Layla

Milo: Got to the airport without the family killing each other

Layla: Hey, b’day boy. Missing me already, huh? PS: Fine, you got me, I miss you too. PPS: Good day so far?

* * *

I’ve been sitting on the grass in front of Mum’s grave for a few minutes when the sky opens. Rain falls, sparse and sharp at first, before filling the air with fat droplets. Don’t complain, it’s good for the farmers, I can almost hear Mum saying as I hurry to my feet and fumble with my umbrella.

I swipe at my hair; it’s already saturated. The few people straggling at nearby graves run for the car park, their feet skidding across the manicured lawns.

In a few minutes I will be alone in a cemetery.

You’d think after five years of avoiding coming here I’d have given it some thought, but I’m unsure about what I’m supposed to do. I stare at the plaque on the grave again. Mum’s name is etched in the bronze: Cate Montgomery. She always thought Catherine sounded too posh for her; I thought it was perfect.

My eyes trace over the words on her stone: Loving Wife, Mother and Friend.

I try not to take in the hundreds, maybe thousands, of other graves lined up in every direction around me.

Nothing prepares you for being surrounded by death.

I reach into my pocket, hand closing around my phone. Then I remember: Milo really is going. There will be no last-minute freakouts, no showing up at Shirin’s telling me he can’t go through with it. He’s already at the airport, about to do the biggest thing of his life, all on his own.

I have to do the same.

I slip the phone back into my pocket, then crouch down and rest my palm on the uneven stone.

‘Hey.’

I’m not expecting a reply, but the clang of silence still hurts.

The rain hits harder, turning the grass and dirt at my feet to mud. I stare at her name again, too choked up now to even whisper. Maybe she can read minds … well, hopefully just in this moment.

So, I’m here. Hi, Mum. Hey. Sorry it took so long. My feet slip in the sludge. Crap! Sorry. Um … what’s new? Actually, no, that’s dumb, forget that. Okay, now I’m just a dork standing by herself in a cemetery in the rain. The thing is … I really am sorry. I should’ve come earlier. You think that too, right? But I do love you, more than anyone, and nothing will ever change that, and I guess I kinda hoped you already knew it. I know, I know … I’m lazy.

A bolt of lightning cracks through the sky.

I shriek and topple backwards into the mud.

A laugh sneaks out. Then another. This would only happen to me. Wet through to the skin, I struggle to my feet then slog through the muck until I’m at the edge of her gravestone.

Fine, I was too scared to see all this again. I know I should’ve come when Dad did … or when he stopped coming. I’ve just been trying to be strong, like you. All I want is to be someone you’d be proud of …

I pull the umbrella further over me as the rain buckets down. I shake my head at the absurdity of it all.

I must look like a friggin’ drowned rat now … Mum, are you mad? Actually, don’t tell me. We’ll just pretend everything’s perfect — like that time I went to Michael Hadid’s house party when you thought I was going to a sleepover at Jill’s. You knew that one, right?

Thunder rumbles, so heavy and deep it sounds like the sky’s about to cave in on itself.

I don’t know what else … oh, I walk dogs now — get paid and stuff. Turns out it’s a real job. Who knew, right? And Dad’s trying. Well, he’s away a lot still, but he’s starting to. His girlfriend is great. You’d like her. Heaps, I think. Is that weird? Probably. Sorry … again.

By the way, you’re stuck with me ’cos I’m going to keep coming back here, if that’s alright with you. ’Cos I hate that I let you down every day I stayed away.

A tear squeezes out.

Then another.

And I’ve missed you every day.

Then another tear, until they’re mixing with the rain and flowing down my cheeks. As I cry, I imagine her watching me from wherever she is — this silly sight of me alone in the pouring rain in the middle of a cemetery — and a muffled little snort of laughter slips out as I wonder if she really is sipping on a strawberry milkshake. I’ve thought it so many times I’ve almost convinced myself it’s true.

I wipe at my nose with the back of my hand as salt from my tears licks at my lips. This is so gross. Oh, Mum, I bet you’re thinking, pull it together, Layla, you’re making me look bad in front of my friends.

The sky cracks again, causing me to jump, and a fresh shower of rain pours down. In the distance, a row of trees slope to one side in the wind. I fiddle with my bracelet from Milo, spinning it around my wrist.

I kissed someone, Mum — don’t tease me — and it was kind of amazing, but then it was also kind of a disaster. He left Durnan today, so that’s that, I guess. Unless he comes back, but I don’t think he’ll come back.

Fine. You win. It was Milo. I know! But don’t worry, things’ll be okay for me here. Max the dog’s got me. And I’m hanging with Amvi Prashad again — remember her? I think she used to eat sand at preschool.

I crack up at the memory, then scan the cemetery again, for once hoping I’m still alone.

Yeah, Durnan’s good. I’ve got this feeling like … well, like anything’s possible. Probably sounds stupid, but you won’t tell anyone, right? Who am I kidding? You were always a blabbermouth. Guess I know where I got that from, hey?

A gust of wind whips my umbrella inside out. I yell in protest, but my words get snatched up in the swirling storm as I battle to hold onto the handle. The umbrella sways, dancing in the sky, refusing to follow orders. An extra strong gust comes through and the umbrella snaps, wires jutting in every direction. I wrestle with it against the wind, laughing ’til my cheeks ache.