by Fiona Lowe
Helen and Bob were having what Fran would call a robust discussion—something about the best place to plant a passionfruit vine. Jade interrupted them.
‘Helen, your Facebook post’s gone viral.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means people are sharing it to their groups and friends.’
Bob beamed. ‘That’s fantastic. Well done, Helen.’
Helen didn’t look convinced. ‘So people in Boolanga are reading it?’
‘Maybe. Probably.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s hard to tell where everyone’s from. A lot of the comments aren’t about the tiny houses.’
Jade passed her phone to Helen who held it a full arm’s length away.
Bob took his reading glasses out of his pocket and passed them to Helen. ‘I’m buying you a lanyard.’
‘You are not,’ she said tersely. ‘Only old people use them and I’m far from old.’
Jade snorted. ‘Yeah—’ Bob’s frantic headshaking made her swallow the word ‘right’.
‘Talking about old, Jade, when are you twenty?’ Bob asked.
‘The eighteenth.’
‘Isn’t that the same day as Milo?’
‘Yep.’
‘You were in labour on your birthday?’ Helen’s expression was unexpectedly sympathetic.
‘It sucked big time but Milo was worth it. At least this year I get my birthday back.’
Helen’s laugh sounded more like a harsh bark. ‘You’ll never get your birthday back. You’re a mother now and—’
‘I reckon this calls for a double celebration,’ Bob cut in. ‘We can fire up the pizza oven. What do you say?’
Jade didn’t know what to say. Even before Charlene had spent six years as a Jehovah’s Witness, she’d never made a big deal about birthdays.
Bob’s forehead creased at her silence. ‘Silly me. You’ve probably got your birthdays all planned with family and friends.’
Pleasure and pain twisted Jade’s heart and stupid tears burned the backs of her eyes. Bloody Bob. Always so freakin’ kind. She kept waiting for him to show his true colours—discover the real reason he was being so nice—but he remained the same genial and thoughtful bloke he’d been since she met him. The only thing he’d ever asked her to do was write a letter for Helen’s housing project.
Usually by this time in her birthday month, she’d dropped a hundred hints to Corey—not because he forgot exactly, but sometimes he was so busy it slipped his mind. But this year each time she’d gone to text him, something unfamiliar and hard had jabbed her. For reasons she couldn’t fully explain, she’d stayed silent, reminding herself that fathers didn’t forget something as momentous as their son’s first birthday. Except Corey hadn’t made contact in weeks.
Jade gave Bob her best nonchalant shrug—the one that said she was doing him a favour, not the other way around. ‘I s’pose I could do lunch. That way maybe Fiza and the others can come.’
‘Great idea.’
‘Can we have bubbles and balloons?’
‘Too easy.’
‘I think you’re forgetting something,’ Helen said. ‘If Judith finds out the women are coming, she’ll cause a scene.’
‘I’m a fully paid-up member of the community garden,’ Bob said. ‘The bylaws clearly state I can book the shelter for a private function as long as I stump up the booking fee. Don’t you worry, I’ll get it sorted.’
‘Can you cook pizza?’ Helen asked him.
‘Oh ye of little faith.’
Helen crossed her arms. ‘So that’s a yes?’
Bob grinned. ‘All the world is made of faith and trust and pixie dust.’
Helen rolled her eyes. ‘Sounds like Peter Pan’s cooking your birthday pizza, Jade.’
‘You two are so weird.’ But she couldn’t help smiling.
‘Actually, Lachlan’s the pizza expert,’ Bob said. ‘He worked at Enzo’s when he was at uni. Perhaps we could ask him—if that’s okay with you, Jade?’
Jade’s stomach suddenly filled with butterflies. What the hell? That wasn’t right. She had no reason to be nervous about seeing Lachlan. The dude had dork written all over him—he sang in a choir and talked to plants!
She stomped on the irritating butterflies and concentrated on the fate of the party. ‘If inviting Lachlan’s the only way to avoid dud birthday pizza, you better invite him.’
