by Paige Toon
‘Yes, please,’ I call back with a very croaky voice.
‘Milk, one sugar?’
I’ve actually cut out the sugar in the last few years, but I could do with a pick-me-up so I say yes. He brings it through a short while later, along with a couple of headache tablets which he tips onto my palm.
‘Where did you find these?’
‘Kitchen drawer.’
‘Nice one.’ I tuck them away.
He lifts up my feet and sits down, letting my legs drape across him. This is so weird. It’s as if we’ve slotted back into our past. He might be a wine buff now with a sexy chest, but he’s remarkably similar to the boy I used to know.
‘What was Liz’s face like?’ I ask him with a smirk.
‘She was pretty shocked,’ he replies, mirroring my look.
Out of the blue, I crack up at the thought of Liz finding him half naked on the sofa. My laughter must be infectious because soon we’re both clutching our sides.
The phone rings and I waggle my hand in its direction on the other side of the sofa, trying to stifle my giggles. Ethan passes it to me without answering it.
‘Hello?’ I say into the receiver.
‘Is that you, Amber?’
Christ, it’s Ned.
‘Hello!’ I cry, sitting upright and swinging my legs off Ethan’s lap.
‘Hey,’ he says fondly. ‘I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you before you go to the hospital.’
‘I’m heading in later.’ It’s an effort to sound bright and breezy, but I’m giving it a good shot. ‘What’s the time?’ I haven’t even looked at a clock yet.
‘It’s just after midnight here,’ he replies as Ethan shoves his watch in my face. ‘I don’t know about where you are,’ Ned adds.
‘Ten fifteen,’ I tell him, glancing at Ethan and giving him a silent thumbs-up.
‘Say hello from me,’ Ethan whispers, waving.
I put my finger to my lips and then make a swiping motion across my throat. He looks bewildered.
‘Have you been out with Zara again?’ I ask Ned, registering the time he’s calling me.
‘No, Tate,’ he replies, prompting a hypocritical surge of relief to rush through me.
‘I thought he was in New York.’
Ned yawns loudly. ‘He came back for a client meeting. We wanted to go over a few things before I head out there next week.’
‘You sound knackered,’ I point out.
‘You sound a bit rough yourself. Are you alright?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, had a pretty big night with Tina and Nell.’
‘Aah, okay,’ he says. He asks a few questions about Dad before calling it a night. We agree to chat in a couple of days before he flies out to the US.
‘Love you,’ he says.
‘Night-night, love you too,’ I reply, hanging up and glancing at Ethan. He’s staring at me strangely. ‘What?’
‘Why didn’t you say hi to him from me?’ he asks with a frown.
‘Because you stayed the night at my house,’ I reply. Duh. ‘He doesn’t know you that well. He’ll probably think you’re trying to get into my knickers or something.’
He casts his eyes heavenwards.
‘What are you up to for the rest of the weekend?’ I ask, nursing my coffee cup. I don’t put my legs back across him.
‘Manning the Cellar Door. Mum’s covering for me this morning. What about you?’
‘Hanging out at the hospital.’
Ethan gets to his feet, placing the coffee mug on a side table. ‘I’d better get going.’
‘Want a lift home?’ I ask.
‘You’re probably still drunk,’ he points out with amusement.
‘Oh.’ My brow furrows. If that’s true, how am I going to get to the hospital?
‘Go back to bed,’ he says, reading my mind. ‘Sleep it off and head in this arvo, after you’ve had some lunch. I’m going to jump on a bus.’
I feel a twinge of guilt at not going to see Dad right away, but I doubt he’ll want to breathe in my boozy fumes.
I walk Ethan to the door and put his number into my phone, letting it ring until he pats his pocket. ‘Got it,’ he says with a sleepy grin. There’s that dimple again. ‘See you Monday,’ he says, giving me a quick hug before turning away.
I watch from the doorway until he’s out of sight.
‘Here she is at last,’ Liz says nonchalantly when I appear at Dad’s bedside a few hours later. ‘How’s your head?’ she booms, making me wish I was a turtle so I could retract said head back into its protective shell.
