‘I can think of worse incentives to get me up this mountain,’ Mel sighed, as she made a token effort to increase her speed, for about six steps. ‘Like a greyhound after a rabbit, following that fine specimen. Now, what was we talking about? Oh yeah, Joey’s dad. Well, I’ve said all I’ll say, except this: you’ve spent thirteen years loving that boy, helping shape him into best he can be. Nurturin’ him, body, mind and soul. All that input, that’s what’ll last when the whizz-bang of speakin’ to his dad has fizzled out. This is a scratch he has to itch, a missing piece needs fillin’, and who knows, with the grace of God, it might end up brilliant – I’m all the proof you need, people can change for the better – but if not, he’s a good lad, mostly thanks to you, and he knows that.’
‘Thanks, Mel.’
It’s quite a challenge, running with your nose blocked with snotty tears, and a much shorter woman’s arm gripping your waist. Timewise, it was not my best run. But it was absolutely my favourite.
* * *
‘Coming in?’ Dani asked, gesturing to the café with her neat afro as Mel and I reached the gaggle of runners already waiting outside the door.
‘Um, not today. Joey will be up for training soon, he’ll be wondering where I am.’
‘Send him a text then,’ Bronwyn chirped, head between her impossibly long legs.
A faint sheen of watery blue pushed at the darkness above the buildings surrounding the square. My anxiety peered out at the increasing visibility, the lessening shadows, revealing the vast, unpredictable, complicated world stretching out with a squillion terrifying possibilities.
‘Maybe next time,’ I managed to squeak out between chattering teeth.
Yeah, or maybe in the dead of winter, when I’ll have time to knock back a cup of tea before the sun comes up.
Quickly turning to go, I saw the last woman home trudging towards the square, Nathan alongside her.
‘Come off it, Audrey!’ I heard Selena screech behind me. ‘Have some dignity! At least pretend like you have some!’
Audrey continued walking at the exact same pace, head down, shoulders slumped, her feet scraping along the pavement with each step.
‘Let her be, Selena,’ someone said. ‘Nathan knows what he’s doing.’
‘Not enough for her to have lost any weight in the past four months,’ Selena snapped. ‘Not enough for her blood pressure to drop, or her blood sugars to get out of the screaming danger zone. Not enough for her to be able to fit…’
Thankfully, Selena’s voice disappeared, presumably due to someone shoving her inside the café before her daughter came within earshot. I wondered if Audrey would buy a massive, fat, squishy cake and eat it one deliberate mouthful at a time while Selena tried not to choke on her hot water and lemon.
Part of me hoped she did. The other part felt sad that Audrey allowed herself to be dragged along with the Larkabouts at all. Then I watched Nathan, his slow pace matching hers as he made sure all his team were home safe, and I thought that maybe, two hours a week spent with non-judgemental, uncritical, respectful people who put it all out there, in every sense of the word, made the hour of hell worth it.
Maybe Audrey was the one doing the dragging, because she hoped it might end up changing Selena. In two sessions of the Larkabouts, I already suspected that the work being done here was as much to do with the inside as the outside. Which suited me just fine.
I allowed myself one glimpse back at the warm lights of the Cup and Saucer, nestled between the dark frontage of the shops either side. Saw the silhouette of an arm gesturing madly, heard a hint of raucous laughter in the brief second Audrey opened the door to enter. One day, I would sit and drink tea, eat a wholemeal blueberry muffin or an egg on rye toast. Gossip and joke and maybe even tell a story or two. The wide-open space would be an invitation, not a torment. The world wouldn’t tip and sway and there would be no clanging in my ears or erratic thumping in my chest. I would dig a deep, dark grave for my anxiety and bury her there, along with my shame and my guilt and the wasted, wretched years that these three tyrants have ruled over me.
But first, home, a shower and a conversation with my son.
‘Amy!’ Nathan called across the square, jerking me out of my contemplation. ‘Hang on a minute.’
I pointed at the hint of sunrise on the horizon, not bothering to turn around. ‘No time.’
I wasn’t surprised when he caught up with me. ‘If you want to stay for a drink, I could walk you home afterwards.’
‘I think I’ll pass on you somehow manhandling my sweat-drenched, retching, panic-ridden jelly of a person home in broad daylight on a Sunday morning, thanks.’
His eyes grew startled. ‘Okay. Fair enough.’
At some point, we’d stopped walking. Nathan appeared to have been frozen by the image of me as a retching jelly. My anxiety snickered in the background. I really had to get home. ‘Was there something else?’
‘Oh! Um, yes.’ Nathan held up the gift bag in his hand, as if he’d forgotten it was there. ‘I brought you this. Just in case.’ He offered it to me, wincing a little bit, as if he was afraid I’d throw it back in his face. ‘I’m an optimist.’
‘I guess you have to be, in your line of work.’ I took the bag. Was I supposed to open it now? While I was growing to genuinely like Nathan, and my heart had done a double flip in response to being given something, my churning stomach and trembling legs had other priorities right then. ‘Thanks. I’ll look at it when I get home.’ The press of panic grew strong enough to override my attempt at a normal conversation, wrenching me across the road.
‘After your cool-down!’ Nathan shouted after me.
‘Yes, yes, after my cool-down,’ I muttered, hoping he wasn’t stood there watching the sunrise bounce off my wobbling backside. Unsure about how much my impressive pace was due to the frantic need to get home safe, and how much my desire to see what he’d given me.
