Sisterchicks Down Under (21 page)

“That’s okay.”

“It’s just that Ray came here. For the 2000 games. He and I were supposed to come for four days, but I had a sinus infection that went into my ears. I was afraid if I got on a plane my eardrums would burst. So Ray came by himself and had a wonderful time without me.”

She drew in a wobbly breath. “I never knew I’d regret losing four days with him out of the thousands we spent together. If I had it to do over, I would have chanced the burst eardrums.”

I paused a moment. “No, you probably wouldn’t have.”

Jill looked at me, surprised for the second time that morning by my quiet irreverence to her lament.

“I mean, maybe you would have done things differently, if given the chance. But, really, Jill, you made the best decision at that time based on the circumstances.”

She adjusted her sunglasses. “You’re right. When you think you have all the time in the world with someone, you focus more on yourself than on him.”

We walked around the fountain in silence, reading the names of the athletes who had received medals at the 2000 games etched in the pavement.

“Thank you,” Jill said as we got back in the car.

“For what?”

“For telling me what I needed to hear. It’s as if all these small doors in my heart keep opening and the closed-up hurt and tears come pouring out. You must be sick of this by now.”

“Not yet.”

“The only good is that each time one of those doors opens, I feel as if I’m healing. You keep giving me truth, Kathy, and I need that. When I’m left to my own imagination, I tell myself all kinds of things. Not everything I tell myself is true.”

“We all do that. More than once you’ve given me truth, you know.”

“All I know is that having you here, right now during this time in my life, feels like God sent an extravagant gift to me. I mean, when I think about it, he brought you here all the way from my grandpa’s orange grove!”

“So what you’re saying is that you see me as a big fruit, is that it?”

Jill chuckled.

I tried to honor the seriousness of her observation. What I intended to say was, “I’ve benefited greatly from your friendship, too, you know.” But what came out was, “I’ve bene-fruited from your friendship, too, you know.”

That’s when we both cracked up.

“We make quite a pear,” Jill said between her laughter bubbles. “Get it? Pair? Pear?”

It took a few minutes for us to compose ourselves before Jill started the engine. I punched in the wildlife park’s address on the keyboard for the directional system, and a map with a red line showed up on the screen. We dabbed away our giggle-tears, and before long found ourselves winding through a hilly
canyon that we both said reminded us of Trabuco Canyon in California. The eucalyptus trees were what made the connection for me.

The park wasn’t large, and only a few visitors strolled around. But our timing was perfect because we arrived five minutes before the feeding of the koalas. The fuzzy, gray fur balls draped themselves in the most humorous poses over a dozen tree stands. We stood only a few feet away from the open area and watched the sluggish snuggle bears while they did absolutely nothing but try to keep from falling off their posts.

A park guide entered the center area with switches of fresh eucalyptus. One of the eight koala bears opened his eyes long enough to pay attention to what was happening.

“Come here, then, Victor.” She reached for the koala by the arms and pulled him toward her the way I’d seen a chimpanzee reach for a long-armed baby chimp. The guide positioned Victor on the railing, handed him a sprig of eucalyptus leaves, and filled the visitors in on the facts about koalas. The one bit of information that everyone laughed at was how the average koala sleeps for eighteen hours a day.

“Think about that the next time your teenager doesn’t want to get out of bed on a Saturday.”

We were invited to come close and have our pictures taken with Victor. Jill pulled out her camera and snapped a shot of me with my arm around the oblivious fellow while he munched on leaves with his eyes half shut. I couldn’t believe how soft he was. I’d heard a mom call her little girl a “cuddly koala” on one of our earlier bus rides, and now that phrase had more meaning. This little guy was irresistibly snuggly.

Jill took her turn for the picture. I snapped three from different angles. A startling sound made us stop and look around.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Kookaburra,” the park guide said. “It’s a bird with a loud call.”

“Sounds like a donkey,” Jill said.

“You’ll find the kookaburras in the aviary by going left on the trail through the park.”

“What about the kangaroos?” I asked.

“Keep to the right on the trail.”

We set off and found a sign at the trails’ intersection. Arrows pointed to our options of animals to visit. I read the list aloud. “Wallabies, dingoes, emus, wallaroos, wombats … here we are. Grey kangaroos. This direction.”

“This seems unreal, doesn’t it?” Jill asked.

“What do you mean?”

“All these animals! It’s hard to believe they’re real.”

“You just touched a koala bear,” I said.

“I know. But the sign could point us to the unicorn pen, and I’d believe there was such a thing as a unicorn.”

I knew I’d feel the same way the moment I saw a real, live kangaroo up close. Kangaroos always seemed mythical to me. I didn’t know if it was the concept of the built-in front pocket, which any mother could make good use of, or if it was the way they hopped. All I knew was that, according to the sign, if we stayed on this path, we would come face-to-face with a real, live kangaroo.

A
fence and a low gate
with a simple latch enclosed the kangaroo area at the wildlife park. Jill lifted the latch, and we entered a dirt area that was partially shaded. To my delight, a kangaroo about two feet tall came hopping over.

I chortled. “It’s a kangaroo!”

“What were you expecting?”

“It’s hopping! Look! It’s a hopping kangaroo.”

“That’s what they do, Kathy.”

“I know, but this is my unicorn, like you were just saying. I can’t believe it’s real and that they let us come into this area with them. Hello, little guy. You are so cute. You know I have food, don’t you?”

When we bought our entry tickets to the park, we had also purchased two bags labeled “kangaroo food.” I opened my bag and looked inside to see what kangaroos liked to eat.

“Cheerios? Jill, look! The kangaroo food is Cheerios! Do you know how much I’ve missed Cheerios since we left California? I can’t believe the kangaroos get to eat Cheerios!”

