Evie
Tilly’s family wasn’t some big mystery, but Tilly never really talked to them in front of Sean or Evie, and they, in turn, never really asked. Evie hadn’t insisted on an explanation for Tilly’s abrupt, “Gotta go, call you later,” but she did worry.
She stood in the doorway of Tilly’s room, eyes sweeping over the bare bed and empty chest of drawers. Despite the basic set up and lack of decor, Tilly’s room only ever reminded her of Tilly. It even still smelt like Tilly.
Evie bit her lip. She really had to stop thinking of it as Tilly’s room.
She also really needed to get organised. Sell the bed. Buy a cot. A changer. Nappies, and lots of them, apparently.
She opened one of the drawers. Where once there had been a small mixture of Tilly’s clothes, were wall stickers she’d ordered online: colourful sketches of clouds and birds. Evie pulled them out and laid them on the bed, next to the blanket Tilly had bought the baby.
Her belly felt huge, over six months pregnant. She’d hit seven, actually.
She winced.
God, that meant there were just under two months to go.
The baby kicked her bladder as if punishment for forgetting that for a moment.
All the furniture and bits and pieces they’d looked at months ago, she needed to get out and buy. Set this room up. Sean and Tilly would help. Her mum wanted to buy a pram as a present, some fancy thing that was easy to fold and unfold. Good for walking along the paths along the coast.
Was she going to be one of those mums walking along the beach at five-thirty in the morning with a cap on and a swishing, perky ponytail, sipping a giant coffee as they power walked and their baby gurgled or laughed or screamed in the pram?
She hated mornings.
The baby kicked her bladder again.
She rubbed her hand low over her stomach. “Maybe you’ll hate mornings, too?”
She’d felt silly, at first, talking out loud to her bump. Now she did it all the time. Narrating as she drove. Or ate. Cleaned.
The baby kicked hard again.
She chuckled. “Yeah, I know. As if. You already party in there at six a.m. Do you like birds?”
She picked one of the stickers up, glancing around the room to where she’d envisioned the cot. She stood on the bed, going slowly so she didn’t lose her balance. It happened all the time now, the change of gravity getting more and more noticeable. Peeling the backing off the wall sticker, she eyed the spot on the wall. Slowly, her hand guiding the placement to smooth out any air bubbles, she stuck the first bird to the wall. It was a soft blue and purple. Next was a huge cloud sticker, over a metre long. Evie pulled the backing off that too, letting it fall to the floor, and situated the cloud higher than the flying bird. She added more, creating a cloudy sky high up the wall, and a small flock of birds that looked like they would be taking off right from where the cot would be.
When she finished, she stood at the foot of the bed, hand over her tummy.
“Do you like it?” she asked, eyeing the wall. “It’s the first solid thing I’ve done for you in here.”
The baby rolled gently, possibly the weirdest of all feelings, and didn’t kick at her.
“I’ll take that as you love it.” She continued to gaze at the birds, the slope of their wings, the gentle pastel colours. “What do you think of Tilly, hm?”
The baby didn’t move.
“Well, that’s not helpful.” She rubbed over her tight skin gently. The baby’s foot, or elbow, or knee—or butt? Who really knew what was going on in there—nudged against her hand. “Yeah, I’m feeling more optimistic than I should be, too. Or was that because you want more lasagne? Because, same.” Another little nudge. “Thanks for not kicking my bladder again.”
Her phone rang, the simple tones far less shrill and annoying than that awful ringtone of Tilly’s, and Evie rushed to answer it. “Tilly! Is everything okay? You left pretty quickly.”
“H—hey.”
“Tilly?”
Her voice was weird. “Yeah. Hi. I’m sorry I ran out. There’s just… I’m at the airport. Uh, getting on a flight, to be honest.”
Evie’s hand clenched around her phone. “You’re taking off?”
“No! No. Not like that. I, well, there’s some family stuff in Melbourne. But this isn’t, running away. Or leaving. I have to go and see my family. Which is what I used to do sometimes, anyway. I don’t know why I couldn’t just say that. Well, I do. But we’ll talk about that, okay? I have my return ticket booked. In a week. I’ll be back really soon.”
