—32—
Marley and Me by John Grogan
Lilydale train line away from the city
Frankie dashed up the stairs of her apartment building. The store opened in half an hour and she still needed to shower, change and drink coffee. Very strong coffee. Today was a Tuesday. And she hated Tuesdays. Tuesday was team-bonding day. After wrapping up the weekly finances, Claud would make each of them share their professional highs and lows from the last week while doing mindfulness knitting. After attending a leadership seminar called ‘Keeping Your Employees Happy but Productive’, he was all about ‘talking about our feelings’ and ‘rejuvenating our minds through the power of needles and thread’. Tuesdays also meant that there were still four more days until Friday, when the real team bonding started. Nothing said ‘We’re a happy little working family’ like a bottle of red (or gin-and-tonic, hold the tonic) and hot chips from the pub down the road.
And then there was that other feeling accompanying her creeping dread. Regret? Guilt? Or just a lingering lactose overload? Arriving at her front door, Frankie leaned forward and banged her head against the dry wood. It’s okay, she told herself. It was just for the blog. It’s over now. She shoved her key in the lock, threw her head back and faked embracing the day.
Frankie flipped on the kettle on her way to wish Winnie a good morning.
‘Hey little guy,’ she cooed, sliding open the lid and sprinkling a handful of pellets in the corner.
‘Late night, hey?’ Winnie lay curled up near an ornamental log. Frankie rubbed the back of his shell. Winnie didn’t move. Frankie tickled his back feet. ‘That always gets you moving.’ Nothing. ‘Winnie? Winnie?’ Frankie jumped back, hands flying to her mouth. ‘Winnie!’ She grabbed her phone with shaking hands and dialled Sunny’s number, pacing in circles while she waited for him to pick up.
‘Miss me already?’ She could hear his smile through the phone.
‘You need to get over here. It’s Winnie!’ She peered through the glass tank, looking hesitantly for any movement in the tank. ‘I think he’s dead.’
Twenty minutes later Sunny walked through the door. His hair was scruffy, his stubble rough. Oh, he’s so dreamy in the morning. Frankie shook her head. Winnie, think of poor, sweet, potentially dead Winnie! Sunny squeezed her hand and planted a warm kiss on her cheek. With a final embrace, he pushed past her and headed over to the living room.
‘What do you see?’ Frankie called from behind the alcove at the entrance. She listened to Sunny pad through the apartment and the clunk of the tank being propped open. Rustle. Splash. Click. Shuffle. Frankie leapt back as Sunny suddenly appeared back in front of her. He pulled her into a long hug, rubbing her lower back. ‘I’m so sorry, Frank. We lost him.’
They sat side by side on the couch, clutching two steaming cups of coffee, both staring blankly at the shoebox resting on the coffee table in front of them.
‘I can’t believe he’s gone.’ Frankie sniffed.
‘There’ll never be another turtle quite like him.’ Sunny nodded, gazing at the makeshift coffin.
‘How could this have happened? He was so young, so sprightly, for a turtle, and then – poof – gone.’
‘Sometimes these things just happen. There’s no way of explaining it.’ In that moment, Sunny spoke as if he were worlds away. Frankie looked at him. Are you still talking about Winnie? she couldn’t help but wonder.
‘I just can’t believe it.’ She inhaled sharply. ‘You don’t think it was the trip to the onsen that did it? What if it was too steamy for him? Was he out of water for too long? He was never quite his slow-moving self after it. Oh God,’ she cried. ‘What if we accidentally fried his insides and he has been slowly boiling to death ever since!’ Frankie jumped up from the couch, but before she could get any further away, Sunny had stood and enveloped her in his arms.
‘You were a great mum. And he loved all the excursions you took him on. He had a beautiful, exciting life thanks to you,’ he murmured, rocking her gently. Frankie felt her whole body relax as she rested against his firm chest.
‘I’m going to be so late,’ she said finally, and reluctantly pulled away, wiping stale tears from her cheeks. Without looking at Winnie, she opened her phone to call Cat – and saw three Snapchat notifications, all from Miguel. ‘I’m just going to give Cat a buzz,’ she muttered and closed the door to her bedroom quickly behind her.
