“Speaking of my brother, did you know he got back into town yesterday?”
“No. I didn’t.” I hadn’t kept any sort of track of Oliver since he’d left for the police academy. Drew and I had an unspoken agreement not to talk about him, I didn’t want to hear about how well he was doing or about the life he was now living in the City. I didn’t want the constant reminder that he’d left me behind because I hadn’t been good enough for him to take with him, that was why I had also burnt any and all reminders I’d had of him. The teddy bears he’d bought me along with the photos we’d taken together all ended up as ashes. I had kept a couple of things, so any and all reminders might have been a little stretch of the truth, One thing I’d kept was a t-shirt, which I still slept in occasionally but not because it was his or reminded me of him but because it was warm and I admittedly looked cute in it, any scent of his cologne had been washed out years ago. “For how long?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. He hasn’t really talked much about being home.” I nod, my mind is reeling as to why after all this time he’d come back to Fosford. It was Drew waving his hand in front of my face that brought me back to the present. “Dase, the coffee?”
“Oh yeah, right. Sorry.”
* * *
It wasn’t until after the lunchtime rush that I got another quiet moment, my mind betraying me with thoughts of Oliver. I had run through my head so many scenarios of what would happen had we run into each other sometime, what I would say, what he might say, if I would pretend that he didn’t exist and completely ignore him, or if I would smile sweetly at him acting as if life was peachy and not plagued with self-doubt or a million questions that have gone unanswered since he left. I could pretend I was happy even if it was for the length of one conversation without losing my shit. Right?
3
oLIVER
* * *
I spent the morning splitting logs at home, before stacking them into tidy rows in the wood shed. Keeping my hands busy also kept my mind quiet. I didn’t have to think which meant I also didn’t have to remember and the memories of my last shift on the job couldn’t haunt me. Keeping busy was the key.
After the wood was split and stacked I pushed the mower around the lawn, my dad always had kept a tidy garden but I was certain there was a blade of grass somewhere on the lawn growing faster than the others that needed trimming.
By noon and with the sun beating down from high in the sky, it was time to take a break, even with the rain clouds looming the humidity in the air was stifling, the forecasted late afternoon cool change would be welcomed.
Pushing open the screen door I find mum in the kitchen, she had ingredients spread over every available surface.
“Is there an army coming for dinner that I wasn’t aware of?”
With an arm full of mixing bowl and a wooden spoon gripped in her hand she turns around to face me with cheeks smeared with flour.
“Church bake sale tomorrow. I think I might have over committed myself, though.” Scanning the benches she shrugs slightly.
“Do you need some help?” I chuckle as she raises her eyebrows at me, I had surprised her with my offer but I needed to keep busy and if baking with my mum in the air conditioned house was the only way to keep my mind occupied, hey, I was all for it.
“Thanks, love. You can start by measuring out the flour and sifting it.” She points at the book laid out on the table, the page open at the recipe for vanilla sponge cake.
“Let me grab a quick shower and I’ll be back.”
* * *
I stand under the spray long after I’d finished washing away the grime and sweat. The beating of the water against my chest and face felt oddly therapeutic, washing away the aches of my tired body. I wished it was that easy to wash away the aches that were in my heart and in my soul.
Frowning, I shut the water off before towelling myself dry. With the towel hitched at my waist, I make my way back down the hall to my room, my sports bag was still left discarded on the floor where I had dumped it last night, even though I know I should unpack it I was lacking the motivation for the actual task.
Because I hadn’t put anything away, every time I wanted a fresh set of clothes I had to rifle through the bag to find something to pull on. At the bottom of the bag still rests my mobile phone, it is where I had thrown it when I was getting ready to leave the City. My first instinct was to leave the phone back at my apartment but lately, I was having trouble trusting my gut, so I had thrown the phone in as a precaution.
Pressing the call button to illuminate the screen I sigh heavily, I had four missed calls from Trent, my flatmate and two from my Sergeant along with a slew of text messages. Playing the voicemails, the first one comes from the Sergeant, his gruff voice barking down the phone to me.
“Oliver? Oh, voicemail, right. Just checking in, mate and I’ve been asked to remind you that your first appointment with the shrink is Tuesday.”
The message ends and automatically plays the second. “Yeah, just me again.” There was an audible sigh. “It’s Sarge, Ollie. Look, mate. I know you’re going to say you’re fine and that you don’t need to see the shrink but it’s S.O.P under these circumstances. If you can’t make it on Tuesday let me know and I will see if I can shuffle a few things around for you. Right, well you take care and if there is anything you need give us a bell.”
I played the next message, from Trent.
“Arsehole, I’ve been stressing the fuck out not hearing back from you. So unless you are balls deep in some chick call me the fuck back.” The phone beeps and the automated voice advises me of no other new messages, it runs on to start playing the old ones and the first voice I hear is Ginny. She’s laughing before she leaves me the message. I can hear the noise of the station in the background.
“OC, where are you? We’ve got a little wager going here in the office, Tommy reckons you’re shacked up with that blonde chick from the bar, I reckon you’ve stopped to bring your partner coffee and Bates reckons you’ve slept in. There is no way the Oliver I know and love would sleep in on the day of a big bust.” Her voice becomes a whisper. “Get your arse out of bed and bring me a coffee, I got fifty bucks riding on it.” I find myself chuckling, she’d known me better than anyone, when the message ends so does my laughter.
Instead, I sit on the edge of the bed still wrapped in my towel staring at the phone in my hand. I replayed the message three more times before I could bring myself to dress and head back to the kitchen.
“Ollie, I was wondering if you were coming back.”
“Yeah, I, ah, just had some calls and things I needed to deal with.” She turned to frown at me, I could see she was worried about me.
“Everything okay?” Other than my being responsible for my partner being dead, yeah everything was perfect.
“Yeah, just great, ma.” Leaning in, I kiss the top of her head, she seems shorter than I remember. “So sifting flour, right?”
* * *
Mum has always been the maternal type, some mothers can be overbearing, others drill sergeants but mine, she’d always been the right measure of discipline when we acted out, loving when we were feeling broken or lost and blindly encouraging when we’d just baked a vanilla sponge cake and it turned out more like a pancake on steroids.