Seven
theo
“Anything changing with those roadblocks out your way?” My dad’s gruff voice came through the phone, loud and clear.
He had the same access to the news I did, but for some reason hearing it from me made it more real. “Nope. Highways are still being patrolled, and all the main streets are still barricaded.”
I went up to the rooftop early to call him, making the most of the solitude before the other residents came outside.
The fog was so thick it left no separation between the sky and the ground, and my view from the side wall only extended as far as three houses down.
“When are you going to say to hell with it and leave anyway?” he asked.
Same question, different day. My answer was always some version of waiting and seeing how bad things got, but it didn’t stop him from asking.
People were being detained at military checkpoints, and as far as I knew, no one was getting through. Taking back roads improved my chances of reaching my family, but it had the potential of doubling my travel time—still with no guarantee of avoiding complications.
“Not yet.” I pulled the zipper of my puffer jacket higher. “If they tighten restrictions and everything turns to shit, the roads are going to open up, anyway.”
“And by then, every fool will be using them,” Dad said.
“So, I’ll just wait a few days until the rush is over.” There was no real need to leave right now, and I wanted to keep my life as normal as I could until I had no other option. “Have you been talking to Mia?” I asked.
He grunted and covered the phone to grizzle at the border collie he’d got for company after Mum died. He swore Norm would be an outside dog from the beginning, but the dog had a different opinion, and he’d been sleeping on Dad’s bed for the past five years.
“I talked to her last night, straight after they announced today’s meeting, but your sister’s as stubborn as you are,” he said. “I’ve got enough space for all of you here. You can have your old rooms back, for God’s sake.”
I wandered over to the rear wall and surveyed the area where our cars were parked, the windscreens damp with dew.
More than half the vehicles and a couple of motorbikes had been sitting stationary for months after the owners died.
“I hear you, but it’s not an option right now.
If things take a turn, I’ll head straight to you—and I’ll talk Mia into doing the same with Ruby. ”
“I’ve got fences, you know,” he said absently, like he was staring out the window deep in thought. “Strong fences.” Poor guy was still trying to figure out why his kids were so dense.
“Yeah, I know, Dad.” He’d installed fences and a security gate years ago to stop vermin and crop theft on his olive farm in Fairmarsh.
The hundred-acre property was surrounded by adjoining farms, and all the neighbours were on friendly terms. The perfect place to ride out a pandemic.
“Like I said, it’s a watch-and-wait situation, but you’ll be the first to know if anything changes. ”
My phone buzzed with a message that couldn’t have come at a better time. “Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call again soon, okay?”
“Righto. Can’t wait to hear more about why you’re not coming.”
I smiled, ending the call just as Norm barked. At least the dog knew how to keep the grumpy old bugger in line.
With a loud exhale, I checked my phone and found a text from someone not in my contacts.
Laura gave me your number. Want to lounge at my place?
It’s Sadie btw :)
Every nerve ending fired, and I stared at her text. We hadn’t spoken since I threw the offer out there yesterday.
Now?
My heart clanged around in my chest while I waited for her response.
Is it too early? Sorry! I should have waited until I knew for sure you were up
Her flustered message had me smiling into the fog like an idiot.
Not too early. I’m on the roof. Just making sure you meant right now
Oh. Yes. Door’s unlocked. Bring a personal item that means something to you. It’s time for you to spill
And I’m not cuddling you
I don’t care how big and strong you are
I laughed out loud, rereading her messages just to feel the thrill all over again. Warmth spread through me as I pocketed my phone. Since I could be at her place in less than a minute, I didn’t bother texting her again.
Descending the stairs two at a time in case she changed her mind, I stopped by my apartment and grabbed the first thing that came to mind. With the sketchpad tucked under my arm, I headed straight for her door.
The wall sconces lining the hallway flickered a couple of times, and I spared the nearest one a glance as my fingers wrapped around the handle.
When I stepped inside her apartment, the deepest breath left me. I had no idea how someone else’s place could feel so much like home.
Sadie had decorated with mismatched knick-knacks, some from another time, others new. Her walls were colourful where mine were plain, and she apparently loved cushions. Big, small, fringed, patchwork. The couch she sat on was covered in them, and she had a couple of giant ones on the floor.
