Maeve is smiling, Gary under her arm, and I address her next.
‘I’m sorry I was yelling yesterday, Maeve. That must have been scary for you. I won’t do it again.’
She totters over and wraps herself around my shins. Tears find their way quickly, and when I look to Olivia, they are in her eyes, too.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you. I’ve had a lot going on but I should have been checking in more,’ she says.
‘You’ve been great, especially this week,’ I reply.
I point her to the coffee and breakfast, and she brings Maeve over to take a look.
‘This looks nice,’ she says.
‘It’s not much, I can’t cook.’
‘Well then better for us all you didn’t attempt it. This is great.’
Luke is up next, and I have to try a little harder to stay regulated with him.
‘I’m sorry for yesterday,’ I start.
‘Yeah, you should be,’ he says, folding his arms.
‘Let her talk,’ Olivia interjects from the kitchen.
‘I’m not in a good place, but I am working on it. I’m going to have the window fixed,’ I continue.
‘Okay, well that’s a good start,’ he says.
‘I made breakfast, and coffee, if you’d like some.’
Luke joins Olivia, pouring himself a coffee and taking it all in. He does not say any more, but I do not expect it. Mum and Dad come out together, and I face them before I have the chance to back out.
‘I’m really sorry about my meltdown yesterday,’ I say. ‘I am going to have the window fixed. I made breakfast, if you want any.’
Elsie assesses the situation, looking around the room at all of us.
‘You should talk to the Kingstons – they had someone redo their stained glass last year. They chose some awful sunset design, but the work itself does look good,’ she says.
‘I don’t know where you’ll get the money, those things are expensive,’ Luke chimes in.
Dad takes longer to acknowledge what I have said, sipping the coffee that Olivia puts in his hand.
‘I’m glad you are making amends, honey. It’s a tricky time of year. I was thinking next year we could book a cruise instead, get away from the stress,’ he says.
This makes me laugh, and suddenly we are all laughing. The idea of being trapped on a vessel out at sea together is the darkest, funniest thing I have ever heard. Someone would probably be pushed overboard – most likely me. I keep my mind in my body, rather than escaping into imagining, and watch as everyone goes back to their morning, in preparation for the cricket game that has been moved to the school oval on account of yesterday’s rain. I plan not to attend. I feel okay.
‘You sure you don’t want to come?’ Olivia asks, as they prepare to head out.
‘I am sure. I don’t think I could even walk that far – my foot,’ I reply, gesturing to the mess I made of myself.
‘Yikes,’ she says with a quick look, then waves goodbye as she closes the door behind them.
I am alone in the house again – living the dream. Dr Montague will not pop up on my laptop for another hour, so I take some time to lie on the couch, without my phone, and try to regulate under the warm glow of the tree lights. How exhausting; what a mess. I ponder how I can feel both worse than I did when I first arrived here, whilst simultaneously closer to better. I had drifted so far from myself without ever realising, like looking back to the shore and realising the current has taken me all the way down the beach. Only, I had no concept of who I was to begin with, no towel to signify my starting point. But now I think I do. It is strange it is called unmasking at all, when the supposed true self waiting to be revealed has not yet been formed. Unmasking, then, is not a neat end-point, but a recommendation of where and how to start – a slow process, trial and error, a becoming of Nora, rather than a finding of her. It is deeply uncomfortable feeling like this –feeling– without running or numbing or distracting myself, worms writhing under my skin. The earth is shifting, seismic movements underground causing waves that wash over me: anxiety, guilt, shame, all the fun stuff, merging together, creating too much energy. It threatens to burst out of my extremities. Flicking my fingers one by one, left to right and then back again, allows some of that energy to flatten. Bouncing my feet off the end of the couch helps a little as well. I feel calmer, for a moment, as my thoughts and emotions align. This must be the place to start.
Epilogue
Sunshine Coast Hinterland, New Year’s Eve
