Page 42 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

TERMINAL

Oliver, stretched out on the Parker lounge in the garage, was listening to Gerry Rafferty, one of his dad’s records, while he finished his second beer on Sunday afternoon.

For the first time in his life, the long ride hadn’t helped.

His chest hurt, and he missed Mia. He mourned the potential future they might have had.

An hour earlier, he had lost a game of basketball to Mary. She had insisted he spot her ten points.

‘Ten? Seriously?’ he had said.

‘You want to play or not? I’m a busy girl.’

‘Okay, ten, then,’ Oliver conceded.

He had lost by four shots. After that, he spent twenty minutes kicking a rock around the backyard. He really needed to get a dog.

Now, the girls were inside working on an art project. A diorama of a suburban street with three-dimensional houses. Mary had painted murals on the side of the buildings. Meanwhile, he lay on the sofa, consumed by the tangled mess of his love life .

Tash, leaving the house, walked across the yard toward him. After placing her hands on her hips, she stared down at her father. ‘Are you going to do anything today?’

‘Put off today what you can do tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Honey, I’m having a rest day.’

‘Comfort is the enemy of achievement, that’s what Nan always said. Mary and I are making lunch. Would you like something?’

‘What are you making?’

‘Rice serving suggestions,’ Tash said.

‘Can I have tuna?’

‘I’m not making tuna, I’m making chicken.’

‘Despite providing food, shelter, and financial support, I never get what I want?’ Oliver mumbled.

When the Mazda3 pulled into the driveway, Oliver sat up.

Blanche, without Leo, climbed out of the car and made her way toward him.

She was wearing a colourful pantsuit, and he thought she might have come from the hairdresser.

The look on her face indicated otherwise.

There was a grey tone to her skin, which was a few shades lighter than her blonde hair.

Oliver stood up and greeted her with a small hug and kiss on the cheek. She felt cold.

‘Are you working on the bike?’ she asked.

‘He’s working on the beer,’ Tash said.

‘I could use a drink myself.’ When she looked Oliver in the eye, her glassy orbs blinked into his.

Oliver knew immediately that something was wrong – either someone had died, or death was imminent.

‘Whisky, if you have it.’ Blanche continued. ‘No water, but ice would be good.’

In the kitchen, Oliver poured Blanche a shot of whisky over ice. ‘Am I going to need one?’ he asked .

Blanche nodded. ‘It’s Leo. He has a brain tumour.’

Oliver tipped his head back and studied the ceiling. ‘Fuck!’

Tash sucked in an enormous breath of air and covered her face with her hands. Blanche wrapped her arms around the girl, and then Oliver wrapped his arms around both of them. They stayed like that, the three of them hugging in Elsie’s kitchen with Mary watching from the doorway.

Eventually, Blanche sighed and shook herself back into reality. She pulled away, dried her eyes, and raised her glass. ‘To life.’

Taking a glass from the sink, Oliver poured himself a nip, then he raised his glass and downed his whisky. ‘Anything you need. Anything at all,’ he said.

Mia found Leo in the backyard, picking broad beans from the runners that were strung over one side of the garden fence. It was a bountiful crop. At his feet was a container filled with fresh pods.

Mia plodded up the yard. She fell in line next to Leo and started to pluck the beans, placing them into the container. There were many that he had missed on the lower branches. Rummaging around underneath, she came up with her arms filled.

‘I think Flora has dementia,’ she said. ‘Last week, she asked me the same question three times.’

‘Every time we talk, you ask me how I slept, and then we talk about the weather.’

‘Everyone talks about the weather,’ Mia said. ‘I’m just making conversation. It’d be odd if we picked vegetables in silence.’

‘I pick vegetables in silence every day. ’

‘Your wife might be addicted to Tramadol.’

‘And I’m addicted to onion-flavoured crisps and you’re addicted to coffee. Her pain is real. It’s one tablet.’

Mia nodded. Leo was in a serious mood.

‘Speaking of your wife. She asked me to come over. Where is she?’

He hesitated. ‘She’s out, running an errand. ‘You look like someone just stole your dog. What’s that August face for?’

