Read Online An Astronaut's Life by Sonja Dechian - Free Book Online

the box. ‘So selfless,’
she said.
    The architect was already leaving the room.
    ‘I really don’t know which of you I feel more sorry for,’ she said after him.
    He still enjoyed the ritual of arriving at the hospital. It was a part of the secrecy
and anticipation of it all. The architect would spell her name at the reception desk
and they’d buzz him right in. She’d be dressed and waiting with some story she’d
been saving—something funny one of the patients had done, or a joke the nurse had
told her.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ the receptionist said. ‘You’ll have to wait today.’
    It was a Thursday afternoon. He’d left work the same time as always.
    ‘Is there some problem?’
    He began to spell Leisel’s name, but the receptionist pointed to the waiting room
and lifted the phone.
    The architect flicked through a newspaper. He wanted what was best for Leisel—maybe
there was news? What if her delusion had lifted—could that happen? He tried to imagine
the adult woman who might greet him. Would she remember what had passed between them?
    The receptionist gestured.
    ‘Sorry for the wait,’ she said. ‘Leisel had a difficult night. I wasn’t sure she
was having visitors, but you have the all-clear.’
    She was sitting on her bed, dressed
and ready. The architect was relieved at the recognition in her eyes.
    ‘I have to tell you something,’ she said.
    ‘You can tell me anything.’
    ‘I’ve been thinking how things aren’t the same.’
    He sat beside her. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I’m really sorry. We’ve had a lot of fun. We’ll always be friends,’ she said.
    He reached a hand to comfort her.
    ‘Don’t worry. Relationships have their ups and downs. We’ll work through this,’ he
said.
    ‘No, you don’t get it. I think I need to be independent now. I need to start thinking
about university, my future.’
    He rubbed her shoulder. ‘I don’t mind if you want more independence. We’ll come up
with a plan,’ he said.
    Leisel drew back. ‘I think we both need this,’ she said.
    ‘But you’re not well. You can’t make these decisions.’
    She looked away from him and
to the window. ‘I’m sorry, I think you should go.’
    The worn cotton of Leisel’s T-shirt clung to her thin shoulders and chest. He followed
the freckles that ran across her arms until the trail disappeared under her sleeves.
    ‘But I love you,’ he said.
    Leisel opened the drawer beside her bed. ‘I made you this one,’ she said.
    She lifted a horse with both hands. There were clouds painted across the body and
head, but the left side was all blue sky, broken in the centre by one soaring bird.
He thought of his wife, what she would say when she saw it: the adolescent motif.
    ‘Please go now,’ Leisel said.
    So the architect took the horse and went. His heels clipped against the hospital’s
floors, his echoes swallowed by all the long hallways that stretched behind.
    At the exit he paused to find a bin, then he changed his mind. He’d keep it. He laid
the horse on the passenger seat and started out along the highway. He was not prepared
to think of his wife: the resentment he’d earned, the distrust.
    But he called her anyway.
    ‘The key for your brother’s house, it’s still in the spot?’ he said.
    ‘Why?’
    His wife’s brother had a holiday house about an hour away; the architect and his
wife had visited three or four times. The brother and his family mostly went there
at winter, and mostly on weekends.
    ‘They said go up anytime, remember?’
    ‘She’s with you now, isn’t she?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Who do you think?’
    ‘Leisel? Of course not. She’s in hospital. You know she’s unwell.’
    ‘So I’ve heard.’
    ‘The key, is it there?’
    He sensed a change as her anger became resignation, and so he softened. He thought
maybe he would invite her. She’d skip the radio show to drive up.
    ‘You’re not taking her to my brother’s house,’ she said.
    ‘I’m not taking