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“You wound my heart, Lara, but I like being friends too.”
We hug, and I feel better about where we’re leaving things. I think we have an understanding now. Being firm and to the point helped. Shame I can’t be so open with Mallory.
* * *
Mallory’s in the garden with a few of my neighbours when I get home. Mr Hatta is holding up one of his magazines and they’re all nodding. The view gives me a chuckle, which I stifle. They’re all really getting into whatever they’re doing, including Mal. I never thought I’d see her as part of a community like this.
“Oh, hi, Lara,” Mr Hatta says.
“Welcome home,” Mallory says. We haven’t kissed since two nights ago, and we’re both acting like it never happened.
“Are you having fun?” I ask.
Mal gives me a thumbs up.
“To observe the best birds, you have to be patient. Stealthy. It’s like breathing. If you do it consciously, you’ll get better results,” Mr Hatta says, making everyone nod other than me.
Have I just stepped into an eighties wise old guy movie or a comedy? I smile and keep walking.
“I’m going to have a shower.” Mallory follows me into the house. She’s getting quick on the crutches. “What was that all about?” I ask once we’re alone.
“I haven’t a clue, but he makes standing around look interesting.”
“Not the birds, then?” She’s hopeless. I make us a drink of water and gulp mine down before wiping my mouth.
“We haven’t seen one bird from his list all day. It’s a slow hobby.” She sips her water.
“How long have you been out there?” I rinse my glass and place it on the draining board.
“You don’t want to know. Hey, do you mind if I join you in getting a shower?” Mallory asks causally.
My eyes widen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She waves her potted leg in the air. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to. I can’t wash my hair very well because I can’t get in the shower with the pot. What if I slip on the smooth floor or lose my balance because I can’t manoeuvre well? Leaning over the tub is painful and hard because I can’t reach everything with ease. Last time I tried to have a proper wash, the shampoo wasn’t completely out and my hair feels like it’s full of dirt. I’m admitting I need you. Please can you help me get more than a sponge down?” She sighs heavily.
I frown, feeling like a crappy friend. “Sorry, I didn’t realise. I feel bad now. Yeah, we can share a shower. I’ll help you clean up before I get in.”
“Thanks.” She smiles in pure happiness, which makes me feel worse. She must have swallowed her pride to ask for this. If I’d been more in tune, maybe I would have realised she had a problem. Her hair hasn’t been as glossy lately and she hasn’t worn make-up. I thought she was slumming it while she was resting. Now I think I might have got that wrong.
We slowly make our way upstairs, although Mallory is getting the hang of moving around. She takes off her T-shirt, sits on the toilet lid, and dangles her hair over the bath. I pull down the shower head and turn it on. It would be hard to navigate the water, shampoo, and not get wet through, so I can already see why she needed help with this. I wet her hair before placing the shower head inside the bath. Unfortunately, I misjudge the power of the water and it shoots up into the air, soaking us both. Mallory screams, and I laugh.
“Sorry.” I lean over and switch the shower off. Then I grab the shampoo and lather up the soap. Mallory’s already pulling away from the bath. “Hold still.”
“My back’s hurting.” Her tone is childlike, and I instantly feel like we’re back at school. I was the sensible one, even back then.
“If you hold still, this won’t take as long.” I sound like my mother and it makes me smile. I miss her so much, and it’s nice to remember her every so often.
“You should try holding still with a dicky leg and a cramped-up back.” She moans again, breaking my memory.
I rub her head a bit harder, messing with her. “Trust me, the complaining is enough to make me stop.” I playfully tut.
I switch on the water and wait for the temperature to settle. Mallory leans over the bath, and when the water is warm but not hot, I begin to rinse out the shampoo. I rub her hair and make sure I’ve got all the soap out before repeating the process, first with the shampoo, then with the conditioner. As I’m finishing up, Mallory puts her hand over the holes on the shower head, spurting water out in all directions. She laughs as I scream.
“I feel better,” she says between giggles.
Pressing the button, I switch off the water. “I don’t need a shower now, so you killed two birds with one stone. Mr Hatta must be teaching you something useful.”
Mr Hatta is probably telling her about different species rather than teaching her ways to add the word bird to lame jokes.
