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“I’m fine,” Rose said as she curled up on the couch, phone pressed to her ear.
“Rose,” her father said. She wouldn’t trade her dad for anyone else’s, but occasionally, she wished he were a little less caring and perceptive. “It’s Mother’s Day. I know it’s not the easiest day of the year for you.”
Yeah, that was true. It felt like everywhere she looked, she saw Mother’s Day greeting cards and bouquets and restaurant specials. Her mother was dead, and the day was further complicated by the fact that her relationship with her mother had been, well, complicated.
In some ways, her mom had been amazing. In other ways, not so much.
It wasn’t her mother’s mental illness. No, the biggest problem had been Mom’s view of mental illness. She hadn’t really believed that depression was an illness; she saw it as a weakness to be ashamed of. Something to be talked about in hushed voices, if at all; something you should have the strength to overcome in silence.
And she’d absolutely hated that her daughter had it, too.
In her second year of university, Rose had gone to the university health center in desperation, and a doctor had prescribed her some antidepressants. She hadn’t thought they were helping, but she’d been told they might take time to work. She’d brought them back to Ottawa when she went home over the Christmas holidays, and she’d been very careful not to let her mother see them. But Mom had done a little snooping, and she’d found them stashed in Rose’s desk.
Mom had been furious.
Rose recalled saying something about a chemical imbalance in her brain, and her mother had called that bullshit, and then her parents had had a big fight.
Rose hadn’t taken antidepressants again until after her mother’s death.
She tried not to blame herself for her depression, but it was tough when that was what she’d been brought up to believe. Her mother had been so good about defending her from her grandmother’s attacks on her weight, which had started when Rose was seven and chubby. But when it came to depression, Mom hadn’t been a supportive parent.
“You know she loved you very much,” Dad said, “even if she couldn’t always show it. The fact that she ended her life...it doesn’t mean she didn’t love us.”
“I know.” Rose didn’t understand why he was telling her this; she was very, very aware of what it was like to be suicidal.
“I just...” Dad paused. “I was watching a show the other day, and when one of the characters tried to kill himself, it was implied that he didn’t love his family.”
Rose sighed. She’d heard such things before.
She shifted on the couch, feeling even more mentally and emotionally exhausted. She’d been sleeping okay recently, and last night hadn’t been too bad, but now it was Mother’s Day.
“Today isn’t a great day,” she told her father, “but I think I’ve been getting better overall. Sometimes the weather helps. One day this week, I’m going to leave the office early and go to Edwards Gardens to see the tulips.”
“That sounds nice.”
They spoke for a few more minutes, and then Rose made herself a cup of tea and turned on the TV. She had two more episodes left in her rewatch of The Untamed, and she snuggled with Fred under a blanket as she started up Netflix. It was warm enough that she didn’t actually need a blanket, but it was soothing.
Cal came back an hour later, and rather than just smiling and saying “hey,” he took a seat on the recliner.
A little reluctantly, she paused the show.
“What are you watching?” he asked.
“The Untamed.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a xianxia drama. This is the last of fifty episodes.”
He whistled. “Well, I bet you want to know what happens next. I won’t—”
“No, no, it’s fine,” she found herself saying. “This is the third time I’ve watched it. I know what happens.”
“The third time?”
“I enjoy rewatching things I like. It’s comforting, and I don’t have to think too much.”
He considered this for a moment and nodded. “Makes sense. Maybe I’ll check it out.”
She sat up straight. “Really? You’re interested?”
“Sure, why not? I keep flipping through Netflix, not sure what to watch. This will keep me busy for a while.”
“I’ll watch it with you,” she offered.
“Yeah? But you’re just about finished.”
“Like I said, it’s comforting for me, and since it’s fifty episodes, it’s been a while since I saw the first one. Well, only a month, but still. I don’t mind at all.” She also wanted to make sure this meatloaf, peas-and-carrots white guy, who seemed unfamiliar with Asian dramas, didn’t give up after the first episode or two.
“Sure.” He actually looked rather pleased about this. And he didn’t think she was too weird for finishing a show and going right back to the beginning, so that was nice.
“Okay, we’ll start this week.”
“Sounds good.” He paused. “By the way, I got something for you. Well, not for you, exactly, but...” He reached into a bag and pulled out a smiling turtle plushie.
A plushie! That certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
“It’s so cute,” she said. “But why are you showing me if it’s not for me? You’re a big tease.” She hoped that sounded appropriately playful but not flirtatious.
