Page 106 of The Side Road
‘How many is too many?’
‘Four. And one bathroom.’
An unbalanced ratio. Oliver understood his daughter’s concern.
Tash pulled off her slippers and slipped on the finished socks. They were a vast improvement on the first pair she had knitted. With her phone, she snapped pictures of her sock-covered feet. ‘I’m going to send this to Mary. Is that okay?’
‘Sure. But never put pictures of your feet online.’
‘Why not?’
‘Foot fetish. People pay money – sometimes a lot of money.’ He pointed to the TV. ‘More than that old sewing kit.’
‘Adults are disgusting.’ She shuddered. ‘Next month, can I do Halloween?’
‘Really? That’s a thing?’
‘Yep. I’m dressing up as a ghost and we’re going to need a sewing machine.’ She disappeared to her room to finish her homework.
Oliver picked up his phone. One more look wouldn’t hurt. But it wasn’t just one more look; he watched Mia’s post on how to repair a slipped stitch three more times. Again, he was mesmerised. The video had one hundred thousand views. The public’s obsession was understandable; it was difficult to look away.
He decided on a walk before nightfall; it was a relief to leave the brightly lit house and enter the dusty twilight. After crossing the road, he wandered closer to the river, thinking he might glimpse Buttons, because the rabbit would have headed for the water. The animal had a strong survival instinct.
The sound of the valley in early spring surrounded him – rippling water, shivering willows, an evening bird, cars rumbling over the bridge: comforting, country town noises.
The track along the river was familiar. As a young boy, he had taken it hundreds of times. He had swum through every twist of the dark river’s current and laid his youthful body on the bank under the warm sun to dry. The river knew his secrets. Stories of his past and the hidden parts of his childhood. He felt the connection between the man he was now and his younger self, coupled with a sense of belonging.
His attempts to leave this town had been considerable. But family had always pulled him back. There was no escaping the past. It made you who you were. He didn’t fight the pain in his chest. Instead, he breathed in and out, letting the feelings, the memories, and the hurt settle over him.
When he came to the bridge, he paused, wondering how he was going to fix this mess with Mia. Some bikes threw a rod mid-ride. Unforeseen and unavoidable, it could happen for no apparent reason. The only option was to pull over and fix the problem by the side of the road. Was he supposed to coax Mia back? Was she even the right person to build a life with? Perhaps she wasn’t ready for commitment. Perhaps she had never wanted it.
A long ride wasn’t a bad idea. He had a lot to think about, and it had never failed him before. Maybe it would fix his insomnia.
As the night descended, he turned away from the dark river and, leaving the nocturnal landscape behind, walked back home to make the arrangements. One day was all he needed. The Widowmaker was a fast bike. If he left early and travelled northeast, by late afternoon, he could be on the east coast – maybe he would get to Yamba. After spending a few hours staring at the ocean, he would get a good night’s sleep. The following day, he would head back. That was the plan.
On the inside,Mia felt like she was falling apart. At night, she lay awake, regretting her decision to leave Oliver. She bemoaned her inability to call and apologise. Her pride, a powerful and undeniable force, couldn’t be easily suppressed.
At work, she pretended nothing unusual had happened in her life. Determined to show her pale face to the world, shefeigned a version of normalcy. If anyone saw through her strained expression, her swollen eyes, trembling hands, and stiff composure, she told them she had a cold, but ArmaForce was a staple in her medicine cabinet, so she would be fine in a few days. There was nothing they should worry about.
At the end of the week, Saige arrived five minutes late for work. She sidled up to Mia and said, ‘I just have to say, those jeans?—’
‘I don’t have any others,’ Mia snapped. ‘What’s wrong with my jeans?’
‘They look good on you.’
Mia smiled. She gave Saige a thumbs-up.
‘You can’t do that.’
Mia put her thumb away. ‘How’s it going with Connor? Did you see him on the weekend?’ she asked.
‘We broke up. He grabbed my boob in public. I felt objectified. Also, he’s not here for me emotionally. I can do better.’ Saige collected a microfiber cloth from behind the counter and started dusting down the display stands. Mia felt a twinge of pride.
Later that day, April, checking the batch numbers of old stock, dropped an armful of wool onto the counter. The gesture was subtle, yet surprisingly forceful.
‘Sorry, I’m in a foul mood!’ April snapped.
‘Are you okay?’
