‘We could call him Milo Jack-Daniels-Noonan,’ she’d said.
Corey had grinned. ‘Fuckin’ oath.’ And when the midwife had sniffed, Corey turned his dark blue gaze on her. ‘Me and Jade want some privacy, all right.’
That had been almost a year ago.
Corey ambled out of the bedroom, all rumpled and sleepy after his post-sex nap. He opened the fridge and stared into the mostly empty space.
‘Jeez, Jade. I’m starving.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t know you were coming.’
Even if she’d known, she couldn’t have shopped. She was out of money until tomorrow when her Centrelink payment arrived.
‘Didn’t know I had to make a booking to see you.’
‘Of course you don’t.’
It had been more than two weeks since she’d last seen Corey and she didn’t want anything to spoil his visit. She stepped in behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and absorbed his breadth, taking a moment to remember his weight on her an hour earlier. Loving she had someone else in her life other than Milo. Loving him.
‘Guess it has to be baby food then.’ He plucked a jar of pureed apples from the top shelf.
She dropped her arms, maternal protection warring with a lover’s indulgence. ‘That’s Milo’s dinner.’
‘He can eat the pumpkin. You like pumpkin, don’t you, mate?’ He ignored Milo’s protest as an open jar of apple sauce walked straight past him.
Corey checked his phone while he downed four spoonfuls of the apples, then offered Milo the fifth and final one. Jade opened the pumpkin and served it with the last dry biscuit in the packet and a bottle of milk.
‘Macca says he’s got work for me,’ Corey told her.
‘What’s it this time?’ Jade didn’t trust Macca or his jobs. They always sounded better than the reality and Corey had lost money on the door-to-door vacuum cleaners.
‘Lightbulbs.’
‘I don’t get it.’
He squinted at his phone. ‘Government’s giving away free low-energy lightbulbs. I get paid for every house I install ’em.’
The fact it was legit work made her smile. ‘So, the government pays you?’
‘Nah. The government pays Macca and he pays me.’
Like a flame in a draught, her hope flickered and died. Macca’s payments often came in ways other than money. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed Corey sharing the occasional can from a ten pack of Mercury Hard cider, but Milo needed shoes and Country Target didn’t barter.
‘Will he though?’ she said.
‘Will he what?’
‘Pay you.’
His eyes flashed. ‘It’s not like that company that fleeced him. This time it’s the government paying.’
Jade heeded the warning and didn’t push it. ‘Great. When do you start?’
‘We’re gonna grab dinner at the pub and talk.’
Since Corey’s unexpected but welcome arrival, Jade had been daydreaming about snuggling up on the couch with him watching Survivor. He loved the show and always spent a large part of the hour telling her how he’d do it better than the contestants. And he would too—he’d been surviving since he was fourteen when his parents kicked him out. He’d done all sorts of things since then—worked in the fruit factory, done some panelbeating—but he preferred farm work and being in the bush. He was a crack shot with a gun—few foxes or rabbits were safe from his sights.
But if Corey went to the pub to meet Macca, there’d be no watching Survivor together and she’d be home alone with Milo. Again. It had been ages since she’d gone anywhere and if she went to the pub, Corey might shout her a parma.
‘Can I come?’
He stood and pocketed his phone. ‘Nah.’
‘Why not?’
‘You know Milo screams blue murder when there’s noise. Besides, me and Macca are talking business.’
Disappointment pinched and bruised her. ‘Maybe Macca could hire me too?’
‘That’ll stuff up ya Centrelink.’
‘Not if I do a few hours a week and don’t earn over the limit.’
‘And who’d look after the kid?’ Corey crossed his arms. ‘No stranger’s looking after him. There’s pedos and all sorts out there. You had him, you look after him.’
For the briefest moment, she wanted to hate him. Not only for implying that she’d had a choice to have Milo, but for highlighting she was mostly alone in raising him. But the feeling fizzled as fast as it flared. There was no point letting it catch and burn, yelling at Corey and having everything go to hell. Watching him leave without a guarantee he’d return.
Right now, things were exactly as they should be—Corey was working and she was looking after Milo. That’s what family did; they worked together, were a team. And the three of them were the only family the other had—it was the bond they shared. They needed to be here not only for each other, but for Milo. Her beautiful baby deserved the childhood she and Corey never came close to living.
Corey jangled his keys. ‘I’ve gotta go.’
‘Will you be back for Survivor?’ The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She held her breath. Corey hated being asked about his plans.
‘Yeah, prob’ly. I’ll bring back a pizza, all right?’
‘Awesome.’
‘Catch ya later.’
He didn’t kiss her or Milo goodbye, but then he never kissed them hello either. That sort of shit only happened on the telly.
He disappeared out the door and the broken screen crashed back with a loud metallic thump. Jade jumped. Milo cried.
The only reminder of Corey having been in the flat was his musky scent and the stinking pile of dirty washing he’d dumped in the laundry basket. But Jade preferred the mix of sweat and grime to the sharp freshness of laundry powder—it meant Corey would be back.
When Corey was away working, Jade took long walks with Milo. Somehow being outside made her feel less alone in this stinking town. Corey had insisted they move here from Finley and given what had gone down with her mother, Jade hadn’t objected. But she wasn’t a fan of the riverside town.
Outside of the unit, the only other place in Boolanga she felt comfortable was the library. There was something soothing about sitting and reading surrounded by books. Books were her catnip—company and an escape
