When I was little, I used to climb onto his lap and snuggle up with them. My butthead brother was usually zooming his cars around on the floor, so my ankles were safest tucked up on the sofa.
“Why do you cuddle Mummy so much?” I asked him one time as I traced the edges of his beard.
“Because I love her. She’s smart and funny, and she makes me feel like I’m her hero every day. Plus…don’t know if you noticed…but she tells the best bedtime stories.”
I giggled. She did. She did all the character voices no matter how tired she was.
Mum stuck her finger in her book and nuzzled his neck so he’d turn to give her a kiss. Then, she went back to reading, and he went back to looking out at the ocean with a smile on his face.
Sometimes, they told my brother and me to scoot off to Uncle Cain’s to play with the twins. Uncle Cain claimed they were making me a sister, but I never got one. I guess it wasn’t for lack of trying, though…
I’m standing in the same kitchen I remember from a hundred afternoons after school. Mum used to stand at the sink, fixing me a snack while she listened to me rattle off every drama from my day. I hadsomany. I’m not as patient as Mum or Dad. How do people stay so still when the world is so exciting? I’ll miss seeing…something.
Now, I guess I am standing still. I’m ticking off my checklist of everything that’s done—and still needs to be done—for the party.
Dad wanders into the kitchen. He stops beside where I’m huddled over the kitchen countertop with my binder spread out.
“Missed you, peanut.” He kisses the top of my head. “What time did you get in?”
“I flew in last night.”
He frowns. “Ada.” He worries too much about me driving at night.
And Iknowhe would’ve driven all the way to Launceston to pick me up, but then he’d see all my suitcases, and then he’d ask questions about why I have so much “junk,” andthenhe’d figure out I’m planning a surprise party for them.
“I’m a perfectly good driver,” I insist.
“Youdrove?”
“Yeah?”
“Not that…guy?”I know the word he wants to say instead isdickhead. That’s what he says to Mum when he thinks I’m not listening.
“I left Scott.”
“In Melbourne or…?”
“No. Left. Dumped. Dropped. He’s kaput.”
Dad tries to pretend he’s not elated by this news, but I see the serene smile that tugs at his lips when he looks at the fading Polaroids stuck on the fridge of our family vacations all over the world. He never wanted a picture of my dumb boyfriend joining the fridge. He thinks I have terrible taste in men. He’s not necessarily wrong…
I change the subject by asking, “Where’s Master Jacob?”
“Your brother’s still sleepin’ off a late night.”
I roll my eyes. My older brother’s such a manwhore. He’s trying to reclaim the legendary mystique of Dare before he married Auntie Grace. Jake’s always having a “late night” and then scurrying home to the safety of Mum and Dad. He’s twenty-three and still a child. The fact that he’s learning to take over the trawler from Dad is a complete joke. He can’t even remember a girl’s name, let alone run our family business.
“I’ll go say hello,” I say.
Dad spots my evil grin. He’s got that deep frown on his face again. “Ada, be nice to your brother.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I kiss his cheek.
No way in hell, Daddy.
The hallway creaks as I storm to my brother’s bedroom and throw open the door. Sunlight floods the room. Jake’s enormous body outgrew the single bed years ago, and his hairy blond legs dangle over the edge. At least the comforter’s covering his “worst bits” today. The lazy bum should get his own place already.
“Morning, sunshine,” I sing.
