Fireflies by Charles Mayne The two girls, seventeen and seven, had been left alone that afternoon, not unusual for them on a Wednesday. Diana stretched out on the sagging couch, staring at the dark patches in the ceiling and wondering if their old Queenslander could survive more tropical cyclones without letting water seep in. Her younger sister Yvonne sat in the middle of the lounge room, balancing dolls and plastic horses on the honey-coloured floorboards. The ethereal blue and green windows of the lounge had been left open, the last of the sun’s rays pouring in. Dust motes drifted lazily in the sunlight, then something else glittered out of the corner of Diana’s eye. ‘Where did you get that, Vonny?’ Diana twisted her stiff neck and squinted her eyes at the object her little sister was holding. Yvonne looked over and grinned, holding up the encrusted hair pin. A dragonfly with a missing pink jewelled eye glinted back at her. Yvonne twirled it between her fingers. ‘Mum left it here again,’ Yvonne answered in a sing-song voice. ‘She’s always late for Wednesday night church.’ Diana imagined her mother’s hair, wild without the pin to hold the tangles in place, like a makeshift crown of thorns. ‘She’ll probably make us late on Friday, again,’ Yvonne added. Friday night meant Youth Christians Alive, Diana knew, the thought snaking its way into her mind. She hated the idea of going back to an environment where she felt under pressure, like nothing had happened to make her question her faith. Her mother had assumed Diana was reluctant to return to church in the last two weeks because she had lost a friend. This was partly true. The accident happened late on a Friday night two weeks earlier, and by the following Monday, word had spread about how the car carrying two boys had lost control at high speed and wrapped around a pole, killing them instantly.
The school had sympathised with grief-stricken friends of Michael and Zachary; teachers lessened the workload, and some classes were made non-compulsory for a week. Since then, younger students pinned senior students with curious eyes, and at home, Diana’s mother had not pressured her into attending meetings. That same Monday she had been lying on the couch she was on now, after trudging out of the shower to relieve her swollen eyelids and dark eyes, her long hair damp and straggled. ‘Heard about that boy at Di’s school; drink driving or something, wasn’t it?’ Diana heard Tracey Crawleigh murmur at her mother over the sound of her teaspoon clinking in its mug. ‘Terrible tragedy.’ The floorboards in the kitchen creaked slightly, and Diana pictured her mother leaning over the counter to see if her daughter’s bedroom door was shut, before replying. ‘I’m just thankful she never mixed in with that crowd,’ came the response. ‘Michelle and I were talking about gangs like that last week, you know,’ Tracey pressed on. ‘It’s not just about your walk in the Lord, it’s keeping your brothers and sisters in the Lord close. They’re the ones who won’t lead you off the path.’ Diana squeezed her eyes tight, the light glowing red behind her eyelids. The sun had almost dipped below the window, which meant their mother wouldn’t be home for another hour. Yvonne picked up one of the toys and put it in a recycled ice cream container laced with gold tinsel, dried loops of glue covered in glitter. ‘Look,’ she said, holding up the container when she realised Diana was still watching her. ‘I’m making a house for the fireflies.’ Diana felt a pang of guilt, knowing she’d promised Yvonne she would take her down the river to catch some.
‘When I die and go to the kingdom of heaven,’ continued Yvonne, ‘I’ll make pretty stuff like this all the time.’ ‘If you like,’ Diana continued softly, ‘we can go catch some fireflies and give them a new home before mum comes back?’ Yvonne’s eyes shifted onto her. The warm brown irises lost their look of glazed glass. Diana knew she had her sister’s full attention now, as opposed to the dreamlike state Yvonne slipped into when she started to imagine what things would be like if she could live for eternity. The house was securely locked up after the girls left and walked down Mabin Street, Yvonne straying onto the road every now and then to kick loose stones over gravel. The sound of skittling rocks caught the attention of their neighbour, Maureen, who paused and pushed her floppy white hat back to wave to the girls. She held a garden hose in the other hand, steadily drowning a pink hibiscus shrub in water. Last term in Geography class, students had to choose a local environmental problem to write an essay on. Diana had chosen the weed problem in the Upper Ross River. Michael had chosen water waste and restrictions in Townsville. ‘Once Dad took me out to this house to help mop up this job, right.’ Michael had poked her with his elbow while they waited outside of class. ‘This lady’s toilet wobbled so badly that the bolts holding it down came loose, the whole place stank!’ ‘Gross!’ Diana laughed and scrunched up her nose at him. ‘Why do you even want to be a plumber?’ ‘Well, I don’t really.’ His dark eyes travelled down to the cracks in the cement. ‘But it’s the family business, and I’m kind of expected to do it as well. Wouldn’t want to go against the whole family and all,’ he added, and drew an imaginary line across his throat. ‘My Dad’ll be on my case every morning. Michelangelo!’ he cried, curling his fists into his thick black curls. ‘Git up Michelangelo! We gatta wurk!’
