The Blind Eye (11 page)

When Silas returned from PortTremaine, the few friends he ran into would occasionally ask him what he had been doing while he was there.

Nothing much
, he usually said, not once making mention of Constance, her father, or the garden in which they lived.

As the weeks passed and the change that had occurred in him became inescapably obvious to everyone who had known him, Silas was no longer faced with the possibility of having to discuss the time he had spent away, and he was relieved. It was not until he saw Jake, about eight months after he had come home, that the topic inevitably came up, once again.

Jake had also been out of the city.

India
, he told Silas.
Studying Ashtanga
.

Jake was the first person to ask him whether he had fallen in love. He had followed Silas into his apartment building but when they reached the lift, Silas had told him he was only going up for a few moments, he had to go out. Even though the relief that sex might bring was tempting, it was
never really a possibility. The aversion he had developed to any kind of closeness was too strong, and, unable to express this, he had simply made up an excuse.

Did anything happen to you out there?
Jake looked at Silas curiously. He had always prided himself on his ability to read people, he said he could see the
energy flow
, a phrase that Silas found as irritating as Jake’s tendency to do the splits at every given opportunity.

Did you fall in love?
Jake asked.

Silas shook his head.
No
, he assured him, his response emphatic.

Greta also asked him the same question when he first spoke of Port Tremaine to her. It was on the night they slept together, when they were out drinking, that Silas told her he had not always been a recluse. He had changed, he said, after that trip. In the haze of the alcohol, he thought for a moment that he had mentioned Port Tremaine to her previously.

What trip?
she asked him, and he gave her only the barest details.

What happened?
She grinned.
Did you fall in love?

His response was similar to the one he had given Jake.

Out there?
He laughed.
God, no
, and he butted out his cigarette with short sharp jabs, even though he had lit it only moments before.

When he told me that he had been in love with Constance, I could sec that he was surprised by his own
words, and that he was immediately aware of how ambiguous the truth of that statement was.

For many of us, the mention of love brings with it a myriad of qualifications; we use the word and then we start trying to hedge it in, to shape it, to give it some kind of definition.

This morning, walking with Larissa as the sun was burning the frost off the short grass that covers the plains, she told me that she and her partner had decided to marry. I was pleased for her. I know the difficulties they have had, and I know they have worked hard to resolve them.

In the distance, a group of kangaroos watched us. Pausing in their grazing to assess whether we presented a threat, they sat up on their hind legs, all eyes on us as we made our way towards an outcrop of boulders on the highest point.

She asked me if I was in a relationship, if I was in love with anyone.

Not at the moment
, I told her.

It has, in fact, been just over a year and a half since Victoria left. She is pregnant now, an issue that was a cause of considerable contention between us, and she is, I believe, happy.

I have not met anyone since we separated. I have not even slept with anyone, and I shake my head as I realise this.

Any reason?
Larissa asked and she glanced across at me, averting her eyes almost immediately.

I smiled at her.
There isn’t one in particular that I can pin-point. It just doesn’t interest me much
.

She apologised for asking.
I shouldn’t have. It’s only because we are here in this place. You know, not in the clinic
.

I told her it was fine, that I didn’t mind at all.

Look
. It was the kangaroos that I was indicating to her and I watched as they bounded away, arcs of white frost shimmering behind them with each enormous leap they made.

It was only when they were gone that I realised her eyes had in fact remained on me, and in that brief moment before she turned away, I was surprised to see that her look was one of mild curiosity, almost sympathy, as though I was a being she could not fathom.

2

Silas told me that it took him five minutes to convince Rudi to unlock the gate. One look at Constance had been enough for him to know he wanted to go in. She was, he said, more beautiful than he would have believed to be possible. Her hair was thick and dark and it fell, black and smooth, to her shoulder blades. Her skin, and he searched for the words, was like the palest petal, touched pink and stretched taut across the fingers. But it was her eyes that stilled him: they were violet, deep and pure, the colour of the dusk after a perfect summer day. Standing just outside that gate, his floundering heart wide open to it all, Silas wanted only to be on the other side, there with her.

He had not, of course, heard of Rudi’s work; he had no knowledge of the recognition he had once achieved, albeit obscure. It was, therefore, simply a matter of luck that he chose to tell Rudi he was interested in writing an article about the garden, the lie he had stumbled upon working almost immediately.

