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28
Saline And Sandwich Wrap
“I’ve got a great idea,” Sean said.
I blinked at him over my cornflakes.
“We should paint the house.”
“Paint the house?” I asked. “We’ve only owned it for eighteen months.”
“It needs a coat of paint.”
I frowned.
“It’ll keep you busy. Keep you out of your head.”
“Why would I want that, Sean?” I demanded.
He studied me, narrowing his eyes.
“Because you need to keep busy, Kylee.”
“I’m writing today,” I said. “That’ll keep me busy.”
“No. I think we should paint the house. It’ll be good for you. Just what the doctor ordered.”
I stared at him, my body numb.
“I’ll go buy the paint and brushes,” Sean said, getting up from the table. “You put on some old clothes. You’ll probably get more paint on you than the house.”
* * *
Iswitched the Flymo off and let out a relieved breath. The lawn looked good, even if it was covered in a layer of cut grass.
“Wishmywife would do that!” my neighbour said.
I turned and looked at him. Arm up to my face to shield my eyes from the sun.
“Do what, Fred?” I asked.
“Mow the damn lawn.” He bent down and fiddled with his own lawnmower. His was a petrol one.
I stared at the Flymo and frowned.
I wish my husband wasn’t in Warkworth three days and three nights out of every six and didn’t take extra shifts on the very few of our days off that coincided.
* * *
The smell of burned flesh met my nose. My stomach lurched. Water hissed out of a fire hose. Firefighters in Martian-like suits walked with purpose across the front yard. Their bodies heavily loaded with oxygen tanks and huge face masks. The light of still flickering flames made patterns dance across their visors.
It looked like we’d walked onto an alien world.
Two people were brought out at once. My heart thudded painfully inside my chest.
“You take the conscious one,” John said. “I’ll grab the other.”
I nodded my head.
