped in the doona. Teased the corner of it out from under her arm so that it fell away from her body. ‘Maybe not just yet.’
She shrieked with joy as he chased her inside.
A couple of hours later Alice, Pip and Dylan drove along the highway through a blur of red sand, golden spinifex and ancient desert oaks. All the windows were down. In the side mirror Alice watched Pip’s tongue lolling in the wind. Occasionally the undulating landscape plateaued, offering a view of wildflowers in spring bloom. Alice was mesmerised by fields of yellows, oranges, purples and blues. Dylan squeezed her thigh, smiling. He turned the radio up and sang along, raucously out of tune. Alice closed her eyes, blissful.
By mid-afternoon Dylan had slowed and turned off the highway onto an ungraded and unmarked road that peeled between low-lying emu bush and clusters of ruby dock. Alice wondered fleetingly how he knew it was there. He waited for the wheels to take traction before putting his foot down, kicking sprays of red dirt up behind them. They clattered over the ungraded road into a wide desert vista. The isolation thrilled and daunted Alice. Wondering where they were headed, she looked at him questioningly but he just smiled.
After a while they turned onto a thin, nearly indistinguishable track that scaled a ridge. Dylan switched into four-wheel-drive and crawled along the track, pushing through overreaching tree branches. Around them rocky red outcrops were dotted with bursts of wildflowers. Stark white trunks of giant gum trees waved their mint-green boughs. The sky was deep sapphire blue. Occasionally a hawk’s dark silhouette streaked overhead.
‘Pinta-Pinta.’ Dylan smiled, gesturing ahead at the crest of the ridge. Driving over and down the other side, they came into a rocky red gorge, framed by acacia trees and mallee gums, with white sandy banks and a wide, green-tea-coloured creek running through it.
‘What is this place?’ Alice asked, awed.
‘Wait until you see sunset,’ Dylan said knowingly. As she watched him pull into a clearing by a cluster of desert oaks, Alice realised he hadn’t needed a map to find his way.
‘How’d you know this is here?’
‘Before I worked for the park, I used to be a tour guide,’ Dylan said, ‘and one of the old fellas I guided with brought me out here. It was his grandparents’ country, a happy place where family would gather and share good times. When I stopped guiding he told me I should always come back here.’ He pulled up the handbrake. ‘Said I should bring my own family with me.’ His eyes were full of meaning.
Alice didn’t trust her voice to speak over the lump in her throat.
He leaned towards her. ‘How’d I ever get this lucky?’ he whispered.
She answered him with a deep kiss. After a moment, he groaned.
‘You render me bloody useless, Pinta-Pinta.’ He shook his head. ‘C’mon. Let’s at least manage to make camp.’ He got out and opened the back door for Pip, who went straight into the creek.
Alice hung back, watching her dog swimming and Dylan whistling as he unpacked the camp stove and Esky. Watching her little family. As she stepped into the sunlight to join them, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more whole.
By sunset they’d made up the swag, gathered kindling, and were playing soft music on the car radio while they drank red wine and cut up haloumi cheese, mushroom, zucchini and capsicum to grill on kebabs over the campfire. The air was a heady mix of wood smoke and eucalyptus. Black cockatoos screeched through the sky, and rock wallabies hopped nearby. Alice couldn’t stop smiling. When the walls of the gorge started to change colour, Dylan took her by the hand and led her up the bank to the trunk of a gum tree where he sat, gesturing for her to do the same. She nestled between his legs, leaning against his chest.
He nuzzled her ear. ‘Watch this.’
As the sun sank, its last rays filled the gorge with thick beams of toffee-coloured light.
‘Stunning,’ Alice murmured.
‘Wait for it.’
Wrapped in his arms, Alice watched as all the colours of the sky seemed to stream down the walls of gorge and pool on the glassy surface of the creek, reflecting swirls of light back upwards again. She shook her head: the gorge and the creek were perfect bowl-like mirror reflections of each other, drenched in the fiery colours of the setting sun. The sight reminded her of her books of fairytales: the enchanted empty chalice that miraculously filled; the wishing well that held heaven in its depths.
Dylan tightened his arms around her. ‘You have to see it to believe it, right?’ he said.
A memory winded her like a sucker punch. There’s a gorge not far from here that you have to see at sunset to believe.
Alice sat up, rigid. Turned to Dylan. He smiled at her.
‘How many women have you brought here?’ she blurted.
His eyes fell flat. ‘Sorry?’ he asked.
Alice’s stomach lurched. She’d broken the spell.
He held his hands up. ‘What sort of question is that to ask?’
‘No,’ Alice said, feigning lightness in her tone. ‘No, I mean, women, I mean, well, did you ever bring Lulu here?’ Her mind was a blur of nonsense and noise. She didn’t want to upset him but couldn’t stop herself asking. How else could Lulu have known about this place at sunset?
Dylan shoved her roughly away and stood over her. ‘Unfuckingbelievable,’ he muttered, walking back to camp.
Her body stung from the strength in his hands.
‘Dylan,’ she called, scrambling after him in the soft sand.
