Page 34

“When it could get me fired.”

“Come on, mate. It’s not like the app owners would ever know. What do you have to lose?”

It’s still too cold, even as my body warms up from the exercise. My cheeks burn, and my toes aren’t feeling much better.

“I saw the way she looked at you. I used to look at Michelle like that.” Ben gets a faraway look in his eyes. I can’t help but to recall when they were first dancing around one another, each too scared to admit to their feelings. Sounds familiar.

“I feel like girls are the least of my problems right now.”

“What do you mean?”

I actually catch the footy Ben kicks me this time, and he cheers. “Dad offered me a job.” Ignoring Ben’s laugh, I continue. “In the business side of things. Communications.”

“Knew it. Can’t imagine you as a tradie. Why not take it?”

“It’s…complicated. I still have that post-grad offer.”

“What post-grad offer?”

Oops. Another thing I conveniently forgot to mention. Sometimes it’s hard having so many people’s opinions on what you should or shouldn’t do, it’s easier to keep it to yourself.

“It’s nothing. One of my teachers suggested I apply, and now I’m not sure.”

“In literature, yeah?”

“Dude. What else?”

Ben thinks for a moment, bouncing the footy on the field as he runs towards the goalposts before sending a kick straight down the middle. When he comes back to me, he grins. I wait, hands on hips.

“Porque no los dos?”

I’m taken aback momentarily. “What did you just say?”

“Porque no los dos? Why not both? Y’know, the taco ad? Why fight over hard or soft tacos when you can have both?”

I let Ben’s words sit for a moment, turning them over in my head. It does make sense. Why not both? What’s stopping me from working for my dad part-time and doing another degree?

“Look, I’ll have to think about it. And I’ll be able to think about it a lot better when my brain isn’t entirely frozen.”

“Suit yourself,” Ben shrugs, handballing me the footy. Which I drop. Again.

“I suck.”

“Yeah,” he grins. Slinging an arm over my shoulders, we laugh as our heads bump together. “But you make me look so much better.”

* * *

Dad and Jason are at work together, thank God. It’s a busy time of the year for them, which works well for me as it leaves the house empty most days. And when I’m digging around in Dad’s study, I need an empty house.

This whole ‘write a book about my dead mum’ seemed like a much better idea than reality.

The pressure is astronomical. All I want to do is create something she’d be proud of. Something worthy of the person she was. And I find myself struggling more than I’d like to admit.

I’ve sent hundreds of emails to her former colleagues, teachers, and classmates, searching to see if anyone has copies of her work, photographs, or any stories they’d like to share. In return, I’ve gotten hundreds of responses. It’s overwhelming how loved my mum was. Everyone’s words are so full of love and passion, and it’s another stab in the gut to remember she wasn’t just taken from her family, but also from everyone who knew her.

My outline is complete. Now, I’m just filling in the gaps. Gaps that just so happen to be filled with the information I can find in here.

It’s not the first time I’ve tried to find things in his study. Dad keeps a meticulous collection of everything, labelled just for my convenience. Today, I’ve uncovered a stack of photos from when Mum was pregnant with me, and after I was born. They all looked so happy. Dad, proud to have another son. Jason, proud to be an older brother. And Mum, who looked proud just at having me in her arms.