Page 18 of Tough Love

“You want to open it? It’s Grandma.”

He smiles a little, and struggles with the handle—after I do the chain for him—yet manages to open up.

Mum rushes through the door, scooping him into her arms and eliciting a squeal from the kid. “Baby boy. I’ve missed you.”

“Hi, Grandma.”

Dad quietly closes the door behind them, and pulls me into his side with an arm wrapped around my shoulders. “And how are you, Mimi?”

“Managing.”

He gives me that knowing smile, the one that says he’s well aware I’m probably on the brink of waving my white flag.

“How has he been?” Mum asks of Briar as though he’s not still in her arms and completely able to understand what we’re talking about.

“How about I get him settled with the TV, and then we can talk in the kitchen?”

“Sure.” Mum sets him down, her hand lingering on his cheek.

I can’t help but share her smile, memories of her looking at me the same way when I was little as fresh in my mind as though it were yesterday.

Briar selects his favourite DVD, and after a crash course in which remote controls what, I get some show playing on the screen, cartoon animals in a rock band. Mum has the coffee brewing by the time I join my parents in the kitchen.

“He didn’t take too kindly to me wearing Kath’s top,” I admit. “But other than that, he’s been okay.”

“Really?” Mum pours the coffee, not even bothering to look up.

“He’ll still be trying to process what this all means,” Dad explains in his deep baritone. “It registers in his mind as something serious, but he can’t make heads or tails of how he should feel about that.”

“I think he’ll need to see her if she’s going to be in there much longer,” I say, passing Mum the sugar. “It might help him understand why she needs to be away from home to heal.”

“It might also scar him,” Mum says curtly, passing out our coffees. “She’s not doing well, Amelia. Seeing her like that could be quite traumatic.”

The distinct feeling she has more to say grips me. “Has something happened?”

“Her heart rate dropped in the night, and she stopped breathing on her own. They found another bleed and had to intubate her.”

“Shit.” I stand at the end of the island opposite my parents, staring at the patterns in the marble counter.

Mum exchanges a look with Dad, the stress showing in the dark circles under her eyes. “We’re worried, honey.”

“Mmm,” Dad agrees. He runs a wide palm over his ashen hair. “They didn’t say much, Mimi, but the absence of good news is bad news in itself. The outcome doesn’t look good.”

I glance between Mum and Dad, taking in the worry lines, the drawn eyes, and the paleness to their complexions. These people don’t look like a couple of retirees fresh from the sunny Gold Coast; they look like the broken and destitute.

“How bad?” I grip the handle of my mug so damn hard my knuckles turn white.

There’s so much unsaid, so much still misunderstood. She can’t leave us without one last chance to clear the air.

“Bad enough that I think you should go visit today,” Mum says quietly, her gaze darting to the doorway that leads to Briar. “We’ll watch him.”

Why the hell doesn’t Kath have any stools in here? I take my coffee through to the dining room and drop into one of the two seats, placing my mug and elbows on the table.

You always think that the day will come when you’ll be strong enough to finally face your fears. Time seems to be the ultimate healer, and burying the hurt is the only logical way to live with the irreparable scars left behind from the experiences and situations that have formed who we are.

Family is a birthright. At some point in your life you had both a mother and a father, possibly a sibling or two as well. And you accepted they were the one connection in your life you couldn’t change.

They’re always going to be family, no matter where you go or who you become. Your mother is still your mother, your father is still your father, and your siblings will live as long as you.

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