‘Fine, unless I’m being shouted at,’ I reply pointedly. ‘Hi, Dad.’ I smile sweetly and go over to kiss his cheek. ‘Ooh, I need to give you another shave,’ I add, stroking his stubble.
‘Liz wanted to,’ he slurs slowly. The effort to speak is still immense, but he’s getting easier to understand. ‘I said no.’
I laugh under my breath. ‘Good one, Dad. You know I won’t cut you.’
Liz tuts, but I don’t look over my shoulder to see if she’s smiling. If she doesn’t know by now when Dad is teasing her, tough.
‘Shall I make a start now?’ I ask, opening his bedside drawer to check his shaving kit is inside. It is.
‘No. Something to show you,’ he says.
I stare at him with confusion before glancing at Liz to see her nodding with encouragement.
His limbs shake as he moves, painfully slowly, off the bed, then to my joy and amazement, a few minutes later he is shuffling his way across the room, with only the use of a walking stick to aid him.
‘Oh Dad,’ I cry, beaming at Liz to see that her eyes are shining, too. Our earlier run-in is all but forgotten.
Chapter 8
It’s supposed to rain on Tuesday, but on Monday afternoon the skies are clear. We should be able to see the stars from the park tonight.
I’ve been having words with myself about Ethan. Obviously I know that I shouldn’t be feeling like this for a man who isn’t my husband and, in the cold light of day, I feel guilty.
If our roles were reversed, I wouldn’t want Ned to go tonight, but I can’t bring myself to cancel. The truth is, on Friday night I felt like I got the old Ethan back – my friend, Ethan. And I’ve missed him.
I love Ned, and even though we’ve been arguing a lot lately, I know in my heart that we’re good for each other. He has absolutely nothing to worry about, just like Sadie had no grounds for concern when Ethan and I were younger.
I may have fantasised about Ethan for years, but at the end of the day it’s harmless, because nothing is ever going to come of it.
‘What’s the deal with the E-Type?’ I ask him when we walk outside to see a grey Golf GTI pulled up on the road. ‘Josh said your dad gave it to you as an engagement present.’
‘He did.’ He flashes me a wry look over the car’s roof. ‘Think he regrets it now. Not because of Sadie and me,’ he clarifies as we get in and shut the doors. ‘He just wishes it was still his.’
‘I remember when he used to let us play in it as kids.’
‘I remember that too,’ he says fondly as he starts up the ignition. I avert my gaze from his toned, tanned arms. ‘I’ll have to take you for a spin in it sometime.’
I try to ignore the thrill that his comment spikes.
We park as close as we can to Botanic Park, which adjoins Adelaide’s beautiful Botanic Gardens. Ethan told me earlier to bring a jacket, but he said he’d sort everything else. I spent most of this afternoon with Dad in the Rehab Ward, so I appreciated not having to think about anything organisational.
Yesterday he went to the toilet by himself, which was an incredible achievement. He’s still suffering from hemiparesis – weakness – on the right-hand side of his body, but with help from a walking aid he can go a small distance on his own.
His doctors think that he might be able to return home by next weekend. The thought makes me feel both elated and terrified in equal measure. I think, for once, Liz and I might be on the same wavelength.
It’s only seven thirty when Ethan and I arrive at the park, and the film starts closer to nine, so we find a decent position about halfway back from the screen and lay out a rug. Ethan has brought two fold-up chairs and a blanket for later when it’s cold, plus a picnic basket crammed with cheeses, crackers, grapes, salads and two roasted, chilled quails.
‘Wow, you’ve gone all out,’ I say with amazement.
‘Mum helped me pull it together,’ he admits. ‘She does this sort of thing well.’
‘Aah, bless her,’ I say with affection.
‘They both said to give you their love.’
He pulls out a bottle of red from the wine bag.
‘What have you got there, then?’ I ask cheekily, not recognising the label from where I’m kneeling.
‘2012 vintage.’ He passes over the bottle for me to have a look. ‘It’s one of ours. Bloody good year.’
‘Lockwood House Apple Acre Shiraz,’ I read aloud. There’s a silver star at the top right-hand side of the label. ‘This won an award?’