Evie’s heart was racing now. It was so very, very hard to believe her. “Is everything okay?”
“No. Yes. I mean… Yes. But I do have to go.”
“Is there another flight?”
“Um, I think there’s one first thing tomorrow morning, but this one was sooner and I just made it. There were still some open seats.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“What?”
Was that panic in Tilly’s voice?
“If there’s some kind of emergency and you’re only going for a week, I want to come. To help. And be there for you.”
“I…you… What about work?” Tilly asked desperately.
“It’ll only be one day, anyway, it’s only Friday now.”
“I… Evie.” Tilly’s voice was low. “I—”
“Tilly, I’m coming. I’ll get the flight to Melbourne tomorrow morning.”
And Evie hung up. She ordered an Uber to take her to the domestic airport first thing in the morning and started to pack her bag. Tilly called several times. Evie ignored each one. She did check the messages that came through, in case something had changed with flight plans. The first two were basic Evie you really don’t have to do this, this is very complicated for me messages, but to be honest, Evie was beyond caring. The next message contained Tilly’s itinerary which, yes, was to Melbourne tonight and a return booked for a week. Evie replied with her own, booked to come back after three days as missing a full week of work without notice wasn’t really something she could actually get away with.
The final reply was one in which Evie could practically hear the resignation.
I’ll pick you up in the morning from the airport. My flight is about to take off. Fly safe. Thanks—I guess.
* * *
Evie turned left out of the arrival gate, quickly spotting Tilly at the little café in which they’d planned to meet. A bottle of water sat on the table in front of her. Her leg was bouncing nervously, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip as she stared at it.
Pausing, Evie watched her.
Tilly glanced at her phone, looked around her for a second, then went back to staring at her water bottle, leg not once stopping its nervous bouncing.
Evie felt the opposite. Much like she had storming into the bus station. Not angry, though. But self-assured. Ready for this.
Evie plopped down in the seat opposite and Tilly straightened, eyes widening at the sight of her.
“Hi,” Evie said.
“Hi.” Tilly looked a little wan. “How was your flight?”
“Good. I panicked as we were boarding that maybe I shouldn’t be flying.” She gestured down at her belly.
“Right as you were boarding?”
“Literally. I called my mum, who googled while on the phone with me—which yes, I’m aware I could have done—and she let me know it was fine.”
“Good.” Tilly’s leg was still bouncing. “I’m glad.”
Silence overtook them.
Now Evie was here, with absolutely no idea why Tilly had needed to come or what was going on, some of the wind fell from Evie’s sails. “Uh—happy to see me?”
Tilly gave her a weak smile. “I’m always happy to see you.”
“Even here?”
Hesitation. “Maybe a smidge less here.”
Evie laughed. “I like your honesty.”
“Well, that’s good. Because I think we’re about to be in for a whole lot of that.”
“I think we need to be.”
Tilly stared at her for a moment. “Probably.” She cleared her throat. “I have…a lot to tell you.” Her fingernail flicked over and over the edge of the label on her bottle. “Want to go somewhere else, though?”
It took twenty minutes to get out of the car park, but eventually they were on the freeway.
“I’ve never been to Melbourne,” Evie said.
“I used to think about that, when I was here,” Tilly answered. “That I was here so often and someone who was such a big part of my life had never been.”
Evie turned her head slowly, watching Tilly watch the road, driving sensibly, weaving gently into another lane when someone in front was going too slow. She was so calm on the road. “You grew up here, didn’t you?”
With a nod, Tilly’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I lived here until right after high school, then I got accepted to university in Perth and went there straight away. The rest, as they say, is history.”
The small smile and attempt at a joke fell a bit flat.
“Is it weird that I’m here?” Evie asked.
The silence filled the small space between them, tried to settle into their mouths, to take over. Tilly swallowed visibly, and bravely fought it back, fought back against their habits, her own reflexes. “Yes,” she said softly, and the silence slunk away. “It really is.”
Evie reached over, her hand hesitating a moment before settling above Tilly’s knee. It was the most they’d touched in weeks. She let out a relieved breath when Tilly’s hand lay over her own. Twisting her wrist, Evie let their fingers intertwine.
