stood on the welcome mat, her hair immaculate, her makeup perfect, her smile brittle.
“Hey, you!” she cried, wrapping me up in a big hug. “This place is so close to the mall.”
I looked behind her, searching for her vehicle.
“Where’s Mum?” I asked, pulling back when I noticed the empty car.
“Um, she didn’t feel right.”
“Right?”
“Well.” Sharon looked at me, warily. “She stayed home,” she said, waiting for something to happen.
I blinked at the expectant look on her face, unable to decide how my mother’s absence made me feel. Maybe it was a manic phase.
“Come in,” I finally offered, stepping to the side in the narrow hallway and letting my sister pass.
“I like it,” she said, nodding her head at the brightly coloured tiles in the bathroom. “It’s cosy, but cute, you know?”
“It’s all right,” I said.
Sharon sat down on the couch.
I stood in the centre of the room. Untouched and not touching.
“Coffee?” she asked.
I nodded and stepped into the small, open-plan kitchen, flicking the kettle on and pulling down two mugs from the cupboard.
“Can you have pets here?” Sharon asked.
“No.” I’d left my cat with Sean. We'd had two. His had died in a hit and run. Mine was lost to me because my landlord didn’t allow pets.
I tried not to think about how much I missed him.
I placed the coffee down on the side table next to my sister and returned to the kitchen for the plate of biscuits. Perching on the edge of the couch beside my sibling, I sipped from my mug and thought about raindrops like sparkling diamonds, yellow cat’s eyes catching the light and dashed hopes.
“So,” Sharon said.
“Hmmm?” I offered.
“Are you sure about this?”
I stared into my coffee and tried to count my breaths.
“It’s not too late, you know,” she whispered. “He loves you. He’d forgive you in a heartbeat.”
My chest ached. My breaths came too quickly.
“Doug and I have had our moments, too. Did you know that?”
I shook my head.
“Well, all marriages do. There was one time, I wasn’t sure if I could keep at it. But we worked it out, talked it over with the pastor, and we’re better than ever now. Every relationship has its ups and downs, Kylee. Seven-year itches, that kind of thing.”
It’s only been two years.
I stared at the light switch on the wall opposite me.
“You just have to work at it, Ky. You’ve not even tried to fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix.”
“How can you say that?”
I shook my head.
Sharon turned sideways on the couch to face me. I sat resolutely still, face forward.
“Kylee, marriage is a sacred thing. It’s not to be thrown away lightly.”
I said nothing.
“You will always regret this if you don’t at least try to make things right.”
I tried to breathe.
“You get what you put into a relationship, Ky. The more effort you make, the greater the reward.”
My heartbeat thundered through my veins, making me dizzy.
“You’ve always set yourself too high a standard. That’s your problem. Perhaps you expected too much from Sean. Cut him some slack, Ky. He’s just a man, after all.”
She laughed as if this was all some simple mistake. Easily rectified.
For a moment, I almost believed it. Believed her.
Let your heroine win.
“It’s over, Sharon,” I said.
“But…”
“It’s over.”
I got up and rinsed out my cup, then placed it in the dishwasher. Returning to the lounge, I took her unfinished coffee and repeated the process. The biscuits were the last to be put away.
I stood in the centre of the room. Untouched and not touching.
And wondered when my family had stopped being my home.
33
It’s Over Now, Trolley Girl
The guy standing in front of the big screen was trying to convince us that even though he didn’t make his budget this year, he was still a genius and loved by his customers.
I wondered if this was going to be a theme.
“You’re not paying attention,” Michael whispered at my side.
“I am,” I whispered back. “He was 16% short on his quota because the supplier failed to ship his order in time.”
“The order he failed to place in time,” Michael added.
“Exactly.”
Pie charts and bar graphs. Dollar signs and percentages. Promises and excuses.
I smiled.
The next guy blew his budget out of the water.
“You’re fidgeting,” Michael said half an hour later.
I realised my hands were wringing and my breaths were fast. I counted to three slowly inside my head.
Ducks and geese in a house in Belmont. Lights and sirens and parting the traffic. Weet-Bix boxes.
“Just nervous,” I whispered back.
“Don’t be,” Michael said. “Just be yourself.”
“What if myself is nervous?”