I can still see Ali as clear as the day dawning outside. Her summer dress flapping against her thick thighs and her chocolate brown hair blowing in the wind. She watches me help Dad sand down Mum’s old cabinet ready to re-paint. Her innocent hazel eyes glide over my chest and the little ink I had back then. When I lift my gaze, she looks away, adjusting her glasses, but she was checking me out.
Dad flicks the switch on the sander, bringing it to a halt when he spots Ali in the doorway. “Her nan’s sick again. Poor kid lost her parents, now she’s caring for her nan. See what we can do for her, son.”
Dropping the sander on the bench, I walk over to the door. “Hey.”
Her eyes dance over my ink, and she brings the book she’s holding to her chin. I pull it down to see what she’s into. “Jane Eyre?”
She pushes her glasses further up her nose and clears her throat. “My nan sent me. Is your mum home?”
“She’s at work. What can I do for you?”
“She wanted more of her… er…brownies.” She opens the book, showing me a few notes.
“Follow me.” I lead her into the house, through to the kitchen. Mum always had a batch of medicinal brownies. She was a carer and knew all too well the effects her brownies had with pain management. Even if it’s illegal in this country, she did what she could to ease people’s suffering. Dad grew it, Mum baked it. It wasn’t even a sideline. She certainly never profited much from it, often giving it away for free to those in need.
“How much do you want?”
She shakes her head. “Whatever you have.”
“Your nan likes her brownies?” I smile, hoping to make her feel at ease.
“It’s…” She chews on the inside of her mouth. “It’s for the pain. The doctors can’t do anything more for her.” She looks down, her shoulders curling inwards over the book she’s hugging like a comforter.
I dip my head and lift her chin. “Hey, I’m sorry. Cancer?”
She nods, and a tear hangs on her lash before dripping down her cheek. She’s quiet, vulnerable, and so fucking beautiful. I wrap my arms around her, bringing her close.
Her sobs muffle against my chest, breaking me in two. “It’s all right. Get it all out.” We were just kids when Ali moved in with her nan after her mum passed away. She’s only seventeen and already been though so much. “You wanna drop these brownies off at your place, then take off for the afternoon?”
She wipes her eyes. “And go where?”
“Anywhere you want to, baby.” If I can give her a break, even for a few hours, I will. Anything to see her smile again.
“I can call, tell her I’ll be back later. She has our neighbour sitting with her now.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks.
“Let’s go.” With the tin of brownies under my arm, I grab Dad’s car keys and unlock the door. I secure the brownies in the footwell of the back seat, then open the passenger door, holding her hand as she climbs into the truck.
Jogging into the workshop, I grab my t-shirt. “Dad,” I shout over the sander. “I’m taking Ali home. Be back in a few hours.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle. “You know her nan lives fifteen minutes away. Five if you’re driving.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I jump in the truck and start the engine. She closes her clamshell phone and pushes her glasses up again, a habit I’m beginning to think she does when she’s nervous. “So who’s Jane?”
“Excuse me?”
I nod to the book resting in her lap.
“Oh. She’s an orphan, living with her aunt.” It’s not hard to read into the similarities in her own story.
“Where do you want to go?” I drive down the country road, not really sure where to take her.
“I don’t mind.” She looks away and pushes her glasses up again.
I take a left and shift into third, taking a steep incline up the peak. One of my favourite places. “You been up here before?” I glance over at her, taking my eyes off the road.
She shakes her head. “Look out.”