All Jade really wanted for her birthday was a photo of her and Corey helping Milo blow out the candle on his cake. She’d convinced herself that if she made a cake—her first ever—then perhaps it would bring Corey home. Using this week’s Vodka Cruiser money, she’d bought the ingredients and followed the recipe and instructions to a T on the Women’s Weekly Food website. Only her number one cake didn’t look anything like the picture on the screen.
Her birthday was eleven and a half hours old, the cake sat on its foil-covered baking tray yelling lousy mother, and Corey hadn’t texted or called.
She picked up the cake, planning to dump it in the bin, when the doorbell rang.
‘Milo, it’s Daddy!’ As Jade ran to the door, it occurred to her that Corey never rang the bell, he just walked in, but it wasn’t enough to stop her heart from breaking. ‘Fiza? Why are you here?’
‘We thought it might be hard for you to walk today with Milo’s cake.’
Jade’s face burned. Why had she told the women at the garden she was making a cake, like it was something she was good at? But they’d all been interested, wanting to know about birthday celebrations, which apparently weren’t a big deal in their culture. It had felt good having their attention.
‘I didn’t make it,’ she lied.
Fiza looked over her shoulder, her face creased in confusion. ‘But I see it.’
‘It’s really bad.’
‘Let me look.’ Fiza walked in and studied the cake.
Jade fought tears. ‘I wanted it to be perfect.’
‘It is perfect.’
‘Are you blind? It’s lumpy and crooked and the icing’s all streaky.’
‘It is colourful and made with love. This is all that matters.’
‘But—’
‘I always try to give my children a cake and a small gift.’ Fiza’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. ‘There were years I could not do this. It broke my heart.’
Jade thought she understood. ‘Because you didn’t have enough money?’
Fiza stared at her as if she was working out what to say when the twins burst through the door.
‘Om! It’s hot and—’ Sammy’s eyes widened when he saw the cake. ‘Cool! A one cake.’
‘Milo’s so lucky,’ Leila said. ‘Can I carry it?’
‘I will carry it,’ Fiza said firmly. ‘Come. Let’s go to the party.’
Jade didn’t know what to expect. After all, no bloke she’d ever known had organised a party and, going on Helen’s scepticism, her hopes weren’t high. Smoke puffed from the pizza oven’s flue, the balloons she’d requested were tied in clusters and she saw a box of bubble bottles on the sink. Even Daisy was wearing a birthday bandana. But it was the strings of flashing coloured lights wrapped around the support poles of the shelter and criss-crossing under the perspex roof that took her breath away.
Milo squirmed in her arms, fascinated by the lights. Then he saw Bob and squealed in delight.
Bob’s blue eyes twinkled. ‘Happy birthday, little buddy. And to you too, Jade.’
‘Thank—’ The loud pop of a cork made her turn. Lachlan was holding aloft a large dark bottle.
‘Happy birthday, Jade. Want a drink?’
She’d never tasted sparkling wine before. ‘Sure.’ She settled Milo on a picnic rug and accepted the frothing drink.
‘Fiza, I’ve got cans of soft drink in the esky for you and the kids,’ Bob said. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Happy birthday, Jade.’ Helen walked into the shelter holding a chocolate cake with a decoration sticking out of it that looked lik
e exploding stars. A gold 20 waved in the centre. ‘Bob, the price of this cake is outrageous. I could have made it for a third of the cost—’
‘Thanks for picking it up.’ Bob pulled out his wallet.
Helen waved the money away. ‘Oh, I didn’t pay for it. I told Karina you’d be in later to settle up.’
‘Right. Good. Okay, time for presents!’ Despite his silver hair and craggy cheeks, Bob looked as excited as Leila and Sammy.
Lachlan gave Jade a wry smile. ‘Uncle Bob loves a party. He and Auntie Pen used to have a bonfire night every June and invite half the district. When I was little, Mum would put me to bed early but Uncle Bob always snuck in and got me so I wouldn’t miss out. Everyone needs an Uncle Bob.’
‘This is for Milo.’ Bob pushed a little wooden trolley with red wheels towards the baby. ‘It’s a walking toy. The blocks give it enough weight so he can stay steady and push it around.’
Lachlan bent down and built a short stack with the blocks. Laughing, Milo knocked them down. ‘Is that fun, squirt?’ Lachlan built them up again.
