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Dani looked at her, blinking. “Why do I always feel like I have to get everything perfect?”
“Because you’re taking your eyes off the goal. You don’t have to get a perfect GPA in order to do well at university. The point of university is to become qualified for a profession so you can make a living to support yourself and any future family. It’s not to be valedictorian.”
Dani’s eyes glistened with tears. “I’ve been so afraid of failing.”
“Is that why you left school, honey?”
“I don’t know,” Dani cried, wiping her eyes with her fingertips. “I know I don’t want to be a social worker, but I also know I was constantly anxious. I did so well in high school, but university is a completely different thing. I felt like I was failing, even though technically I wasn’t. And I had this feeling that I had to be perfect, to do everything better than everyone else, or I wasn’t good enough.”
Bea wrapped her up in a hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry you felt that way. You don’t have to be perfect, or good, or really anything at all. I’m proud of you for being you.”
“Thanks, Mum.” She sniffled and wiped her nose. “I have to stop being so hard on myself.”
“That would be a good start. I should do that too.” Bea chuckled. “We Rushton women are perfectionists, but perhaps you and I can finally break that curse.”
“That would be good.” Dani squeezed her hand. “Thanks for being here with me, Mum. I really couldn’t do this without you.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Later back at the house, Bea sat outside to watch the sun set with a glass of wine in one hand. She wrapped her cardigan more tightly around her body as the wind picked up and howled under the eaves.
“Can I join you?” Bradford asked, setting his beer bottle on the table and pulling a chair out to sit.
“Of course.”
“It’s a little chilly for me,” he said, pointing to the woollen beanie on his head with one finger. He still wore board shorts and had a sleeveless fleece on over his T-shirt.
“Queensland winter clothes,” she muttered, shaking her head.
He laughed. “Of course, I have the Ugg boots on as well.” He raised a foot to show her.
She held up a similar boot. “Me too.”
“So, tell me, sis. How are you really going?”
She frowned. “I’m coping, which is surprising to me. I honestly thought I’d fall apart, but I’ve been so busy getting the house packed up, selling it and moving to Coral Island that I haven’t had enough downtime to let myself go.”
“Maybe it’s time to do that.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “Although I don’t think that would help anyone.”
“You can’t push through something like this. You have to feel it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you learn that at yoga camp?” She often joked about his hippie past. While she was at university and getting married to start a family, he’d spent a few lost years travelling around the world with a backpack containing everything he owned. He’d done yoga on the beach in Bali and meditation in Costa Rica. He’d had all the adventures she’d have loved to have experienced but couldn’t because she made the sensible, mature choices.
“I learned it from my psychologist.”
“You have a psychologist?” Her eyes widened as she took a sip of wine.
“Don’t mock it until you try it.” He feigned humour, but she could tell he was offended by her tone.
“Sorry, Bradford, of course. I’m glad you’ve found someone to talk to. Just surprised.”
He dipped his head. “I know I’m not exactly the forthcoming type. But I’ve found it helpful.”
The sun dipped towards the horizon, sending shafts of pink and orange light shooting out over the ocean. The water appeared black as it surged towards the shore.
“Good for you. But I don’t know how to allow myself tofeelbeing rejected by my husband and losing everything I thought my life would be at this point. I don’t want to,” she admitted. “It’s too much, too hard.”
