Ordinary Human Love by Melissa Goode

Author:Melissa Goode [Melissa Goode]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ultimo Press
Published: 2024-03-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

THE MORNING OF THE seventh of February, two years ago, Dad called to tell me Mum had died. The musculature in my face seized and Richard watched me, appalled. There was a precise time, a matter of several seconds, when I knew what had happened and he did not.

After packing our bags, Richard drove us to my parents’ house. I cannot now recall that journey. One moment I sat at the end of our bed in Elizabeth Bay while Richard packed. The next moment I sat at the end of our bed in my parents’ house in Lithgow and watched a parallelogram of sunlight slide across the floor.

I heard the voices from downstairs only occasionally, low, quiet and shocked. They were the recognisable voices of long-time family friends. There was the slow, meditative tone of the Rosary being recited by a group of people; a priest, an elderly great-uncle, must have arrived. Richard walked up the stairs and sat next to me on the bed and hugged me. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death … I asked Richard for a sedative.

A couple of mornings later, Richard had driven Aunt Ellen to the Anglican church, even though it wasn’t Sunday. I suspected Ellen would often be going to church, praying for Mum’s soul. For the first time during the strange lull between Mum dying and her funeral, Dad and I were alone; usually Richard, Ellen or some other well-meaning person was with us. Neither of us really ate. Ellen had made us stewed fruit and a Bircher muesli, which stuck in my throat.

‘What is she trying to do to us?’ Dad said, pondering the prune on his spoon.

‘Keep the bowels moving?’

‘They haven’t stopped since she showed up.’ He ate the prune with a sour expression.

We could have made bacon and eggs, but neither of us had the energy.

He put down his spoon and cleared his throat. I sensed an announcement.

‘More tea?’ I said.

‘No.’ He put his elbows on the table and watched me over the steeple of his hands. I knew the look.

‘I’m not up for a discussion, Dad.’

‘I know you’re upset that I’ve instructed a funeral director in town and that your mother is to be buried at the cemetery here.’

‘I still think we should bury her in Sydney.’

‘Your mother and I discussed it a long time ago. This is where she wanted to be, with her ancestors.’

‘An interest in genealogy is one thing …’ I said, my voice fading. I knew he wanted to say that I was being flippant, but he didn’t. I felt the familiar tightening of my jaw.

‘Mardi,’ he said, taking my elbow. ‘It’s only her dust.’

I was stunned that he was ready to speak of my lovely mum, his wife, as dust. I looked down at his hand and willed for him to take it away. I did not want him touching me.

He withdrew his hand. ‘About this other person who was in the accident, Mardi.

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