“I’m okay,” Marcus said, though she didn’t look convinced. “Eating three square a day and laying off the whisky for a bit.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, turning back to the counter.
She spooned dollops of sour cream into the middle of each bowl, then held them out one at a time using both hands. Once they were seated, she took her time stirring the cream into her soup and adding salt and pepper.
“You’re probably wondering why I asked you both here,” she said eventually, and Marcus looked at her expectantly. Davo merely grunted around his spoon. “I went to the doctor today,” she said, and Marcus’s stomach dropped.
“Is something the matter?” he asked. “Is it your leg?”
“My leg’s fine.” She smiled before eating a spoonful of soup.
Davo looked at her sceptically. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said, stirring again.
“Are you positive?” Marcus asked.
She arched her eyebrows and levelled a look at him across the table. “I was only a nurse for twenty-three years, so I might be wrong about a minor cut that required half a dozen simple sutures, but yes, I’m quite sure.”
“So, what is it?”
“When I went to get the wound checked today,” she said, “I had a conversation with Dr. Greenleaf. And I’ve come to a decision about this house.”
Davo’s eyes snapped up from his soup, and Marcus put down his spoon with a clatter.
“And?” Davo asked.
She sat up straighter in her chair and looked at each of them in turn, then she glanced around the room. “I’ve decided I can’t livehere anymore. I need to be in a smaller space, without stairs and without a garden to take care of. My joints aren’t going to get any better, and if I keep trying to move around this place, it will only make them worse faster. I need to move out.”
Davo opened his mouth to speak, and Marcus knew he was about to say “I told you so.” He gave his brother a warning look.
“So, um,” Davo said instead, “are you going to sell? Where are you going to go?”
“I don’t want to sell,” she said firmly. “It’s too soon. It’s one thing to get rid of your father’s belongings, but this house is different. It’s our family home, and though he might be gone, our family is very much here.” Her voice wavered slightly as she finished, and Marcus reached over and rubbed her shoulder gently. Across the table, Davo looked confused.
“So if you’re not going to sell, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to swap,” she said. Davo didn’t look any less perplexed, and Marcus couldn’t blame him.
“Swap?”
“With one of you. I’ll go live in one of your flats, and you’ll come live here,” she declared. When he and Davo said nothing, she continued, looking extremely pleased with herself. “It would mean I’d live in a place without stairs, and I’d be close enough to my doctors, and to you, that I wouldn’t be totally lost. You’d keep paying rent at your place, but you’d get to live in the house. And you’d get to stop worrying about me living here on my own.”
And they wouldn’t have to say goodbye to this place, Marcus thought, which would feel like saying goodbye to his dad all over again. He looked at his mum, stunned, then glanced over at Davo. Why hadn’t they thought of this?
“It’s only a temporary fix,” she continued. “I imagine we’ll have to sell up eventually, unless one of you decides you want to have a family.”
At this, Davo snorted. As far as Marcus knew, his brother wasn’t dating anyone seriously, and hadn’t for a few years—although whoreally knew what Davo got up to in his limited free time? As for Marcus, well, a wife and kids seemed highly unlikely for him right now, too.
For one miserable, mesmerizing moment, he allowed himself to imagine waking up with Heather in this house, pictured pouring her coffee in the sun-drenched kitchen before they headed down the street to walk along the beach. He gave his head a tiny shake and pulled himself back to the kitchen table.
“Er, whose apartment would you move into?” Davo asked cautiously.
“Well, if you’re up for it, and it seems like you are, I thought I’d let you two decide. David, I know how much you love that loft.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. She’d never cared for the concrete floors and high ceilings at Davo’s rental in the Inner West—it didn’t feel enough like a home, she’d once said. But now, she was apparently willing to move in. Or perhaps not, because she went on to say, “I wouldn’t mind a view of the Bridge, to tell you the truth. And Marcus, since you don’t have to commute to ANB anymore ...”
Marcus’s stomach sank as she trailed off, looking apologetic. He looked at his brother and saw relief flash across his face. Davo gave him a little shrug, his eyebrows raised.
“What do you reckon?”
