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35
Can I Get That In Writing?
Harrison squirmed on April’s knees and tried to reach the salt shaker.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she chastised. “Make you all wrinkly.”
Conversations rose all around us as cafe dwellers downed their flat whites.
She looked across the table towards me.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m doing OK,” I said.
She sighed.
Harrison found the pepper mill and waved it around gleefully.
“I just don’t get it,” she said.
“Get what?”
“Help me out here; it was so sudden. None of us expected it.”
“Me and Sean,” I said, sounding hollow.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. The noise of the cafe pressed in on all sides. People were watching.
“You were so good together,” she said sniffing. “You always looked so happy. I just don’t get it. Explain it to me, Kylee. Help me understand.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it.
I had no words for her that would make her stop crying.
* * *
“Thanks for coming,” Sean said. He looked like he’d lost weight.
“That’s all right,” I said, sitting down carefully in the seat opposite him.
He immediately reached out to grasp my hand.
It took everything in me not to pull back.
“I’m worried about you,” he said.
“About me?”
“Yes, about you. Kylee, I’ve always worried about you. And now Mum is worried too.”
“Your mother,” I said, voice flat.
“I agree with her. This is not like you. We’re worried.”
“You don’t need to worry about me, Sean. I’m doing fine.”
“That’s not what we’re worried about.”
