Page 9

Chapter Nine

Golden Wattle

( Acacia pycnantha )

A child-friendly, without toxins, indigenous species. It grows quickly into a hardy, spreading shrub or small tree. Produces fluffy, golden blossoms in late winter. Aboriginal uses: the hard wood can be used for making tools, weapons, and musical instruments. The pollen and sap have uses in making medicine, glues, dyes, perfumes and are used for ceremonial decoration. Dried/hard seeds can be ground into flour.

I t was just as well that the next day was Saturday and Lucas was working because Steph and I were completely useless and any boss worth their salt would have fired both of us. Lots of “Hi gorgeous” amongst the pots. Many kisses in between rows. It was a wonder that the plants weren’t leaning in just to suck up all the happy hormones to create a cocktail with their chlorophyll.

Only one piece of news broke into our thoughts.

“It’s a boy!” Lucas shouted from the front of the store. “Check your phone, boss!”

Sure enough, after I unlocked my phone and Steph and I read the text, we discovered that Kahlia had delivered—early like I’d said she would—a gorgeous baby, now forty-eight-hours old, with the brightest of blue eyes and the gummiest of smiles. Well, sort of a smile. More like the internationally recognised expression of “What the fuck?”

I sent off a capital letter reply, with attached congratulatory GIFS.

On Sunday, we closed early and, after meeting Lucas on the footpath outside the shop, we attached ourselves to the trio of Jules, Pip, and Ted to walk the block and a half further down our street to Derek and Kahlia’s place.

Steph had brought a bag of goodies, including boxes of sensible things like bum wipes and expensive things like a handmade wooden toy that I knew was over the hundred dollar mark.

“It looks like you went to the Walker’s Bulk Grocery Warehouse and filled a trolley.” I grinned at her, taking in the soft breeze blowing her hair about. Her twinkling eyes. Her smile that I had claimed as mine. Delicious.

“Not exactly but I know people who know people, so it was easy to get my hands on…” She swung the bag to finish the statement.

“I must get to know your people who know people. They might like to meet my people.”

Steph giggled. “We can arrange that one day.”

We were without Mr and Mrs G because they went to Greek church on Sundays to engage in the Paschal celebration of the Resurrection, which, according to Mrs G was, “Better than the church my parents took me to when I was the little girl. Pah! The boring tone. I am helping with the afternoon teas at this parish only because the worshippers, they are happy and appreciate my coffee. I make the cakes, yes?”

They sent their best wishes and a giant basket of onesies and bits and bobs that they thought were necessary for a baby. Lucas was lugging that in his arms as we slowly—Ted’s pace—made our way along the footpath.

Derek and Kahlia’s little flat was a one-bedroom shoebox but the landlord had gone all-out on the fixtures and accommodations for Kahlia’s wheelchair. Kahlia reckoned their place could be the cover of an International Disability Awareness brochure because the landlord had sent in a team to widen corridors, drop bench heights, organise a roll-in shower, build ramps at the front and back doors, and install air-conditioning for when summer and Kahlia had their seasonal argument. It helped that the landlord scored a healthy rebate from Disability Services Australia, but even still, it really was extensive and Kahlia and Derek were thrilled.

Denise, Kahlia’s mum, opened the door, peered at the six of us, and blanched.

“Oh! Hello. What a large group of people!”

I stepped forward. “Hi, Denise. We’ve spoken on the phone before once or twice. I’m Angel Whitlock, the owner of Dig It. This is Steph and Lucas my colleagues, Jules and Pip from Coffee and Crystals and Ted from Ted’s Used Books. We’re just here to see Kahlia and Derek and the new arrival. And you, too, of course.” I grinned at her, and she seemed to relax.

“Well, come in. I’m sure I can make room. You know, the flat is just so small and sometimes?—”

“Mum. It’s okay. Please.” Kahlia’s voice carried across the little lounge room. She sounded exhausted yet thrilled that we’d all turned up for a visit.

We took the few small steps into the flat and Lucas thrust the basket of baby stuff into Denise’s hands just so she had something to do rather than wring her hands to death. Lucas could read a room.

Derek rose to meet us, enveloping us in individual warm hugs, while we murmured our congratulations. Even Steph. Then I remembered that Kahlia and Derek had no idea who Steph was.

“Derek, Kahlia? This is Steph Thatcher, the latest recruit who I…welcomed to the jungle.” I went for the grunge-growl of Axl Rose from Guns ’N Roses at the end of the sentence but all I got were crickets. I sighed. People didn't appreciate good rock ’n roll anymore.

