“You can ask her yourself,” I offer as I spin it around to face Mabel standing in the kitchen. “Hi!” She waves with a fork in her hand and an apple piece in her mouth.
“How are you going, dear?” I hear Mum’s voice get a little louder, like she has leaned closer to the tablet on her end.
Finishing the apple, Mabel replies, “Good, thanks. Feel like I've found my feet somewhat over the last week, especially.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. You should be so proud, dear.”
“Thanks. How are you both going?”
“Great. We added some more sheep so needed to hire another shearer. He starts tomorrow. Never ends.” Mum laughs.
Mabel, Mum, and Dad chat for a few more minutes as I finish eating. My eyes take in the animation on her face. The at-ease tone in her voice conversing with my parents. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in running my fingertips down the side of her cheek to see how soft her skin felt.
Mabel looks up, meeting my eyes.
“Sorry. I should give you back to Riley.”
“Don’t be sorry. We loved talking with you, Mabel. Good luck with the rest of the week.”
Mabel turns the tablet towards me and mouths ‘sorry’.
“Don’t be!” I replied out loud with a smile.
“I’ll give you some space.” She waves as she ducks into her room with her bowl.
“How’s everything going, honey?” Mum’s voice breaks my focus on Mabel’s closed door.
“Oh, you want to hear from me now your new favourite has left the room?” I tease with a smile. “Things are going good. Few hiccups with the races, but slowly getting there,” I continue, but I know this isn’t what they're asking about. “Koby gave me a few names of some therapists who do online sessions, in case I wanted to talk to someone. Have some extra support.”
“That’s a nice gesture from him,” Dad chimes in. “Have things been getting too much for you?”
“I mean, it’s been hard. Still forget she isn’t in the pit or chilling in the hotel room.”
“We’re the same,” Dad replies, his face crest-fallen. Mum places a hand over his with a mirrored look on her face.
We push forward, catching up. They pull out their phones to add my racing dates into their calendars to work out when they can take some time off from the farm and leave one of their farm hands in charge. They receive a notification that they havea delivery come through, and wish me good luck and love for the weekend before the screen goes blank.
Opening the tablet again, my email app is still open. Koby’s email with therapists sits at the top of the list. Tapping on the email to fill the screen, I run over the names. He's provided a few that have different options. Ones in each state near the tracks we race at and some that do phone and video appointments.
Cameron Anders. He does video appointments, and the notes say he also covers sports and injury-related mental health issues. Figuring that would be a smart approach to ensure my mental health doesn’t affect my resilience on track, I click his email address and shoot off an email to him, asking his availability.
Mabel’s door cracks open, and I turn to her. “Sorry, don’t want to interrupt your call.”
Waving her out of her room, I respond, “Nah, all good. They had to get back to the cows. Sorry if they over-stepped at all.” It’s my turn to apologise.
“Don’t be silly. I enjoy chatting with them. They are really nice.” She places her bowl in the dishwasher, motions for my empty bowl to do the same, and settles back in the kitchen.
“Were we discussing anything we needed to finish?”
“Nope. New topic.”
“What will you do in the off-season?”
“I don’t have anything concrete in mind. Just a few different ideas.”
“Like?” I probe.
“Maybe rent somewhere short-stay in a city. Head over to New Zealand for some hiking. After seeing Fleur’s property, I might need to reassess my goals. I think I need to start daydreaming about what I could do to a property like that.”