A blue car whizzed past the girls. ‘Yvonne, get back off the road,’ Diana yelled. Yvonne turned and looked at her with wide eyes, obediently stepping back over the gutter onto the grass. Diana’s anger coiled inside her, turning regretful for snarling at her sister. Even Maureen arched her eyebrows and moved her head down to adjust her hat. Diana caught up to Yvonne and stretched out her fingers, wordlessly asking for an apology as Yvonne took her hand. They were close to Sheriff Park now; the smell of barbequing sausages was in the air and the shrieking children were growing louder. Huge trees stretched over a well-kept lawn, and high above dark clouds glowed a brilliant white at the edges as they threw themselves across the sky. Diana glanced left, waiting for a ute to pass after it swerved around the roundabout in Love Lane. She had lived in this area since she was as young as Yvonne, and had come to the park with her mother before the climbing net had been built. ‘Mummy, what happens if I get hit by a car?’ she had asked as they waited for the traffic to subside. Her mother squeezed her hand. ‘You close your eyes and go to sleep. When you wake up, the Lord will be returning, and we will all go to heaven.’ ‘What if my friend Chris gets hit by a car?’ ‘Unless he has the Holy Spirit, and can speak in tongues, he won’t go to heaven.’ Her mother had been wearing a long floral skirt that day, and Diana watched it float in the breeze. ‘That’s why we all have to do our best to witness to people, so they know about the word of God. Otherwise, they can’t come to heaven with you.’ The divorce was shortly after Yvonne was born, and Diana now understood that the lack of a father figure meant their mother was stricter on their church attendance, hopeful of their morals and standards, and confident they would become successful young women.
Holding hands with her sister, Diana now crossed the road and smirked as she spotted an elderly man under the park’s gazebo, a schnauzer dog beside him. ‘Vonny, would you like me to go say hi to your boyfriend?’ she asked, nodding in his direction and wiggling her eyebrows at her sister. Yvonne looked over in shock and frowned when she spotted the man. ‘Yuck!’ Diana couldn’t help but laugh as they followed the cement walkway that ran parallel to the open plains of the river. The seasons had not gone through a 40-day tropical monsoon for months now, and the once wide and majestic river was small and winding. A few metres of grass separated the path from a sudden drop, where swirls of aquamarine and sunlight played on the ripples. Beyond, the girls saw men with fishing reels resting on the thick wild grass covering the rolling expanse that had once been a river bed. Mount Stuart rose in the distance, its blue shape reminiscent of a sleeping dragon. Twilight was upon them, as she agreed to hold Yvonne’s firefly house, and watched her sister run over to the swings. She shifted the container to her left hand, reaching into her pocket to check her phone. No messages. She skimmed back through her conversations, scrolling past messages of deepest regrets and sincerest wishes, until she found the one conversation she would never resume. Questions about schoolwork hovered in speech bubbles, innocent and friendly messages, always with a legitimate excuse for texting the other person. A familiar hollow feeling began to open up in Diana’s chest, and she clicked a button to turn the phone screen dark, just as Yvonne ran back up to her. ‘The other kids won’t give me a turn!’ Yvonne puffed, her cheeks red. ‘We’ll come back later then. Want to go find somewhere that leads down to the river?’