Clicking into Snapchat, a photo awaited Frankie: Miguel doing the splits. The caption read, ‘Doing a divide to awaken my physique core.’ Next, a short video of Miguel swinging upside down from rings hanging from the ceiling of the gymnasium was captioned, ‘Higher body brawn is most important.’ Finally, a photo of Miguel with a woman standing on his shoulders and another woman wrapped around his torso, arms splayed, entitled: ‘Women’s magnet ; )’.
‘Shit.’ Frankie frantically tapped out of the app and dialled Cat’s number.
‘Frankston,’ Cat answered breathlessly, ‘I’m mid-squat. Where the hell are you?’
Frankie divulged the sad news, choking back tears. They went back and forth between Cat insisting she stay home and Frankie asserting that she would be fine in an hour. Cat hung up on her after her third protest. As she attempted to compose herself before joining Sunny, she heard a shrill voice echo from her front foyer.
‘Sunny, my darling!’
Her mother. Again. Frankie sighed loudly, overcome by a very physical sensations of repulsion and frustration. Ever since her parents had moved to Richmond, they were always dropping by unexpectedly, and always at inopportune times.
‘Mum, what a surprise,’ she quipped as she entered the living room to find Putu sensually rubbing Sunny’s shoulders and Rudolph sitting on the couch. Sunny stared at her with a your-mum-needs-to-stop-touching-me look.
‘We were just in the neighbourhood and thought we’d swing by to see our favourite daughter!’
‘Mum, I’m your only daughter.’ Frankie planted a kiss on the top of her father’s head and went to give her mother a lacklustre hug. ‘This really isn’t the best time.’
Putu looked coyly from Frankie to Sunny. ‘Oh, to be young again!’
‘Mum,’ Frankie wrapped her arm around Putu’s back and swivelled her to face the door, ‘we’ve spoken about this. You cannot keep turning up unannounced. I’m running late for work. You have to leave. And please stop molesting Sunny.’
Putu brushed her daughter away. ‘My dear, sweet cabbage, let me just say hello to that scaly grandson of mine.’
Frankie tensed. She threw her head back. Heaven above, Winnie! Take me with you!
‘Putu, did I tell you how much I’ve been enjoying the Himalayan goji berries you bought me? I can just feel my body exploding with antioxidants,’ Sunny interjected. He nodded to Frankie, who slowly backed away, receding into the safety of her bedroom. She closed the door quietly and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a cream woollen jumper. She heard the front door click open and then closed, and she exhaled. How did I get so lucky with Sunny? But the thought was followed by a sharp, guilty sting. She shook her head, grabbed her coat and joined Sunny, who was now sitting on the couch alone.
‘Thank you,’ she said, running her palm over his rough cheeks. ‘For everything.’
‘I just hope you’re okay. Please, Frank. Open up to me, tell me how you’re feeling.’ Sunny gazed longingly into her eyes.
‘I’m fine.’ She brushed him off, letting her hands fall to her side.
Frankie was crouched in the front window, absentmindedly rearranging a display of children’s picture books next to a sign announcing upcoming Book Week celebrations. Koala Lou, Loni and the Moon, Under the Love Umbrella, No One Likes A Fart. Sitting among these sweet and hilarious and poignant stories, she suddenly yearned to be young and unencumbered by adult worries and complications, but her thoughts were interrupted by Cat’s exasperated rant about how from Snow White to War and Peace to The Kite Runner, too many mothers are conveniently killed off in literature. ‘What kind of example is it setting for our children?’ she yelled.
Before Frankie could even form a response, her phone buzzed on the floor next to her. Another Snapchat notification from Miguel: this time the photo – which featured him juggling a lemon, pear, grapefruit and orange – was captioned, ‘Apple all the days keeps doctor abroad’. There was a sudden thump on the window and Frankie recoiled as the glass reverberated around her. She looked up and saw Sunny waving back at her. He wore a black suit and tie, held a box under his arm and clutched a garden pot from which a burnt orange marigold poked out.
‘What are you doing here?’ Frankie mouthed. Sunny beckoned for her to join him on the footpath, and so Frankie squeezed her way back into the store, called a quick ‘Be right back’ to Cat, and went outside.
‘What’s going on?’
Sunny kissed her. ‘It’s time for Winnie’s funeral.’
