I nod.
“And this is your first time in New Zealand since?”
I release my nails, scared of drawing blood, and instantly want to drive them back in. “I’ve come back once or twice, but never for more than a few days. There’s not much of a job market for flute players down here.”
She says nothing, but I can feel it, the itch behind her silence. She’s almost done with me. I take a breath and swing for the fences. “I got into a music school in New York. Took an early graduation. Pukekohe was too much. I couldn’t stay. Maybe it was selfish, bailing like that. It probably was. But if I stayed... I just couldn’t stay.”
Betty tilts her head. “So, why’d you stop talking to Rhys?”
“Because…” I search for a way to put it that won’t make her hate me. “… Because I just couldn’t anymore.”
“Why?”
The answer lives in a strongbox in my head, but if anyone deserves the contents, it’s Betty Muldoon. I drop my gaze, studying the grain of the wooden table. “He was mad at me for leaving. Every time we gamed together, he’d just… unload. And then it was like I was right back in Pukekohe with him. I told him I couldn’t hear it anymore, but…”
I swipe a hand across my sweaty forehead, feeling as hot and nauseous as the time I had dengue fever.
“What?” Betty says, and I force myself to keep going.
“I told Rhys it felt like he was hurting me on purpose. That if he actually liked me, he’d stop trying to make me feel guilty for getting out. But he wouldn’t stop. And I told him to leave. Go somewhere else, but he didn’t. Then I just felt helpless. So I ghosted him.”
I force myself look her in the eyes. “I’m not gonna pretend I could’ve saved him by staying, but I left, and then I disappeared, and if that made things worse, if it pushed him further, I’m just… really fucking sorry.”
I brace for an explosion, but Betty doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares past me, her eyes unfocused. I’m about to ask if she’s okay when her baby hiccups. The sound breaks whatever trance she was in. She leans over the pram, her face twisting into the saddest smile I’ve ever seen.
“I understand,” she tells the baby. “I kind of did the same thing. After you left, Rhys got so angry all the time. If I asked him about uni applications or getting a job or even to pass the milk, he’d lose it. By the time he graduated, I was basically living with my boyfriend.”
I want to say something comforting, but I know better. Betty doesn’t need reassurance. She needs to say the hard things and not have me flinch and turn away.
“He started drinking all the time,” Betty says, in a voice as flat as paper. “He and Mumwould scream at each other, and I’d just… leave. Then he started taking pills. And other stuff. And after that, it was just kind of… over.”
I’m so aware of my breathing, the feel of my clothes against my skin, the clink of glasses and the murmur of voices around us. I hold the space like a tent over both of us. I won’t let it fall. I can’t. It’s what I owe Rhys, for those hours of secondhand smoke, awkward chats, and late-night game sessions. For the things he gave me when he had so little to give. “I’m sorry, Betty.”
She presses a black-lacquered fingernail into the corners of her eyes. “I’m still so angry at him. I still can’t believe he’s gone. He was soyoung. I thought there was time to fix things. I thought we had time.”
I nod, my eyes burning with tears I don’t feel like I have the right to shed.
“I was being a bitch when I asked why you left,” Betty says. “Because I… I wasn’t really speaking to him when he…”
A tiny sob slips out, and she presses her lips together, sealing the grief back in.
“It’s not your fault,” I say through barely parted lips. “Things with him got so bad I couldn’t handle it. Even a hundred miles away, I couldn’t handle it. And you were right up close.”
Betty nods, tears streaming down her face. She rummages in the carriage under the pram and takes out a tiny toiletries bag. I watch as she dabs her face with tissues, reapplies her lipstick and fixes her winged eyeliner in a small compact mirror. She takes her time, and I don’t rush her.
“So,” Betty says finally, tucking everything back into the bag. “About your plan to fuck everyone over at school… I might have reassessed my position.”
I let out a shocked laugh, and Betty joins me. We’re not exactly happy. It’s more like ducks flapping their wings after a squabble. Releasing the tension. When we’re done, Betty gives me a crooked smile. “You saw my comment on Jenny’s post, hey?”
“I did. Full marks, by the way.”
“God, she’s a cunt.” She glances guiltily at the pram. “Shit. Gotta get a handle on that before he learns what words mean.”
I laugh again. The atmosphere between us is completely different now. Friendly. “What’s his name? Your baby, I mean.”
Suddenly, we’re right back in grief. Betty’s lower lip quivers, and I want to slap myself. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s fine. I’ll say it when I go. Look, you might have seen from my socials, but I work for CyberCX. I do security stuff. Data recovery. That kind of thing…”
