“She hates gifts. It creates waste, you know.”
“Right.” He snagged the card from her hand. “Would your mum like something else? Some honey or earrings?”
A lump formed in her throat, and she choked it down. “Seriously, the postcard’s fine.”
Still eyeing her suspiciously, he paid for everything. Thank God he hadn’t noticed her admiring the jewellery box. She felt guilty enough without that or a fifty-dollar jar of fructose on her conscience. They walked outside, huddling together slightly. The sky was clear but the sea breeze was colder today.
“What time does the awards thing start?” she asked as they walked back to the hotel.
“Four. Have you decided to come with me?”
Her stomach gave an excited squirm.
She’d gone back and forth on attending the event all week… but she’d also packed a dress. A pretty purple APC number she could wear to a fancy event. Glancing up at him, she knew he’d let her stay in their hotel room if she wanted. He wouldn’t push. Wouldn’t beg.
“Okay,” she said. “Just because it’s your birthday.”
He beamed at her. “Fuck yes.”
“But you have to promise to stop fucking my brains out long enough for me to do my make up properly.”
“No deal.”
She gave him a look.
“Fine. But I’m ploughing you twice as hard afterward.”
They continued walking and Cheryl chewed the inside of her cheek. This would be her and Patrick’s first public event as a couple, and if there were photographers—and there would be—they’d be outed to everyone back home. The butterflies in her stomach grew noticeably heavier and she prayed they’d fly off before the event.
They reached the hotel and the second she had Wi-Fi, her phone buzzed like crazy. She pulled it from her purse, expecting a work crisis. Instead, she had ten missed calls from Felicity.
“Shit.” She touched Patrick’s arm. “My mum’s carer is trying to reach me. Can I ring her back and come meet you in our room?”
“Sure. I’ll put this away and get the sex den ready.”
She smiled through her nerves and wandered to the car park to ring Felicity. The butterflies had grown razor wings and had bellies full of nitro-glycerine. She held her breath as the phone rang, praying she was wrong.
“Your mum’s okay,” Felicity said, without so much as a ‘hello.’ “But she fell. She broke her hip and she’s in hospital.”
Cheryl felt her New Zealand plans burn up in an instant, fluttering away like ash. She listened to Felicity explain how her mum had slipped on an old garbage bag, mentally planning her next steps.
“I’ll head to the airport right now,” she said. “I’ll be on the next plane home.”
“Okay, I can stay with her until then.” Felicity paused. “Cheryl, she can’t go back to her apartment after this.”
“At all?”
“No. You mum needs ‘round the clock assistance now. She probably has for a while.”
Blood pulsed in Cheryl’s ears like cars rushing around a Grand Prix circuit. “Okay, I’ll move back in with her until—”
“You’re not a registered nurse,” Felicity said sharply. “And even if you were, it wouldn’t be enough. I don’t want to say this, CeeCee. I don’t want it to be true, but your mum needs to go into a facility. Full-time. Right now.”
Price tags danced in front of Cheryl’s eyes. Eighty thousand dollars a year. A hundred thousand dollars a year.
“… I’ll do everything I can to help you transition her, but Sharon and I have talked about this. It’s time.”
Cheryl walked back inside the hotel in a daze. It seemed impossible that minutes ago she’d been in a gift shop, thinking about postcards and honey. Her mum needed to go into assisted living and it needed to be somewhere good. Somewhere like Wheeler Hill. She’d need to spend her apartment savings, sell everything in her mum’s house, get a second job, take a loan and God knows what else. The day had come. That someday, when everything got worse. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away with numb fingers as she crossed the lobby.
