Page 73 of King of Clubs

Chapter Thirty-One

Hanging up from another emergency appointment with Suzie – only my second since we moved to monthly – I replayed her words in my mind.

We champion for all of our clients to make it to the other side, but I’ve been rooting for you a little harder than most.

You've come so far, and lately your smile is a little wider and your eyes a little brighter.

Take every opportunity Marlee, because you were born to be more.

Thankfully she was able to accommodate an unscheduled session because a verbal unload was exactly what I needed. She was the epitome of self-help and I admired how she could provide professional support, while also making me feel seen and heard. Honestly, she could be an international spokesperson for uplifting womankind and I would be sitting at all her shows in the very front row, cheering like nobody’s business. She reminded me about my circle of control and how the unreasonable worries were better left to the side. And as usual, she was right. The old out of sight, out of mind mentality was what I needed to adopt, and with Seb at the club, I was looking forward to some time to myself.

After spending a decent amount of time cleaning my room, I sat on the bed and wondered what I could do now. “Maybe I should go see Mum and Dad,” I spoke aloud to myself. “Their listening skills are top-tier these days,” I slapped my thigh with an exaggerated huff at the macabre humour which seemed wasted with no one around to hear and grabbed my jacket on the way out of my room.

Exiting the lift I locked eyes with Adam across the lobby and his face lit up with a smile.

“Hey,” I’d only seen him once in the last few weeks and I hoped he’d moved on from whatever happened when we last spoke.

“Marlee, how are you?” His professional tone held none of the friendly comfortability which he previously used and my shoulders dropped, the tension loosening.

“Well, thanks,” shrugging but providing nothing further, I kept walking, wanting to visit the cemetery and be home before it got dark.

“You in a rush?” He started to walk, his bigger strides eating up the distance between us and I felt goosebumps rise on my arms when his hand brushed the back of mine, “I haven’t seen you in a while. What’s keeping you so busy?”

“Same old, same old,” I answered evasively as I waved in farewell. When someone from behind called his name, he stopped and I took the opportunity to race out the door. He needed to work on his emotional intelligence because there was nothing about my body language that suggested I was interested yet he continued to seek me out. It gave me the absolute creeps and apart from speaking to Andy about his weirdo doorman, avoiding him at all costs seemed the only solution.

The cemetery was busy when I arrived, which was both good and bad.

Good, because it meant I could slip in unnoticed and felt safer amongst the crowd, but bad because this brought with it an amplified grief which permeated the air. I headed for the little shop at the entryway and browsed the vibrant arrangements. I loved the idea that people selected flowers which meant something to them or their loved one even as the world continued to spin without their presence. That even when their family left, there was still a small reminder they’d been there. On that note, I selected a bunch of sunflowers. The yellow was bright and cheerful and I rubbed the pad of my finger across the soft petal.

“Haven’t seen you around here for a little while. A peony for your thoughts?” The familiar voice washed over me and I smiled. Angie was at least mid-eighties, held a subtle trace of a British accent in her inflection and walked with a limp. I wanted to ask if she'd been here longer than the cemetery itself, but, despite having been removed from society for a while, I figured it would likely still be considered rude. She was adorable, notwithstanding the ridiculous floral puns she threw at you anytime you came into her shop.

I smiled, as this one in particular was new and she plucked a peony from under the counter as she spoke, handing it to me. Following the funeral I became a regular visitor and Angie was a consistent face who made me smile in those early days when I felt like I never would again.

“Angie! It’s been a minute. I hope you’ve been well. I actually have a joke foryou,” I handed her the flowers and a twenty dollar note.

“What happens to a flower when it gets embarrassed?” I asked and she shrugged with a grin.

“It gets rose-y cheeks,” I giggled, barely able to finish the ridiculous joke.

“You grow girl, that was fern-tastic,” she answered, making me laugh more. I spent the whole trip researching floral jokes but she always had another in the tank.

“Enjoy the sunshine today, darling,” she smiled kindly, handing me back my change and I threw it into the tip jar with a wave goodbye.

Mum and Dad’s graves sat next to each other in the last row of theTranquility Gardenand their headstones were mirror images of one another.

Soul mates in life and death. Mum’s stone told the world she was a beloved wife to Keith Harting, a doting mother to Marlee and a friend to all she met. Whereas Dad’s spruiked he was a beloved husband to Edwina, idolised father to Marlee and a passionate soul who loved a yarn. I placed the flowers on the saddle holders that sat atop their graves and sat down to fill them in on the tribulations of my current life.

One thing about speaking to them in the beyond, was I could literally say anything and there was no embarrassment or repercussions. I was mid-way through the encounter with Clara when my phone buzzed. It was likely a sign from Dad telling me he didn’t need to hear this story. Smiling at the thought, I tapped the screen as I remembered a time Mum and I were sitting in the kitchen, the smell of a fresh pot of tea lingering in the air and a tin of shortbread sitting on the table. Mum was telling me about the first time she met Dad and he overheard and raced in, covering her mouth, the action telling me more than I ever needed to know about that date. Mum had laughed until the tears swam down her face and my own eyes filled with tears now at the beautiful memory. Blinking them away, I swiped my screen freezing when I saw it was another text from an unknown contact.

Unknown

I didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, Marlee.

I’m quite hurt.

My phone fell from my hand, landing with a thud on the grass as the blood drained from my face.

Oh my god. No, no, no, no, no. Not now. Not here.

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