He nods. ‘Silver Award at last year’s Royal Adelaide Wine Show.’
‘Wow. That’s amazing. You’ve changed your labels,’ I note. ‘They’re cool.’
They used to be red with swirly gold writing, but this is simple and stylish, with a black, modern line drawing of an apple tree on a cream-coloured label.
‘Only for that one,’ he says, taking the bottle back from me. ‘I’m still working on Dad with the others.’ He cracks the top open. ‘Still working on moving everything else to screw-cap, too, but Dad loves good old Portuguese bark.’
I presume he’s talking about the cork.
‘Why did he let you have your way with this one, then?’ I’m intrigued.
‘Apple Acre Shiraz has been sort of a project of mine,’ he replies, pouring two glasses. ‘You remember our old apple orchard?’
‘Of course. I nearly broke my arm once, climbing those trees to get an apple.’
‘They were few and far between,’ he agrees, his lips twitching as he hands over a glass. ‘I’m driving home, by the way, so I’ll only have one.’
‘Christ, I’ll be off my face again.’
He grins and continues. ‘Well, a few years ago when I was still at uni, I had all the apple trees cleared. They were old,’ he says dismissively, and I get the impression he’s had to defend himself in the past. ‘Anyway, I planted Shiraz vines and we had our first crop in 2010.’
‘Wow. I am so impressed.’
He grins at my reaction. ‘By the way, Mum asked if you’re free next Wednesday for dinner?’
‘Ooh, yes, definitely.’
The sun is shining golden yellow through the trees, turning their branches into silhouettes as we tuck into the picnic Ethan has brought.
‘Thank you so much for doing this,’ I say gratefully. ‘It’s good to have something to take my mind off things.’
‘How’s it all going with Len?’
I fill him in on his latest progress, including the fact that Dad might be coming home in time for next weekend.
‘That soon?’ Ethan says. ‘Will you be able to cope?’
‘I hope so. Liz wants to keep working if she can, so I’m going to be around for Dad in the daytime and she’ll take over in the evenings.’
I know from my research that many people have to leave their jobs and become full-time carers when a loved one has a stroke. They’re no longer the wife, the husband, the daughter, the son. Professionals in the medical industry simply refer to them as the ‘carer’. Liz and I have both already been assigned the title. I’m trying not to feel too freaked out about it.
‘That sounds pretty full on,’ he notes with empathy.
‘It could be, but he’s desperate to get out of hospital.’
‘For his sake, I hope your cooking has improved since we were teenagers.’
I smack him on his arm.
‘I’m just kidding,’ he replies gruffly. ‘You know, my uncle Henry had a stroke about ten years ago, and the thing that helped with his rehabilitation was shoot-’em-up video games. Something about helping his hand-to-eye coordination, I think.’
‘That makes sense,’ I reply with a nod. Anything that encourages my father to use his hand muscles is good.
‘I can dig out my old PlayStation if you like,’ he offers. ‘I’m sure it’s in a box at the top of a cupboard somewhere.’
‘That would be great, thanks.’
I don’t really know if Dad is a shoot-’em-up video games sort of person. Liz certainly isn’t. But anything’s worth a try.
I breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of recently cut grass and eucalyptus trees. The warmth from the day has almost left the damp ground, but not quite. The sun continues to sink further behind the park’s trees, casting an orange glow across a chunk of the sky. I look overhead where it’s still blue to see that the first star has come out. This is the most content I’ve felt in days. No, weeks.
‘You want a top-up?’ Ethan asks.
‘Go on, then. It’s delicious,’ I tell him as he pours more wine into my glass. ‘So, tell me about Michelle,’ I prompt.
‘Not much to tell. She’s just a girl I met at a bar a month or so ago. Went out a couple of times. I don’t know.’ He shrugs. ‘Don’t think I’m ready to start dating again.’
‘Was she getting too clingy?’
They usually do, where Ethan’s concerned. Yes, kettle calling the pot black, I know.
He gives me an inquisitive look. ‘Yeah, she was, as a matter of fact.’ He pauses. ‘What about you? Who’s Zara?’
I stiffen at his question.
‘You asked Ned about her on the phone,’ he reminds me.
