ELEVEN
Briar’s little head pops out the neck of his hooded sweatshirt as he wrestles his arms through the sleeves. I help him get untangled, and then line up his gumboots for him. Rain started as soon as Evan left, gentle sheets of drizzle that blew in on the strengthening wind, and continued until a few minutes ago when the clouds parted and the sun created one of the most beautiful rainbows I’ve seen in years.
“We’ll go for a walk down to the park on the corner, eh?” Dad says to Briar while zipping up his jacket.
He offered to take the kid out of the house for a while so Mum and I could hash out the details of the funeral without little ears overhearing. Small, thoughtful gestures like that remind me why I love my dad so much. He’s always been naturally selfless, doing things to help others without having to stop and think about it.
“Have you got a hat?” I ask Briar, remembering something Mum said to us as kids about losing all your heat through your head.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Could you go get it before we put your gummies on?”
He dashes up the stairs under Dad’s watchful eye.
“How long would you like?”
I shrug as Mum joins us in the entryway. “What do you think?”
“About what?” she asks.
“How long do you think we’ll need?”
She sighs, rubbing a hand over her bicep. “An hour? That should be enough to at least get most of it sorted.”
Dad nods, collecting his wallet from the front table. “We might go a bit further to the corner shop, then.”
“I’m ready!” Briar hollers as he hops down the stairs as quickly as his legs will let him.
I help him slip his socked feet into the gumboots, making sure his pant legs are tucked in properly, and give him a ruffle on the head. He corrects his knitted hat and grins, ready to create havoc in the fresh puddles.
“Back soon,” Dad calls out as they disappear through the front door, shutting it behind them.
A smile creeps on my lips as I realise that little old me, Miss Not-ready-for-kids, wishes she could go too. Something as carefree as jumping in puddles, playing at the park, and picking out a treat at the shop sounds like bliss. All those simple things that are the reason to head outside as a child, but are so easily forgotten in our daily hustle as an adult.
“Like something to eat?” Mum asks as she heads through to the kitchen.
“An apple would be great, thanks.” I swing right and take a seat at the dining table, waking up the laptop.
Mum joins me, setting my apple down on the table beside two bottles of water and a pot of yoghurt for her.
“Where do we begin?”
She gestures to the Word document already open on the screen. “I started making a list of people to phone last night. I figure anyone who isn’t immediate family or friends we know of can be advised with the listing in the papers.” Her hair flutters as she exhales a sharp breath. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
Me neither. Although looking at Mum, I get the sense I’m living the depth of her grief vicariously through her. Life without Kath won’t be unusual for me—not when she wasn’t in it anymore to begin with. I’m used to not talking to her, not seeing her. I already know what it feels like to lose Kath, only in my case, it was by choice.
I scroll down the names before me, recognising most as aunts, uncles, and cousins I haven’t heard from in years. A couple of names are familiar from high school, but a few are completely new as well.
“Who are these people?” I point to a section highlighted in blue.
“Her colleagues.” Mum peels the lid off her yoghurt and dips the spoon in. “Did you ever meet them?”
“Mum,” I say with a sigh. “Kath and I haven’t seen each other since you moved to Australia.”
“Right.”
The elephant in the room paces around us, sucking all the air.
“Why did nobody tell me about Briar?” I ask gently.
She stares at the creamy mix as she slowly stirs it, around, and around, and around….
“Mum.”
“We didn’t think you’d want to know.”
“That my sister had a baby?” I ask incredulously. “Of course I would have cared. It’s not his fault we weren’t talking.”
“No.” Mum sighs. “We thought you wouldn’t want to know because of whose he is.”
My blood chills, goosebumps breaking out on my arms. I was right. My gut knew all along. I just refused to believe that Kath’s betrayal could get that … vicious.
“He’s … you’re telling me his dad is….” I stall, unable to voice his name. “Why would she do that?” I whisper, my face screwed up with disgust, confusion, hurt … all of the above.
“She found out she was pregnant the week you left.”
I’m looking at the wall opposite me, but I’m anywhere but in that house. The already low esteem I held my sister in just bottomed out. Tanked. Vanished with my last belief that somewhere deep down the bullshit we went through as teenagers was nothing more than a misunderstanding.
Even death can’t excuse her from this.
“She knew what he did, though,” I say in a disturbingly level voice, startling even myself.
Mum stares at me wide-eyed, pain evident in the slope of her eyebrows. “Darling.”
“No.” The chair scrapes as I push myself out from the table.
To go where? I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll go upstairs and vomit out all the betrayal and pain. Or maybe I’ll dash out the front door and run for the highway, seeking the largest vehicle to step in front of.
Either option sounds appealing right now.
I knew it. Could see it in Briar’s eyes, but without the hard evidence, I refused to believe it. Knocked it back as coincidence. Shook it off as my overactive imagination.
But it’s not.
It’s real.
And now I have to face the fact that, when Dad returns with Briar, I really am looking down into his eyes.
The fact that my sister sliced a knife straight into my core and tore me open without remorse.
The fact that during the weeks that shaped my life—while I was hospitalised, cared for at home, and counselled on how to rebuild my life—she chose him over family.
The fact that my sister had a baby with my rapist.
And my parents chose to cover it up.