‘You’d be great.You’re already keeping people alive every day.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can.’
‘I’d be homeless without Greg.’
‘Oh, please.’I roll my eyes.‘I guarantee Mum has a divorce lawyer already lined up for you.Just say the word and she’ll take him to the cleaners.’
Issy doesn’t answer, watching Gemma race Billie to the top.Then she leans against my shoulder, quiet for a beat.‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Good.’I pause.‘And just so you know, whatever you decide … wherever I am, you and the girls will always have somewhere to go.’
Issy exhales a short laugh.‘Until you get sick of us.’
‘I’m serious,’ I say and nudge her shoulder with mine.‘I could be living in Namibia for all I care.If you ever need a break, just say the word and I’ll have you and the girls on the first flight over.’
‘To Namibia?’
I roll my eyes.‘You know what I mean.’
She nods and then leans her head on my shoulder.‘I do,’ she whispers quietly before sliding her hand into mine.
Issy and the girls stay for one more night.
It’s one of those quietly perfect evenings where no one says they need it, but you can feel it in the way Billie curls up in my lap without asking, and in the way Issy stops checking her phone for updates from Greg.We make spaghetti and meatballs, mostly because I had all the ingredients except for meatballs, which I panic-bought at the deli on the way home in a moment of domestic delusion.
We eat in front of the TV.The girls tell me stories from school with the chaotic confidence of unreliable narrators.Issy sips her wine slower than usual.
I fall asleep on the couch during theFrozencredits.The last thing I remember is Gemma whispering, ‘Don’t wake her, she looks tired,’ as if I’m some wounded Disney princess.
They sleep in my bed.All three of them.
When I get home from work the next afternoon, the apartment is quiet in that weirdly echo-y way that only comes after something loud and chaotic has left.
They’re gone.
There’s a box of chocolates on the kitchen table and a card made from folded printer paper.On the front, Gemma’s handwriting says:WE LOVE YOU AUNTY Jin alternating colours of crayons.Inside, Issy has written:Thank you.For all of it.PS.Don’t throw this card out.Gemma will ask.
I eat one of the chocolates immediately.Something caramel.Possibly life changing.
My phone buzzes.
Abbey:
Just checking we’re still on for tonight?
Me:
Yep.Getting changed.
It’s technically the truth.I’m still in my work pants and eating chocolates with one shoe off.So, I change into jeans that don’t scream corporate trauma and head to pottery class.
I arrive five minutes late and spot Abbey already perched on a stool, apron on.As I walk in, the teacher is mid-instruction about ‘centring your clay energy’ – whatever that means.Abbey whispers as I settle on the stool next to her, ‘You were thirty seconds away from getting
awhere the hell are youtext.’
‘Relax,’ I whisper back.‘I’m here.Let’s ruin some clay.’
