56
Lisa
My finger hovers over Tom’s name on my phone, tears threatening. I still haven’t called my childhood friend back and I need
to tell someone about my visit to the specialist, but once I do, it will become real. I can’t bring myself to call Helen either—she’ll
smother me. Hover. Fix. At least this time, she can’t call me a hypochondriac. Thankfully I have someone I can tell who won’t
pander to me, let alone remember.
I arrive at the nursing home with dry eyes, Anzacs and a meter-long licorice roll from the milk bar in hand, my nerve to spill
all rapidly diminishing. Perhaps I’ll ease into it with a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to.
“Do you think it’s true, Ratbag?” I ask, taking a seat opposite him. “What they say about the size of men’s feet.”
My brother averts his gaze, his eyes just visible under the beanie.
This week’s bombshell and a third cup of coffee have provided a jetpack to my motormouth. “You know, about the length relating
to the size of their—”
Griff erupts into a coughing fit.
I startle and hand him a cup of water. “I mean, maybe generally it does. But like, what if the man is a giant? I’m talking
around the seven-foot mark.”
Griff drops his glass on the ground.
Perhaps some sugar will placate him. I measure out the licorice wheel to roughly the size of Frank’s feet and hold it up to Griff. “You dated that super-tall French guy, right? Can it be this long?”
I swear I see his eyes widen before he’s out like a light, snoring and all.
Lucky bugger. I wish I could fall asleep that fast.
Then the smell hits me. Oh, Griff! I open the window to let in some fresh air.
“Hi, Lisa, I’ve been hoping to see you,” Mabel calls from the doorway as the odor dissipates. “I wanted to thank you for those
amazing headphones, they’ve really helped, and—” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t know your brother was
asleep. Rob’s taking a nap too.”
I stand to give her a hug. “Griff is dozing more than ever these days, but usually in bed. Don’t worry about waking him, though.
I came in on the weekend and couldn’t have roused him if I’d played the trumpet!”
Mabel smiles. “And how are you, dear?”
I consider telling her about the diagnosis and the pink wee, but I’m not sure our friendship has quite reached the “let me
tell you about the color of my bodily fluids” level. “I’m fine, thanks, how are you?”
“Can’t complain,” the older woman replies, though her tearstained, exhausted face says she has every right to. “I’m missing
Rob a lot today. He’s here but not here, if you know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” I say, glancing at my snoring brother.
She pulls a tissue from her bag. “It’s just that his cat Cottonmouth passed away yesterday. I adopted her when he moved here.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Mabel wipes away a tear. “The poor thing was only six. Before Rob’s license was taken, he hit her with his car.
The vet operated, but she was never the same, probably why she died young.
It’s the kind of thing I would’ve usually shared with Rob, but it would just be cruel to tell him now.
Even on the off chance he understands momentarily, why put him through the pain and guilt?
It would be for my sake rather than his.
And anyway, now he has that beautiful toy you bought him, he’ll have Cottonmouth forever, won’t he?
I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself; you are so thoughtful, darling.
” She sighs. “Anyway, better keep moving before I start blubbering again. Take care, dear.”
“Thanks, Mabel. You too.”
The old woman leaves, her words lingering in the air.
Part of me wants Griff to feel the fear, even if just for a second, that I have Mum’s kidney disease after all, to remind
him of how he left her, left me. But Mabel is right: I’d be doing it for my own sake. My words would scatter aimlessly, never
landing, never giving me the closure I was seeking. It would be as pointless as asking someone with no access to pen and paper
to handwrite an apology letter.
As I watch him sleeping, lost in his world of fading memories, I wonder if my illness will be the reason I finally stop visiting.
Griff will never find out. It’s not like he could do anything about it anyway.