‘I told you. He’s with his girlfriend.’
‘And how do you feel about that?’
Kelly drank more. She stared at the brilliant colour and life of her mother’s garden through her dull eyes. ‘Like I don’t want a fucking counselling session on Easter Sunday from my brother. Anyway, I’ve got more serious shit to deal with. The Society Board has called a crisis meeting for Tuesday morning.’
‘The video?’
‘Yep.’
‘You don’t seem too stressed.’
‘I’m half-cut.’
‘Still.’
‘The hospital communications adviser thinks it’ll all blow over. They’ll probably give me an official warning and stop making me their poster girl, thank fuck. It might actually turn out for the best.’
‘Still.’
Kelly scowled at him. ‘That’s an infuriating conversation technique, you know?’
He tilted his head.
She gave in. No point trying to hide it from her brother. And she could trust him. They’d spent enough hours out on this seat in their teenage years to know it was a place of safety. From their first cigarette together to the day seventeen-year-old Fergus told her he’d slept with their 28-year-old neighbour – nothing here went to Mum and Dad. Not when they were kids, and not now.
‘There’s a chance they’ll force me to seek counselling. That’s not going to look good on my record.’
Fergus scoffed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. These days, if you’renotseeing a psychologist, people assume there’s something wrong with you.’
‘Yeah, well, there’s also the video of me going ape-shit at an innocent member of the public.’
Fergus took another long drag and exhaled. ‘Not everyone thinks he was innocent.’
Kelly’s focus sharpened through the booze haze. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A not-insignificant number of people are on your side. They’re calling the guy a misogynist for his tampon comment. It could backfire on him in a big way if he’s not careful.’
Kelly took Fergus’s cigarette from his fingers and drew back hard. The tip fizzled and crackled at her exertion. She let her tension flow out of her body with the smoke. ‘I just wish everyone would leave me alone to get on with my job. I didn’t ask for any of this other shit. I just want to help sick kids.’
They were silent. Kelly thought of a young girl she’d lost only last week: arrived in hospital on the Monday with a headache and was gone by Wednesday afternoon courtesy of an extremely rare and fatal aneurysm. Brought on by nothing at all. And nothing anyone could do to help her. The girl, Ruby, couldn’t pronounce Kelly’s name so she called her Doctor K. Thank you, Doctor K, she said to Kelly after she examined her and sent her for an MRI. Those were the last words she spoke to Kelly.Thank you, Doctor K. For what? Thank you forwhat? Kelly felt a tear land on her hand. It was tough sometimes. Really fucking tough.
‘So, what are you going to do?’
Fergus’s voice dragged Kelly back into the sunlit garden. She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. ‘Keep my head down. Pass my clinical. And start using click and collect.’
Fergus laughed and refilled her glass.
***
Later that evening, Kelly was alone on the verandah, her head all at sea; awash on the swell of champagne, red wine and the bourbon her brother had cracked open in lieu of dinner. Her dad was in the front room listening to U2 on near full volume, her mum was somehow napping on the couch in the same room and Fergus had gone into the den to play an ultra-violent video game. She would never understand why a thirty-year-old man would still be obsessed with a games console. No wonder his marriage didn’t work. Although she knew that had more to do with his infidelity than his juvenile pastime.
Her skin was sticky from a day of light perspiration in the warm autumn sun. Her vision, though not completely blurred, lacked crispness and the ability to remain on any one object for an extended period.
Her phone floated before her as her head swayed one way and her hand the other. She’d been thinking about him for the last three drinks. It wasn’t fair the way she’d left things between them. He’d done nothing wrong. She was the one who’d freaked out. She’d been contemplating sending a message but didn’t want to interrupt his weekend. Then again, it was Easter – second only in sentimentality to the Christmas holiday. Perhaps it was a good time to heal their rift.
But she wouldn’t go over the top, just cast a lure to see if he would bite.Happy Easter,she wrote and sent. She stared at the message.
Within seconds, the three telltale dots appeared to indicate he was typing back. Kelly’s heartbeat quickened. What would he say? Would he be angry? Rude? Sarcastic?
