All The Little Moments

by G. Benson

Coffee, say, two? Though I have no idea where to go in this city. I know lots of nice places in Brisbane. ;)

  And a quick text to her mother:

  Hey Mum, can you come over and watch the kids from two tomorrow for a couple of hours? I thought I’d get coffee with one of the women from work.

  She sipped her wine as she stubbed out her cigarette, hiding the butt in the packet. Her phone gave a single bleep.

  Well, I know you know where the hospital is. Two streets over, Campbell Drive? There’s a coffee place called Campbell’s. Meet you there at two? Their coffee is not as bland as their name.

  Anna smiled and texted Kym back.

  Campbell’s it is. I’m looking forward to it, bland coffee or not.

  And she genuinely was.

  Anna was looking up at the sky again, finding shapes in the stars, when her phone gave another bleep. Looking down at it, she snorted.

  Her mum.

  Oh thank God, you’re not turning into a hermit. I’d love to have Fella and root for the afternoon.

  Smirking at the hilarity of autocorrect, she waited. Sure enough, it bleeped again six minutes later. Anna sipped her wine in amusement.

  Ella and Toby! I hate touchscreens. How do you communicate like this all the time? Call me from now on.

  “So my husband caught a tragic disease because he thought he was the new Crocodile Hunter and was in the north hunting them or something, which I found despicable. He got a cut on his leg, and played the hero, and didn’t get it seen to. It got infected, then spread, and, eventually, he went septic. Turns out he had some underlying kidney thing. They gave out, and bam, he died.”

  Anna tried to stop her mouth from dropping open. “That’s terrible.”

  Kym shrugged, “Tragic rating of nine, I’d say. We’d just started trying for kids.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah. Your turn.” Kym looked at her expectantly.

  Anna drew in a deep breath. She could do it like this, this half-joking, off-the-cuff way that they were sharing. She put her half-finished coffee on the table. “Okay. My brother and his wife died in a car accident, leaving behind two tiny children. My girlfriend of the time, Hayley, and I flew over for the funeral, and when they read the will, we found out he had named me guardian of the kids.”

  Kym’s eyes widened, but she just kept looking at Anna, waiting for more.

  “I never wanted kids, ever. It was why Hayley and I worked; we wanted the same things. But I agreed to take them on, and so Hayley left me. Now I live in my dead brother’s house and am attempting to raise his kids in a city that I hate.” Anna picked her glass back up. “No offense.”

  Kym leant back in her chair. “Whoa.” A playful smile crossed her lips. “Wait, you’re gay?”

  “That’s what you focussed on in all that?”

  “Yeah, well, the rest was too much like a soap opera. I’m glad it’s not just my life that reads like one.”

  “Nope, you’re not special at all.”

  “Obviously.”

  Surprisingly Anna was enjoying this. She barely knew Kym, and Anna was the kind of person who normally took a long time to warm up to someone enough to share intimate details. But here? Sitting in a coffee shop, rain pouring down outside, with a woman who could somehow get the grief she felt? Kym was funny, dry in a way that Anna enjoyed. There was no pity party, no woe-is-us. There was just truth and a joke and the odd eye contact that spoke volumes. It made her comfortable, able to share.

  Maybe Melbourne wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Your husband was in Iraq?”

  Kym nodded. “Yeah, for years as a medic.”

  “And he ignored the highly inflamed, infected leg wound?”

  “Don’t get me started.”

  “Well, he did amazing work over there, I’m sure. My brother was there too, serving.” Anna still had trouble saying Jake’s name. It was something she found herself tripping over. “He spoke highly of the medics.”

  “How long did he serve?”

  “Six years. He moved into administration when Sally fell pregnant with Toby. He didn’t want to take the risk anymore.”

  “Were you and Sally close?”

  Anna ran her finger around the rim of her glass, eyes downcast. “We were.”

  “That must’ve been hard, losing your brother and a friend.”

