Trick of the Light

by Fiona McCallum

  It was after the last one that Michelle had gone back to university and studied business to rise up the the ranks and pay grades in the notoriously low-paid child care industry. And she’d done bloody brilliantly – both in her studies and since. There had been a few occasions when Erica had sat in Michelle’s office waiting for her to go out to lunch or dinner together and she’d been impressed, and a little surprised, to see how well her friend shifted between being quite assertive, though always professional and polite, with her staff and then sweet and gentle to the kids, and back again. Though why she let Steph boss her around was beyond Erica.

  Erica looked up at hearing Steph taking orders – well, not taking, confirming. She didn’t remember sitting, but she was, along with Renee and Michelle either side of her. Steph was still standing. ‘Michelle – short black, Renee – latte, Erica – hot chocolate. Right?’

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ they all said. How does she know their favourite drinks? Erica wondered, frowning slightly. And then something that had been quietly bugging her suddenly made sense. She’d wondered these last few months how no one seemed to turn up or be visiting her at the same time. She’d never really thought about it much beyond how good it had been having a steady stream of company when she’d needed it – no masses of people at once and no huge amounts of time left alone those first months. Now it made sense; Steph had organised a roster. She’d recruited the others, and most likely Mackenzie and Issy, and staggered the meetings, the phone calls, the meals, and the few outings. Her heart soared and she longed to reach out and hug her darling friend and cousin. She was a little ashamed that her next thought was she was glad she hadn’t confided her money issues to anyone, especially Mackenzie and Issy. And she’d come close. But while they were her best friends, she wasn’t ready for Steph to organise her. Or, worse, seethe on her behalf. Or, even worse still, set up a GoFundMe appeal for her. Though Steph despised people not taking responsibility for their own shit, so perhaps she wouldn’t do that. But she would be scornful of Stuart and that would be just as bad, if not worse.

  Erica sat back in her chair as Steph waved away all their offers of money to pay for their drinks.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Renee and Michelle said at once, leaning in from their positions on either side of her. They each patted one of Erica’s legs.

  ‘Better with you guys here,’ she said, smiling from one friend to the other. ‘It’s awesome to see you.’

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell us. Steph did,’ Renee said.

  ‘And only because Mackenzie and Issy told me and thought you might be a mess,’ Steph said, sitting and putting a number 13 table marker down with a clunk.

  ‘Well, thanks. I appreciate it.’

  ‘They’re also worried about you being too hermit-y.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been given a lecture. I just …’ Erica let the words trail off and offered a shrug instead. How could she explain? Even if she had the words, she was too tired to.

  ‘Don’t you dare apologise for being … whatever,’ Renee said. ‘You just need to do what’s right for you. Whatever that is.’

  ‘Yes, exactly,’ Michelle said.

  ‘Hmm,’ Steph agreed. Though Erica wouldn’t mind betting she wanted to say something more stirring. Steph liked to fix. And quickly. No doubt at some point Michelle had utilised her managerial persona and put Steph in her place. Because they must have had meetings – or at least Facebook or email chats – about what to do with and about Erica. She loved that they cared so much, but didn’t want to be in the position of needing it.

  ‘Just be careful you don’t lose touch with the outside world completely, Erica,’ Steph said.

  ‘So, are you working tomorrow?’ Renee asked, neatly changing the subject.

  ‘Yes. It’ll be good to have the distraction,’ she said.

  ‘The girls will be fine,’ Steph said. ‘They’re level-headed, not prone to silliness.’

  ‘Yes, you should be really proud of what lovely people they’ve turned out to be – that’s a real credit to you,’ Renee said.

  ‘Thanks, Renee.’ Though knowing how lovely they are will make me miss them even more. At that moment their drinks were delivered.

  ‘So how long are they going for?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘A year. Or until the money runs out, apparently. Or Mackenzie becomes too bossy for Issy’s liking. I hope they don’t split up. But I can’t worry. I’m determined not to.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Steph said. ‘And it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if they went their separate ways and were a bit more independent,’ she added.

  ‘But they’re only babies,’ Michelle said, looking at Steph aghast. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine,’ she said, turning to Erica and patting her hand.

  ‘Well, whatever they do is out of all of our hands anyway,’ Steph said. ‘I wonder if it’s better or worse having Facebook and the like to watch their every move.’

  ‘Not their every move,’ Erica said. ‘I’ve been told I’m going to be spared the worst of it. They said they were joking, but I’m sure they probably really have set up a group with their friends for the what Mum doesn’t know won’t hurt her stuff. No doubt that’s what they’ll have called it.’ She smiled. The truth was she was more worried about her situation than the girls. She could have some influence over the finances, but thanks to Stuart’s illness and death, she knew all too well how much was out of human control. ‘They even suggested I might like to consider dating – that they’d be fine with me meeting someone. Not getting married again, mind you.’

  ‘Good for them. Though it’s pretty soon, isn’t it?’ Michelle said. ‘Are you thinking of …?’