‘What?’ he barked, turning to face her, his eyes flashing with anger. ‘I told you nothing ever happened with Lulu. Why would you ask me that and ruin our first weekend away together? You believe her and her jealousy, over me? Is that right? And what did you mean by how many women have I brought here? Who do you think I am?’
‘Oh god,’ Alice moaned, her face crumpling. He was right. Lulu could have been talking about another gorge, or come to this one without Dylan. She was being insecure. Why couldn’t she just leave it alone?
He jabbed at their campfire, sending sparks flying.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she begged, reaching for him. He ignored her. ‘Can we just forget it? Please? It was a stupid thing to say, I don’t know why I said it. I’m so sorry. Please,’ she tried again, opening her arms to him. ‘Let me make it up to you. I’ll cook. We’ll have more wine. Let’s just forget about it. Okay?’
He shot a scathing look at her, then stood and turned away.
‘Dylan?’ Her voice wobbled.
He walked off, into the purple shadows of the sunken sun.
Shaking, Alice prepared dinner. She grilled up all the veggies and haloumi, fed Pip, and topped up their glasses. By the time he returned, it had been dark for an hour or more. Their dinner was cold, the cheese stiff and rubbery. He sat and stabbed at his meal with a fork.
‘You even ruined dinner.’ He emptied his full plate into the fire and reached for his wine glass. The food Alice had managed to get down sat in her stomach like cold stone. She put her plate to the side, let Pip finish her dinner.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. She rubbed her knee against his. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He stared into the fire, unresponsive.
She kept apologising, for hours it seemed, until, finally, he lifted his hand and ran it up the inside of her leg.
It took her most of that night and the rest of the next day, but by the time they were driving home to Kililpitjara, Alice’s efforts to be as calming and compliant as she could seemed to have brought Dylan back to her.
As they pulled into his driveway, he leaned over to kiss her before leaping out to open the gates. When his back was turned Alice winced; she had chafing and bruises from their lovemaking in the gorge. He’d been rougher than usual, but now, to her great relief, they seemed back to normal.
As they unpacked the car, Dylan paused to kiss her tenderly. ‘Thanks for a mostly beautiful weekend.’ He searched her eyes with his.
Alice kissed him gratefully. She’d just have to be more careful in future. She’d have to be mindful before she spoke.
Spring painted the central desert in a paint box of colours. The honey grevillea flowered in masses of amber and yellow, filling the air with its thick, sweet scent. Lounges of bearded dragon lizards sunned themselves between clumps of spinifex. Alice’s veggie garden at Dylan’s began to sprout. The afternoons grew warm enough for ice cream and sunbathing; she lay on a beach towel on the red dirt in his yard, humming along with the music in her headphones while she read a book, until he spotted her in her bikini. He was as hungry for her as ever. Her misstep on their camping weekend was long forgotten. The days grew longer, the stars shone brighter.
‘We should have a barbecue,’ she suggested one night as she fried up sweet chilli tofu and tossed a green salad for dinner. ‘The house is looking so good, and it’s gorgeous out there by the fire pit with the honey grevillea in bloom.’
Dylan didn’t respond. He was sitting at the dining table. Under the glare of the kitchen lights she couldn’t read his face.
‘Babe?’ she asked as she lifted the frying pan off the heat.
‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘Sounds great.’
‘Great,’ she chirped, as she carried their plates to the table. ‘I’ll put feelers out at work tomorrow.’ She kissed him, and sat down for dinner. He smiled wordlessly in reply.
The next morning, Alice pulled up at headquarters full of excitement. She and Dylan had been so wrapped up in each other, it would be good for them to engage a bit more with their small community.
When she walked into the staff office, it was almost too easy. Thugger and Nicko, two rangers Alice didn’t know very well, were standing together, moaning about not having anything to do on their upcoming weekend off.
‘Why don’t you fellas come ’round for a barbecue?’ Alice chipped in.
‘Hey, thanks, mate,’ Thugger said.
‘Yeah, cool.’ Nicko nodded.
‘Sorted,’ Alice said, grinning. ‘We’ll get the fire pit at Dylan’s going and he’ll set up the skillet for a chargrilled feast. We can –’
‘Oh,’ Thugger interjected, glancing at Nicko. ‘You know what, Alice? I just remembered, I’ve actually gotta head up to the Bluff this weekend. I’m, um –’
‘That’s right,’ Nicko interjected. ‘Shit, mate, we nearly forgot. We’re gunna get our fourbies serviced.’
Alice glanced back and forth between them. It was as if she was watching a pantomime.
‘Close call,’ Thugger said, visibly relieved. ‘Lucky you reminded us, Alice!’
‘Another time, mate,’ Nicko said apologetically.
‘Thanks for the invite though,’ Thugger called as they hurried out of the office.
After they’d gone, Alice made herself a cup of tea. Clenched her jaw. She would not cry. She would not overthink what had just happened.
Her day didn’t improve. Later, she made constant mistakes out in the field, culminating in whacking her thumb with a hammer and crumpling in agony.
