Page 30 of The Vanishing Place

“I hate you.”

The words broke from her in a whisper, and Effie shoved him hard in the chest, her hands thumping into a mountain. But Dad barely moved. He just stood there in the garden, useless and stinking of sweat and animal shit.

“You missed it.” Her voice shook, and she blinked back hot tears. “You missed his birthday.”

“Effie—”

Dad reached out but she stepped back from him, her legs trembling.

“You were gone for five days.” She clenched her fists. “Not three.” She pointed at the steps. “He sat there on that bottom step, waiting for you. He sat there all day, holding on to that stupid slingshot you made, but you didn’t come. Cos you’re nothing but a stupid, shitty—”

“Effie, I’m—”

“You promised to take him hunting.” Then she shouted, “ You promised! ”

Dad looked at her and she hated him, the anger so hot that her cheeks and neck burned.

“I’ll take him tomorrow,” he said. “Aiden will like—”

“You don’t know what Aiden likes.” Effie was panting. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“Effie, that’s enough.”

“Where do you go anyway?” she spat.

Dad didn’t react, he didn’t say anything, and Effie wanted to hurt him. She wanted to wound him with something.

“I bet there’s some girl,” she sputtered, the flood pouring out of her. “Some girl that you’re fucking? A—”

He hit her then. His palm collided with her face, and a white pain exploded through her cheekbone.

Effie touched her cheek, then she looked up at him—his face wet with tears—and she ran.

She ran past him, through the garden and into the bush.

Past tree after tree, heart thumping, until she couldn’t run anymore.

Until the weight in her lungs and legs was too heavy to hold up.

Effie lurched forward, coughing, then she screamed into the ferns, so loud that the bush stilled and the kererū stopped singing.

She punched a fist into the earth, cursing him, then she punched it again.

She beat her knuckles into the dead leaves, over and over, until her fingers burned.

Then she collapsed, defeated, and rolled onto her back.

Seconds passed as she stared up at the cover of fronds, then minutes.

Eventually, as she lay in the damp leaves, the heat in her started to dilute.

Half an hour later—the wet earth long soaked through her clothes—he found her.

“I brought you a jacket,” he said.

Effie closed her eyes. “Piss off.”

“And some green tea.” He held up a flask.

“I hate green tea.”

“Come on.” Asher took a step closer. “You’ll catch a chill.”

She opened her eyes.

He knelt down next to her. “I saw what happened.”

“You didn’t see anything.”

“Your dad…” Asher hesitated. “Is he always like that? It’s just, sometimes, he seems…”

Effie wiped herself off and stood up. “You don’t know anything about my dad,” she said, glaring at him. “Or me.”

Asher followed her as she walked away, trailing her like a pathetic puppy.

“I’m worried about you,” he said. “The way he gets, it’s not right. He scares me.”

“Then leave.” Effie turned and looked back at him. “Leave.”

“He shouldn’t hurt you like that. It’s not normal.”

She scowled at him. “And what, you are?”

“He needs help.”

“And you need to wear sunglasses.”

Asher reached out and grabbed her arm, and Effie wanted to punch him. She tried to tug free, but he held her still, staring at her.

“It would be better,” he said, quiet and serious, “for him to have a rock hung around his neck and to drown at sea.” Asher gripped tight. Too tight. “Better to drown than to harm his children.”

Effie pulled her arm free. “Have you gone proper mad?”

“Matthew 18:6,” said Asher, his face stern. “God promises to visit terrible consequences upon any man who hurts his children.”

“Visit upon?” Effie backed away. “You’ve definitely gone crazy.”

“I’m worried.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You’re just a kid.”

Asher tried to touch her again, and Effie spun around.

“Look,” she shouted. “I don’t need help from you or your stupid god.” She held his gaze. “It’s bullshit, all of it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Ha.”

Effie looked into his eyes, into those two deep pools—sky blue and night black—and smiled.

“It’s all total crap, Asher.”

For a moment, he was quiet, just staring at her. “My eyes weren’t always like this,” he said eventually. “Different colors.”

Effie shrugged. He could have had one green and one purple eye for all she cared.

“They both used to be blue,” he continued, like she gave a damn. “Two normal eyes, ’til the day I turned thirteen.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “Pretty shitty birthday present.”

“And no return receipt.”

Effie rolled her eyes. “So?” she asked, unable to stop herself. “What happened?”

He looked away; his expression different. “My dad,” he said. Soft. His voice thinned out. “My dad punched me.”

There was a beat of quiet.

Asher gave a sad smile. “Too hard that time, I guess.”

Then another.

Effie turned her head away. They weren’t the same. She and Asher. Her dad and Asher’s dad. Effie blinked, closing her eyes to the glare. To the sun. Not to tears. Not to the sad burn in her stomach and cheekbone. After a few seconds, she turned back.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, and she was—sorry. “About your eye.”

But Asher’s story wasn’t her story. His dad wasn’t her dad.

“Could…” Asher paused. “Could we maybe keep this between us?”

Effie crossed her arms. “Doesn’t bother me.”

He smiled. No shock there.

“This secret,” Effie frowned. “It doesn’t make us friends or anything, though.” She kicked at a dangling fern. “And the God stuff’s still bullshit.”