I walk quickly to the kitchen, Dad following me.

‘What’s happening? Are you okay?’ I say into the phone.

Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘Who is it?’

‘Sal.’

He grunts, walks to the sink, and fills the percolator pot with water.

‘So, are you okay?’ I ask her as Dad ferrets around in the pantry.

‘Ryan’s having a meltdown. He says we have to leave Bali on the first flight we can. He’s spent the last two hours shoving clothes in our backpacks. He’s freaking me out. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Put him on the phone.’

‘He’s at home.’

‘What brought this on?’

‘Who knows? Everyone was at Jack’s place – and you know Ryan hates it there – but he was in a good mood. And then he lost it. Stands in the middle of the room and rants about how life has no meaning and we came to discover paradise and now we’re destroying it and ra ra ra. He grabs my arm and says we’re leaving – leaving Bali.’

‘You mean for Christmas? I thought you weren’t doing that this year.’

‘We’re not. He means forever.’

‘Was he stoned?’

‘Yes, but it’s not that. He’s been in a mood since you left. Can you come back early? He’ll listen to you.’

‘Sal, I can’t. There’s some heavy stuff going on here right now.’

‘I need you.’

‘What if you close up KD and hang here with him for a couple of weeks? Maybe he needs a break. We can fly back to Bali together.’

‘Charlie, you haven’t seen him. He’s deadset serious about this. He wants to give KD to Ketut. If he goes to Australia now, I don’t think he’ll ever come back.’

Her words hit me. Bali without Ryan is unthinkable, because that’s Bali without Ryan and Sal. Thinking about going back is all that’s keeping me afloat.

Dad huffs and whacks his hands against his sides. ‘I don’t know where she keeps anything.’

I point to the fridge. He mutters something about Abby putting things in illogical places (meaning places he wouldn’t choose himself), and stands with the door open, as annoyed and befuddled as he’d been at the pantry. The light from the refrigerator beams out like a spotlight.

‘Sal, flights are going to be booked out. You guys probably can’t leave right now. But can you get him to the phone anyway, soon as you can? Doesn’t matter what time.’

Dad slams the fridge door and puts the coffee tin on the counter. He spreads his palms on the brown-tiled bench as though he’s about to do push-ups, stares crossly at the tin and then at me. ‘Filters?’ He doesn’t bother lowering his voice.

I gesture at the middle of three drawers.

‘Sal, it’ll be okay. Go to Ketut and Made and ask them to help talk some sense into him. And get him on the phone to me.’

She hangs up.

Dad stands with his arms folded, adopting a grim expression. ‘It sounds like your friend’s in some trouble. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’