EIGHT
My neck feels as though somebody’s nailed a board of wood to one side: stiff and painful as hell. I roll onto my side, trying to remember why on earth I thought a quick nap on the sofa would be a good idea, and wince.
Bang, bang, bang.
“I know you’re home. I see the light on.”
Jess. Persistent little shit.
My legs tingle as I stumble to the door and swing it open, using the handle as a guide to keep me upright.
I’ve never been the kind of person who wakes from a nap springy and ready to go. Those kinds of people freak me out; I don’t understand how they do it.
“Hey.”
“I was starting to get worried.” She throws her arms around me in a hug. Arms that have bags of groceries in the hands.
Pretty sure I take a can of something to the kidney. “Ouch, hon.”
“Shit. Sorry.” She steps away and heads over to my small kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “How you holding up?”
“Since we weren’t close,” I remind her, “okay, I think.”
“And your parents?” She unloads a week’s worth of food onto the bench, sorting the perishables from what needs to go in the pantry.
“Dealing … for now.”
My thoughts drift to them at Kath’s place, and Briar. Wonder how the poor guy’s doing.
“I might give them a quick call.”
“No problem,” she calls out as I head for my bedroom to get my phone. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
The sounds of Jess in the kitchen are strangely soothing as they drift through my apartment to where I sit on the edge of my bed. I stare at myself in the mirrored wardrobe doors as the line rings, wondering how I got to this point: tired and loathsome.
“Hi, sweetie,” Dad greets. “Ready to be picked up?”
“Jess is here at the moment, so I might ask her for a lift after we’ve eaten.”
“Okay.” He leaves the conversation hanging, not offering much.
“How’s everyone?”
His sigh gives it away. “Your mother’s having trouble settling Briar again. He cries, which makes her cry, and then there I am, stuck in the middle without a clue what to do.”
“I won’t be far away,” I offer. “Just a bite and I’ll get Jess to drop me off straight away.”
“Hey,” he soothes. “Don’t rush yourself.”
But that’s the strange part about it: I want to rush. Thinking of Briar so distressed, and knowing how overbearing my mother can be … I just want to cuddle the poor kid.
“Anything you need? I can pick it up on the way.”
“Nothing urgent,” he says. “We found a funeral home on the net that looks nice. We can talk about it when you get here.”
Of course. I want to ask him why they need to rush things, why this has to be done now, but I’d be wrong. It’s the natural order of things, and yet for Briar’s sake I want to postpone the hardest part as long as possible.
My phone chimes in my ear, signalling I have a message. Jess appears at the door at the same time, holding up a bottle of wine questioningly.
I roll my eyes at her to signify Isn’t it obvious?
She leaves, and I flop onto my back while I wrap up the check-in with Dad. “Give Mum a hug for me, and an extra squishy one for Briar. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Sure thing, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Still on my back, I raise the phone over my face to end the call and tap through to the message. A smile spreads as a flicker of excitement tickles in my chest. Evan.
I didn’t want to impose, but we have Katherine’s things at the station when you’re ready.
My shoulders drop as I stare at the message. Piece by piece the absolute end comes together, and for the first time since receiving the call about her accident, the urge to wind back the hands of time sucker punches me in the chest.
We had so much left to talk about. So many things unsaid.
So much pride standing in the way.
Not imposing. Thank you. I’ll catch a lift and pick it up tomorrow.
He responds immediately, catching me off guard with my hand halfway to setting the phone down.
I’ll bring it over for you. 8AM too early?
What time of day does he start work? I make a mental note to set an alarm, so I can at least be presentable when he arrives at the door. With my lip pinched between my teeth, I punch out my reply.
Not at all. Thank you.
I feel like a giddy teenager, the familiar reactions he evoked within me ten years ago as fresh as though we’re fifteen and walking hand-in-hand down the main street all over again. He’s simply offered to drop off my sister’s belongings to save me the hassle of finding a ride to the station. My dead sister’s belongings. The flutter in my chest drops to my gut like a tonne of rocks. I’m so fucking heartless. I know when it comes to Kath I’m detached in my feelings, but to completely set her memory aside while I swoon over Evan—I’ve reached a new low.
My chin dimples, and I throw an arm over my eyes. God, I’m a bitch. A cold-hearted, emotionless bitch. And what’s more frustrating is that I know that deep down I’m not like that; I care so much for the people who mean something to me, it’s ridiculous. Yet, as soon as I’m let down or hurt by one of them I manage to detach myself so completely I may as well be a complete stranger to them.
“You okay?” Jess’s soft question comes from my left.
I remove my arm and roll my head to face her. “Am I a horrible person?”
She kneels beside the bed and cocks her head. “Why would you say that, Mimi?”
“My sister died this morning, and here I am looking forward to wine with you and a house call from an old flame tomorrow.”
She cocks her eyebrow in silent question.
“It’s a bit of a long story,” I say. “But in a nutshell, the cop who brought Briar into the hospital the other day was a guy I haven’t seen since we were dating almost ten years ago.”
“Wow. Talk about life playing havoc with your emotions,” she says with raised eyebrows.
“Right?”
“You’re not horrible, though,” she reassures. “You’re focusing on the things that don’t hurt. It’s natural.”
“Is it natural that when I think about the fact I’ll never see Kath again, never talk to her, that I feel….” I frown, searching inside of me for what it is. “Nothing?”
“You said yourself you weren’t close.” She reaches out, stroking my hair off my face. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, babe. You might not love her deeply, but you still cared, otherwise why would you have gone to the hospital in the first place?”
“But is it enough?”
Jess shrugs, her full blonde ponytail bouncing as she does. “Only you’ll know that.” She pats the bed beside me twice in a motivating gesture. “Come on. I have wine, cheese, and deli meats to devour.”
“Just one glass though, okay?” I say, swivelling to sit up while I rub under my nose. “I need you to drop me around to Kath’s after if that’s okay? Mum’s struggling with Briar.”
“Anything.” She smiles as she stands. “Briar’s your mystery nephew, right?”
“Yeah.” I can’t help but smile as his sweet face enters my mind. “He really is quite adorable.”
“Hurts you that she never mentioned him, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah. It does.”
Hurts even more that I see him whenever I look into Briar’s eyes, and yet I still feel the beginnings of what must be love for the little guy.
“What happened?” Jess whispers, hugging herself. “Why is it you two stopped talking?”
I lock gazes with her, wishing I could divulge my darkest secrets to my best and only close friend, but … my problems have always been just that, mine, and I don’t intend on changing it anytime soon.
“Not today, okay?” I ask softly. “I promise I’ll tell you everything, just not today.”
“Yeah, okay.” She reaches out, offering her hand.
I take it and let her pull me to my feet. She tugs me to her side and gives me a quick hug before releasing me and leading us through to the living area.
“Eat, drink, and then I’ll drop you back at your sister’s.”
“Thanks again, hon. Honestly.”
She offers me a knowing smile and gestures to the platter laid out on my coffee table. “Your favourite. I might not be able to do much else, but I can at least get to your heart through your stomach.” She grins, snagging a salami stick as she drops into an armchair.
We devour the platter while discussing a mixture of everyday subjects like the new shopping precinct under construction, as well as the hard facts—Kath. It’s the outlet I need, the exact kind of therapy required to tuck my emotions away for another day and be the strength everyone—mostly Briar—needs.
I don’t know what I’d do without a steadfast friend like her. More than likely, I’d simply drown in my solitude, too proud to ask for help.
Too proud to admit that I’m not as in control as I pretend to be.