‘It’s the middle of the day. I can’t just leave.’ Sunny looked over her shoulder into the store, and when Frankie turned she saw Cat and Claud step into view. Cat had draped a long black throw knit (handmade by Claud) around her shoulders, and Claud held up two handbags. Seb popped his head out from between the shelves, giving Frankie the ‘I’ve got this’ thumbs up.
‘It’s all been arranged,’ Sunny said. He took her hand and guided her down the street, with Cat and Claud close on their heels.
They had walked about four blocks when Sunny directed them through a labyrinth of alleyways and narrow streets until they pulled up at a small community garden. Covered in lush, green grass, it was peppered with various plots filled with sprouting vegetables. Sunny opened the white picket gate.
‘Can we even be here?’ Frankie took a tentative step forward.
‘Live a little, Rose.’ Cat winked, marching, with a slight waddle, through the place like she owned it.
Frankie followed Sunny to a small hole dug at the bottom of the garden. It sat among a cluster of pink daisies, under the canopy of a large oak tree. Sunny crouched down and placed Winnie’s box in the hole, then stood and wrapped his arms around Frankie, pulling her towards him tightly. They all stood back, solemnly gazing at Winnie’s resting place.
‘Would anybody like to share some words?’ Sunny addressed the solemn little group.
Cat stepped forward. ‘Today we come together to bid farewell to our lovely little companion, Winnie. While he was a turtle of few words, he was undoubtedly a wise and beautiful soul who enriched each of our lives considerably.’ She clasped her hands gravely in front of her. ‘I loved how Winnie always held intense eye contact, especially when chewing on dried grasshoppers. He really had an amazing way of making me feel both cherished and threatened at the same time. We’ll miss you, dear Winnie. Rest in peace, you morose little guy.’ She pressed her hands to her lips and awkwardly bent down to touch the box. Before gracelessly standing up, she pushed a small pile of dirt over it.
‘Thanks, Cat. That was really heartfelt,’ Sunny said emotionally. ‘Frankie? Would you like to say anything?’
Frankie glanced hesitantly at Sunny. She didn’t think she could hold herself together. She wasn’t ready.
‘I’m good,’ Frankie said coolly.
‘Come on, Franks. You can do it.’ Cat nudged Frankie towards the grave. Frankie glared back.
She cleared her throat. ‘Winnie,’ she said softly, moving her hands from behind her back to rest on her hips, then clasped them together under her chin. ‘Winnie, well, what can I say? Um, as one of my heroes once wrote, “the very first moment I beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone”. Rest in peace, my friend.’ Tears rolled uninhibited down her cheeks as she hunched over and delicately dropped a handful of dirt on the box. Sunny traced his thumb lightly over her cheek, catching her tears, then picked up the small spade lying at their feet. They watched on as he shovelled the dirt over the grave, listening to the soil hit the box with a sobering thud.
‘What the hell is going on here?’
Frankie, Cat, Claud and Sunny spun in the direction of the brash voice. A stocky man with flushed red cheeks and black beady eyes stood in the entrance to the garden. ‘Who the fuck are you lot?’
‘I thought you said we could be here,’ Frankie hissed through the side of her mouth.
‘Sorry, mate.’ Sunny slowly stood up, inconspicuously brushing soil from his pants. ‘Just admiring the oak here. Never seen one so tall. Any idea how old it is?’ he asked casually.
‘Admiring with a shovel, eh?’ the man bit back.
They all glanced down at the spade and back at the man.
‘I’ve had one too many carrots go missing from my veggie patch. So, I told my wife, it’s the last straw! When I catch those little punks loitering around and pinching my herbs, they’re going to wish they were never born.’
‘Look, mate, honestly, we were just having a walk around. No harm done.’ Sunny put his arms up in innocent surrender.
The man looked across at the pile of disturbed dirt. ‘Is that so?’ he said coldly.
‘We’re in mourning.’ Cat moved forward. ‘We just lost our turtle.’
‘I don’t care if your grandma just died and you’ve all lost the will to live. This is my garden and I can’t have strangers roaming through it stealing kale to pop in their next green smoothie. And don’t even get me started on that hole!’ He was gesticulating aggressively.