It hit me why she’d asked me to bring something instead of asking me questions. She connected memories and emotions to physical objects, and whatever I chose would tell her more about me than any words could.
I caught a side view of her in her pink flannel pyjamas, legs stretched out on the oversized ottoman, socked feet poking out from the end of a blanket. The TV was on, the volume low enough to suggest it was only for company.
She looked so cosy, my body ached to be closer to her.
“Morning,” I said.
“Hey.” She smiled and gestured at the row of hooks beside the door. “You can hang your coat up if you want.”
I slipped off my jacket and left it on the only vacant hook, like I’d just come home to find my favourite person waiting for me.
“So…” Sadie looked up at me as I approached.
When I caught her fleeting eye contact and fidgeting hands, I kicked off my shoes and slid my phone onto the coffee table.
"Don't make this weird," I said, dropping my sketchbook on her lap with a soft thud. “You’ve been shopping with me. Given me a facial. We’re practically best friends. Move over.”
Her hands stopped moving, her eyes gleaming with amusement. She shimmied along to the next cushion, leaving more than enough room for me.
My pulse tripped as I slotted in beside her and rested my feet on the ottoman. I made sure not to touch her, but we were close—close enough that the scent of flannel-wearing, sweet-smelling woman wrapped around me.
A quiet beat passed before she relaxed and turned her head toward me. “How did you know I was nervous?”
I leaned my head against the backrest, willing my heartbeat to slow. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re not exactly subtle.”
“That’s… concerning.”
“I guess it depends on the thoughts flying around in your head.”
Our eyes met, and her skin turned an interesting shade of pink. I held back a smile and looked away.
A beat passed while she got control of herself, then she tapped her fingers on the book. “What did you bring me?”
“A peek inside my mind.”
With a sharp intake of breath, she swept her hand over the cover. “Bold move. Are you sure you want to go there?”
“It’s only fair after what you shared.”
Sadie slid me a glance, her hand stilling. “Was it too much?”
I held her gaze. “There’s no such thing as too much with me. You can tell me anything.”
She nodded thoughtfully, a vague smile hovering. “Can I open it?”
“That was the whole point of bringing it here.”
Sadie huffed out a laugh and flipped the cover open carefully, smoothing her palm over the first page.
Her humour died as her eyes flicked from one detail to the next, and she pored over three more pages before she spoke again.
“They’re so detailed,” she said, her tone reverent. “Did these eventually become tattoos?”
“Some.” I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I wanted to drink in every emotion and see each change in her expression.
“Dragons? Faeries?” She turned another page and gave me a surprised glance. “Faces. Wow, the emotion in the faces. Is there anything you can’t draw?”
“You think they’re good?”
She locked eyes with me, pushing aside her discomfort. “You see things so many people miss. Whether it’s skill or talent, your work is incredible.” Her voice changed, turning softer, more careful. “I’m sorry you can’t do it in your shop anymore.”
My heart crashed against my ribs, and I struggled to answer. No one really understood how driven I was to share this part of me, to interact with people, hear their stories, and know my art was out there in the world. “Me, too,” I said.
With a slight smile, she went back to perusing my book, so caught up in each drawing that she seemed to forget about me. Her fingertip traced some of the sketches, then she lifted the book to examine others up close. I’d never seen anyone pay this much attention to my work.
I relaxed into the couch and stared at the TV while she finished flipping pages, watching stories from around the world that changed as much as they stayed the same—depressing shit I couldn’t focus on while she was beside me.
“Thanks for sharing this with me,” she said a long while later, turning the last page of the book. “It's nice having you here.”
I smiled. “Why’d you ask me to come over?”
Sadie left my sketchbook on the arm of the couch and turned on her side. She grabbed a cushion and propped it beneath her cheek, shifting a little. “I was texting with my sister. She stopped answering, so I needed a distraction.”
“Where is she?”
“In America. Georgia.”
At least I knew now why she was so preoccupied with news from overseas. “Shit. I had no idea. How long for?”
Sadie tucked her hair behind her ear. “A few months before the pandemic started, so… a year now. She’s waiting to be assigned a flight back home. It’s supposed to be some time in the next few days.”