55. Chapter 52
Mari
C hance had taken JJ’s truck with him, so I walked the six kilometres across town to the only other person who I knew could help me.
“Mari!” Al beamed when he opened his bright red front door. He made an effort to repaint it every year, keep the colour fresh and ‘iconic to the house’ as he said it.
He quickly stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. I could feel the sympathy in his hug and saw it in the brief glimpse of his face. It didn’t surprise me though. I assumed Al would have been the one Nan turned to for a chat on the phone.
“It’s good to see you, darlin’.” He stepped back, checking me over before pushing the heavy strawberry-coloured door open wider. “Comin’ in for a cuppa?”
“I’d love one, but I can’t stay too long.
” I chewed nervously on my bottom lip. Aside from martial arts confusions and general problems, I’d never really turned to Al for help.
I knew he was always there, of course. He reminded me of that often.
But Al was always someone I wanted to please, wanted to make proud. “Hope that’s okay?”
“Course. Any time spent with you, long or short, is always time well spent.” He smiled at me, pulling open a chair for me at the eight-seater dining table that faced directly into his rounded, open plan kitchen.
Al’s entire house interior was made up of cream walls and benchtops, yellow lighting, and a deep brown staining on every single inch of timber. Outdated, sure. But the house always felt warm and full of life.
The old, red kettle that matched the front door began whistling quickly. Al must’ve already had a cuppa this morning.
“It’s nice to see you, darlin’. Your grandmother has had me a little worried over here,” he said, reaching into one of the many timber cabinets and pulling down two mugs.
“Nan’s a bit of a worry wart when it comes to me, you know that,” I replied.
“It wasn’t what she was telling me that had me worried.
In the decade that you’ve been working at Knock’s, I’ve never seen you miss a day there.
” He put three heaped teaspoons of instant coffee in each mug before pulling the kettle.
He poured a little milk in his before bringing them both over to the table.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the pink painted mug from his hands. “And I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Al. Sometimes we all just need a break.”
“So, it’s got nothing to do with that head coach of ours?”
I sighed.
“Even if it does, there’s nothing wrong with needing a little space.” The coffee was warm, but tasted of bitter, cheap instant coffee. I took long gulps, enjoying it for the caffeine hit I knew was coming, not the flavour.
“No, there isn’t. But you don’t take ‘space’ from Knock’s, darlin’. Wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on?”
I glanced at the large clock on his wall. It was almost nine-thirty. I had to get moving.
“I would love to. Really, Al, I would. But … it’s not my story to tell.” I winced at his unrelenting gaze. “But … I do need to ask you a favour.”