“Hi, Steph. It’s nice to meet you.” Then Kahlia tilted her chin. “All of you get over here for a group sort of hug. I want a selfie.

Kahlia’s grin was the first thing I saw when I walked past Denise, who was still clutching the basket and now our bags of presents, and looking unsure whether she should intervene in the staff reunion.

I pointed to the basket en route to the ottoman next to Kahlia’s chair. “Present from the G’s,” I said to her and Kahlia gasped at the basket’s size. “Yeah. I think Mrs G made some things, then decided that a whole aisle at Target needed clearing.”

“It’s so generous. You’re all so generous,” Kahlia said, her eyes blinking back tears as she took in all of our gifts. “Sorry. No water restrictions this side of Melbourne. I’m a permanent faucet.”

Denise, having divested us of the basket and bags, placing them near the cot, turned to her son-in-law. “Derek, Kahlia needs a tissue. We should have some nearby. I should have thought of that. Perhaps?—”

The baby, tucked into a handy sling so that Kahlia could hold him close and still manoeuvre her chair, cooed loudly as if to say, “Hello? Remember me?”

It had the desired effect because all of us leant around the back and sides of the wheelchair to admire one gorgeous teeny, tiny baby.

“Can I touch him? His cheek?” Steph asked, almost reverently.

Derek chuckled. “Of course. Better yet…” He and Kahlia were definitely linked via ESP because Kahlia undid the catches and passed the baby up to Derek’s waiting hands. He turned to Steph. “Want a hold before any of this lot?”

Steph’s face lit up and she shuffled onto the couch.

“Oh, how is that fair? That’s new girl privileges. Right, your coffee name’s going to be Queue Jumper from now on,” Jules harrumphed.

While I was waiting, I heard Pip start up a conversation with Kahlia about her latest crystals pack and, when Kahlia felt more inclined, how a three-stone reading would be awesome and amazing and cool. Ted got talking to Denise, who had begun unwrapping the baby items from the gift basket and lining them up on the floor against the TV cabinet.

After my brief hold just to say hi, the baby started to get a little fractious, but Kahlia motioned to Ted, who had been waiting in line as if we were playing the children’s party game, ‘Pass The Parcel’. He sat on the armchair.

“He’s just a little tired,” Kahlia said, soundly equally as tired. “But would you like to have your hold of him?” Her voice was vulnerable like she needed everyone in attendance to lift her child. To see her and Derek as two people who had made this incredible being. Maybe to bear witness to community. I got teary at the thought.

“Of course. Come here, wee mite.” Ted opened his arms, and suddenly the squorks and squarks stopped. Here was a person of great wisdom and comfort, according to?—

“Kahlia, what’s the baby’s name?” I asked. It seemed like such an obvious question but in deference to today’s society of pronoun and name awareness, it was never certain. Particularly with our rainbow collection of humans.

“Leroy,” Derek said, puffing up with pride. He rested his hand on Kahlia’s shoulder and looked down at her face, both of them with the sun radiating from every pore. More teary thoughts trickled through my brain.

Meanwhile, Leroy was having a whale of a time listening intently as Ted softly crooned a song that was probably last published on a cassette tape, then Leroy inhaled deeply, and farted, probably making Ted eternally grateful for nappies with grip tape.

“Fractious farting?” Lucas asked.

I clapped him on the back. “It should be a topic in all high school health classes. How to deal with babies. Best contraception ever.”

Everyone laughed, except Denise who was starting to fuss.

“Kahlia, sweetie, are you ready for a nap? I can tell when you need to get out of your chair. Perhaps?—”

“Denise,” Pip broke in. “I understand from Kahlia that you have a passion for the Tarot. I have a brand new pack that came in a couple of days ago. Would you like to come and assist me in having the Earth Mother bless the cards? We could do it this afternoon. Perhaps walk back to the shops with all of us? I think Kahlia and Derek have got Leroy sorted for a bit.”

Denise turned to Pip, and behind her mother’s back, Kahlia mouthed a very articulate, “Thank you so much,” with wide eyes, almost weeping with gratitude.

“Well…well, that sounds delightful, Pip. Thank you.” I could see Denise was torn between helicopter-parenting or healing.

Tarot won out. Probably because of Derek’s response, which included words like, “Great idea, Pip”, and “Don’t forget your bag, Denise. It’s behind the coffee table.”