  “It really was.”

  Kym tilted her head, waiting.

  “Sally and I got along the second we met. We used to stay up for hours drinking wine and just chatting. J—he loved that we were close. Since we were so close, he wanted me to like his wife.”

  “You and your brother were best friends?” Kym’s look softened. “That must have been nice.”

  “My father was a structural engineer; we moved a few times as kids. We stopped trying to make new friends every time and just…glued together.”

  “That’s actually really sweet. I don’t have any siblings.”

  “How did you meet your husband?”

  “He needed an evaluation post upon returning from Iraq.”

  “You got involved with a client?”

  “What? No. No, no.” Kym shook her head adamantly. “I need to remember to elaborate. It was before I worked in the hospital; I had an office with another psychiatrist. We met in the lobby of the building and ended up walking the stairs together. He was there to see my partner for a standard debriefing thing. Nothing dodgy.”

  Anna feigned relief. “Thank God. That would be a terrible beginning.”

  “Oh, completely.” With a soft look, she studied her coffee. “We were talking kids before it happened. He’d left the army and was working in a GP clinic, and everything seemed…like it was time.”

  “That sucks.” Anna rested her hand on Kym’s forearm. “Maybe we could get that printed on a T-shirt.”

  That made Kym crack a small smile.

  “You know,” Anna squeezed her arm gently. “I have two kids, if you want ’em?”

  The laughter was a relief. “You can keep them.”

  Pulling back, Anna relaxed against the back of her chair. “How is it? Getting through work in the hospital he passed away in?”

  “That’s the million dollar question.” Kym studied her almost-empty cappuccino. “It’s shit. He’s everywhere—in that hospital, at home. I’ve thought about leaving, but I don’t know. My life was always here. I like it here. I just don’t like that he’s not here with me. But,” she looked up, a small grin on her face, “there’s this great new anaesthetist starting.”

  “I hear she’s awesome.”

  “Is it a similar thing for you—living in that house?”

  “I guess it is. I avoid their room like the plague, though I really need to do something with it.” Anna fidgeted with her spoon. “Ella avoids it, too, but I’ve had to distract Toby a few times from sitting outside it, banging on the door.”

  “How young is he?”

  “He’s just gone sixteen months.”

  “Too young to get it.”

  “Exactly. Mostly I’m scared he’ll forget—or that he’s already started to. But then there’s Ella, who can’t seem to remember anything else. I don’t know what’s better for either of them.”

  There was a beat of silence. “How are you doing there?”

  Anna moved from the spoon to a sugar packet. “Some days I just feel like screaming—Like: Is this my life now? Really? Two kids and working? My time and energy dictated by their wants and needs? That’s not what I wanted.”

  Kym pressed her lips together, nodding.

  Guilt made Anna drop her eyes down to the table. “And that just sounded so selfish, didn’t it?”

  “Not at all. I was just thinking how incredibly selfless you’re being.” Kym seemed to sense the need to change the subject. “How’s Ella’s ar
m?”

  “Okay. She’s cranky and over the cast. I think the fibreglass one will make it easier; it’s lighter and waterproof.” Anna thanked the waitress as she put down another coffee for each of them. “And it’ll be colourful.”

  “The important things, then.” Kym smiled, pulling her new cup towards her.

  “Toby had his first tantrum the other day.”

  Kym winced. “How was that?”

  “Terrifying. Thank God we were at home. I’d rather a patient with malignant hyperthermia.”

  “So, you really weren’t a kid person before?”

  While she considered how to answer that one, Anna took a sip of her coffee. “I loved being an aunty. But kids just, they were something I knew a long time ago I didn’t want. It was never a decision I wavered in.”

  “And then you were forced to.”

