I let the boys battle with their finishing touches while I busied myself brewing a coffee from the machine, hissing and whirring some frothy hot milk, the dark coffee oozing slowly into my cup, blacker than deep rich molasses, but not quite as black as my mood.
I hadn’t bothered to blow-dry my hair this morning, instead letting it dry of its own accord. I shuffled my bunny slippers across the floorboards, carefully carrying my coffee. I eased the sliding door open and stepped out to the beer garden – the new and improved beer garden. All that remained of the previous mess was a pile of clippings by the side entrance that Ringer said he was going to dispose of after he had finished up with Toby.
After a long-awaited, much-needed trim, the morning rays of sunlight finally pierced through the ivy canopy. I could even manage to sit on a chair that was now freshly repainted, and the table top also sported a slick new coat. The concrete had been blasted clean by Toby’s dad’s pressure washer and looked bright and brand new. I sighed as I took a seat, almost laughing to myself that this is exactly what Dad would have done. Well, the old Dad. He would have religiously shuffled out here with his coffee in the morning – all that was missing for me were the paper and a packet of cigarettes.
Sitting out in the beer garden made me feel close to my dad; sitting in his space, imagining him looking around the garden in deep thought like he always did. I would often walk past the sliding glass door and see him staring off into the distance and wonder what he was thinking about. Surely once Dad came home and saw this place looking like new again, once he sat back out here like old times, he would realise that he couldn’t let it go. That this was home.
Dread swept over me – what if the new and improved Dad didn’t sit in the beer garden? Maybe the new Dad would be running alongside Tammy Maskala for ten kilometres instead. My mood blackened at the thought of it, and, like a bad dream, as if conjuring up some cursed image simply by thinking of it, the sliding door opened and out popped Tammy’s head with a brilliantly beaming smile.
“There you are! They said I could find you out here,” she said as she stepped through the sliding door.
Oh, fucking perfect!
The last person I wanted to see.
She had short-shorts on with a matching hot pink sports bra … as you do. Her perky ponytail swished from side-to-side as she approached. She hooked her bag over the chair, placed her water bottle on the table and sat down.
Make yourself at home.
“Been for your run?” I asked unenthusiastically as I sipped on my coffee.
Tammy stretched. “Yeah, this morning; I had some brekkie and showered so I could come over.”
And then got back into her skimpy sportswear for a trip to the pub. Awesome.
I stirred my coffee and stared into the cup.
“So did you have a nice night?” I tried to keep my voice even, non-committal, and as soon as the words were out I inwardly grimaced. Why did I care? I didn’t want to hear all the details, the last thing I wanted was to be bloody Tammy Maskala’s confidante in life again, bosom buddies; it wasn’t as if we had anything in common anymore.
Tammy took a swig of her water bottle, shook her head and smiled. “You know, it is so funny how I used to be so terrified of talking to Sean Murphy, remember?” She laughed.
Remember? How could I possibly forget?
“Yep!”
“I don’t know why. He is so sweet and funny and easy-going,” she said dreamily.
Each trait she listed was like a knife in my chest.
“Well, good things come to those who wait,” I deadpanned. Okay, I was going to have to try to fake nice a lot more, but I couldn’t. With each word Tammy uttered I sank deeper and deeper into depression.
“He’s even taking me out on his boat today; we’re going waterskiing. I love waterskiing! I may not be able to play pool, but waterskiing … now that I can do.”
Wow, that really felt like a punch in the face. Sean had never offered to take me out on his boat. Maybe she really was his type; it was something I would never be able to do. My long-standing phobia of the lake meant it was a definite no-go zone, but here Tammy was about to go full blast into the water sports with him. My heart sank.
“Awesome,” I said in my best upbeat voice.
“You should come out. Stan and Ringer are taking their boats out, too, everyone is going.” Tammy insisted.
“Oh no.” I clicked my fingers. “I have to work the bar today.” I thanked God – the thought of being out on the lake made me feel nauseated.
“Oh.” Tammy’s shoulders slumped. “That’s a shame.”
“Yeah, a crying shame,” I agreed, finishing the last of my coffee.