‘You did exactly the same thing with the ones I made you,’ Bob said.
Jade stared at him, not believing what she’d just heard. ‘You made the wagon and the blocks?’
Bob nodded. ‘I like to dabble in a bit of woodwork. This is for you.’
He passed her a small box wrapped in a green ribbon. Inside, a pair of earrings fashioned from three different pieces of polished wood nestled on cotton wool.
Without thinking, Jade hugged him. ‘They’re beautiful. Thanks.’
‘No worries.’
Then Fiza gave her a card, and Lachlan mumbled something about ‘not being much’, which turned out to be a bar of lemon myrtle scented soap wrapped in plain tissue paper.
Helen shoved a tiny green plant in a recycled black pot towards her. ‘It’s a peace lily. Look after it and it’ll flower eventually.’
Jade suddenly got hot and uncomfortable, which was dumb because who didn’t enjoy getting presents? But she couldn’t stop herself thinking how this random group of people had done more to make her feel special on her birthday than her family. Familiar hurt rose up and bit her as savagely as a pit bull. Before she could stop herself, she was saying tersely, ‘Of course I’ll look after it!’
‘Good,’ Helen said. ‘Lachlan, you got those pizzas under control? People are arriving in five minutes.’
Lachlan winked at Jade. ‘Halal pizza ready in ten and then I’ll tie some balloon animals for the kids.’
The party rolled out across the afternoon. Although Bob had told everyone not to bring anything, the women arrived with plenty of food to share. Jade ate so much she thought she’d burst. It was a truly happy occasion, but not even her buzz from the sparkling wine or the many compliments for her cake were enough to keep despair at bay when everyone sang happy birthday to Milo.
Lachlan took a photo of her and Milo blowing out his candle, but when Jade looked at it she didn’t see their smiling faces, only the absence of Corey.
Aima laughed at Milo whose cheeks were smeared with blue icing and chocolate cake. ‘He likes this food. Maybe I make for my daughter.’
Jade wiped Milo’s face and hands. ‘A three ca—’
‘Fuck, Jade. What the hell?’
The easy chatter of conversation died. All heads swung towards the angry voice.
‘Corey?’ Surprise and delight shot Jade to her feet. ‘Everyone, this is Corey. Milo’s dad.’
‘G’day, Corey.’ Bob stretched out his hand.
But Corey was looking past him to Milo, who was sitting on Aima’s lap. Jade followed his gaze and her pleasure at his unexpected arrival vanished as wariness stalked in. She’d told him she wouldn’t bring Milo to the garden.
Corey moved towards Aima, but Jade moved faster, scooping up their son. ‘Look, buddy,’ she said brightly. ‘Daddy’s here for your birthday.’
Corey threw his arm around her waist and dug his fingers into her skin. He ducked his head in close, his eyes sparking like flint, his breath all beer fumes. His words came out tight and low. ‘I’ve been waiting two f-ing hours.’
Her heart rate picked up. Corey must have sunk more than a couple of beers while he’d waited. ‘I didn’t think—you didn’t say you were coming.’
‘I don’t need to. You should be home waiting for me instead of here with stinking scum.’
Her skin flashed hot and cold. ‘Shh, they’ll hear you.’
‘So? They’re brainwashed not to have any feelings. It’s why they blow people up so easily. What I care about is how you’ve wrecked the surprise.’
His claim tangled with the message his infrequent contact sent, but well-honed survival skills told her not to mention it. ‘It’s an awesome surprise. Thank you.’
She kissed him, not only to placate him but to give herself time to think of how to fix this. How to make him feel appreciated and involved. Although they’d cut and eaten Milo’s cake, hers was still intact.
‘Now you’re here, let’s sing happy birthday to Milo and get a photo to put next to the one of us when he was born.’
His grip tightened, pinching her. ‘Have you lost your freakin’ mind? I’m not singing happy birthday with apes or terrorist scum who don’t even know the words.’
The silence behind her intensified. Jade didn’t know where to look or what to do. If she told Corey to shut up, he’d go ballistic. If she told the women he was drunk and he didn’t mean what he said, his reaction would likely be the same.
