Page 15 of Birds of a Feather

‘Ohhhh,’ Jarrah squealed so loudly that it startled us all. ‘So do I. Sorry Bethie, we’ll get back to you in a sec. I almost forgot to tell you that I made the bold and, might I say, brave decision to quit my job yesterday.’

‘What?’ Mum, Dad and I responded in unison. Elijah raised his eyebrows, and Gran sat quietly, seemingly withholding judgement.

‘At the florist?’ Dad asked, pouring himself another glass of sake.

‘No, Thorn. That was her last job. This one was at the frozen yoghurt place,’ Mum said, holding out her glass for a refill.

It was impossible to keep up with Jarrah’s jobs; she changed them every few months. In the past few years, she had hosted kids’ tie-dye parties; sold popcorn at the drive-in; posed as a life model; walked dogs; delivered singing telegrams in a bear costume; sold raffle tickets at the footy; and waitressed in a ‘cat cafe’ – a place where patrons go for coffee and to pat the resident felines.

Typically, she cited ‘irreconcilable differences’ between her and her employer, or her and the customers, as the reason for why she decided to leave a job. In some cases, her employers beat her to it. One notable example was when she worked as an elf at a year-round Christmas shop until a young boy had asked if they sold ‘the special pens that made Santa’s handwriting look like his Mum’s’. Jarrah decided the boy was old enough to be told that Santa’s writing was his Mum’s. He was six. Her elfing days ended well before Santa had started making his lists.

‘You’re both wrong,’ Jarrah said, rolling her eyes. ‘I was a secret shopper. But it just wasn’t … nourishing me.’ She put her hand to her chest, closed her eyes and shook her head soberly. ‘It was so lame,’ she sighed. ‘Going from shop to shop … pretending to have questions about styles of clothes I would never wear and items I would never buy … reporting back about whether the sales assistant was helpful or not, if the ambient lighting was too harsh or if the music was too loud. Urgh. I just want something that inspires me and where I can make a difference.’ She paused. ‘But I need something that pays well and has flexible hours so I can pursue my other interests too.’

I snorted. ‘What are you going to do for money while you’re waiting for this well-paying, flexible, soul-nourishing job to land in your lap?’

‘I always manage,’ she responded sheepishly. ‘There’s always JobSeeker. And Dad might spot me a loan, if things get really dire. Right, Daddio?’

Jarrah turned to Dad, clasped her hands under her chin, and gave him her best ‘charm will get me everywhere’ smile. Dad rolled his eyes playfully. I had never turned to my parents for a loan, and here she was, just expecting them to bail her out. Again. I was right to be doubtful about giving her the money. If she couldn’t hold down a job for more than a month just because it wasn’t ‘nourishing’, how could she be trusted with $10,000?

‘You can’t expect people to bail you out when you just don’t want to work,’ I said, my voice raised. ‘That’s not how the real world works.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to work,’ she replied defensively. ‘It’s just that I haven’t found a job I really want.’

‘Oh, right. That clears it up,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Jarrah: they are the same thing.’

‘Okay now,’ pleaded Mum. ‘That’s enough. Why does it always end up with you two arguing? Can’t we just enjoy a nice lunch?’

‘Why?’ I asked rhetorically, turning my frustration on my Mum. ‘Because I can’t sit back and watch this anymore. You and Dad enable her. She still lives with you at thirty-two – rent and board free. She takes no responsibility and doesn’t face any consequences. There’s no incentive for her to grow up or make any adult decisions.’

I looked at Jarrah. ‘Don’t you want a career? Aren’t you sick of floating from one thing to another? You’re so capable and competent. But you never stay with anything long enough to give it a real go.’

‘Beth,’ Jarrah said tersely, her frown betraying that my words had hit a nerve, ‘You were saying only last week that we’re all entitled to live the way we want to—’

‘Yes,’ I interrupted. ‘But we shouldn’t expect other people to bankroll it.’

‘Bethie, just because we’re supportive of our kids, doesn’t make us enablers,’ Dad said. ‘Jarrah is welcome to live here while she works out what she wants to do – and afterwards, too, if she wants. The same goes for you and Elijah. We love having you all around, job or no job. And this will always be your house; no one made you leave.’

I united my chopsticks into a straight line on the table in front of me and then reached for a spare set and repeated the action. It soothed me to have order in my immediate vicinity when my family felt so chaotic.

There was no point in arguing: Dad had clearly missed the point. Besides, I would never move back to my parents’ house, even if I needed to. I’d never felt like I belonged there in the first place.

‘Now. I think that’s enough of all that,’ Dad said with an infuriating optimism that we could all just move on. ‘What was your news, Bethie?’

He held out his hands, palms up, offering me the floor to share my news. I looked to Jarrah, expecting her to interrupt again. But she was folding a paper napkin into an origami hat. Her face was sullen.

Who was I kidding? I wasn’t capable of gifting the money without ‘expectation or condition’. In fact, I felt that by giving her the money, I would be perpetuating her behaviour. Once again, someone else would be providing a solution so she didn’t have to face the consequences of her careless decisions.

‘Nothing,’ I mumbled. ‘Never mind.’

I endured the rest of lunch and managed to bite my tongue long enough to help clear the table and wash the dishes. Later, as we drove away from Mum and Dad’s place, my knuckles were white as I gripped the steering wheel.

I might have been silly, but I was looking forward to being the hero of my family for once and witnessing their excitement from the centre rather than watching it from the periphery. I had looked forward to seeing their faces as they contemplated what the money meant for their lives and I wanted to be able to share the secret of my win.

But Jarrah had hijacked my moment. Again.

‘You shouldn’t let her get under your skin, darling,’ Gran said. ‘I know it’s easier said than done, but Jarrah will do as Jarrah will do; there’s really nothing you can do or say to change that.

‘You can be a little set in your ways too, you know,’ she continued.

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