  “Exactly. I…I don’t resent the kids, at all. For a while, I wanted my parents to take them, because kids don’t deserve to be with someone who doesn’t want them one hundred percent.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “My brother.” Anna sighed. “I remember him saying once that he never wanted the kids to grow up with our parents. He’d talked to Mum, even, to explain that he wanted it to be me. He just never really had the conversation with me—not in a way I realised we were having it, anyway.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I think he knew I would’ve said no.”

  “Well, can’t really argue with him now.”

  “Right?” Anna’s voice raised, and she winced as she looked around. “I may still be angry at him.”

  “Angry’s the easiest thing to be.”

  They exchanged a knowing look.

  Kym brought her mug up, elbows balanced on the arms of her chair as she leant back in her seat. “So. Lane’s nice, hm?”

  “Most unsubtle segue ever.”

  “I feel this coffee date has removed the need for me to be subtle.”

  Huffing, Anna looked up at the ceiling. “Lane’s nice, yes.”

  “I hear you ran her over with a shopping cart?”

  A flush spread over Anna’s cheeks. “Ah—maybe.” A thought occurred to her. “Wait, she told you about that? She talked about me before the ER?”

  Kym just grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

  Anna walked through the front door, and, before she could blink, a blur hit her legs. She looked down to see Toby wrapped around them.

  “Na!”

  Anna melted as he stared up at her with an adoring look in his eyes. She felt better than she had in weeks. It was amazing what joined grief between adults could do, how it could bring two people together.

  Toby tugged harder on her pants and she bent down and lifted him up, swinging him onto her hip. “Hey, little man.” She pressed her face against his soft baby cheek, and he pressed back against her. “What you been doing? You have fun?”

  “Poo!”

  Anna stopped dead in her walk to the kitchen and raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Poo, Na!” He was grinning, a smear of what looked like icing sugar on his face.

  Sandra poked her head around the door. “We went to the pool, Aunty Anna.”

  “Oh! Did you have fun at the pool, Tobes?”

  “Poo! Poo!”

  Biting back her mirth, she walked them into the kitchen to try and put him at the table where he had been destroying a piece of paper with a yellow crayon. The second she lowered him down, Toby immediately tried to crawl back up her again, making whining noises. She made eye contact with her mother but picked him up; he settled back on her hip, content.

  Anna leant over and kissed Ella on the top of her head. She was colouring in, a serious look of concentration on her face. “Nice job, Ella Bella.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kids took praise so readily.

  Her mother was icing cupcakes. “Busy afternoon, Mum?”

  “We went to the pool for an hour and then made cupcakes—I thought you could take them to Toby’s day care.”

  Take cupcakes? Good God. She needed a handbook. “Thanks. They look great.”

  “The kids helped me ice them.”

  Eyeing the uneven blobs of pink frosting, Anna pursed her lips. “They look…amazing.” The wink Sandra sent her made her look away to hide her amusement.

  Finally, Toby was settled at the table with some crayons and paper. On a whim, she walked over and wrapped her arms around her mother from behind. Sandra put down the icing spatula and turned, wrapping her arms around Anna. As her mother’s fingers dug tightly into her back, Anna realised she needed to do this more often. Releasing her, Sandra eyed her. “What was that for?”

  “Nothing. I just love you.” Anna’s eyes widened as her mother’s welled up. Desperate to stop any tears, Anna pulled her back in for another hug.

  “Why are you hugging Grandma?”

  Over Sandra’s shoulder, Anna smiled at Ella, who was kneeling on her chair, looking at them both curiously. “Because sometimes people just need a hug.”

  Ella nodded and went back to colouring. “They do.”

  Sandra gave a sniff, a quick wipe of her eyes and went back to her cupcakes.

  With a smile still on her face, Anna walked around the kitchen bench and stood behind Ella’s chair, wrapping her arms around the girl’s middle. She lifted Ella up and squeezed her before plopping her back down again. Face buried in the back of the Ella’s neck, Anna blew raspberries until her niece finally giggled and tried to wriggle away.

  “Aunty Na! That tickles!”

  “What? I was giving you a cuddle.”