Frankie could feel Sunny slowly creeping to the right, his hand resting on her back. She felt him prod her lightly and she took a step towards him.
‘We really meant no harm. We were just admiring your handiwork. Green smoothies just don’t do it for us.’ He took another step.
Frankie hit Cat, whose mouth was agape. She regularly found herself in heated debates with those who failed to see the value of vegetable drinks.
The man observed the now slowly moving group, but he refused to relent from his position blocking the entrance.
‘You know,’ Sunny said, ‘I can’t even imagine how infuriating it must be to find your tenderly-cared-for crops ripped from the ground.’
Frankie glanced at Sunny moving towards the man, who was looking less enraged and suddenly a bit confused. ‘In fact, I pass this garden on my way to work every day and often think to myself that I’ve never seen a more lush area,’ Sunny continued. ‘I like to think about who might look after the plots, imagining that they must be friendly, loving folk. That’s why I brought my two sisters and brother-in-law here.’ Sunny gestured at the motley band behind him, who now stared at him wide-eyed. Claud took a step forward. ‘They’re visiting from out of town and I just had to bring them to see the best-kept secret Melbourne has to offer!’ The man shifted from one foot to the other, clearly unsure of where Sunny – now just a metre away from him – was going with this.
‘Oh yes, the best-kept secret in Melbourne,’ Cat blurted out sceptically. She clutched her bulging belly and looked around nervously. ‘I’m surprised it hasn’t received a write-up in Time Out yet.’
‘You might think this is ridiculous,’ Sunny charmed, ‘but I actually brought that pot of marigolds with me as an offering to the garden. I wanted to surprise the owners with a little anonymous token of my appreciation for their efforts in making our fine city more beautiful and sustainable.’ He placed his hand on the man’s arm. The man looked at Sunny’s hand hanging peacefully on his arm and then back at a smiling Sunny.
‘What’s Sunny’s game plan?’ Claud whispered through a cracked grin.
‘No idea. Just watch and get ready to move,’ Frankie replied.
‘We were hoping to plant the flowers before anybody noticed. But you sprung us!’ The man jumped as Sunny shouted the last part while waving his hands in the air.
‘You were, were you?’ the man said, clearly unsure.
‘Oh yeah, random acts of kindness and showing gratitude, it’s all the rage these days! I was hoping to surprise you and your neighbours. Are you happy for me to leave the flowers in your trusty care?’ Sunny checked his watch. ‘My sister has diabetes and the other could pop out a little human at any minute – if I don’t get them both fed soon, there’ll be hell to pay! Women, eh?’ He elbowed the man playfully. ‘Come on, ladies, let’s leave this fine man to his vegetables.’ Sunny marched through the gate and over the road.
When the group was safely around the corner, Sunny turned around, smiling broadly. ‘Not bad, hey?’
Frankie broke into peals of laughter. All of the guilt, sadness, fear and worry that had pent up inside her over the course of the day was suddenly bursting out of her in the most unexpected way. Sunny gazed at her, an unmistakable tint of adoration in his eyes.
Cat waited patiently for Frankie to regain her composure, but Claud frowned. ‘What just happened?’
‘What did I tell you?’ Sunny chirped. ‘Works every time!’
‘What works every time?’ Cat gawked. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘Usually we mirror each other’s behaviour: we meet kindness with kindness, anger with anger,’ Sunny began, assuming the role of professor, momentarily unrecognisable to Frankie. ‘But by flipping the narrative and, like today, meeting hostility with warmth, you can conjure up some surprising outcomes.’ He nodded decisively.
‘Learn all that from one of your Young Adult books, Sunny?’ Cat quipped. ‘And to think I was this close to faking labour.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Claud laced an arm around Cat, ‘your time to shine will come.’
They meandered back to the bookstore in silence, each absorbing the events of the day. Frankie stole a look at Sunny. His forehead was now pinched into a slight furrow. He was so calm on the surface, but Frankie was beginning to see the depths to which his feelings, and complicated and impassioned thoughts, ran. Oh God, could he actually be perfect?
‘You make the most terrible days suddenly doable,’ she said quietly, nuzzling against him as they walked.
‘And you make them incredibly special,’ he replied, then stopped and kissed Frankie deeply, leaving his scent tattooed on her skin.