“Hello, Helen. It’s Josh. How are you?” I haven’t called my mother ‘Mum’ for years. It doesn’t seem to bother her, and it’s a more accurate reflection of our relationship to call her by her first name. I really don’t need this right now, but I promised Greer. At least I know the conversation will be quick.
“I’m well. I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind about coming back to Sydney since I haven’t heard from you.”
I pick up a pencil and start twirling it to distract myself. Like a home-made fidget spinner.
“I’m sorry.” I’m really not. “It’s been crazy here at the office. I haven’t had a chance to call.”
“I see. Well, perhaps you could make some time to come up and see me.” Helen lives in an isolated little house in the Blue Mountains. Tucked away from the world. Which suits her down to the ground.
“I don’t suppose you’re ever in Sydney? You could come and have lunch with me?”
“I avoid the city at all costs. You should come up here. Have a relaxing weekend. See what I’ve been working on. I think you’ll like it. What about this weekend?”
My jaw tightens. The pencil spins faster. A weekend with my mother will be the opposite of relaxing.
“Not this weekend. We have a pitch on Monday. How about next weekend?” Visiting either of my parents falls somewhere between root canal therapy and a colonoscopy on my list of favourite things, but I guess it has to be done, even though it feels like beating my head against a wall. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to entirely free myself of the deep-seated need for parental approval they have never, not once, bestowed.
“Next weekend it is, then. Drive up on Friday night and we can have dinner. Let me know when you’re leaving so I know what time to expect you. I’ll see you then, Joshua.”
It’s not until I hang up the phone that I realise she didn’t ask one question about me or my life—not even how I’m doing. The pencil snaps.
I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s always all about her. Nothing ever changes.
Chapter Ten
Greer
Byfouro’clock,Ihaven’t heard from Josh and I figure it might be a good time to check in on him.
“Hey, how are you feeling? I thought I’d see how you’re doing. If you’re about ready to go home.”
“Well, that’s spooky. Not two seconds ago, I was thinking I’ve had about enough for today.”
“Huh, I must’ve picked up the home-time vibes. Want me to pick you up?”
I can tell he’s torn between soldiering on and getting out of there. I give him some thinking time. It doesn’t take long.
“You would be saving my life,” he groans.
“Okay. I’ll be out the front of your office in fifteen minutes.”
Josh is waiting at the curb, and I can see how pale he is before I even pull up. I’m guessing he feels pretty terrible, even though he’ll never admit it.
As he gets into the car, he leans over to put his laptop bag on the floor.
“What’s with the bags?” He nods towards the shopping bags on the back seat.
“I thought you might be a bit shattered, so I picked up some things for your dinner. I’ll cook while you have a power nap and then I’ll get out of your hair and let you get a good night’s sleep.”
The look on Josh’s face makes me smile. It’s triangulated somewhere between relieved, guilty and nervous.
I bulldoze a reluctant Josh into bed with a couple of painkillers as soon as we arrive at his apartment, then get to work in the tiny kitchen, pulling together some dinner. He’s convinced he won’t sleep, but when I check on him a few minutes later, he’s out like a light. I take this rare opportunity to absorb the lines and planes of the face I love. I’m sure my feelings, which are hard to keep off my face, must be showing, but he’s asleep, so it’s safe to indulge myself for a few minutes.
He sleeps so soundly, I have to wake him when the food is ready.
“Josh, wake up. You need to eat. And you don’t want to sleep too long, or you’ll be awake all night.” I shake him gently and smooth his tangled hair back off his forehead.
Josh sits up, groggy and disoriented. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep after all,” he croaks, looking towards the window. “Shit. It’s dark already. What time is it?”
