Tabby ignored her. Nix was batshit from all the pregnancy hormonesbeforetheir long-lost mother showed up. She knew better than to hold her sister responsible for her language now. “Just sit here and watch the pretty vampire show and try to relax, dude. Maybe cry a bit?”
“I’m sick of crying,” Nix spat as fresh tears appeared in her inner eyes. “I want todosomething!”
Tabby yanked on her windcheater, forcing Nix into a reclining position. “Tough titties, crazy betch. I’m not gonna let you. Besides, you don’t even live here anymore, so stop with this cleaning bullshit.”
“But—”
“What about the baby?” Tabby demanded, playing her last and most extreme card with reluctance. “What if you inhale too much Jif cream cleaner and turn it all reptilian in utero?”
“That’s so stupid,” Nix sobbed, but she stopped struggling all the same. “At least you and Sam got to see Mum! I didn’t even get to see her!”
“I know,” Tabby said miserably. The guilt she felt about tattooing Jo was compounding by the day. The hour. It had been a week since Jo showed up, and neither of the twins was handling the news better with time. Sam was sullen as a sixteen-year-old, and Nix was speed-running toward her worst possible timeline—martyring so hard she got sent to hospital on the reg just to rest.
But then, her sisters had actual memories of Jo hitting the bricks. Having her wander into the studio named after them and getting a tarot card tattoo from the one kid whocouldn’tpick her out of a lineup had fucked with their heads. Tabby knew she should hate Jo for such a shitty move, but she couldn’t. Not even after the porch abduction bombshell.
“When is she going to make contact?” Nix demanded. “Scott emailed her days ago and she hasn’t replied. That’s so wrong!”
Tabby knew Nix was desperately trying to map the future. Was Jo living in Melbourne, or had this been a once-in-a-lifetime visit? Why wasn’t she responding to Scott’s email? Would she ever respond to Scott’s email? Should they sendmore emails?
If they knew what Jo was planning, Nix would feel better, but there didn’t seem to be a plan—just a bunch of people with shared DNA running around.
“Maybe she just needs more time?” Tabby offered.
“It’s been over twenty years! How much time does she need?”
“I dunno. More, I guess.”
Nix softly stroked her belly, and Tabby felt a cold twist of fear. She never knew it could be this way when someone you loved got pregnant. Not a celebration but a collective holding of breath. Nix was only six weeks gone, and she’d already miscarried three times. Tabby was worried about what all this stress was doing to the baby, but how was she supposed to correct that?
Jo had already shaken up their lives like a snow globe, and now Sam was running up the black flag, and Nix had signed on as first mate. If their mother did show her face again, there was every chance she’d be slapped with a restraining order, or the back of Sam’s hand or both, and the drama would only escalate further.
But I’m running away, Tabby thought.So, it’ll probably work out. Maybe.
She bent to pat Lilah, the not-so-puppy. Tonight, she’d be catching the tram to St Kilda and in a few short tattooing sessions, she’d have all the cash she needed to fly to Cartagena and never look back.
Seeing Toby didn’t matter. She couldn’t have cared less that tonight would be the first time they’d been alone together since her bedroom. And if she was unable to eat or think or sit still, well, that was because she was so excited about the prospect of leaving.
The front door slammed wide, and Sam staggered in, tattooed arms bulging with grocery bags. “I got everything. Family-sized Black Forest Cadbury, Meredith goat cheese, strawberries?—”
“Nuggets…?” Nix moaned like a dying woman pleading for water.
“Two forty packs.” Sam dumped the shopping on the coffee table and pulled out the brightly coloured nugget bags. “I’ll put them on now.”
“Thank you,” Nix said weakly.
“I’ll help.” Tabby picked up Lilah and put her on Nix’s chest. “Here, doesn’t that feel better?”
Nix pressed her face into Lilah’s fur. “Yes...”
“Good.”
As she lifted the remaining groceries, Tabby wondered how her new niece or nephew or whatever was doing inside Nix. Freaking out, probably. It didn’t seem like a very stable environment. But even if she wasn’t here to look after it, the kid would have loving parents and friends and access to modern psychotherapy. It would be fine.
Like you?
Shut up, brain, you wet bag of shit.
Tabby lugged the shopping bags into the kitchen, where Sam was slamming trays into the oven like they’d stolen her credit cards. Now that she knew better, Tabby couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognised Jo. The twins had her navy eyes and killer cheekbones, and all three women had to be within an inch of each other in height. But then Tabby had never factored her mum into any comparative equation. An older woman who looked a little like Sam and Nix was just an older woman who looked a little like Sam and Nix.