“But,” Tilly said, more strongly this time, “I’m glad you’re here anyway.”
* * *
It took about an hour before they exited the freeway. Evie’s guts twisted when she saw the sign. “The hospital?”
“Yeah.” The building loomed ahead of them, huge and sprawling. Large letters on its side stating that they were at a paediatric hospital came into sight. “I really did have to be here, there really was an emergency.”
“God, Tilly, is everything—”
“It’s okay,” Tilly interrupted her. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on finding them a parking space. “I mean, it’s not. But it will be. This has been going on for years.”
Tilly pulled into a space and cut the engine, pulling out the keys and fiddling with them on her lap, even as she turned her eyes to Evie. “My little sister has a kidney problem. She had a transfer when she was six, and it was all going well but she needs another one. The call was because they got her another kidney—she’ll have a transfer tonight.”
“Oh my God.” That wasn’t a helpful thing to say, but this wasn’t what Evie had been expecting. “Is she—I mean. Why did the other one fail?”
Tilly shrugged. “It happens. Half of the kids that get a transfer young will need another one later, and the other half won’t. They don’t really know why. We’re just happy she got one after being on the list for a year.”
“I—” Evie swallowed.
Tilly was staring at her, eyes wide and pupils blown, as if she were panicking.
“I’m sorry she’s so sick,” Evie said.
Tilly laughed and Evie blinked in surprise. “Sorry, it’s just that before she started having problems with this one, you’d have no idea she was sick. She gets mad when you imply she’s sick. She’s sixteen now and it’s apparently the worst if we ask her how she is too much.”
“Are you two close?”
Tilly looked down, reaching for the door handle. “We’re closer now.” She snapped open the door and got out of the car, her eyes on the ground as she set off.
Evie rushed to follow suit. She caught up to walk beside Tilly as they headed through the parking garage to the elevators.
Tilly glanced at her as she hit the button for their floor. “I promised her I’d see her this morning—she can’t have too many people visiting her, and my parents are always there.” The doors closed and she crossed her arms. “Then we’ll go and talk, okay?”
Evie nodded. She had a hundred questions. Finally being let into an entire other side of Tilly’s life was like being given access to a chocolate store after never having eaten more than a single piece. But she bit the questions back and sidestepped a little closer to Tilly so their arms were brushing. Tilly sighed and leaned into her. When the doors opened, they stepped through together, Evie following her through the maze of the hospital.
There had never been much need in Evie’s life for hospitals. She’d broken her arm as a kid, and her brother had needed to have his tonsils out when he was young. That and her trip when she’d thought she was losing the baby was her limited experience. The wards were quieter than A&E, but still bustling. Nurses ducked in and out of rooms and kids yelled or laughed. They passed an entire group of clowns and one pretended to hand Evie a plastic flower that disappeared when she reached for it. The crowd of kids following them all laughed and hooted.
Tilly laughed at her surprise. “Kids’ hospitals are full of stuff like this, to keep them distracted. Laura is too old now.” Tilly rolled her eyes. “Or so she says.”
They made it to some big double doors with Renal Ward written over them. Evie followed Tilly past the nurses’ desk, and finally to a room near the end of the corridor. They walked through and were in a two-bed room, the bed closest to the door empty, but cards all over the bedside table and balloons and books showing it was usually occupied. The bed furthest away held a small girl who was pale and grumpy looking and, surprisingly, blonde—Tilly had such dark hair. Two older people who could only be Tilly’s parents sat next to her. The girl caught sight of Tilly and a grin that was a mirror image of her sister’s grew on her face.
“Took you long enough! Did you bring doughnuts?”
Tilly laughed.
“Laura!” their mum scolded. “You know you’re fasting.”
“I can dream, Mum,” Laura said, flopping back into her pillows. She was hooked up to a scary number of machines and drips, various things beeping. “Is this your friend?”
Evie was hanging back and all the faces turned to her. She gave a little wave. “Hi—I’m Evie.”
Tilly’s parents stood up, her mum stepping forward. “Evie, hi.” She gave her a tight little smile, though the worry line between her eyebrows didn’t go anywhere. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sheryl. We’ve heard a lot about you.” She gave Evie a quick hug that was oddly comforting in this sterile room. “This is my husband, Paul.”
