God, it’s like being ten years old again. How did I know this was too good to be true?
I roll over, stuffing the pillow over my ears to try to block them out, and then I remember to check the time—already seven. Shit.
I push the duvet aside and stomp to the bathroom, annoyed that my parents are still acting like teenagers and I have to witness it.
When I’ve showered and dressed, I make my way into the kitchen to find my father sitting alone at the counter reading the news on his phone. Evidently he found the coffee alright since he’s got a steaming mug next to him.
“Morning,” I grunt, going to the fridge to get out the things for my breakfast.
“Morning.” He doesn’t look up from his phone.
“What was that all about?” I scramble ten eggs and set them in the pan without asking if he wants any. He will.
Dad shrugs. “Your mother always has strong opinions about whatever I do.”
I’m spreading avocado on my toast, not expecting him to elaborate, when he surprises me.
“She thinks I should have offered a lower price for my apartment. She already sold hers. We’re moving back in together.”
Ah, so that’s why they really turned up on my doorstep unannounced. I say nothing and just serve the breakfast, watching the clock. I’ve got about ten minutes before I need to be out the door.
Dad starts eating before I’ve even sat down. “Mmm. This is good.”
“So, are you going to call her or go check on her?”
He takes a large bite of eggs and toast and chews and swallows before he answers. “She’ll get over it.”
I turn away so he won’t see me roll my eyes. I doubt he wants my advice any more now than he did when I was a kid.
I finish my breakfast and put the dishes into the dishwasher. “I’ve got work. There are spare keys in the top drawer here. Make yourselves at home.” I mean, they already have.
The sky is blue and clear, and the feeble sun does its best to warm the air, but there’s still a distinct spring chill hanging around. My chest unlocks, though, as I drive in through the park gates.
When I stop the truck I have a message from Vera, and soon I’m smiling at her goofy morning selfie, not thinking about my parents at all. By the time I’m done checking my email and heading out to do the rounds of the picnic areas, I’m whistling a little tune to myself.
Maybe I just need to change my mindset. After all, wasn’t I the one telling Riley the universe believes in second chances?
Resolved to do better, I message Dad to ask what their plans for dinner are:I was thinking of doing some baked salmon and some new potatoes. Let’s make some time to have a proper catch up. I actually have some news for you as well.
To my surprise. he answers after only twenty minutes.
Hunter:Sounds good, son
I guess maybe they just got caught up in their own troubles when I was younger and didn’t realize they kind of forgot about me. I’m sure if we all make a bit more effort now we can patch things up and build something that looks like a workable relationship.
I think of Jamie and Tilly’s delight at meeting their grandchild, even if the situation wasn’t ideal, and how they’ve always made a point of prioritizing family, despite the tough hand life has dealt them. My parents would not have coped with either of thosescenarios if they’d had to face them, but it’s not fair to compare. We’re all on our own journey, and I’d sure like to build the sort of relationship with my parents that might mean they could be around for Vera and my cubs when we have them.
I may or may not spend the rest of the afternoon daydreaming about what our cubs would look like and whether they would take after me or Vera, whether they’d have her bright red hair or her cheeky grin. I hope they do. We’re not there yet, but I know one day she’ll make one hell of a mother.
TWENTY SIX
Vera
I think I check the time on my phone about a hundred times during my evening lecture. I’m already dialling Bas when I burst out of the doors, not even stopping to put my jacket on.
He answers a moment later, his deep voice gruff. “Hey.”
“Hey, are you OK? You didn’t get enough sleep, did you? You were a grumpy bear this morning.”