Mia shook her head. ‘No.’

‘That’s a very small word. It doesn’t tell me much.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Okay then, come help me pod the broad beans.’

Leo collected the container. They sat on the low retaining wall that ran along the edge of the garden. He handed her half the runners. ‘Let’s make it a competition,’ he suggested. ‘Loser makes the tea.’

Mia peeled her first runner, scooped the beans from the silky white flesh and dropped them into the container. Beside her, Leo steadily podded his beans.

‘Are you going to tell me why you’re so upset?’ he asked.

‘I ran away from someone. From a man.’

‘Why?’

‘My chest got tight, I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘It’s your fight-and-flight hormone under stress. Keep peeling. I’m way ahead of you.’

Mia looked at her pile. She picked up another runner, broke open the shell, and popped the beans out.

‘I can see where you went wrong,’ Leo said. ‘You’re supposed to run toward him – into his arms – not in the opposite direction. You’re never going to get a man if you run away. ’

‘I don’t need a man. I’m blissfully happy.’ Tears were welling in her eyes.

‘This is the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time.’

She offered him a pretend smile.

‘I’m not seeing teeth.’

She drew her lips back and bared her teeth.

‘How do you maintain a relationship and stay sane at the same time?’ she asked.

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘I’ve been seeing Oliver.’

‘We know. We like to think we helped get the two of you together. At Elsie’s wake, Blanche sent Oliver outside with the trash – it was a pretence so he could talk to you. It was my idea that Oliver drive you back to town after Elsie’s funeral.’

‘Did you sabotage the BMW? Because that would be impressive.’

‘No. That was just good luck. Pass me that basket.’

Mia handed him a wicker container for the empty bean husks. These would go into the compost.

Mia’s pile of beans looked untouched. Leo’s pile had almost vanished.

‘You know how some little girls harbour a desire to get married,’ she said. ‘They plan weddings for their pets and make their Barbie dolls walk down the aisle. They coo over celebrity weddings and wear dresses that resemble bridal gowns.’

‘You’re going to tell me that you were one of those little girls.’ Leo had finished his beans and started on Mia’s pile. ‘I know. I remember.’

‘I even collected photos of brides and made a wedding scrapbook. After Alfie, I thought it might not happen. For the last three years, I’ve worked very hard trying to deflate that dream. Six months ago, I was in a good place. Now look at me.’

He studied her face. ‘Puffy,’ he confirmed. ‘What are you going to do about this running-away disease?’

‘I don’t know. Any advice?’

‘Stop running.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Easier said than done. It’s like fighting a primal instinct – it doesn’t feel natural.’

‘Knitting a fancy Fair Isle jumper isn’t easy. But staying happy in a long-term relationship might be harder. Given our misleading romantic culture, it might be the hardest thing in the world.’

With the beans podded, Leo took the wicker basket filled with husks to the compost. When he returned, he sat down on the wall beside her again.

‘Will Blanche be back soon?’ Mia asked.

‘I’m afraid we’ve set you up, again. I have bad news.’ He patted her knee. ‘I got my tests back – the third lot. The doctors wanted to confirm some of the results.’

Mia froze.

‘Blanche has gone to see Oliver and Tash. I have a…a final diagnosis.’

Her hands began to shake. ‘What do you mean by a final diagnosis?’

‘I have a brain tumour. It’s terminal.’

‘The brain freeze? The Portuguese chicken?’

‘Yes. I’ve known for a few months. The radiation hasn’t worked. I’ve decided to stop the treatment.’

‘But you have to try.’

‘I don’t like it – headaches, insomnia, nausea. And there’s no guarantee it’s going to work. I shall live out the rest of my days happy – it might be shorter, but it’s the quality that matters the most. ’

Leo had the look of a soldier who had single-handedly lost a war. It was too much for Mia. She covered her face with her hands. Tears caught in her throat, and her eyes streamed. It was a big heartfelt cry that wracked her whole body.

‘Getting old sucks,’ she said.

‘It’s worse if you get old and mean.’ He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. ‘Come on. I’m not dead yet. An old man is knocking at my door, but I’m not letting him inside.’