Paul stepped forward and shook her hand, closing hers in both of his and giving it a little squeeze. “So nice to finally meet you. And congrats on the bub.”
They both had kind faces, though the bags under their eyes and tight worry lines gave them away.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you both.” She turned to the girl on the bed. “And you, Laura. How you going?”
The mini-Tilly—because she had that attitude down pat—rolled her eyes. “I’ll be better once the big O is over.”
Evie’s eyes widened and Tilly snorted, and Paul and Sheryl went red.
Laura looked between them all and flushed. “Big O sounds like something else, doesn’t it?” She paled. “Wait. I got it. I meant the operation. Not—” She desperately glanced at her parents who were looking anywhere but their daughter. “Anyway.” She cleared her throat. “This is mortifying.” Tilly and Evie both broke and laughed, and Laura gave them the be-all-and-end-all of teenage glares. “Not fair, laughing at the infirm in her bed. I’m already down an organ, and in T-minus—” she looked at the clock on the wall “—six hours, I’ll be down two while they prime up the new one to put into the empty space in my poor sick body.”
Tilly raised her eyebrows. “Really milking this one, aren’t you? There’s not even an empty space, your old kidney got left in there.”
Laura shrugged. “It’s not like I can milk it for doughnuts and choc-milk since I’m fasting and on fluid restrictions, so I’ll take sympathy and forgetting that I made an accidental sex joke near my parents.”
Paul made a choking sound.
It was strange, to sit here and watch as Tilly laughed with her family. They had easy banter, with long-time jokes. The kind of jokes Evie had with her brother and mum. The ones that you can only have when you’ve lived in each other’s space or grown up together.
She’d imagined Tilly as this lonely figure. She’d imagined wild things: parents in prison, a gaggle of illegitimate children being raised by a past lover, heir to a throne, and an FBI agent. And the FBI didn’t even exist in Australia. Come to think of it, Evie didn’t even know the equivalent here. MI6? No, that was James Bond and that was British.
Anyway, she’d never imagined this: a loving family with inside jokes.
But as she watched, Tilly wasn’t all at ease.
There was a slight discomfort, barely there. If she didn’t know Tilly so well, she may not have noticed it. But she wasn’t…relaxed. Evie didn’t even have words to put to it. But there was something, and it had nothing to do with being in a hospital.
They stayed there an hour. Sheryl asked Evie about the pregnancy, and commiserated with the complaints of heartburn that never went away and the conflicting urge to eat everything in sight, even if you knew it would make the heartburn worse. Laura’s perk of energy at their entrance waned, and she looked like she could fall asleep where she lay. She had her legs up on pillows and Evie could see they were swollen, especially around the ankles. Water retention? That made sense, if kidneys were all to do with the fluid in your system.
And thus ended Evie’s medical knowledge.
At the end of the hour, Tilly said they’d have to go. There was reluctance in her voice and Evie was going to say they could stay, but as if reading her mind, Tilly threw her a look. She hadn’t hugged her sister until then, but she leaned over and pressed her lips to Laura’s forehead, who gave a brave smile and closed her eyes to let the affection happen.
Tilly hovered awhile. Evie’s heart fluttered at the sight of it. “See you on the other side, squirt.”
“Not a squirt anymore.”
“Always are to us, sorry.”
Tilly hugged her parents, Evie said goodbye to the family, and the two left the room. They were both silent as they made their way out of the hospital, retracing their steps to the parking garage. There was no one else around and their steps echoed in the big concrete space. If Evie didn’t know any better, she’d swear Tilly was close to tears.
“I’m sure your sister will be okay,” Evie finally said when they reached the car. They both stopped as she spoke, facing each other in the gloomy light. Tilly was looking at the ground, her hands in her pockets. “She got through one surgery already.”
Finally, Tilly looked up, her eyes red and lips pressed tight together, gaze burning. “She’s not my sister.” She said the words rapid fire, as if they’d been pressed down for so long the pressure had built up, launching them out now they were being released. “She’s my daughter.”