Page 95 of Then Came You

“Your Mum?”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead.

Since being locked up, her Mum has successfully weaned off drugs and alcohol and is now sober. A litany of letters apologising and asking to see both Tori and Row have come through, with every one of them ending up in the shredder or trash.

Both Atkins daughters decided to become permanently estranged from their mother, deciding the abuse and neglect both endured was irreversible and unforgivable.

Still, the letters of amends keep coming via my dad’s office each week, who passes them on to me to give to the girls.

“Really?” she spits. “She didn’t give a shit about her when she was alive. What fucking makes you think she’d give a shit if she was dead?”

“You know what’s best,” I assure, propping my hands up as if to say I’m backing off. I know what her mum has done is irredeemable, but her daughter died. Isn’t that something a mother should know? I’m coming at it from a parental point of view, but I trust Row’s instincts. “Your clothes?”

"Get Syd to pick something black for me," she shrugs, deflating back on the lounge. Her hair is dishevelled and knotty. It’s going to take a while to detangle the mass of mess on her head, but she doesn’t seem to care as she combs through it with her fingers.

I gulp air in before turning to her. “And the last question, when did you want to do this?” Breathing it out gently, I wait for her response, which takes a while to come.

“Is Saturday too soon? I don’t want to let her go or say goodbye, but it’s inevitable.”

“Okay, Tink. I’ve got you.”

Our short conversation was unsavoury, but it had to be done. Anything to get her through these next few days and weeks.

“Why don’t you go have a shower, and I’ll fix you something for breakfast?” I suggest.

She fixates her stare on me, biting her chipped nail polish from her thumb as if she is contemplating her words. “Can we just go back to yours?” It’s the most unexpected thing I expect her to say.

I quirk up an eyebrow to show it.

“I mean, I don’t want to go back to…and I think I’ve overstayed my welcome here, but I sort of don’t have anywhere else to go, and I don’t think I want to be alone right now.” She continues to gnaw at her nails. If she goes any further, she’ll hit the bone.

“You don’t even have to ask. It’s where you belong, and where you’ll be staying.” She exhales, and I can feel her relief in my bones.

Placing her hand on my thigh, she uses it to help herself up.

When I hear the showerhead turn on, I make one of the most difficult calls of my life. Alex told me he wasn't able to get a hold of Zee, but after stewing in my own thoughts last night, the news was probably better coming from me anyway.

As I set out to find something for Row to eat, I text Zee that an emergency has happened. I know my son, and despite what he said to me days before, family means everything to him. Setting my phone down on the bench, I wait for him to call.

Going through the small pantry that is all of two shelves, there aren’t that many staples. I find some Weetabix and a can of condensed milk. Just as the water heats up, my phone starts vibrating. I swipe it from left to right and punch the speaker button so I don’t interrupt the breakfast process. If the Weetabix is too soggy, the whole dish is basically ruined.

“What?” I’m greeted with a grunt by Zee.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Zee, but Tori died,” I say gently. There’s no room for small talk or pleasantries, especially when he’s gung-ho on eliminating me from his life.

“When?”

“When what?”

“When did she die?” There isn’t an ounce of sympathy in his voice, but I suspect his tone is directed more at me, not because he doesn’t have a heart.

“A few days ago, but I just found out last night when I went to see Row and she wasn’t at the salon. Trish told me.” I don’t want him thinking it took me a few days to break the news. I’m already in the dog house.

“Why should I care?”

Murder is illegal. He’s your son. You love him. We hurt him first. Don’t beat him to a bloody pulp over his ridiculous and thoughtless behaviour and attitude, are all thoughts that rotate through my mind.

Inhaling the breaths of all breaths, I maintain a steady pour of the syrup over the Weetabix. The silky, satisfying drip calms me.

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