‘Oh! Oh, right. She’s sort of his boss,’ I reluctantly reveal. ‘They go out sometimes. Networking,’ I add, raising my eyebrows.
‘You think she’s got the hots for him?’
‘I’m sure she has,’ I reply with certainty. ‘He’s often coming home late, stinking of her fags. I think she took up smoking when she split up with her husband. They were only married for a few weeks.’
‘She sounds like a catch,’ he says sardonically, adding after a moment, ‘You’re not worried about him, are you?’
‘No. Only her.’ I shake my head, trying to seem confident.
‘You guys are cool, A,’ he tells me calmly, tugging a grape off the bunch he brought. ‘Everyone could see how besotted Ned was with you at your wedding. I’m sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.’
I’m not that comfortable with this topic of conversation, so I say thanks and leave it at that.
Perhaps Ethan won’t be that comfortable talking about his soon-to-be-ex-wife, either, but I broach the subject, regardless. ‘When did you and Sadie split up?’
‘12th August, last year.’
‘You remember the exact date?’
‘It was Penny’s eighth birthday,’ he says flatly.
‘Oh.’
He grunts. ‘She hates it when I call Penelope Penny.’
‘I think it sounds sweet.’
‘She hated a lot about me,’ he adds drily.
‘Who called it off?’ I dare to ask.
‘It was pretty mutual in the end.’ He takes a gulp of his wine and stares across the park at the sunset. I study his profile: his green eyes reflecting the orange light, his straight nose, the dusting of dark stubble gracing his strong jaw.
‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out,’ I say quietly. ‘How are the girls?’
‘Rachel doesn’t really understand, but Penny is finding it hard, asking a lot of questions, which is really stressing Sadie out.’
‘I bet.’ I feel a rare pang of pity for Sadie.
He sighs heavily. ‘I don’t want to bore you with the ins and outs.’
‘You can talk to me any time,’ I say firmly, making him glance my way. ‘I know Josh and Tina are a bit caught in the middle, so honestly, I mean that.’
‘Thanks, A,’ he says softly,
making my heart melt with the look in his eyes. I remind myself of my earlier pep talk.
‘You’re welcome,’ I say brusquely, looking down at the mess we’ve made. ‘Shall we clear some of this away before it gets too dark to see?’
Chapter 9
‘The physiotherapist said it’s a nice idea,’ I tell Ethan a couple of days later. We’re on the phone discussing his PlayStation suggestion.
‘Cool. I’ll have a look for it. Hopefully Sadie hasn’t thrown it out,’ he adds drily. ‘She made me pack it up a few years ago.’
I can just imagine Ethan as an early twenty-something, playing video games when he should be changing nappies.
‘I’ll head over tomorrow when the kids are at school,’ he says. ‘I can help you set it up tomorrow night, if you like.’
‘That’d be fantastic, thank you.’
‘God, Medal of Honour,’ he says fondly, like he’s talking about an old friend. ‘Your dad will love that one. You’re a World War Two soldier, fighting off the Nazis.’
‘I hope this is a game you can play solo.’ Can’t say the idea of it appeals to me.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he brushes me off. ‘But it’s more fun with two. Don’t worry, I’ll just show you how to play so you can teach him.’
‘Okay. If you’re sure.’
‘I don’t mind a bit.’
On the contrary, I have a feeling he’s looking forward to it.
Liz isn’t too enamoured with our plan when I fill her in the following evening. Ethan will be with us within the hour.
‘I was planning on downloading some games onto his iPad,’ she says crossly. ‘Do we really need a pile of video games in here, messing up the living room?’
‘His physiotherapist said it could help,’ I remind her. ‘Anything is worth a go, right?’
She frowns. ‘We need a bigger house. You know, we still have a whole bunch of boxes of yours that need sorting out. Why don’t you look at those while you’re here?’
‘Where are they?’ I ask.
She gets up abruptly from the sofa. We ate dinner in front of the telly, both of us too tired to talk after going back and forth to the hospital today. Liz has also had to fit work in, as well as coming in this afternoon for a family meeting. We met with Dad’s multi-disciplinary team to start planning his return home next week.