Chapter Thirty-one #2
‘Yeah. We can stop in on the way home. Meet Mum and Dad. Now. Your turn.’
‘No way.’
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
‘I don’t want to pressure you, Mary, but this is something you really need to do. It will blow your mind and free you of all the worries in the world.’
I smiled. He was irresistible.
‘I’ll do you a deal. When I was little, my dad used to ride down with me if I was scared. It always made me feel safer.’
I snorted. ‘You’re ridiculous.’
He was already walking up the slope but stopped a little way up, sat on the board and patted the space in between his legs. I climbed up and, lo and behold, found myself positioned on the boogie board with Abel behind me.
‘Are you ready?’
‘No.’
‘We’re going now. Okay?’
He pushed us free and I felt my stomach give as we slipped fast and recklessly down the slope.
To my surprise, I was yelping and laughing. He was right – I was forgetting about everything. The board gained speed and started spinning and I was flung against Abel’s chest. When we finally came to rest, we were scattered on top of one another, my hair in the sand.
‘Best fun ever?’
‘Yeah.’ I was still hiccuping with laughter. ‘Actually, the best fun ever.’
For the next hour, I felt like a child. My courage got bolder, the speed on the descent got faster and my joy became almost unhinged.
Finally, my muscles started burning from the steep climb and I was sure there was sand in every crevice of my body. We sat on the beach and ate lunch while Abel told me stories about his childhood and I let myself soak in this place that had raised him.
When we were tired and sated, we packed up.
‘We should really go for a swim,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘It’s pretty much required.’
I hesitated. ‘But we’re meeting your parents. I don’t want to be all wet and bedraggled.’
‘They won’t care. But there’s a beach in front of their house too, so if you want to meet them first, we can still get a swim in by the end of the day.’
‘So I’d be just postponing the inevitable?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right.’ I mulled it over and came to the conclusion I’d rather meet them sandy than dripping and blue with cold.
By the time we got back to the car, my body and mind seemed to hum with contentment.
The sun, the salty air and the exertion giving me a deep sense of calm.
Abel drove a short distance then turned down a quiet gravel road that led back towards the water.
Tall trees formed a barrier from the main road and as we twisted through, I had a feeling that what lay beyond was going to be a private paradise.
Then the bush opened up and revealed a home that was so rich with history it floored me.
‘God, Abel.’
‘Bit ramshackle, isn’t it?’
‘Ramshackle’ was not the word I would have used for the textured, homely picture that lay before me: ‘childhood paradise’ would have been more apt.
A small weatherboard house. Windows tucked in the A-frames of the upper storey.
An old swing set, sturdy and solid, with the traces of years of weather.
A cubby house in a tree, the stairs broken, and the remains of a little girl’s painting on the front: a rainbow, a star.
When Abel’s warm hand reached out to take my own, I realised there were tears coursing down my cheeks.
‘It’s … so beautiful.’
There was a shed and beyond that what looked like an orchard or garden, with black netting over the trees.
The property was a picture of projects, life, childhood, memories.
It was completely captivating in its busyness.
I swiped at my eyes and tried to compose myself.
Sandy haired, windswept and now crying. This was how I would greet Abel’s parents.
As we opened our car doors, a woman emerged from the garden, taking off her gloves. Her smile was as warm and lovely as a summer’s day.
‘Well, look what the tide washed in!’ Her eyes were bright and curious as she looked at me before pulling Abel into a tight hug. ‘And who’s this?’
‘Mary. This is my mum, Theresa.’
‘So nice to meet you.’ Her eyes were dancing with intrigue.
‘Remember I said a friend was living with me?’
‘No wonder he’s not away as much as he used to be,’ Theresa said to me with a wink.
‘I don’t know about that.’ I felt myself colouring and before I could consider greeting etiquette, she had pulled me into a hug. She smelt like flowers and earth and the sea. She felt like comfort and dependability and love.
‘Neil! Look who’s arrived!’ Theresa was leading us into the house and a moment later, a man with an unmistakeable likeness to Abel walked in. An older, white-haired, earnest version.
‘Abel. It’s good to see you.’
Neil regarded me with soft eyes and I liked him immediately. He held himself in a way that was somewhat commanding and old-fashioned, but his eyes revealed a kindness that I couldn’t mistake. He shook my hand and the gesture was strong and reassuring.
