After ten more days of sleeping, eating, Gabby and beach, Grandma drives me up the coast.
Home.
Even from the outside, when we pull up in the car, it looks different for some reason. Mum and Geoff are back; both their cars are parked in the driveway. There’s a new potplant on the front steps — an azalea. I stop to read the label, because I always read plant labels. It says it will be bright pink when it flowers. I slide my hand into the pocket of my jeans and play with Mum’s bracelet.
“Do you want me to come in?” Grandma asks, and I’m not sure what to say. How is this all going to work, now that Geoff’s here? I open my mouth, but Grandma cuts in over me.
“I’ll come in,” she says. She reaches over and pats my hand. “The worst thing about doing something for the first time, is doing it for the first time. After that, it’s easier.”
We knock, just to let them know we’re there, but I turn the handle anyway, at exactly the same time someone else turns it inside, and then the door is swung widely open and both Grandma and I are caught up in a hug, big and warm, from Geoff.
“Yes, it’s them,” he calls out, back down the hallway, into the kitchen, where Mum must be. I didn’t hear her question, but when he lets us go, I’m looking past him to find her, and then she’s rushing out of the door, towards me, and she hugs me so hard she nearly picks me up. My feet are barely touching the ground.
“Jaz!” There’s a kiss on my cheek, and another hug and then she lets me go, holding me out so she can see me properly. “Have you grown?” she says, with delight. “Look, Geoff. I think she’s even grown. In just two weeks.” She takes Grandma’s hand in hers. “And thank you, Gloria, for all you’ve done. For having her, for the driving… everything.”
“Yes, thank you.” Geoff’s voice booms in. “We really appreciate it.” He puts his arm around Mum. “Come in. Can we get you a drink?”
Grandma stays for three minutes, drinks a glass of water, and then she doesn’t stay any more; she says she needs to get back because she doesn’t like driving in the dark. She leaves, and I hug her before she goes. I know she’s happy, but I know she’s sad, too, and I understand, because I feel the same way.
Happy. Sad.
Different.
Changed.
Mum’s changed. It’s in the way she speaks — quicker, and lighter perhaps. She smiles more; when Geoff walks into the room, she’s all alert, like someone’s pressed a button in her that reads ‘Be Happy Now’. But it’s not fake happiness. It’s actually real. My mum is happy, and I’ve never seen her like this before.
I’ve changed too. I notice it as I watch her cook dinner, and as the three of us eat together ‘as a family’ for the first time. Mum says the words out loud; she wants us to hold hands and give thanks, and Geoff gives her a sappy smile in reply. I feel choppy, all in pieces, somehow. My appetite falls away and I have to take deliberate bites and chew determined mouthfuls of the schnitzel Mum serves up.
After I ask to leave the table and stand up, I notice the change in the way I see things — as though everything’s shifted slightly, or it’s shifting even while I’m looking. Maybe the extra centimetre Mum reckons I’ve grown has given me a different perspective, but I think it’s more than that. It’s everything; the new potplant, the piles of wedding presents I caught out of the corner of my eye, in Mum’s room, the smell of Geoff’s aftershave, just lingering. It’s the way the light catches differently with the furniture moved around. It’s Mum herself. I knew things would be different, even though she told me that they wouldn’t be, almost every day, for weeks before the wedding.
“Nothing’s going to change between us, Jaz. I’m still me. You’re still you. We’re just getting an addition, that’s all.” She said it over and over, but she must have known it could never be true.
I touch the bracelet in my pocket. “I’ll go unpack now, okay?”
There’s a tiny pause where I can see Mum give Geoff a look, and him return a similar look to her.
Is she okay?
Should I say something?
Do you want me to…?
No, just leave her.
“Of course, sweetheart,” says Mum.
“Do what you need to do,” says Geoff.
Both their voices are happy. But suddenly, all I want to do is to sleep. I unpack my bag, go outside and water my garden, and then get into bed.
“Are you alright, Jaz?” Mum sticks her head around the door. “Tired from the drive up?”
“I guess,” I say.
She comes in and sits on my bed. “How was it?”
I shuffle up so I can see her better. “Good. I mean, fine. I saw Gabby a lot.”
“Did you get to the beach?” she asks. “Were there any warm days?”
“Not really,” I say. “Not for swimming. But we walked there a lot.” Immediately a picture of five teenagers comes rolling into my head. Five teenagers, laughing and joking together. Five teenagers, like me.
“I saw some other kids,” I say, but Mum has turned her head, like she’s listening.
“Coming,” she says loudly, in the direction of the door. “I’m just in with Jazmine.” She turns back to me. “Other kids? Gabby’s friends, you mean?”
“Not really,” I say. “They were kind of on the beach…” but Mum’s attention has gone again. She’s scrolling through her phone.
“Did you see any pictures from the wedding?” she asks. “There was a lovely one someone texted through, of you. You looked very soulful. Here, I’ll show you…”
“Are there any more of you and me together?” I ask, and she stops scrolling for a moment.
“Ohmigosh, you know, I don’t think there are.” She looks worried. “I can’t believe that got missed.” She goes back to the phone. “But here’s the one of you.”
I look at it. She’s right. It is ‘soulful’, whatever that means. Maybe a combination of alone and — I hardly like to admit it — beautiful?
“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” says Mum. “That dress was just right for you.”
I nod. I can’t take my eyes off the picture. Is it really me? If it is, I’ve changed too.
But I already knew that.
“The kids I saw, on the beach.” I put my hand on Mum’s arm. “They were doing…” But it’s too late. Mum is already looking past me and standing up. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ve just got to go out and take a phone call. Geoff’s calling me.” She rushes for the door. “I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”
“Don’t worry,” I say. I shuffle back down in my bed, so my head is on the pillow again. “I’m going to sleep.”
She peers back at me, like she’s worried or something. “Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure,” I say. I put it in a happy voice so she doesn’t get worried. “I’m just tired. From the trip, you know.”
“Okay.” She steps forward and kisses me on my hair. “Well, good night then.”
“Good night.”