Page 100 of Making Choices

The strangled sound Fret makes as he fights his desire to call my mumma out on her bullshit is funny, but I don’t laugh.

Mumma is standing too close to me for that.

“Good.” Cherub folds her arms over her chest and hitches her hip to one side. “So, we all agree... Fret will spend the night here, then I’ll call the rehab centre tomorrow to see how soon they can organise a room for him? Slash will help me drive him there.”

Not entirely certain how she managed to one-eighty her brother’s plans in less time than it took me to accidentally insult, then capitulate to the force of nature I call Mumma, all I can manage is a shrug in response to Cherub’s question and a tentative, “Ah, sure... if that’s what you want.”

My mother, on the other hand, is beside herself with pleasure at pulling everyone’s strings. She pulls to her full height and juts her chin, then proffers her approval in a cheery tone. “Oh, I was hoping this would be the outcome, otherwise I was going to enact plan B.”

“Plan B?” Fret asks.

“Accidentally ‘stuck’ brakes on your wheelchair.” Mumma makes air quotes around stuck. “Angelis, Hades, and Duke, a bottle or two of whiskey, and all their stories about the old times.”

“Yeah,” the dark-haired man slumps in his chair. “That would’ve worked.”

In the face of my mother’s obvious glee, Cherub steps in. “Why don’t I show you the guest room?”

As she wheels her brother out of the living room, Mumma chuckles. Glancing her way, I’m surprised to discover that she’s watching Cherub, and not Fret like I expected, with a glimmer of satisfaction and a wide smile. Once the siblings are out of sight, I turn to face her.

“What’s that grin for?”

“The light is almost back. Soon, she’ll be bright as ever.”

It takes me a second to understand her statement. Thinking it over, I can’t find any reason to disagree. “Yeah, Mumma. I think she’s definitely on her way back to normal.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Nah. Everyone has played a part.”

In her inimitable way, my mother continues on like I haven’t spoken. “She loves you, always has. It’ll just take her some time to understand that it’s in the same way she loves Venom, rather than how she loves Toker and Hunter. And when that day comes, I hope you’re mature enough to honour her choice in the matter... we don’t want a repeat of you boys when you were young. Deliberately monopolising little Cherub rather than finding a way to share her.”

Struck mute by her candour, I stand there with my mouth open and nothing but white noise in my head while Mumma chatters on about making something for afternoon tea and critiques the new couch cushions Cherub brought to add colour to my living room. Seeing that I’m lost in my own head, she reaches up and pats my cheek.

“Right, I’m peckish, so I’ll leave you in here to search for the wits that have obviously deserted you.” My mother straightens my cut. “Once you find them, try your best to be smart. I love the three of you like you’re all my own, and I don’t want to see any of you get hurt.”

Left alone to battle through my stupor, I stare at the doorway Cherub pushed Fret through with sightless eyes. After weeks of riddles from my father, it took a simple one-sided conversation with my mother to make sense of his confusing advice. Even so, I can’t quite wrap my head around what they’re alluding to.

Venom and I have always been a team, our interests synchronised, except in one area.

Cherub.

As young boys, when we fought over her, I usually gave in because I lived three doors down, so it was easier for me to sneak over to spend time with her by myself whenever Venom’s mother made him go home to their farm in the hills. That behaviour continued as we entered adulthood. It was clear he needed her more. Required the stability that came with her unconditional love. Craved the high he got whenever Cherub sought him out in preference to everyone else. Craved her light to drive the darkness from his soul.

Again, I ceded to his desires.

Publicly, at least.

Behind the scenes, I used our book club for two and our binge-watching habits to carve out my own time with her. And now, after years spent as the third wheel who accepted every crumb of Cherub’s attention that I could shake free, my parents are sowing seeds of hope. Offering a promise that I can have her in a way that doesn’t tear her soul in two. They’re trying to show me the prospect of a future that would never have crossed my mind until they planted the idea.

My mumma has faith in my duchess’ strength of mind and her infinite capacity to love.

My father sees the same, and he even warned me so when he cautioned that the battle for Cherub’s heart was only being delayed by Venom’s banishment to Sydney.

But what if when it comes, her choice is that she won’t choose at all?

Would I be able to share her with Venom?

I don’t know.

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