Page 39 of Coming Home to Wishington Bay
Savouring the buttery taste of the fresh croissant in the café a little later, I wiped my fingers on a napkin and turned the page.
‘What you reading?’ Carrie’s voice stirred me from my concentration.
‘Hi! Oh, a book Gabe recommended.’ I flipped it over so that she could see the cover.
‘Aah,’ she smiled. ‘Interesting.’
‘Is it?’ I asked, as I motioned to the waitress of the café.
‘Very,’ Carrie said, as the waitress appeared. ‘Peppermint tea, please. And one of those,’ she added, pointing to my half-eaten croissant.
‘Why is it interesting?’ I asked, once we were alone again.
‘Ohhh, just that Ned and I have been trying to get you to do something about these panic attacks for years, and Gabe’s been able to do it in, like, five minutes.’
‘Oh, that’s rubbish.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes,’ I said, loading the word with a definitive tone. ‘It’s more to do with circumstances than anything else. I didn’t have time to sit and read a picture book at home, let alone something like this that I need to really sit and absorb.’
‘Well, maybe that says something too.’
I let out a sigh. ‘I know it does. Honestly. I really do. It’s just that I can only deal with one thing at a time.’
‘I know, hon,’ she said, patting my hand as the waitress headed over to us with Carrie’s order. ‘And I’m really glad you’re getting the opportunity to look into things, and hopefully start feeling better. You know, Ned’s ever so worried about you.’
I screwed up my nose. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to worry anyone.’
‘Oh, Hol,’ Carrie said, patting my hand again and then apologising when she realised she’d covered it with croissant grease. ‘We know you didn’t. But we love you, and it’s only natural to worry.’
‘I guess I didn’t even know where to start.’
‘You could have gone to your GP. You are allowed to take time to go to the doctor, you know.’
‘Oh. Yes. Well, that’s sort of a bit tricky.’
‘What is?’
‘Seeing my GP?’
‘Why?’ she asked, around a mouthful of croissant.
‘I don’t have one?’
‘What?’ she said, spraying crumbs like a confetti cannon. ‘You must have one. You’ve been there for like, ten years!’
‘I know. I guess I’ve just been lucky I haven’t needed anything really.’
‘Except that you have, you just haven’t realised. Or refused to.’
I didn’t really have an argument for that.
‘But what about other stuff? Routine stuff, like smear tests? We were just talking about those a little while ago and you said you’d had them!’
‘I have had them,’ I said, keeping my voice low, unwilling for the entire village to know the frequency with which I had medical people poking about my nether regions. ‘Just not for a while.’
‘How long is a while?’ Carrie had put down the croissant now and was eyeing me beadily. One thing was for sure, that kid wasn’t going to get anything past her.