  ‘Hell no. God, way too soon. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. I think they just wanted to tell me in person so I didn’t think they were joking or being sarcastic or anything.’

  ‘Fair enough. Because, who knows, by the time they’ve been gone for six, eight or twelve months or whatever, maybe you will be ready,’ Steph said.

  ‘There’s no knowing what the future holds,’ Renee said. ‘Just one day at a time and just one hour at a time on the bad days,’ she reminded Erica, using one of her favourite lines.

  ‘Yes, I’m just so glad I have work to focus on,’ Erica said, for something to say. She was a little uncomfortable under their scrutiny – a little uncomfortable being outside the house full stop, she thought with a jolt. She used to prefer being out to hanging around at home – had always wondered at Renee who said she’d never leave if she had it her way. Grief changed you in so many ways. Though it was the money too – simply stepping outside seemed to mean opening her wallet … She cringed inwardly at thinking how much her car parking was going to be. Though, at least she still had a car to park …

  ‘Thanks so much for coming out, you guys,’ she said. ‘It’s meant the world. But I’m wrecked.’ She finished her drink and got up.

  ‘Yes, I’d better be off too,’ Renee said, also getting up. Soon they were all walking across to the car park and hugging and saying goodbye in the lift as it stopped at each of the floors they’d parked on.

  ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ Steph said as the doors were closing to take Erica up to the next level.

  Chapter Five

  Erica popped an over-the-counter antihistamine sleeping pill as soon as she got home, knowing she’d never sleep without help tonight with wondering how the girls were. She knew if she let her guard down, she’d become obsessed and would sit up all night watching her phone and waiting for a text or online post to pop up indicating where they were – and that they were safe. She had to stay cool, as Mackenzie and Issy would say, otherwise it would do her head in. And, then by the time six months had passed she’d be a complete wreck. She went through her face cleansing ritual and pretended nothing had changed, ignored the voice inside her saying she was now all alone in the big house and instead telling herself nothing had changed – they had been coming and going for months. This was no different from th
em being out at work of an evening. She often went to bed without waiting for them and had even learnt to sleep through their arrival home. That had taken her about six months after each had got their driver’s licences. And of course she’d had Stuart to rely on – to shove out of bed to go and get them if the car wouldn’t start or something else had gone wrong. They’d never needed to go and rescue them, but it had still been a comfort knowing she didn’t have to sleep with her mind and ears tuned to catch the ring of the phone.

  As she lay in bed now in the eerily silent house, she tried to push back the tears and feeling of additional loss that not only were the girls not coming home, but they wouldn’t even need her now. And if they did, she couldn’t get to them. She knew she was being ridiculous and outrageously self-pitying, but it also hurt a little to know they were off having such a great time. Not in the sense of jealousy – well, maybe a little, but she’d never admit that to anyone – but it heightened her sorrow.

  How good would it have been to be able to plan a trip with Stuart to meet up with them? Somewhere along the way. Stop it, brain, please. God, she wished she could stop missing him. She cursed not yet feeling the artificial drowsiness, the chemical that somehow stopped her dreaming and if she woke would send her straight back to sleep before her brain could latch on to anything coherent enough to keep her awake, before waking the next morning having slept, well, knowing she must have but not feeling completely refreshed but not as tired as if she hadn’t slept. Timing was everything with these pills – take too late or too many and she’d wake groggy and heavy, as if she’d pulled an all-nighter as a teenager minus the alcohol-induced headache and queasy stomach. The packet said one to two tablets but Erica had never had more than three quarters of one and usually half a tablet did the trick. Tonight she hoped she wouldn’t have to get up and top up with another quarter and increase the risk she’d feel crappy in the morning. She closed her eyes and focussed on her breathing and then cursed the rush of heat – bloody hot flush! – and stuck both feet out.

  A blast of cold air hit her, so cold it dragged her a little from her sleepy state. She frowned and wondered if she’d left a window open. She probably should get up and double-check everything was locked okay, but couldn’t muster the energy. The soft cottony cocoon and the artificial sleepiness pulling her close was too much to resist. She pulled her feet back under the covers and dragged the quilt up to her chin and gradually began to feel the day and evening’s events slipping away from her down towards the end of the bed.

  ***

  The following morning, Erica woke and lay, as was her habit, with her ear tilted up for a few moments to listen to the sounds of the house, taking a few moments to remember that she was now alone. She leant over and dragged her phone from the top of the bedside cupboard, her heart in her mouth as she unlocked it and then let her breath out – which she didn’t realise she’d actually been holding – as she read the text from the girls, via Mackenzie’s number:

  Travel is exhausting! But all good Mum. M & I ♥ Xx

  She typed out a reply about how much she was missing them, and was just about to press send when something stopped her. She deleted all but two kisses and a heart symbol. She had to let the girls be. They were fine. She was fine – sad and lost, but fine. There was nothing they could do to make her feel better, except be home of course. And now was their time.