Yvonne made a point of turning and frowning furiously at the other children before she was led away. A few minutes later she tugged Diana’s hand and looked in horror at discarded cigarette butts crushed into the cement. ‘Come on Vonny, watch where you’re going.’ Diana rolled her eyes as their footsteps fell in and out of sync. ‘Did you know, God doesn’t like smoking.’ ‘Does he not?’ Diana repressed a heavy sigh. ‘No, and if you smoke, you can’t come to church anymore.’ ‘Well you’d better not smoke then,’ Diana said, in the lightest tone she could. But something had crossed Yvonne’s mind that troubled her, and she haltered in her response. ‘Once I dreamed I was smoking a cigarette and when I woke up I almost cried.’ She hugged her container to her chest. ‘Or sometimes I dream God comes back and I get left behind while people float away, because I’ve been bad.’ Diana’s eyes were tight as she looked out over the river. The first of the fireflies had appeared, but they glittered out of sight, glowing in the darkness by the water. ‘I have those dreams too sometimes.’ The dreams of fire and screams, and a sky gaping open above, like a monster come to devour its meal. Those were the dreams that plagued Diana; rivers made of serpents and the inescapable need to run and hide. Not her loved ones disappearing. She already knew what it felt like to have someone disappear. She barely dreamed at all these days. It was as if the less time she spent at church, the less she was eaten away by the paranoia of a judgement day that awaited her. A soft gasp distracted her from thought, and Diana realised the fireflies had caught Yvonne’s eye too. They found the hidden path leading from the park to the river itself, and hurried down the narrow paved bricks which were soon
swallowed by mud. Low branches were covered in mildew and old man’s beard, where the water had risen and fell. After half an hour, Yvonne had captured one firefly—which glowered in defeat at the bottom of the container—but no matter where they walked, the fireflies always seemed to be flittering just a few more metres away; Yvonne pointed to the water’s edge, where more green lights sparkled in the inky black reflection of the river. ‘We aren’t going that close to the water, Vonny,’ Diana shot at her, before she had the chance to ask. ‘Why not?’ ‘You’ll slip in the mud and fall into the river. End of story.’ ‘No I won’t!’ Yvonne wailed at her in a high pitched tone. Diana turned to snap at her, lost her footing in the tangled grass and tripped forward with hands flying out. Face-first in the mud, the smell of old fish bait and slime flooded Diana’s nose. Yvonne burst out laughing. Diana twisted around to fling a handful of mud at her, which missed, making her laugh even harder. She stopped and pointed as Diana bent her knees and lifted herself up. ‘Oh your hand, your hand!’ Yvonne stumbled forward and dropped her container, the green gem inside vanishing. Diana looked at her hand and saw a gash running from her thumb down to her wrist. She instinctively clenched it as blood began to run over her skin. ‘It’s okay,’ Yvonne said to her, glancing miserably from her container to her sister. ‘I can speak in tongues now so I can pray for Jesus to he—’ ‘Oh for God’s sake!’ Diana snapped. ‘Jesus is not going to heal every single thing that happens to people, Yvonne, would you shut up!’ Yvonne stopped in mid-sentence, shock and disbelief on her face. Silence settled over them, and Diana scrunched up her eyes in guilt, knowing if she started crying now, so would Yvonne.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not looking at her sister. ‘I’m angry all the time now, it’s not your fault.’ She walked over and picked up the container. ‘I can make you a new one if you’d like, I think that would cheer us both up.’ There was another pause, as Diana shifted uncomfortably, eager to make Yvonne forget the whole incident. ‘Let’s go home now, or else Mum will see me and get angry because I’ve been rolling around in the mud.’ A small smile tugged at Yvonne’s lips. ‘Do you know how far away the park is from here, though?’ ‘I think I know which direction to go, I just don’t know which path we take.’ Diana looked over and saw a low drain surrounded by rocks, which might lead them back to the concrete pathway. In the gloom of the evening air, the secret pathways, laced with the floating green lights, tangled around the girls. Diana saw the landscape’s mystery and beauty under the night sky.