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I press my lips together as they continue to spill down my cheeks. ‘Hard to tell with us. The two seem to blend.’
He doesn’t speak for a full minute. ‘I wasn’t sure if I should call. Feels a lot like tearing scabs off wounds.’
‘Scabs? Scabs cover superficial wounds. You and me, we’re misaligned broken bones.’
There’s another spell of silence. ‘If you want me to stay away, I’ll stay away. If it’s too hard, too much, too late…’
It’s all those things. ‘Come anyway.’
‘Okay.’ I hear him swallow. ‘I’ll come.’
He doesn’t hang up.
‘Don’t you have a celebration at the spillway?’ I ask.
‘Don’t you have pizzas to order?’
I laugh once. ‘Yeah, I do. I’ve got lots to tell you when I see you.’
‘Good things?’
I close my eyes, savouring the sound of his voice. ‘Yes.’
‘Great. Well, I’ll call you when I have dates figured out.’
I sniff. ‘And I’ll answer the phone in an appropriate manner.’
‘Don’t do that. The inappropriate way is much more entertaining.’
When he hangs up, I continue to hold the phone to my ear as I process the conversation. This impossible hope is soaring inside me. My heart is so full from one phone call, one I’ve waited three years to receive. So I remain there, feeling everything, until a stranger eventually stops and asks if I’m all right.
I assure them I’m fine, and they walk on.
Only when I feel tears running over my lips do I realise I’m crying again. I brush them away. Hunter’s coming to Brisbane. His dad’s free. He’s free. I’m not really sure what that means yet, but I know I’m not going to waste any time being angry at him.
I take a moment to pull myself together, slipping my phone into my bag and wiping my face with both hands. I look across the street to the pizza shop, then, drawing a breath, step down off the kerb, pausing for the car approaching on my right.
I don’t see the motorbike behind it.