  As she showered and got ready for work, Erica thought about how different her parents might have been if there’d been widespread mobile use back when she’d left home, and concluded they would have let her know she could call any time – about anything, using reverse charges, and come home any time she liked. She’d survived. And so had they. She’d thrived. Knowing they had her back but weren’t pining for her might have subconsciously helped her enjoy her trip so much more, as had knowing everything was just the same back home. That’s how we have to do this, she told her reflection. She’d settled into life with the girls and without Stuart – that was the new normal. Now the new new normal – or new 2.0 as the girls would probably tag it – was life without Stuart and without the girls. Alone. But she wasn’t really alone. While she might not have the emotional safety net of actively involved parents, she did have three very wise and supportive friends. And while they had their own busy lives, she knew they would drop everything for her if necessary – they’d already proven that. Just knowing it was a huge weight off Erica.

  ‘You’ve got this,’ she told herself as she finished putting the lid on her travel mug of coffee and left the house just in time to catch her usual bus, a five minute walk away at the end of the street.

  She smiled and nodded in greeting at the friendly faces of those she shared the bus with. The familiarity was nice. Most of them travelled so regularly they tended to sit in the same seats, though it didn’t always work considering the many who worked on rotating schedules that included weekdays and weekends. If only the bus timetables worked the same all seven days. Weekends, especially Sundays, could be a pain with a lot of time wasted waiting at stops.

  ‘Hiya,’ her seat neighbour, uni student Alicia, said. ‘Lovely day.’

  ‘Good morning. Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ Erica said as she settled herself. They only knew sparse details about each other and didn’t cut below the top layer of conversation – weather, major news items and society in general.

  As the bus got under way, she longed to tell her companion of her new empty-nest status. But Alicia had her head in her phone, earbuds in her ears. And, anyway, maybe it was a good idea for Erica to keep a lid on it. Don’t give it air. She’d read that somewhere – or perhaps it was advice from Renee or one of the others. For what, she couldn’t remember.

  Talking about it wouldn’t help the girls be back any sooner and might just annoy people. Most likely when she started she’d rave on and on about her girls and become just another boring old mother to the much younger woman. It is what it is. No point going on about it, Mum, she could practically hear Mackenzie say. And at least they were coming back. Sometime. And even if they didn’t – though, god, just the thought of that caused a boulder-sized lump in her throat – they could still be contacted. Again, she experienced awe at how well her parents had kept their feelings to themselves all those years back. They must have been devastated when she’d told them that she and Stuart planned to stay permanently in LA and then again when they’d arrived back and said they weren’t planning to stay in Adelaide for longer than a few years. They’d been so accepting and supportive. She was only just beginning to fully appreciate how hard it must have been for them, during all those phone calls, to keep their voices steady. Erica had been having a ball and was not at all homesick. Had it hurt them that they’d moved back because of Stuart’s family and not hers? No, she couldn’t take that on – she was just giving in to her vulnerability. His family had needed them; Helena and Arthur hadn’t. She’d have come back, they’d have come back, if they’d needed to for them.

  ‘Thank you,’ they each called to the driver and muttered, ‘Have a good day,’ to each other as they spilled out the centre doors of the bus and into the city. Most regulars tended to get off at one of three stops. Sometimes if Erica had caught an earlier bus she got off a stop before or the one after and walked the extra to pass the time. She loved the city of Adelaide – mainly for the things others put it down for: its sleepiness, lack of bustle and noise. As much as she’d loved the excitement and promise of LA she loved the friendliness of Adelaide, the ease of getting around – though public transport beyond straight in and out of the CBD could be a bit hit and miss, and taking the car into the suburbs was a better option.

  This morning the rich and varied fragrances that merged in the ground floor of the large department store were an assault on her already delicate disposition. Quite often at work she didn’t even notice the strong scents wafting around her and was always shocked at their strength when she came in after taking time off. Sometimes she loved it, other times it made her cringe, a
nd sometimes it even gave her a headache or an inescapable sense of claustrophobia. But it usually seemed to slide back away from her consciousness just a few minutes after arrival so she barely noticed it. Though, she didn’t wear perfume these days because of it – preferred to give herself a break overnight. She wasn’t sure if that’s why neither Mackenzie nor Issy wore any either – perhaps their age group generally weren’t big perfume wearers, though in that case Katy Perry, Beyoncé and the rest should revisit their business models.

  Erica was always amazed at the array of scents on offer and was regularly asked by men to help them choose something for their loved one, even though her counter didn’t sell perfume. She might have sucker written on her head, though she preferred to think she looked friendly and approachable. Whatever it was, for some reason they seemed to gravitate towards her for assistance.

  These days choosing for men and women offered the same issue of too much variety, Erica thought, and seeing as the biggest problem always was taking a punt on how a perfume would smell on the wearer’s particular skin, more choice definitely didn’t help. Erica thought people trying to choose a lipstick or shade of eyeshadow had it much easier – a direction she often gently tried to steer them in if given the chance. Men were better at remembering whether their loved one wore pink or red lipstick than they were at distinguishing between oriental style floral or floral floral. It was a minefield.