Page 37 of You are the Reason

“Okay, just one person.” I throw a towel at her before I leave the room. “Go and shower, you look like death.”

We didn’t get to finish our conversation last night, or begin sorting through information on Lance. After Kinsley calmed down, I tucked her into bed. She was emotionally exhausted and needed to sleep. She asked me to sit and read to her, something Kyle used to do when she was young, on nights when her parents fought. He would always try to block out the noise; to keep her safe. But, even at such a young age, she knew they weren’t the happy-go-lucky family everyone assumed they were.

Kinsley and I pull up outside the cottage where I grew up. Mum is sitting on her porch swing, eagerly awaiting us. The garden is in full bloom; roses of every colour trimmed into round bushes line the verandah; just like they always have been. I watch Kinsley silently admire the garden, her eyes straying to the corner where she would play fairy gardens as a child. It’s purposely overgrown in the magical way a child would love to explore. Tucked in the corner, there was a little old birdhouse, painted beautifully and covered in sparkles. Kinsley would leave the fairies drawing and notes. Mum would always write back to her using special paper and a calligraphy pen; pulling out all the stops to keep the magic alive.

To keep a spark inside a little girl who had lost everything.

Our love for her runs deep, which is why I have kept my mouth shut all these years. Sure, I made a promise to Kyle and‘did what I needed to do’but it has always been more than that. Heck at the time I was only thirteen; I panicked, I was scared. All I knew was she needed someone in her corner. It took until Kinsley was sixteen years old for her relationship to finally break down with her mother; for her to get out of her toxic hold — it was only then she found herself again. Her spark had returned and, from that moment on, I have done everything to keep it burning bright.

When I look back up at Mum, she is leaning against the porch railing, waving with a big cheesy grin on her face. Even from here, I can see a few extra lines around her eyes. She says she isn’t lonely here by herself, and that the garden and animals keep her company. I do believe her, though part of me will always feel guilty for moving into the city and away from her. But Mums somehow always know, even before you tell them. She knows the promise I made to Kyle and she knows I would do anything for Kinsley.

Everyone knows me to be the kind-hearted, goofy one. A teacher. The guy with a cute dog. Deep down, I know I have the ability to tear the gentle version of myself to pieces. I would go to war for Kinsley if I needed to, and something tells me the enemy is approaching.

“Oh, look at you!” Mum fusses, taking Kinsley’s hand and twirling her in a circle. “As beautiful as ever.”

Kinsley laughs, smiles freely and pulls Mum into a hug. “I’m so sorry; it really has been far too long between visits.”

I clear my throat and they both turn to me, Kinsley stepping back so that I can wrap my mother up in my arms. I tower over her now and I know despite what she says, she secretly loves it.

“I’m glad to see you brought our girl home,” Mum whispers against my chest.

“Please behave yourself,” I say; stepping back and looking over her from top to bottom before ushering them both inside the house. “I’ll make you some lunch, Ma, don’t want you wasting away.”

She swats at my chest with a chuckle. “You will do no such thing, Jesse. I have everything prepared.”

There is nothing frail about the woman, Marie Fernandez has always been the strongest person I know, both emotionally and physically. I will never stop teasing her though, I love the way it riles her up.

I watch Kinsley as she reacquaints herself with the home that provided her a safe haven for eight months — eight months she can’t recall. I’m hoping this visit will bring her some closure. With all the emotions and past memories being brought to the surface, I hope something will click inside her. Being back in a space she felt comforted and safe in — maybe it will help in some way.

She runs her fingertips along the wallpaper in the entryway, tracing the patterns, before stopping short at the door of the bedroom she stayed in as a child. Over the years we have been back here many times, but she has never approached this room. Kinsley looks over her shoulder and I give her a subtle nod, resting my hand on her lower back. The door opens and I feel her silent gasp, the room is exactly as she left it. A single bed sits in the corner with a princess canopy flowing down from the roof.

“I— I didn’t think I had anywhere that was still home.”

Her eyes are glossy, full of unshed tears. I can only imagine how she would be feeling right now. It’s in moments like these that I stand here like a stunned mullet, not knowing whether to comfort her or make light of the situation with dark humour. The silence gets the better of me, Kinsley has always brought out the softer side of me. “You’ll always have a home here, Meadow. But home is a feeling, not a place, remember that.”

She looks at me with wide eyes, she’s surprised. I shrug. “I’m more than just my good looks.”

“Good looks that come from your mother,” Mum calls out. “Get out here you two, come and eat.”

Kinsley flicks her hair over her shoulder and looks me up and down. “I guess you’re right,” she says, leaving me alone in her old bedroom.

“Wait — right about my good looks or our inspirational heart to heart?” I jump up, following her out.

The kitchen is small and poky, it feels even smaller now as an adult than it did as a child. The counter tops form a U-shape, with one side doubling as a breakfast bar and along the opposite side there’s a large window overlooking paddocks and rolling hills. To the left of the kitchen is a dining area, an old heavy wooden table fills the space with six chairs. I never understood why we even had a table that could seat so many when it was only ever Mum and myself, at the most Kyle and Kinsley would come over after school and she would make us afternoon tea.

Following the sound of their voices, I walk through the dining area and enter the lounge room. A three-seater lounge sits along the wall with a perfect view of the garden. Two recliners sit either side in a matching cream and floral print with a coffee table filled with biscuits, sandwiches and a pot of tea in the centre of the room.

“On’ya Mum.” I snag a sandwich and a handful of biscuits. “You made my favourites.”

“Yes, Jesse dear,” she placates me as if I were a child before continuing her conversation with Kinsley.

I’m definitely the third wheel here today. I look around, trying to find something that needs doing. “Do you have some lightbulbs that need replacing or anything?” I ask.

Kinsley looks at me, holding in a giggle. Mum on the other hand tilts her head in confusion. It reminds me of Lou-loo which makes me laugh — out loud unlike Kinsley.

“I just wanted to see if you had any jobs that neededa man’s touchwhilst I was here.”

It was Mum’s turn to laugh now. “A man’s touch?” She raises her brows. “Jesse, when was the last time I had amanaround?”

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