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Part III
30
What Was There To Say?
The cicadas were chirping. Their song filled the late-night air. Music wafted in from the house. The lights were all blazing brightly.
Jody sat on one side of me; Cathy, on the other. I’d been crying.
I looked into the corner of the garden, where we’d buried one of our cats when it had been hit by a car. A small cross sat at an odd angle. X marks the spot.
I stared at his name etched on white while Meat Loaf sangTwo Out Of Three Ain’t Bad.
“Are you sure about this?” Cathy asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“This can’t be happening,” Jody said.
“It’s happening,” I told her.
“But you two…” she didn’t finish her words.
“How are you going to do this?” Cathy asked.
“I’ll look for a flat out east.”
“Is that the right thing to do?” Jody asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s only been two years,” Jody said.
I didn’t say anything.
“You’ve got to try and fix this,” she added.
Cathy didn’t say anything.
“I know you’ll do the right thing, Kylee,” Jody declared.
“Doing what’s right for Kyleeisthe right thing,” Cathy said.
* * *
The real estate agent walked me through the two-bedroom flat.
“It’s brand new. Never been let. You’ll be the first to live here.”
“Is the phone on?”
“No. You’ll have to pay for that.”
“There doesn’t seem to be security stays on the windows,” I remarked.
“No. But the landlord won’t mind you putting them on if you hire a professional.”
I stared at the front door. It was solid. And blank at the end of the narrow hall.