  “That wasn’t a cuddle!”

  “Oh, really?”

  And Anna did the whole thing again, while Toby yelled, “Poo!” repeatedly.

  When Sandra left, she grasped Anna’s forearm briefly and forced her to make eye contact. “You’re handling this, Anna. And not only that, but you’re doing brilliantly.”

  Anna swallowed past a lump as her mother whisked out the door.

  Hours later, after the kids were in bed, she wandered downstairs and opened the fridge. Her mother had prepared two lunch boxes, ready to go for the morning. Anna sent a silent thanks to her. At seven-thirty tomorrow morning, Anna would drop Ella off at her mother’s and Sandra would take her to school. Anna would get Toby to day care at the hospital and be ready to go for an eight a.m. start. They were yet to sort out night shifts and on calls, but they figured they’d just take them as they came.

  Guilt already plagued Anna about putting Toby in day care—he’d always been at home with Sally. Anna was worried he’d hate it, or she would be doing some kind of permanent damage, or Sally would’ve been disappointed.

  Really, she worried constantly.

  With more force than necessary, Anna closed the fridge and wandered over to the kettle, switching it on and pulling out tea bags. She placed one in a large mug, then stood and stared vaguely at it while waiting for the hot water.

  Ella was doing a little better, but Anna had caught her walking back from the bathroom that evening. She had edged along the wall past her parents’ room as if scared of it. When Anna had gone to read to her, she’d been quiet, almost pensive. Despite the times Anna could get a laugh from her, she was still mostly quiet and reserved.

  Anna supposed she should expect this behaviour to come and go for a long time. Maybe she should talk to Ella’s counsellor again. She’d chatted to both the counsellor and the teacher earlier in the week, a basic “let’s get everything back to normal for Ella” talk. But maybe the counsellor could offer more advice on what was normal and what wasn’t. Maybe there wasn’t any normal in this situation. The teacher had mentioned that Ella wasn’t playing with the other kids at school anymore, but, for now, everyone seemed to agree on not pushing her.
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  The kettle boiled, and Anna poured the hot water into her mug before adding a splash of milk, then sat herself down on the floor in the living room. Warmth from the tea washed over her face as she took a sip and leant against the couch, legs stretched out in front of her. She turned the TV on and flicked channels.

  It was so early, and the house was so still.

  In her earlier life, she would be at dinner or after-work drinks or simply sprawled on the couch with Hayley, exhausted yet relaxed. Here, though, everything was so permanent. Even though the kids were asleep, she had to sit here, stay near them. Out of nowhere, panic crawled up her throat. Even with the television playing, it was as if she could hear her own heartbeat speeding up.

  The reality of this life pressed in on her.

  And she felt very alone.

  Swallowing heavily, Anna tried to focus on her breathing and think about something else.

  Starting work tomorrow felt like she was really starting this new life, cementing herself in it. The tea was suddenly bitter on her tongue, and she tried to ignore the lingering traces of panic.

  She hadn’t heard from Hayley since the phone call that had left her irrationally angry. While she missed Hayley, the feeling was distant, like something Anna couldn’t quite let touch her, something removed from the life she was living now. Hayley felt like years ago.

  The life they had shared felt like years ago—a life focussed on their careers and, in reality, rarely seeing each other as they floated through work and social circles. But that didn’t stop this panic, this ache in Anna’s stomach. It didn’t stop the feeling that she was alone and very, very stuck.

  Reaching forward, Anna grabbed her phone and stared at it for a moment, debating.

  She needed a distraction. Desperately.

  Swallowing, she went for it.

  Hey, Lane. It’s Anna. Still up for that tour? I’m in HR until nine tomorrow.

  Six minutes later, her phone went off.

  Definitely still up for the tour. Turn down the HR one, the guy that takes you smells like BO. I’ll meet you at nine at HR with a coffee from the good coffee cart, and I promise to smell nice.