A soft knock at the door breaks my trance. I open it to find Mum’s neighbour, Harriet, who goes by Hattie, in her matching, hot pink activewear, swinging by Mum’s for their morning walk.
“Morning, Sophia! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were here so early. I thought you were coming home tomorrow?” Hattie asks, visibly confused and questioning her menopausal memory.
“Hey, Hattie. Umm, yeah, I was meant to be here tomorrow, but…” I can’t get through the sentence. Tears spill again. “Mum had a heart attack. She’s…gone,” I choke out the last word.How is this my reality now?
Her eyes tear up and she pulls me into a hug. We don’t let go for ages, finding some comfort in our shared loss. Hattie has been our neighbour since Mum and Dad bought the house forty years ago. She was a little older than Mum, but they got along as soon as we moved in.
We break away, still holding hands. “Would you like to come in for a tea?” I ask.
“Of course,” she replies, walking into the house, still clinging to my side.
We settle at the dining table in the kitchen in a sombre silence.
“I don’t understand. She isn’t unhealthy. She’s only fifty-nine,” Hattie says, trying to make sense of it as well. Still referring to Mum in the present tense.
“You’re as clued in as me. I can’t make sense of it.” I shake my head.
We sit in a brief silence, processing. The hospital paperwork sits on the dining table. I pick it up and flip through it. Some handouts on handling grief, funeral homes in the area, things I don’t want to look through. I throw it all down on the table and watch them spill a little out of order.
“At least she was prepared. I remember she revised all her funeral arrangements a few years ago,” Hattie says.
I’m surprised; she never told me that. But I know why. I would have been superstitious if I knew. “I didn’t realise she did.”
“Oh yes. She did it after your dad passed away and would update it here and there. She knew I hated talking about that stuff, so it gave her a giggle every time she would tell me she updated it over the years.”
That’s Mum. Thinking about what other people would be going through if she died. When she died.Fuck. ThatwasMum. How will I ever get used to that?
“Of course she did. But where did she put it?” I glance around the room, lost as to where to start to look.
“That, she did not tell me.” Hattie joins in on my glances around the kitchen.
I sigh. “That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll find it. It’s probably in her room.”
Hattie sat with me with her tea, telling me she would be back at lunchtime with something to eat. I could see the sadness on her face as she glanced around the room before she left. Our best friend is gone.
Once she left, I went to look for the funeral paperwork. Mum was neat, but she had her own sorting and filing system that I was never able to crack. But surely something she knew I would have to look for would be in an obvious place. I knew it wasn’t in my childhood room, as I would have discovered it on the multiple times I slept here. Her bedroom was very neat. I checked her bedside, andbingo. In the top drawer.Thank goodness, Mum!I’m so grateful I didn’t have to look in the third room. Again, she was organised, but had her own sorting system. It appears she had all her things in there. Going through the storage boxes alone would have taken half a day. And there is the risk she would have put it into something random, like the Christmas decoration boxes.
I open the envelope that says,Everything you need in the event of my death.Funeral arrangements are outlined and paid for. Her banking and any important account information are detailed with a copy of her will. There is a Post-it note that I can’t help but laugh at when I read it.Don’t let the bitch from house #77 come to my funeral, Sophia! She’ll only come for the free food then complain.Either Mum thought it would be funny to leave this note, or she hadn’t updated anything in three years, since the grumpy ninety-two-year-old, Mrs. Finkler, passed away.No need to worry about that, Mum.
10
Javi
February - Preseason testing – Phillip Island, Victoria
The pit box is alive with a cacophony of sounds and smells—smells of fuel and burnt rubber, sounds of engines and power tools working together in sync. Fuck, I love this. The team is moving quickly around the pit as I look on, observing what they are doing. I stay to the side, out of their way, but I know what work they are doing to the bike. Controlled chaos works its magic in front of me. Rayna and Micah are standing nearby, and I chat with them. Conversations are light and jump around topics: from the looming start of the season, what happened over the season break, future projects, and current adjustments being made to the bike. I throw in my options here and there, however, I am itching to get back on the bike. It’s been a long two months.
Sophia appears to be distracted and reserved since we got back from the season break. Completely different than her normal warm, bubbly self. She stays away from the team, hiding at the back of the pit. I thought her role would be more involved in our testing, closer to the action, however she has been relying on Dave and Rayna to relay info to the team. Only speaking out loud when she really needs to.
Guess she is still dealing with that ass-hat ex of hers. I can see it’s not a confidence thing, like she’s worried about more responsibilities in the role. She’s doing that just fine. Better than fine. The team is working like there hasn’t been any changes. She gives direction, but then retreats behind her laptop screen to look on over it, masking herself from everyone in the garage. I don’t blame her, it was a shitty way to break up with anyone. Glad I don’t know him—I would have given him an earful.
She stays captured by my eye. Her head dips down to read off her laptop. A piece of her blonde hair has fallen from her tight, high ponytail, down one side of her face before she tucks it behind her ear with her delicate fingers. Her arms, exposed in her team polo, are smooth and spotless. Fuck, she looks good in my colours with her yellow polo and grey pants. Her arms are a stark contrast to my own heavily tattooed arms. I wonder if she has any hidden in more…intimate areas?Stop, Javi.
“Javi! You’re up,” Dave calls, shaking me out of my thoughts.
Sophia doesn’t break the stare off she has going with her laptop.
Making my way to the bike, I fist bump the crew as I pass and am given the go ahead to jump on the bike and take a few laps. The freedom on the bike is always bliss. But I am working and I need to feel the bike, how it behaves in turns, on the straight, when I push it. I get some feedback on a few corners and inform the crew when I am back in the pit. I get off, brief Dave with the information, and go back to standing around. Sophia has moved to talking with Rayna further towards the back of the pits. They are close together, with Rayna’s hand on Sophia’s shoulders, holding her gently into her side. They are pretty still and there is no way anyone can hear anything they are saying over the noise in the pits. Sophia nods and they part. She moves to retrieve her laptop and leaves the pit box, while Rayna walks over to Dave and whispers something to him. He nods, and she puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it with a sympathetic smile.
