Page 35 of Lessons in Love

A rogue tear lands on a photo of Mum and I from when I was a toddler, bundled in ski gear as we went to the snow for the first time. My cheeks are glowing red, tucked in on Mum’s lap on a toboggan. I’m forgetting what she sounded like, what she smelt like. I wipe it away, sniffing. Now’s not the time to get all emotional. I have a job to do.

Scanning and uploading the photos takes time, so when I slide the last one back into place and hear the front door open, I breathe a sigh of relief. Slinking back to my room, I pull my laptop and start tapping away on work for my tutoring students. Pretty easy stuff. Text analysis essays for a Year 9, language and arguments for a Year 11. Authorial intent for Eden.

I spend longer on that one than the others.

By the time dinner comes around, I square my shoulders and head downstairs. Last time wasn’t that bad but when Jason and Dad look at me with matching smiles on their faces, I almost stumble down the end of the stairs.

“Oliver!” Dad says like he’s actually happy to see me. “How has your day been?”

Strange. “Good. Just did some uni stuff and some tutoring preparation.” I hesitate before continuing, asking a question I’m almost too scared to know the answer to. “How was work?”

“Not too bad, even with all the craziness,” Dad laughs. Actually laughs. I can’t remember the last time anyone laughed at this dining table.

“We have a couple more projects that start soon, so we’re spending a lot of time organising the logistics for those,” Jason adds. He actually makes eye contact with me. Again, strange. “The team’s excited about you potentially coming on board. Have you given it more thought?”

I swallow. “I have actually.”

“And?” Dad looks at me, hopeful. I can almost see myself in him when he looks like that. The same nose, the same eyebrows. But I still take after Mum more, in every way that matters.

“I am open to it. But I’m not sure whether I want to do a post-grad next year, so all I can commit to is for the rest of the year.”

“That’s still great news!” Dad claps me on the back. It’s the first physical contact we’ve had in years, and it makes me sit up a bit straighter. It makes me feel like I’m doing something right for a change.

12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Eden.

Gem:

bitch

when do you finish class

unfortunately the paint I spilled on

myself did not wash out of my favourite

pair of jeans

“This is the worst day of my life.”

“I thought that was when a goat tried to kill you and you broke your wrist trying to get away from it.”

“This is worse.” Gemma’s face peeks around the changing room curtain, auburn hair thrown up in a messy bun. Her mascara is smudged and I swear I can see a bead of sweat on her forehead. “This is a whole lot worse.”

Jean shopping. Also known as ‘every woman’s worst nightmare’. You find one pair that fits, but only after you spend three to four hours struggling to squeeze yourself into a dozen different pairs. We’re at the third shop for the day, and I think Gemma just got herself into pair number eight.

Stepping out from behind the curtain, Gemma does a spin for me in a pair of light-washed jeans. They suit her perfectly, but gape slightly against her back. I wolf-whistle, obviously.

“Damn, girl. Coming around here with all that ass?”

She sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “It fits my thighs, sure. But not my waist. This is hopeless!”

As she storms back into the changeroom I give the shop attendant a tight smile. By the one she returns to me, this isn’t her first rodeo.

“Gemma,” I pry. I swear I can hear her muffled cries on the other side. “It’s okay. Let’s go get something to eat and try some more shops afterwards.”