“I’ve noticed that Fred has a bunch of plushie friends who like and comment on his posts. The turtle is going to have her own Instagram account, too.”
“Ooh, yes. They can hang out together and we can take pictures of them!” Rose imagined all the fun that Fred and his turtle friend would have, drinking brown sugar boba and similar.
Then the smile slid off her face. She was a little embarrassed about her excitement.
But Cal had bought this turtle, and though she didn’t like to think about their one-night stand, he hadn’t seemed bothered when he’d given her a teddy bear to hold. Maybe there was no need to feel embarrassed.
Admittedly, the sight of this big bearded guy holding a little turtle was rather adorable. The plushie wasn’t tiny, but it looked tiny in his hands.
Dammit, she really needed to stop thinking about his hands. His fingers, which had been inside her. Not just when they were in his bed, but when they were in public.
A man should not look so good holding a stuffed turtle. It was unfair.
She looked away from him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You said you didn’t want me to take pictures of you and Fred together, so I thought this would work instead.”
“You’re not trying to seduce me, are you? Because that ship sailed when...”
She’d been about to reference his lie about his phone being run over, but now she was starting to doubt her conviction that he’d made up that story. This man, who cooked her dinner and wanted to watch The Untamed with her, wouldn’t have asked for her number if he didn’t mean to use it, would he have?
Hmm.
“I know, I know,” he said good-naturedly. “Don’t worry.”
For a moment. she was disappointed, but then she told her brain to stop being silly. Cal was a roommate and friend—she felt comfortable using that word now.
Yes, even though it was Mother’s Day, which was far from her favorite day of the year, this weekend had had its good parts, too.
“What should we call your turtle?” she asked.
“Shelly?”
“Because she has a shell?”
Cal scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, but if you have a better idea...”
“No, I think Shelly is good.”
“Great. I’ll start her account after I vacuum.” He stood up.
Rose returned to the final twenty minutes of The Untamed with a smile on her face.
* * *
Mother’s Day lunch with his family hadn’t gone as well as Cal had hoped. He and his siblings had discussed restaurants last week, and Jodi had made a reservation at a nice one.
That had all been fine.
But Dad had been on Cal’s case more than usual. Among his many complaints about Cal’s life was the fact that Cal lived with a roommate—apparently, twenty-nine was too old to have a roommate.
Once again, Cal was reminded that at twenty-nine, his parents already had a house and two kids, and his protests about real estate prices in Toronto never seemed to matter to his father. Dad thought the only reason Cal didn’t own property was that he was an entitled idiot millennial who didn’t know what he was doing with his money.
Which was...sort of true. Anything to do with numbers made him freak out.
But even if he were better with money, it would have been tough for him to buy property, which of course had led to another rant about how Cal should have gone to university.
His attempts to smile and talk about something else hadn’t gone well. Nothing had worked until his mother had asked if they could all just get along for once—that was when Dad had given Cal one final glare and focused on his food.
On the way home, Cal had been walking by a store that had a bunch of plushies in the window, and he’d thought of Rose. After the conversation with his father, he’d asked himself whether this was really a good use of his money, then decided that it was. Things that might make his roommate happy were a good use of money. Yes, she’d already said he could stay, but still. He just liked making Rose smile, and she’d been delighted with the turtle.
She’d seemed a little off before that—his guess was something related to Mother’s Day. Rose sometimes mentioned her dad, but she never talked about her mom.
Was she not on speaking terms with her mother? Was her mother dead?
He didn’t feel like it was his place to ask. If she wanted to tell him, she could, but he wouldn’t pry.
He started an Instagram account for Shelly the Turtle, and he followed Fred and a few of the plushies who commented on Fred’s pictures. Then he took a picture of Shelly on his bed and posted it.
Hi, I’m Shelly. I like cake, slow walks in the park, and other turtly things.
He considered changing the “cake” part, but he figured if turtles knew about cake and were able to eat it, they’d like it. Besides, this would give him an excuse to buy a cake.
A little while later, Rose knocked on the door to his room, Fred in hand, and suggested that Fred and Shelly pose in a picture together. She posted the photo to Fred’s Instagram with the caption: This is my new friend Shelly! Our humans live together. Then she headed back downstairs.
When Penguin Pip commented a few minutes later, asking if their humans were dating, Fred/Rose immediately replied. No.
Cal shouldn’t feel sad, but he did.
Once again, he couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t dropped his phone in front of a truck.