‘I’d rather fuck my own father than lay eyes on you again.’
She got out and slammed his door, kicking the side of the car for good measure. He didn’t wait to see which way she went. He just wanted to get back to Brachen and to talk to Gabriel and find out how dishonest he’d been. Those dark thoughts kept him company on the drive back to Brachen.
Chapter Nineteen
‘What’s wrong, mijo?’
Gabriel and his mother were sat beneath the gazebo. Sofia was wearing her sunglasses and was wrapped up under a blanket. The sun streamed down and the battens from the roof cast shadows across her face. She’d been reading a magazine, while Gabriel thumbed his scar. When she set it down to speak to him, he stopped, unsure of how long he’d been doing it.
‘Nothing.’
‘Is it Bruce?’
‘Why would you say that?’
She shrugged. ‘Just a hunch. I thought things were going well.’
He sighed. ‘It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Did you two have a fight?’
‘Can we talk about something else, please?’
‘So it was a fight. What was it about?’
He drummed his fingers on the table and smoothed out the tension in his face, making his expression as neutral as possible.
‘You can stonewall me all you want, mijo, but I know when things aren’t right.’
‘And I know when there are things I don’t want to talk about.’
‘Like Bruce?’
His eyes widened and the mask cracked. Sofia laughed and that tinkling sound loosened his defences. Even if he did allow himself a fraction of a smile, he still didn’t want to talk about Bruce and their argument.
‘How about we talk about the theatre instead?’ he said.
‘Whatever you want. Angela’s coming by soon to show me some of the costumes anyway.’
After how he’d treated Angela the other day, he dreaded another confrontation. But he had to apologise. If only for Sofia’s sake. ‘Is that a good idea?’
Sofia looked weaker today. It had taken them far longer than it should have to walk the short distance from the house to the gazebo.
‘I want to see what they’ve done,’ she said.
‘But I don’t want you getting upset. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, and Angela explained that changes get made all the time.’
‘But they’re your designs.’
‘No, they’re yours.’
‘Mijo—’
‘Mamá, seriously, it doesn’t matter. If you think things should be changed, then go ahead but don’t do it for my benefit. Please. All I wanted was to help you get through this play, and I’ve done that. They have their designs. That’s enough. I’d rather you were putting your energy into getting better.’
Sofia leaned over and stopped his hand from stroking the scar. Her hand was cold.
‘We should go inside,’ he said.
‘I’m fine. I prefer it out here. I get to breathe.’ She leaned back in her chair, her hand still holding his. It was thinner, the bones sharper but her skin was still soft, comforting—apart from the chill. ‘Do you remember when we moved here? How overgrown the garden was?’
Prickly bushes, weeds and tangled dead vines had filled the backyard with drab brown, the green having been strangled years before. She’d coaxed it to life, tamed it, cared for it until it was awash with colour. The contrast was stark and it had only grown more so in the years he’d been in Sydney.
‘I remember getting a lot of cuts and grazes from pulling out the ferns. Oh, and the snake!’ He suppressed a shudder as the red-bellied black snake slithered through his memory.
‘I nearly died,’ she laughed. ‘But you just stopped, turned around and took me inside. You didn’t seem scared at all.’
‘I was petrified. That wasn’t bravery, that was fear.’ He’d expected snakes during the clean-up and had picked through the undergrowth with extreme caution. She’d teased him about his slowness but his panic had also been slow enough for him to protect Sofia and call a snake catcher. They never did find the snake and clearing the backyard took twice as long.
‘You always managed to take care of things.’
He shook his head. ‘After I made such a mess of them, it was the least I could do.’
‘Mijo, that’s not true.’
‘We wouldn’t have come here if not for me.’
And I wouldn’t have fallen for Bruce.
‘But us being here is a good thing,’ she said. ‘I have been happier here than anywhere else in my life. You don’t have anything to feel guilty or sorry for.’ A hacking cough rattled her body, and she squeezed his hand until it passed.
He offered her a glass of water, holding the bottom of the glass while she sipped. She sank back into the chair, breath puffing out of her.
‘I worry about what’s going to happen to you when I’m gone,’ she said.
‘You’re going to be fine.’ He looked at the garden, at the pink roses and orange grevilleas.
She tugged his hand and he was forced to look at her, at the shadows under her eyes, at her hollowing cheeks. ‘Gabriel, we both know it’s only a matter of time.’
Pins and needles rushed his throat and up the side of his head, with a rapid prickling sting that heated his blood. ‘I’m going to go inside if you keep talking like this.’ Those words meant she was giving up, and they had to keep fighting.
‘It’s going to happen, and—’
He got up to leave but she held on to him. As weak as she was, it was enough to make him stay.
‘I want to know that you’re going to be okay,’ she said. ‘That you’re not going to let me hold you back anymore.’
‘Other than now?’ He attempted levity but it failed—like his attempts at the theatre.
‘You know what I mean. You could be doing so much more. I never meant to keep you from your dreams.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘I know you thought you had to get a job so you could take care of me, but it breaks my heart to think that you’ve denied your calling because of me.’
‘I’m fine