“Maybe it isn’t really Cheerios.” Jill sniffed the contents of her kangaroo food bag. “Maybe it just looks like Cheerios.”

“It smells like Cheerios.” I held a small amount in my hand and smelled the round
o’s.

“Kathy, you’re not going to eat them, are you?”

“Why not? They’re Cheerios.”

“You don’t know that. Not for sure.”

My mouth was just an inch from my handful of Cheerios. My tongue slid over my lower lip, oh so willing to connect with one of the tiny
o’s.

“Kathy, don’t do it!” Jill squealed. “You should see yourself! You look so funny. Even if those are Cheerios, you don’t know where those little
o’s
have been.”

I pulled back my tongue. “You’re right.”

While we carried on our Cheerios debate, the kangaroos in the open area were slowly hopping toward us. I looked down, and one fellow was checking around my feet for any dropped treats.

“Put some in your hand, and see if he’ll eat out of your palm.” Jill reached for the camera.

“What if he bites the hand that feeds him?”

“Then I’ll take a nice close-up shot for the insurance claim.”

“I don’t see you sticking your hand out here.”

“Somebody has to take the pictures.”

The patient little kangaroo looked up at me with the most adorable doe eyes I’d ever seen. The long, innocent lashes seemed to be batting at me, pleading for me to share my precious Cheerios.

“Hello,” I said to the unafraid kangaroo. “Or should I say, g’day?”

He rose to his full height and came up to my hip.

“Are you hungry? These are Cheerios, you know. Do you like Cheerios?”

“They’re not Cheerios,” Jill said.

“Don’t listen to her. I know Cheerios when I see them. And you are so cute I’m going to share my Cheerios with you. Here.”

He put out his small paws so that they held steady my hand. With a flick of his long, dry tongue, this real, live kangaroo ate out of my hand.

I laughed with glee. “His tongue tickles! Look at him! He is so adorable! I want to take him home with me!”

Another kangaroo rose from the shade and hopped over on feet the size of baby-sized water skis. I laughed again. I couldn’t help it. These guys were irresistible. Their ears stood straight up, flicking, listening, picking up every sound.

The other kangaroo joined the littler one, and the two of them peaceably ate together from my hand.

“Here you go. Hang on. Let me get some more. Jill, you have to feed one of them. They are so sweet.”

“I’ll feed this one,” she said, as a larger kangaroo came bounding our way. It was about three feet away when Jill let out a soft squeal. “Kathy, look! This one has a baby. In her pocket!”

I thought I was going to cry, I was so happy. The image of that mama kangaroo hopping over to us and standing mere inches away with her little joey popping out of her pouch had to be one of the most amazing things I’d ever seen.

Jill giggled.

I was right with her. “I can’t believe you’re real,” I said to the kangaroos. It was as if a fairy tale had come true before my eyes.

Jill’s infectious laughter filled the air. The unafraid kangaroos came closer, their big eyes looking up at us with curious blinks. The joey stuck one arm out of his mama’s pouch, then the other, and twisted around, as if trying to look up into our faces. The first kangaroo rested his tiny paw on my leg, the way a toddler reaches to feel the security of his mother beside him.

The delight of that moment imbedded itself in my mind as sweetly and as permanently as the memory of my first kiss.

I touched the soft fur of the steady fellow and whispered, “You’re real.”

Much later that same night when I arrived home, Tony said he wanted to hear all about our trip. My conversation kept returning to the kangaroos.

“You really liked those magical marsupials, didn’t you? Or was it the Cheerios you were really crazy about?”

I threw a pillow at him. “You would have been proud of me. I didn’t eat any of the kanga food. I thought about it, but I didn’t snatch a single
o.
I couldn’t once I saw those darling faces with those big eyes looking up at me.” I demonstrated with my best kangaroo expression.

Tony smiled. “I love it when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Full of life. Happy.”

“Do you really want to see me full of life? Then let’s go to Australia. You and me. What do you think?” I snuggled up to Tony.

“You just want to go back and see your kangaroo pals.”

“Yes, and other parts of the country. The concierge at the hotel told us we needed to come back in the winter to go skiing in the south. He said the season opens in June. Isn’t that
crazy? Skiing in July? That’s too late for us, though, because we’ll be back in California by then.”

“Maybe,” Tony said.

“What do you mean
maybe
?” I watched his expression closely to make sure he wasn’t joking around.

“I put my name in today for another project. It doesn’t mean I’ll get it, and it doesn’t mean I’ll take it if it’s offered. We had a big meeting this morning. Walter announced his next production and gave all of us a chance to put in for specific positions before the studio goes public with the project.”

“What’s the film?”

Tony smiled but kept his lips sealed. I knew that meant that if he told me he would have to kill me. Insiders are very loyal in his industry when it comes to not releasing information on a film before the studio is ready to issue a press release. Anyone who slips and divulges information is treated like an infidel and is kept out of the loop on further industry disclosures.

“What do you think?” Tony asked.

“If you have the chance to take the job and you really want it, then take it, Tony.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I know it was hard for you when we first got here. You’ve done a great job of making the best of it. I don’t want to put too much of a strain on you.”

“You’re not. I’m okay with staying. Really.”

Tony scratched the back of his neck and looked at me as if to say,
“Who are you and what have you done with the wife I brought over here with me?”

“I thought you wouldn’t like the idea because it would
mean staying here longer, and if you’re eager to go back to school, it could slow down that process.”

“It might. Or I might be able to take classes here. I don’t know. I’m not worried about that right now, Tony. What matters the most to me is that you have a chance to pursue some of your dreams. My turn will come.”