‘Head back to HQ and get that seen to, Alice.’ Thugger dismissed her from duty.
Once she’d been cleared by the first aid officer, Alice went into the tea room for a sweet biscuit and cup of tea. Her heart sank; Lulu and Aiden were standing at the boiler, talking, mugs in hand. As soon as Alice walked in, they stopped. She went to the cupboard where the teabags were kept, turning her back on them. The totality of their silence weighed on her.
Aiden was the first to speak. ‘You okay, Alice?’
Before she had the chance to answer, Lulu pointedly emptied her mug in the sink and left. Aiden glanced helplessly at Alice, then followed.
‘I’m fine,’ Alice said in a near whisper to herself, watching them go.
The next few days unravelled in a similar way: Alice mentioned the idea of a get-together at Dylan’s to other workmates, but the responses were nothing more than flimsy excuses. Dylan didn’t ask about the barbecue, and Alice didn’t bring it up again. By the end of the week, she’d come to realise that although he was everyone’s acquaintance, Dylan didn’t have any real friends at Kililpitjara. He had her. Only her. And she couldn’t understand why.
When she pulled into his driveway after work and got out to open the gate, Alice recalled one of the books Dylan had read to her, a collection of Japanese fairytales. In one, a woman artist practised kintsugi, repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with powdered gold. There’d been an illustration of a woman bent over a pile of broken pottery pieces, laid out to fit together, with a fine paintbrush in her hand, its bristles dipped in gold. It had enchanted Alice, the idea that breakage and repair were part of the story, not something to be disdained or disguised.
She drove up to park behind Dylan’s ute. Slammed the door with renewed determination. Whatever it was that made him feel he wasn’t good enough, whatever reason people had for not wanting to spend time with him, wherever he thought he was broken, Alice would just melt herself like gold, and fix it.
A few days later, the Earnshaw Crater Resort sent invitations to its annual Bush Ball to all touring companies and park staff.
Dylan had been dismissive when Alice suggested they go along. ‘It’s just a massive piss-up,’ he said with a sneer.
‘Yeah, but it’ll still be fun to go together, right?’ she said, excited, sticking her invitation under a magnet on his fridge. They hadn’t been to a party since her birthday. She’d been coveting a gold silk dress she’d found online; the thought of having an excuse to get dressed up made her giddy. As did the two of them having a reason to get out and see everyone socially.
‘You really want to go?’ Dylan said behind her, interrupting her thoughts.
She turned. ‘I really do. It’ll be so good to have a few drinks, a bit of a dance.’ Alice wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her hips to his. ‘Get a bit drunk,’ she said teasingly, reaching on tiptoes to kiss his neck, ‘and make it count when we see the sun rise.’ She decided then and there she’d surprise him with her new dress. Do her hair specially. Wear lipstick, and that perfume of hers he loved. ‘We can make a date of it,’ she said, looking up at him.
‘You wanna be my date, Pinta-Pinta?’ His eyes clouded with desire.
‘Always,’ she replied, squealing as he lifted her up and carried her to bed. It was going to be great, she told herself. It was going to be the best night they’d had together in ages.
The day of the Bush Ball, Alice raced home early to shower. She zipped up her new gold dress, slicked on lip gloss and lashings of mascara, and stepped into her new cowboy boots embellished with gold butterflies on the heels. When Dylan walked through the door, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She had a cold beer waiting for him, and had intentionally neglected to wear knickers, something she knew drove him mad.
His step faltered when he saw her. He stood, unmoving.
‘Ready for date night?’ she asked, grinning. Did a little shimmy in her dress.
Dylan slowly emptied his pockets onto the counter and went wordlessly into the kitchen.
The chill of his silence hit her between the ribs. She heard him riffling through the medicine cabinet and popping two pills from their packet.
‘Babe?’ she asked, trying to hide her crushing disappointment. ‘You okay?’
He didn’t answer. She went into the kitchen.
‘Babe?’ she asked again.
He kept his back to her. ‘What are you wearing?’ he asked stonily.
‘What?’ Her stomach plummeted.
‘Why are you dressed like that?’
She looked down at her new dress. The gold was suddenly garish rather than magical.
He turned to face her, his eyes dark. ‘Why would you buy new clothes for tonight?’ His voice shook. ‘Why would you want to get all fucking dolled up? Just so the blokes from work can wank over you?’
Alice went rigid as he walked around her, looking her up and down. It hurt to breathe.
‘Answer me,’ he said quietly.
Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t have an answer. Her voice was a gone thing.
Ruby sat by the fire in her back yard with her pen and notebook open, waiting. She wasn’t interested in the Bush Ball. She’d had a feeling all day a poem was coming, and didn’t want to miss it.
Over the dunes, a movement in Dylan’s driveway distracted her. Alice’s dog scampered to hide behind a gum tree. Inside, Dylan’s silhouette paced back and forth in the dimly lit windows of the house.
Ruby watched him. Inhaled deeply, and pressed her nib shakily to paper.
The season is turning.
Something bitter is in the air.