When he saw the old man’s grip on the gun loosen
slightly, the blood return to his knuckles and the muscles in his arms relax, Silas pressed on, telling him he had heard of the community Rudi had set up, that he wanted to know more, that he would not take too much of his time.

You are in the same field?
Rudi asked.

Silas saw him reach for his keys.
I am interested in plants
.

It is not just plants we use
. Rudi was at the gate now, fumbling with the lock.
It is anything and everything. That is the wonder of it
.

Silas agreed eagerly, knowing that Constance was listening, her eyes on him, not seeing him, but assessing him, judging him. He turned to her, the gate clanging shut behind him.

You’ve grown all this?
he asked, taking one step closer to her and then, stunned by a rich sweet perfume that seemed to cling to her, he pulled back.

Somehow she was aware that it was her, and not her father, he had been addressing and she smiled, amused.
They are the ones that do the growing
. Her eyes held his.

I had heard how extraordinary this place was
, his words came out in a rush as he attempted to keep her attention,
but I never expected anything like this
.

Her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and it was Rudi who spoke.
You have read my articles?

Silas could not take his eyes from Constance as he lied.
Some
.

And you write for?

Different publications
. He was aware that Constance was still facing him, and he remembered, with some relief, that she would not be able to see the rush of crimson across his cheeks.

He turned to her;
I have never seen you in town
.

I don’t go there
. Her tone was dismissive, and then she touched her father’s arm gently as she said that she would leave them to talk.

Come
, Rudi beckoned.

The path that led to the shack was shaded by trees. The light fell in dancing pools at Silas’s feet as he followed, reluctantly. He had never seen such a place: the gentle sway of the branches against the clear blue sky, the soft rustle of the leaves, the sweetness of the flowers that clung to him as he passed, the damp velvet of their petals smooth against his skin; it was intoxicating.

Everything I built myself
, Rudi told him proudly.
Everything I found, nothing was bought. This stove
, and he pointed to an old Kooka that took up most of the kitchen annex,
just thrown out
.

Imbeciles
, and he waved his hand impatiently to indicate the outside world.
New, new, new, that is all they want. They are killing this land with their greed for new. It is dying on them. But do they listen? Pah
, and he shrugged his shoulders in exasperation.

Through the window, Silas could see her. She was adjusting a temporary shade rigged over one of the garden beds, long tassels of brilliant pink flowers falling around her (
love-lies-bleeding
, she was to tell him later), pausing for a moment to feel the direction of the sun before turning back to the task.

This
, and Rudi pointed to the garden,
shows what can be done. When we came here, after the others left, it was all sick, diseased, but now it grows
.

As Silas stepped away from the window, he noticed that smell once again, the fullness of the perfume that had clung to Constance also pervading the closeness of the shack. He looked for flowers, but there were none.

There was only one room, two single beds, a table and two chairs, but despite the lack of furniture, the place was cluttered. There were books everywhere, Silas had never seen so many: piled high on the stove, the floor, stacked into the few shelves that had been rigged along the walls, they filled the place.

We will talk
, and Rudi pulled out the chair, clearing a small space at the table for him.

Has she always been blind?
Silas turned back to where Constance worked, the pale blue of her shirt shining soft against the brilliance of the day.

She sees. More than you or I will ever see
.

Unaware that they were watching her, she stood, slowly stretching herself in the shade, her face turned up towards
the clear arc of the sky, and Silas was certain he could see her smile.

She has the art
. Rudi wrapped his fingers around Silas’s arm.
All of my knowledge I have given to her. But she has more than that
. He looked out to her, his eyes softening as he watched her bend back towards her work.

Silas could feel the pressure of Rudi’s fingers on his skin, and he knew that when he turned he would see the eagerness on Rudi’s face. It was clear that this was something he had wanted, for who knows how long; a chance to talk, to be understood, to be recognised.

Where shall we begin?

Silas had not even opened his mouth to respond before Rudi continued, waving his hand dismissively, as he answered his own question:
I am not interested in the past. It is not worthy of discussion. What happened to the others happened. They did not have the dedication, the patience, the perseverance, and so they left
.

Silas nodded.

It is our work now that matters, the progress we are making
, and as Rudi gathered his papers, Silas turned once again, shifting his chair a little so that he could steal a glance at her each time Rudi’s attention was diverted, because it would, he feared, be a long afternoon; unbearable if it weren’t for the sight of her, right there, just outside the window.

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