Page 76 of Queenslander
Ronnie closed her eyes. When she opened them again Rainbow was gone and the door was closed. Nev helped her sit up. Ronnie hissed, wincing, holding her incision. Slouched on the edge of the bed, she took a minute to catch her breath. The room spun. A wave of nausea came and went. She swallowed a mouthful of saliva, then opened her eyes again.
“Can I ask a question?” Nev asked.
“Shoot.”
“Does your ex know you had major surgery nine days ago? Isn’t Rainbow supposed to be with your ex this weekend? Why is she here?”
“I don’t know. No one asked me. I don’t mind. I like having her here.” She didn’t say Rainbow’s name in case she was listening outside the closed door.
“What will you do after I leave?”
“Watch movies.”
Nev blinked once, slow. Disapproval.
“And walk multiple circuits around the garden.” When everyone else was gone she would be bored out of her mind again.
“You need hobbies,” Nev said. “Like reading.”
The last time she had been forced to stay indoors this long she had exercised hours a day in her cell, gotten high off endorphins, bulked up.
“Can you hold a guitar?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll teach you to play.”
“Really? That would be awesome. I would love that.”
The Tea House, built around 1930, was a charming historic building with a long green lawn and several daunting front steps. As soon as they reached the carpark at Lake Barrine and she saw the walk to the front door, she knew she had overestimated her stamina. Nev seemed to agree, based on how slowly she walked around the truck to open the passenger door. Ronnie psyched herself up to step down from the truck.
Hissing, she unfolded herself slowly.
“I don’t like this,” Nev said. “I have a bad feeling about this.” An enormous amethystine python lay half-hidden along the edge of the carpark where the lawn hit the pavement and created a natural curb.
On the round crater lake, an old-fashioned white paddleboat chugged across like a trolley or a toy. She wanted to ride it, but had to stay focused on reaching the front door. She took her hand off the side of the truck, swearing under her breath.
“How do women with C-sections take care of babies?” Nev asked.
“Beats me. I can’t imagine taking care of a newborn right now. Breastfeeding…”
“Did you…?” Nev steadied her when she stopped. “Right, my nerves are shot. We should get you home before you fall and hurt yourself again.”
“It’s not bad.”
Nev laughed.
Inside, Ronnie headed for the table where her relatives were sitting. She hugged her aunts and uncles before sitting in one of the two empty chairs, feeling eleven pairs of eyes watch her lower herself with her arms.
Nev held the chair steady, pushed it in, then sat in the other one. “G’day, g’day.”
Ronnie’s aunt with the purple hair began. “G’day, g’day yourself. You look a dog’s dinner!”
“Thanks, auntie.”
“She lost four liters of blood,” Reg said, almost proudly, as if surviving was an accomplishment.
“How do you feel?” her aunt with the purple hair asked.
