Chapter Thirty-five – Andie
Chapter Thirty-five
ANDIE
I t’s only October – the jacarandas haven’t even bloomed – yet I’m already dreading the heat and humidity to come. The pungent smell of sticky, hot bitumen that never really leaves your nostrils. Scalding monkey bars dishing out third-degree burns willy-nilly, melted school shoes and dehydrated, bad-tempered kids. Our public schools – and aged-care homes – are unfortunately not known for their state-of-the-art cooling and heating systems.
As I turn the key in the lock of the demountable – my temporary classroom while the new school block is being built – I’m suddenly gripped by a vivid image of the funeral. The heart-wrenching sight of her being lowered into the ground. Dad’s anguished face, looking at the coffin like he wanted to jump in after it – as though he believed a better life awaited him under the dirt.
I’m aware that grief isn’t linear, but nearly two years have passed, so why this memory now? Maybe it’s the solid structure and sharp angles of the demountable that have triggered today’s flashbacks, the way it echoes the coffin’s cold, rigid shape. Or perhaps it’s the stifling, claustrophobic space.
I’ll have to get another of those portable air conditioners I purchased for Dad last summer for the classroom. Dad gets extra agitated when the temperature is uncomfortably hot or cold. What he needs is salt-rich air, clear skies and vitamin D – what he got for the price of our family home was a beige box not much bigger than a coffin.
As I walk to my car, the only one left in the parking lot, my phone buzzes. I glance down expecting to see a Storytime app prompt for the weekly session I still attempt with Dad, or a message from Toby, or Taylor. But on the screen blinks a new reminder: Chemist for Dad’s meds .
My laboured sigh echoes through the empty car park.
It’s been such a busy term, and I’m exhausted, especially after staying so late setting up the zoo-themed STEM activity for tomorrow. But all that fiddling with cutting shapes and sorting Paddle Pop sticks and empty toilet rolls will be worth it once I see the excited look on my students’ faces when they learn they’ll be gluing together a habitat for fairy penguins. That is, until I have to teach them said habitat is under threat of destruction.
For the first time ever, I was actually considering skipping my visit to Dad tonight and going straight home to flop on the couch and watch Notting Hill .
But now, not only will I be visiting Dad, I also have to make a detour via the chemist on a busy Thursday late-night shopping night.
I might grab myself painkillers at the chemist too , I think as I open the driver door. Surely a brain aided by ibuprofen is more productive than one that feels overwhelmed and underwater.