“It’s five thirty. Five thirty in the evening.”
“Here it’s the morning. Tomorrow morning, I think.”
“Man, that is freaky. Seriously, are you looking out for the spiders? And did I warn you about those blue-ringed octopuses that kill you in ten seconds?”
“You did. Funnily enough, very few blue-ringed octopuses in the desert,” Heather said.
“Don’t blame me when they get ya. How’s the trophy husband?”
“He’s good.”
“I’ll bet he is! He’s a tall drink of water, that one. And how are the little monsters?” Carolyn asked.
“You shouldn’t call them that.”
“Ha! I knew you would get Stockholm syndrome sooner or later. Cough me an SOS in Morse code if he’s in earshot.”
“He’s not and everything is OK.”
“You’ll come and see me when you get back? Show me your photos, tell me everything?”
“Of course.”
“I haven’t seen you for ages.”
“The ferries—it’s complicated.”
“He doesn’t like you coming back here, does he?”
“You’re crazy.”
“It’s the drugs, isn’t it? He thinks we’re all degenerates. You should never have told him about our marijuana crops. And yet he gives his own kids so-called prescription drugs. They’re hypocrites, these doctors, and—”
“Oh my God, Carolyn, can we change the subject? How’s everyone at home? Tell me about the Sound. What’s the weather like there?” Heather interrupted.
“Let me go to the window. You can’t see shit. Fog and rain. Drizzle.”
“I dreamed it was snowing,” Heather said. “How’s Scotty?”
“He’s hanging in there. He came by to see me yesterday. Just nudged open the door and came in. I gave him a couple of pets and he fell asleep on the mat.”
“Seen my dad?”
“Yup. He’s good. Been out kayaking.”
“And my mom?” Heather asked.
“On her good days she just flicks paint at you as you go past.”
“And on her bad days?”
“She insists you come in and look at her art.”
“Oh, boy, I miss you guys. But I’m seeing stuff in the world now, you know?”
“Tell me! What’s Australia like?”
“It’s beautiful. Stark and red and gorgeous. And the people are super-friendly.”
“I’ve heard that. Look out for any random Hemsworths and pass on my number.”
“I will,” Heather said. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m great.”
“Writing any songs?” Heather asked.
“No. You?”
“No.”
Silence down the line. A little bit of tension creeping into the static.
“You know I’m real happy for you, honey…” Carolyn said.
“I’m sensing a but coming.”
“But, man, when you left, you said you wanted to be a singer or an actress. You said you wanted to soar—”
“And now I’m just a boring housewife crashed to earth in a tangled mess of wax and feathers,” Heather said.
“See? You had talent. That’s a lyric right there. Who knows where you could have gone? New York? Hollywood?”
Heather yawned. “I better go, I gotta take the kids to the beach in a bit.”
“God, he really has you where he wants you, doesn’t he? Twenty-four-hour live-in nanny with benefits and he doesn’t have to pay you a dime.”
“That’s not the way it is,” Heather said.
“Isn’t it? Be honest with me, girl. I won’t report you to the Mommy Gestapo.”
Heather sighed. “Well, it’s been a tough week. A tough year, in fact…it’s—”
“Spoiled rich kids, right?”
“No, look, it’s me, I guess. I was never an aunt, and you know babysitting was never my thing. No one tells you how mean they can be. I love Tom and I’m so grateful for everything he’s done for me, but it’s just…exhausting sometimes.”
“Of course it is. Even with good kids.”
“They’re not terrible and I feel bad for them…their mom—”
“You gotta protect yourself, honey! It’s about you and your life. Don’t end up like the first wife, drunk and dead at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Carolyn! You know that’s bullshit. Judith had MS, balance problems—”
“Just teasing. I’ll swap lives for a bit, even with the shitty kids, if you think he’d go for a feisty redhead.”
“He might.” Heather laughed.
“Speaking of booze, are you still going to that winery tour you talked about?”
“I don’t know. I hope so,” Heather said and yawned again. “I need sleep. Later, babes.”
“Take care, honey.”
“You too. Pet Scotty for me.”
She hung up, went to the bedroom, lay facedown on the bed, and was asleep in seconds.
Owen woke her an hour later by poking her in the neck. “You were supposed to take us for ice cream,” he said.
“What? Where…oh, yeah, sure. Beach, then ice cream. Give me five minutes.”
She went to the bathroom to freshen up and opened the door a little when she heard her name. “Don’t tell Heather but I found a record player downstairs,” Olivia was saying. “A shit-ton of vinyl.”
“Don’t tell Dad either! I’ll bet there’s classical.”
“At least with Dad, it’s kind of age-appropriate. With Heather, it’s such Millennial hipster bullshit. I’m dreading the day when she confesses that she’s a Hufflepuff and asks us what Harry Potter house we’re in,” Olivia said.
“Cringe city!” Owen agreed and both kids laughed.
Heather closed the bathroom door and allowed herself a “Little shits” under her breath. The kids were already accomplished child-soldiers in the war between generations. And really, if either of them had taken the trouble to look at her Spotify playlists, they would have found Porridge Radio, Chance the Rapper, Vampire Weekend, Post Malone, Big Thief, the Shaggs…she sighed and realized she was never going to win this one.
The house was well stocked with sunblock and beach towels. She gave Owen his Ritalin, Olivia her Lexapro, and the three of them went across the road and found themselves on St. Kilda Beach. Owen almost never took off his hoodie but it was so warm, Heather supposed that even he would eventually cave.
“Come on, let me take you both in the ocean,” she said.
“No way,” Owen grunted but Olivia followed her down to the water. Olivia was lean, like her dad, and she had her mother’s blond hair and coloring. She’d been growing fast in the past year. Her mind may have been grieving and shutting down but her body didn’t know that. The body was stretching out. Fourteen, but you would have guessed sixteen or older. Heather and Olivia tried the water but it was surprisingly cold. Owen dipped in a toe and gave them a you-tricked-me scowl.