Page 82 of Birds of a Feather

‘I’m sorry about before. I really don’t want to fight with you, especially about Gran. I know what she meant to you, and you to her. And I never should have put my shit on you. It’s just …’ her voice hovered as she searched for the language to describe our new reality. ‘I’m just really going to miss her.’

‘I know. Me too.’ I hadn’t expected an apology and was grateful to clear the air.

‘She was so proud of you, and I was always a bit jealous of that,’ she continued. ‘I know she loved me, but she was never proud of me in the same way.’

I had never thought of Gran being proud of me before, but I guess she was.

‘I know you think I’m a flake,’ she said, spinning her bracelets around her wrist. ‘But I am trying. Even though you’re younger, you’ve always been so much more “together” than me. You’re so good at managing all the life stuff that I seem to find so hard, and you seem to have it all worked out. Sometimes I feel like I’m floating around at sea, completely rudderless, while you’re living your best life on a utopian island. You’re an inspiration, actually.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I thought Jarrah intentionally rejected the way I lived my life. I certainly never imagined it would be something she aspired to, and I definitely didn’t realise she was struggling so much.

‘I don’t know about an “inspiration”,’ I replied. ‘I guess we’re all just bumbling through the best way we know how. I know I can be rigid and unaccommodating sometimes. And maybe you were right; going with the flow isn’t so bad.

‘Not with everything,’ I added hastily. ‘But with some things.’

She smiled as though surprised by my admission.

‘The reason I come down so hard on you is because I see that you have so much potential. I just don’t want you to waste it,’ I said.

Mum arrived in the hallway.

‘Everything okay?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Yes,’ I answered, giving Jarrah a meek smile before leaning into her open arms for a hug. ‘We’re good.’

Mum hugged me tightly as she said goodbye, pulling me back into her embrace as I tried to break it. This time I surrendered and hugged her for far longer than was actually necessary. It was nice.

~

As Gerry and I walked up the path at Gran’s place, I spotted a weed that had popped up alongside one of the pavers. I bent down to pull it out, and gave it a firmer-than-necessary tug as if to reprimand it for daring to grow in her garden. The vibrant pink pigface flowers had closed for the evening, and the hum of the insects had quietened as the last of the light had bled from the day. The garden looked more or less like it had a week ago, but somehow the weed I was clutching tightly in my hand was a tangible reminder that Gran was no longer around to care for it.

I wondered what would happen to her beautiful garden and her beloved home. I assumed that in time Mum would sell it, and it would be bulldozed to make space for two or three semidetached units. I shuddered at the thought.

I committed to keeping up with the gardening as best I could in the meantime, but I knew that would be a struggle long-term. The secret of Gran’s gardening was that she was constantly doing it. She didn’t set aside a block of time every other weekend, or dedicate a week at a time to give it a makeover. Instead, she would ‘garden’ every time she walked through it; each time she went out or returned home, she’d pull a weed, prune a bush or fix a fallen stake. And she was forever planting cuttings that she’d taken from plants in the neighbourhood when she thought no one was watching. I knew that no one else would have the time to care for it in the same way and that it would never look the same as when she was alive. It had passed its prime.

I peered into the birdbath and noticed it needed refilling. As I fetched the hose and turned it on, I heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up into the space behind my car. I watched to ensure they didn’t cause any damage; today was not the day for my new car to get its first dint. And who was turning up unannounced at Gran’s house anyway? And at this hour? I hoped it wasn’t any of her friends with flowers. Or worse, another casserole.

The back passenger door opened and a tall figure unfolded from the car.

‘Hello,’ Nick said.

I gasped, dropping the hose, which snaked wildly around my feet.

‘What are you … ?’ I stared in disbelief as my heart somersaulted inside my chest. I couldn’t recall having ever been more glad to see anyone in my life. The warmth of his smile felt like a tonic for my wounded heart. He gathered his bag and walked through the gate towards me. I rushed into his arms and held him tight.

‘Are you going to turn that off?’ he said finally, breaking our embrace and pointing to the hose, which was flipping about madly. ‘This country is prone to drought, apparently.’

Oh, how I had missed his grin.

The water shut off and I spun around to see Gerry standing at the tap, smiling widely.

‘Did you know about this?’

She nodded conspiratorially.

‘Oh, sorry. Did you think I was here for you?’ Nick shook his head mockingly. ‘I missed Gerry so much, I just had to travel eleventy-zillion hours to see her.’

He chuckled endearingly at his own joke as I flung my arms around him again and buried my head in the crook of his neck. I drank in the smell of his skin.

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