She does look tired. The bags under her eyes seem more pronounced than usual and her blond hair hangs limply around her face, as though she hasn’t washed it in a few days. It’s the same length as mine, I realize now. I’ve had my hair cut in the exact same style as my absent mother’s.
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay. It’s been a full-on day.”
“You sound like you need a holiday.”
“No chance of that,” she replies, tucking her hair behind her ears.
She’s wearing no makeup—she hardly ever does. Mellie has a photo album of her from her teenage years when she used to rock a smoky eye. I remember trying to copy her look once, but I wasn’t very successful. Her eyeliner made her eyes looksoblue.
“You can’t take a break?” I ask.
“I’ve got a whole month booked off at Christmas.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah. Try to persuade Mellie to come to us this year.”
“You wouldn’t come here?” I ask hopefully, knowing how Mellie hates leaving Rudie and Bennie.
“You know that when I’m home, I just want to be home. I travel enough for work.”
“Sure.” My chest feels tight.
“So…What else is going on?”
“I’ve been working with Jackson.”
“The love of your life.” She perks up a bit. “What was it like seeing him again for the first time?”
“It was actually pretty amazing.”
“Yeah?” She grins. “Do you think it’s definitely over with his wife?”
“One hundred percent. He told me all about their breakup. It sounded awful.”
“What happened?”
I get comfortable. The work Mum does is so full-on that she’s often too worn out to talk, but she does enjoy a bit of gossip. I’m happy to entertain her.
After about fifteen minutes, we finish up so she can get some sleep and I slip out of bed to go and find Mellie. I call her name once I’m in the corridor.
“In here,” she replies from the bathroom.
The door is open and when I reach it, I see that she’s cleaning her face.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
I nod. “All good.” I watch her reflection as she vigorously rubs at her cheeks. “You didn’t put the washing on, did you.”
“Nah.” She averts her gaze. “Figured it was a bit late.”
We both know that the laundry was just an excuse to leave the room and call Mum without me knowing. She would have kept it to herself if Mum hadn’t answered.
“Love you,” I murmur, the backs of my eyes stinging.
“Love you too. Night, night,” she replies with a smile.
