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“I don’t know,” I said. “The will said it was for me only. For experiences of a lifetime.” I gestured to the clothes. “I’m really not sure this counts. It’s just some clothes. Pops worked hard for that money… I don’t want to waste it…” Tears pricked at the thought, at the memory of having the five grand transferred to my savings account and knowing it was his final gift. His instructions had been clear.
This is for Jodie, and Jodie only. It is to be spent on life. On living the dream. On the experiences of a lifetime, just for her, courtesy of old Pop Pop.
Tonya squeezed my arm, squeezed it hard. “Pops would count this as living,” she said. “Pops would know how hard you’ve worked, how hard you’ve tried, know everything you’ve sacrificed to bring those girls up.” She smiled, and she was sad, too. “It’s your time,” she said. “The time you find yourself again. This is an experience of a lifetime.” She sighed. “Please, Jo, if you’re not going to let me buy these clothes for you, then at least let Pops do it. I know he’d want to.”
I looked at the clothes again, and she was right. He would want to. I know he would.
“I feel good in them,” I mumbled to myself. “It’s so nice to feel good again.” I looked at the scarlet top, remembered how amazing I’d felt in it. “Maybe this really is the experience of a lifetime – finding myself again after all this time. Maybe it’s the start of a whole new world.”
Tonya nodded. “Definitely.”
Could I do this?
I weighed it up, back and forth. I mean, once I’d started spending it, would I be able to stop? It’s a slippery slope, right? This living. I’d got used to scrimping and saving, used to making do and putting the kids first, putting Nanna first, putting the essentials first. The non-essentials, too, just so long as they weren’t for me.
Moment of truth and I let my heart make the call. I walked quickly, quickly enough that my frugal, responsible self couldn’t step in and trash the whole thing for me. I handed the clothes over at the register and presented the card with a flourish.
I keyed in the numbers I’d memorised by heart and waited for the transaction to go through.
It went through just fine.
Tonya said very little as we exited the store. I don’t think she could quite believe it.
She was even more surprised when I walked a circuit back through our previous locations for the rest of the maybe-I’ll-come-back-for-thems too.
Living sure felt good.
“I didn’t spend much of it, not really,” I justified as Tonya and I piled through my front door.
She dropped her bags in the hallway next to mine. “I know that. It’s you who’s having the problem with it.”
Not a problem enough to take any of the items back, nor the cute little owl tunics I’d picked up for the girls, either. Or the plum silk headscarf I’d grabbed for Nanna. We could all live a little today, push the boat out.
“Wine?” I asked. “Just the one. A girly end to our girly day.” I checked the clock, Darren would be bringing the girls back any time now. My stomach flipped at the thought. Ridiculous. Like he hadn’t brought them home a million times before in the past seven years.
But not when I’ve had a freshly chopped, dark-cherry bob and a full face of makeup.
I grabbed a couple of glasses and asked Nanna if she was joining us. No, she said after gushing about my hair awhile. She only drinks on special occasions. Christmas and birthdays and Sundays. Sometimes a Saturday too. She was about to watch Question King anyway. She’d leave us girls to it.
Girls. I loved the way she still called us that.
Tonya let out a sigh, dropped into a seat at the dining table and held up her glass. “To new beginnings.”
I laughed. “To cherry-red haircuts, and gangbanging mechanics.” I paused. “And to Pops.”
“To Pops,” Tonya agreed.
We clinked glasses and took a healthy swig. I kicked back in the chair opposite, cast aside my heels and let my aching feet breathe.
“So,” Tonya said, and she had that mischievous look I’d come to know so well over the years. “Since every other horny bitch in the village is chomping at the clit for some Bang Gang servicing, where do you sit on it?”
I almost spat my wine out. “Sorry?!”
She scoffed at me. “Jodie Symmonds, like I don’t know you. Don’t even try and tell me you haven’t thought about it, no matter how pissed off you are.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, but my cheeks were scorching.
She laughed. “I knew it.” Her grin was wide. “Bodywand? Many times over, right? Was it about Trent? He featured, right?”