We stayed for tea and before long I felt more comfortable with these strangers than I felt with most people I knew well. The conversation flowed easily, from what Abel had been doing, where I was from, to what was growing in their garden.
‘Will you spend the night? Or dinner at least?’
Abel turned to me. ‘Thanks, Mum, but Mary’s studying, so we better get her home.’
‘I don’t mind,’ I said before I could think about it. ‘We could stay.’
‘Oh, please do!’ Theresa looked utterly delighted.
‘Really?’ Abel looked surprised.
I shrugged. ‘Day off study is probably a good thing, right?’
‘Mary’s got her final exams in two weeks,’ he explained.
‘I just don’t know how you do it.’ Theresa’s face was a picture of concern. ‘Well done, darling. Well done.’
‘We’ll see if I pass first,’ I said with a nervous laugh.
‘Put in the work and you’ll get through it.’ Neil’s tone was encouraging and confident.’
‘It’s really fine if you want to get back,’ Abel said quietly and I wondered if he was looking for an out.
‘I’d like to stay. If you’re up for it.’ This was extremely out of character for me.
‘Why don’t we go for that swim and see how we feel after that? Mary is deadset on getting in the water before we drive home. So, I’ll be getting dragged in, kicking and screaming, just to please her.’
I laughed. ‘Oh, yeah. Deadset on it.’
‘Nothing feels better,’ Theresa said with a glint in her eye.
‘Do you swim?’ I asked.
‘Every day. Don’t I, Neil?’
He nodded.
‘The cold water immersion thing?’
‘I just do it because it feels good,’ she said. ‘I’ve been doing it long before all the hipsters decided it was the done thing. But I think it’s good for the soul, so the more the merrier! I’ll get you towels.’
I followed Theresa down the hall. We passed a photo collage. I lingered, taking in the vibrant pictures, Tessie’s smiling face. I felt thickness grow in my throat again.
Theresa noticed me studying the photos and joined me. ‘Did Abel tell you about our Tessie?’
‘Yes,’ I said, my eyes blurring.
‘Good,’ she whispered. ‘She was wonderful.’
I could only nod and when Theresa saw me, my face trying not to twist, she pulled me to her. Warm and soft.
‘You’re a sweetheart,’ she said, kissing my head, and I wondered how anyone could be so beautifully open to someone they’d only just met.
‘Abel hasn’t been himself since she died.
It’s so nice to see him with a girl. Sometimes I think he’s too afraid to let anyone right in for fear that they’ll be lost.’ She pulled back and held me at arm’s length.
‘But they’re never lost. These people we’ve loved.
’ Her eyes glistened too. ‘Are you close with your mum? She must be so proud of you.’
‘My mum …’ I could have just said yes. She’s proud of me.
We’re close. That kind of thing. Instead Theresa invited vulnerability, and the knowledge that she would hold me safely in that space.
‘My mum has a problem with alcohol. She needs to be looked after more than … she’s able to look after anyone else. ’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Theresa pulled me back in again, rocking me from side to side.
It was a bizarre amount of physical contact with someone I barely knew, but somehow, it didn’t feel out of place.
It was just lovely. ‘I bet she’s still proud of you.
I don’t think there’s a mother that couldn’t be bursting with pride to have a daughter like you. ’
That did it. That had me properly crying into her shoulder, my tears making a soaking mess of her shirt.
I didn’t know how this was possibly happening.
Theresa was virtually a stranger and I was having the biggest cry I’d had since – well, a couple of nights ago.
I was a crier now, apparently. After thirty-two years of being stoical and brave and unflappable, I was flapping and spluttering like a child.
She held me until the sobbing had subsided. Then rubbed my back. ‘You always feel better after a cry, don’t you?’
She looked at the photo collage again and gave a laugh. ‘Tessie wasn’t always easy, you know. Sometimes she was a downright troublemaker. But that’s family. We drive each other mad and love each other helplessly. All we can be is thankful for what we get. Now let me find those towels.’
I thought about her words as she rifled through a cupboard bursting with worn sheets and coloured towels.
Nothing felt fancy in the house, everything well used and savoured.
I thought about family and about love, and I thought about Ebony and her kids and my mum, and in that moment, with my heart so full and tender, I was grateful for what we had.
The whole bruised and imperfect package.
I was grateful.