HAULING GROCERIES OUT of the tray of the Navara, I wondered if I could manage to carry them all in one trip. One hand was still in a brace but there were only ten bags. I could probably manage that.

When the bottom of one of the plastic bags split open, dropping cans of Watties Spaghetti on the concrete floor, I felt defeated before I’d even started.

“Fucking arse,” I muttered, putting the bags I already had back in the tray so I could collect the wandering cans. I picked up one, two, but the third had rolled much farther.

“Haven’t had this stuff for a long time.” Jude knelt down and scooped up that third can from several cars away.

I smiled. “Oh, hey.” I picked up the fourth and final can, taking them all back to the ute and slotting them inside different bags. “They’re Ty’s favourite. He loves eating them with those tiny frankfurts. Not the healthiest meal, but when you have a picky eater you’ve got to go with what works.”

“I remember my mother making me something similar when I was a boy,” he told me, handing back the can. “I grew up just fine...I think.”

The comment made me laugh. “That’s how I think. But there’s so much focus on organic this and that these days. I get the guilts for not trying harder, you know?”

“Ty’s healthy and happy. I don’t think you need to feel guilty about anything.”

“You obviously aren’t a mother. We feel guilty about everything.”

“I’m kind of missing some important equipment for that job,” he joked, reaching out to take most of the bags for me. “I’ll help you carry them upstairs.”

“Thanks.” I smiled then led the way to the elevator, carrying the last couple of bags in my left hand.

“So where is Ty tonight? With his dad?”

Whenever someone referred to Tyler in passing, it felt as though they slapped me. It took me a second to recover, the need to step off the elevator on the ground floor giving me the cover I needed to compose myself.

“Ah, no. He’s with his grandmother. She takes him Friday nights and they do something fun together. Gives me a chance to do fun things too, like groceries and budgeting.”

A laugh burst from his chest. “No one tells you how un-fun this whole adulting scenario is.”

“They really should warn us.” Pushing the door to my apartment open, I held it as he walked through then followed him to the kitchen where we both placed the bags on the bench top.

I unpacked while we talked. I had a ritual of doing this while drinking a glass of chilled wine, so I pulled the bottle out of the fridge and offered Jude one too. He accepted. “You know, we spend our whole childhood wishing we’re grown-ups so we can do all the things we want, only to find out we can’t do any of it because there are jobs to do, bills to pay and responsibilities up to your eyeballs.”

I lifted my glass. “That’s what this is for, to ease the tension of too much responsibility.”

“The one perk of getting older.”

We tilted our glasses toward each other, an air cheers, before taking a sip then getting back to the groceries. Jude handed things to me and I put them away and we continued to talk. It was all so normal. I had never had another adult to put the groceries away with; yet here I was, putting everything away and chatting to Jude like this was something we always did. I didn’t want to think about it at the time, didn’t want to go into what any of it meant. I was simply trying to be in the moment and enjoy it for what it was—something Tyler had insisted on, and perhaps the sentiment was finally rubbing off on me.

“You know what time I really liked?” I continued. “University. That was a good age. It was that time between high school and true adulthood. Everything seemed so hopeful then. I think I could live that time over and over again.” I let out a sigh, memories of a healthy Tyler walking through my mind as I watched him from afar.

“Or, you could be like me and never really leave university.”

“Ha. That’s true. What’s it like teaching there? You’re a lecturer, right?”

He nodded. “It’s exhausting. It makes me feel ancient. I honestly don’t know why half the kids even go to university because they don’t listen most of the time. They’re on their phones, or they’re stuffing around on laptops watching YouTube videos. It’s a complete waste of an education. I’m forever giving the ‘you’re adults and responsible for your own learning’ talk. But these kids have no desire to put any effort into anything. It drives me insane.”

“I bet it does. I remember the guys in my lectures who stuffed around and made it harder for the rest of us.”

“What did you study?”

“Physiotherapy.”

“And that’s what you do now?”

I nodded. “I work at the Royal Prince Alfred. Rehab mostly.”

He sipped his wine. “Noble work.”

Leaning against the outside of the fridge after putting the last item away, I lifted a shoulder. “It’s a job. It’s a good job, one I like, but it’s still just a job.”

With a smile, he placed his wine glass back on the bench top, the liquid dancing excitedly at the movement.

“I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” Lifting my hand, I touched it against my cheek, feeling warm from the small amount of alcohol I’d imbibed.

“Not at all. I quite like listening to you talk.”

“Well, you’re easy to talk to.”

His mouth quirked as if he thought my saying that was funny but he didn’t want to laugh at me.

“Can I ask you something?” He stood on the other side of the island bench, his eyes meeting mine as he placed his hands shoulder width apart and leaned forward slightly.

“I may not answer, but sure, you can ask whatever you like.”

“Why were you there that day? At the university. You obviously finished studying a while ago...” He left the rest of the sentence unsaid, but I understood his curiosity. It wasn’t a normal thing for someone to do.

I chewed my lip, trying to think of some sort of answer that was both true and evasive. With each new person who came into my life, the time it took for me to mention Tyler seemed to extend. It gave me insight into why he wouldn’t tell people he was sick; people treated you differently when they felt sorry for you. And those looks—God, those looks—the pursed lips and the head tilt with eyes that just dripped with pity. They had no idea what to say to you when they found out you’d lost a loved one, so they just gave that look.

Returning my attention to Jude, I gave him a small smile, the mask I set on my face to hide my real emotions. “I was just visiting some old memories. Like I said earlier, uni was my favourite time. Sometimes I like to sit there and people watch, just remembering.”

He stared at me with slightly squinted eyes, slowly nodding while he absorbed my answer. I didn’t know if he bought it, or if he was sceptical, but he didn’t question it, and for that I was grateful.

“Do you think that’s an odd thing to do?” I asked after a few beats, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

He shook his head, taking a breath as if I’d just shocked him out of a memory of his own. “Not at all. Remembering is always a good thing.”

I wondered what it was, what he’d been lost thinking about. He’d mentioned a stepmother—had he possibly lost someone too? His mother? I studied him, trying to figure him out just by absorbing the fine details of his features. There was an affinity between us, it had been there from the get-go. Was it grief?

“I should be going,” he said, his voice quiet as he pushed away from the bench top. “Thank you for the…ah…” He pointed at the wine glass.

“Thank you for helping with the groceries.”

He nodded, running a hand over his dark hair before turning to leave. I wanted to ask him to stay, wanted to talk some more, learn more about him. Instead, I walked him to the front door with a promise to head to the park the next day so Ty could play with Sophie.

I leaned against the wall once it closed. I felt heavy. The apartment suddenly felt so empty, a skeleton where so much life used to be. I rattled around inside it, trying to find something to occupy my time. With nothing taking my interest, I pulled out my journal and started writing. Understandably, the biggest question on my mind was what was I doing—why was I so interested in talking to Jude? I didn’t want another man in my life. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted another friend. But every time he showed up, I let him in, I let him near. And I didn’t question it until he was gone and the loneliness that existed in Tyler’s absence crept back in. With a sigh, I hugged a couch cushion against my chest and lay down.

I wanted it to stop hurting.

I wanted to remember him.

I still wanted to miss him.

But I wanted it to stop hurting.

So.

Much.

I’d been hurting for so long.