Page 7 of Insta-Love

FOUR

Ava

“How are things, being home?”

I look across to where my phone rests on the bench, speaker on, and shrug even though she can’t see me. “Degrading.”

Kath has been the only constant since pre-Glen. We met in day care, buddies from the first argument over who had the Barbie car, and kept in touch since. Luck had it we went to the same primary, but first year of high school her mother’s job transferred and they moved inter-state.

“Babe, there’s nothing wrong with accepting help when it’s offered.”

“I know. It’s just the part where I needed the help in the first place that’s most embarrassing.”

“Why?” Her question is laced with genuine concern.

I shrug again. “Because I’m an adult.” I shake a little more flour on the bench top and start to knead the gingerbread dough again. “What kind of role model am I to Lily if I’m still relying on my parents to bail me out when things get too tough?”

“The kid’s smart, she’ll see this for what it is.”

I hesitate, fingers buried in ginger goodness. “And what’s that?”

“Her mum proving that she won’t quit. That she’s a fighter.”

I run the back of my right hand across my brow and sigh. “Some days I wonder what I’m fighting for, you know?”

Kath sends a knowing hum down the line. “What’s eating at you?” She’s known me log enough to pick up through a phone conversation alone when I’m holding back.

“I guess I look at you, at other people our age, and I see your success with your job, your life goals, and I wonder what mine even are? I mean—” I punch the dough and push it away—“apart from Lily, why do I even get up in the morning?”

“You feel like you don’t have any purpose?”

“Yeah, no. Ugh. I mean, what will I get out of this when Lily’s old enough to move on? I’ve got no home, no job, nothing.”

“Babe …”

“No man.” I chuckle. “I’d even take a freakin’ woman if she wanted to love me and keep me company. That’s how pathetically desperate I am for some sort of connection other than being a mum.”

“So date.”

“I tried.”

“Once,” she scolds. “Are you on Tinder?”

“Do I want to be killed by some random psychopath?”

“They’re not all like that you know. Pretty sure they screen them these days.” She snorts. “Besides, who’s to say the guys don’t think that about you as well?”

“What you saying?” I laugh. “I look crazy? Should I buy a few cats?”

Her laughing is over-shadowed by the deep rumble of boy-toy next door arriving home. I groan as memories of the arse I made of myself two days ago flood in.

“What was that?” Kath asks. “Sounded like a damn truck rolling past.”

“Just the new neighbour,” I grumble. “He’s a jerk.”

“I hear a story in that answer,” she teases. “Spill.”

“It’s nothing exciting.”

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