‘Everything okay, Jade?’
She jumped at Lachlan’s voice.
Corey spun around to face him. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘A friend of Jade’s.’
‘Is that right?’
Corey was shorter than Lachlan but he took a step towards him and puffed out his chest. Some of Jade’s delicious lunch rose to the back of her throat and her already highly tuned radar flicked onto high alert.
‘Corey, let’s go home.’
He shook off her arm and kept his gaze on Lachlan. ‘Well, friend of Jade’s, I’m the father of her kid, so fuck off.’
‘Corey!’
‘I’m not disputing who you are,’ Lachlan said evenly. His gaze was fixed on Jade, his forest-green eyes full of questions. ‘I was just asking Jade if she’s okay.’
Her heart raced like a cornered rabbit. ‘Yeah, all good. But Corey’s tired after a long drive, so we should go.’
‘You sure?’ Bob asked. ‘We haven’t cut your cake.’
The kindness and concern in his eyes matched Lachlan’s, but instead of circling her in caring warmth, it suddenly spiked and prickled like pity. Her spine stiffened. Sure, Corey was drunk right now, possibly stoned, but they didn’t know him like she did. He’d come back for her and Milo’s birthday. That was love. That was family.
‘Can you drive, Jade?’ Helen’s voice cut across the loaded silence.
Helen could be so random. Of course she couldn’t drive. She’d never had the chance to learn or a car to practise in. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
Helen inclined her head towards Corey who was jangling his keys.
Before Jade got pregnant, she’d ridden in the ute with Corey when he was high. Then it had been all about danger and exhilaration. Putting it up her mother who hated Corey. Hated her having any fun. But she still remembered the time Corey had played chicken, stopping the car millimetres from a tree. His laugh. Her terror. She wasn’t that girl any more. She was a mother and she must protect Milo. Must protect Corey.
‘We’ll walk home,’ she said firmly.
‘I’m not bloody walking!’ Corey said.
Lachlan opened his mouth, but Bob shook his head. ‘How about I drive the three of you home? Corey, you don’t want to give Denny North the satisfaction of taking your licence away, eh?’
At the mention of the police sergeant, Corey let rip a string of expletives. Surprisingly, he handed over his keys.
After
Bob left the unit, Jade’s cake sat on the kitchen bench looking like a woman who’d worn an evening gown to a barbecue. Milo reached for the sparkly decoration, sobbing when she whipped it out of the cake and out of his reach.
He didn’t stop crying when she put his number one candle in its place and lit it. Or when she jiggled him up and down cooing, ‘Shh, buddy, it’s okay.’ He’d tipped from tired into exhausted and nothing would placate him. The family selfie would have to wait.
Fighting disappointment, Jade took him to his room. After he was settled in his cot, she washed her hands and looked in the mirror, surprised at what she saw. She didn’t usually do anything with her hair or wear make-up, but in honour of their birthdays, and so she looked half decent in the photo, she’d made an effort and styled her hair.
Corey was sitting on the bed when she came out of the bathroom. He looked happier than he had at the garden and the knot in her stomach loosened.
‘You want your birthday present?’
Excitement skittered inside her. ‘You got me a present?’
‘Yeah.’
His hands were empty and she couldn’t see a box or parcel on the bed or anywhere. ‘Where is it?’
He patted his crotch. ‘Right here. Come and get it.’
It surprised her how much effort it took to smile—as if the muscles in her face were fighting setting concrete. Of course he was the present. He’d come home for her and Milo. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted more than anything?
After sex that was faster than usual, she left Corey sleeping, ran a bath and finished herself off. Not that she wasn’t used to doing that, but doing it on her birthday sucked.
When the water began to cool, she washed herself, luxuriating in the clean and crisp scent of the soap Lachlan had given her. Her hands stalled between her legs. She dropped the bar and stood up fast, drying herself with a scratchy towel until the only sensation was pain.
When she grabbed clean clothes from the bedroom, the bed was empty. She walked into the small living space, but Corey wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen. She heard the distinctive roar of his ute and lifted the sheet that doubled as a curtain on the front window to see the vehicle disappearing down the road.
