Rachel used to love running. As a teen, she used to disappear for hours, running along the beach path, and would come back sweaty and resplendent. She used to say there was nothing that made her feel as good as running. But when she was about sixteen, she stopped abruptly and never ran again.
‘I’m not sure I could run to the end of the street right now, Tul,’ Rachel said. ‘But thanks. Anyway, how are you?’
How are you? How long had it been since someone asked her that? Tully would have been touched if she weren’t simultaneously worried that the question was directly related to an R U OK? day or something. Rachel was always so tapped into those sorts of days. So ‘woke’。 And there was nothing wrong with being woke, obviously. But in this particular instance, the question would have meant more if not the result of wokeness.
‘I’m fine,’ Tully said cautiously. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘A girl can ask her sister how she is, can’t she?’
‘A girl can,’ Tully said. ‘But a girl usually doesn’t.’
‘Anyway, I just wanted to check in. There’s been a lot going on. Mum moving into the nursing home. Dad starting up with Heather. The engagement. The divorce.’
‘Did Dad ask you to check on me?’ Tully asked.
‘No.’
‘Right,’ she said. ‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know that I’m fine. Or I will be when I can get Miles sleeping in his own bed! I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks. Lately I’ve been wondering if I should pull him out of pre-school. He’s been so funny about going. He cries when I drop him off and cries when I pick him up. When I ask him why he says it’s because they make him “have fun”。’
‘Why don’t you pull him out?’ Rachel said. ‘Have another year with him at home. It’d save you some money. Not that you have to worry about that, I suppose.’
Tully hadn’t told Rachel about the money they’d lost yet. She’d started to, once or twice. She fantasised about Rachel putting the kettle on, producing something freshly baked, and telling her about something much worse that had happened to someone she knew, which would make Tully feel much better about it. And yet she hadn’t told her. If she were to admit that Sonny had lost their money, Rachel would think he was irresponsible or stupid. Smart, responsible people didn’t lose their money – that was the act of a cowboy, a salesman, a get-rich-quick kid, and perfect Tully didn’t marry men like that.
‘Yesterday was a weird day, wasn’t it?’ Rachel said, as Tully turned onto her street. It was a beautiful street. Sunny and tree-lined, it was often visited by camera crews in spring to get footage of the blossoms for their ‘Spring has Sprung’ news segments. Tully supposed she should feel grateful that she’d been able to live here for a little while. Instead, she felt like crying.
‘Heather seemed more like one of our friends than one of Dad’s,’ Rachel said.
‘She didn’t seem like one of my friends,’ Tully said immediately. But, again, it wasn’t true. In different circumstances, Tully would have been utterly enamoured of Heather, with her trench coat, pretty hair and understated style. She probably would have invited her over for tea already.
‘I meant age-wise,’ Rachel clarified.
‘Oh,’ Tully said, pressing the button to open the gate. ‘Age-wise, yes.’
The garage door was open, and the sight of Sonny’s car reminded Tully that she’d forgotten to cover up the stuff in the back seat. She saw him notice her through the window of the front room and rise from his chair. Tully put the car into park.
‘Anyway,’ Rachel was saying, ‘I guess I felt a little weird after yesterday, so I thought you might too. The idea of Dad divorcing Mum? It’s . . . a lot.’
There was something different about Rachel’s voice. It was softer. More . . . vulnerable. It occurred to Tully that maybe Rachel was the one who needed to be asked if she was okay. Tully was about to, but before she could get the words out, Sonny opened the front door.
Tully felt her heart rate rise. She needed to get the stuff out of her car before Sonny saw it. The heady feeling she’d had at the shopping centre was long gone, and she just felt breathless, strung out and a little sweaty. That was the thing about addiction. The high got shorter and shorter.
‘Rach, do you mind if I call you back? I’ve just got home.’
Sonny trotted down the front steps.
‘Oh, you don’t need to,’ Rachel said. ‘I was just checking in.’