her life in Vancouver. I wished she wasn’t so far away. She’d probably be able to bully Dad into actually going to his counselling sessions and opening his mail.
I started cutting up an onion and some garlic. The smell of the butter, garlic and onions all simmering away in the pan finally lured Dad away from the TV.
“What are you cooking?”
“Just spaghetti.”
“Ah. Good.”
We stood in silence for a few minutes. I stirred the saucepan and chopped up some mushrooms. Dad fiddled with the corner of the counter, where the laminate was starting to come off. I could feel him watching me for a few moments before he let out a deep breath and helped himself to a beer from the fridge.
“Do you want one?” He held up a can of VB to me.
I shook my head. “No thanks. I’m gonna grab a drink later with some of the other teachers.”
Dad shrugged, as if to say ‘your loss’ and cracked the can open. He took a big gulp.
“How was your day?” Dad asked.
I shrugged. “All right. Survived the first week. Learned more names. Have you noticed all the paparazzi around?”
Dad frowned and shook his head.
“Yeah, there was one up the back oak tree as well. I told him to bugger off.” I nodded towards the window.
“Liam back, is he?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“They seem to think so.” Dad came over to the kitchen window and peered out. “I don’t see anything.”
“They’re there. Trust me. Most of them are out the front, but I wouldn’t put it past them to be lurking in the hydrangeas or something.”
“Why would they think he’s here if he’s not?”
“Dunno. I don’t really follow the tabloids these days, Dad. My Year 8’s told me that apparently Liam and Holly have broken up again and Liam was seen boarding a flight to Australia. I suppose they’re just covering all bases.”
“Oh, that’s a pity. Poor Liam. I like Holly. She was in a movie I watched this morning. Got some good acting chops, that girl.”
I rolled my eyes. “Everyone likes Holly Monroe. And don’t worry, Dad. It’s probably not even true.”
Once it was cooked, I served up the spaghetti and ate with Dad in near silence. I wrapped up the leftovers.
“Dad, there’s plenty left here for you to eat tomorrow,” I said while I put the bowl in the fridge. I hoped he’d actually eat it. He used to make spaghetti for us all the time when we were kids. It was Steph’s favourite. I’d always loved his risotto more.
“Okay, Dad. I’m off. I’ll come over on Sunday, yeah?”
Dad just nodded absentmindedly, obviously thinking about something - or someone - else. I stopped by his chair and leaned down to give him a kiss. He reached up and squeezed my hand.
“You’re a good girl, Jen.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Half the paparazzi out the front had gone when I came out to my car. Smarmy Matt Rivers was one of the absent ones, thankfully. The ones left just watched me idly as I climbed into my trusty old Astra. Maybe they’d gotten wind of Liam’s real whereabouts - or, even better, something more interesting to write about and photograph than peoples private lives.
I drove around to my rented house. One nice thing about living back in the countryside was rental prices. I could maybe get a teeny tiny studio apartment in Melbourne for the same price I was paying for this 3 bedroom house. Not that I needed 3 bedrooms with it just being me of course, but it was nice to have space after years of sharing apartments in the city. I could have my own study. And a music room! I could play my drums at whatever time I liked. I really should finish unpacking this weekend. I wasn’t planning on staying here long term, but the teaching contract was for ten months. No point in living out of my suitcase and boxes for that long.
I parked the car, but didn’t bother going inside. I looked down at my clothes. They’d do. I
I started cutting up an onion and some garlic. The smell of the butter, garlic and onions all simmering away in the pan finally lured Dad away from the TV.
“What are you cooking?”
“Just spaghetti.”
“Ah. Good.”
We stood in silence for a few minutes. I stirred the saucepan and chopped up some mushrooms. Dad fiddled with the corner of the counter, where the laminate was starting to come off. I could feel him watching me for a few moments before he let out a deep breath and helped himself to a beer from the fridge.
“Do you want one?” He held up a can of VB to me.
I shook my head. “No thanks. I’m gonna grab a drink later with some of the other teachers.”
Dad shrugged, as if to say ‘your loss’ and cracked the can open. He took a big gulp.
“How was your day?” Dad asked.
I shrugged. “All right. Survived the first week. Learned more names. Have you noticed all the paparazzi around?”
Dad frowned and shook his head.
“Yeah, there was one up the back oak tree as well. I told him to bugger off.” I nodded towards the window.
“Liam back, is he?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“They seem to think so.” Dad came over to the kitchen window and peered out. “I don’t see anything.”
“They’re there. Trust me. Most of them are out the front, but I wouldn’t put it past them to be lurking in the hydrangeas or something.”
“Why would they think he’s here if he’s not?”
“Dunno. I don’t really follow the tabloids these days, Dad. My Year 8’s told me that apparently Liam and Holly have broken up again and Liam was seen boarding a flight to Australia. I suppose they’re just covering all bases.”
“Oh, that’s a pity. Poor Liam. I like Holly. She was in a movie I watched this morning. Got some good acting chops, that girl.”
I rolled my eyes. “Everyone likes Holly Monroe. And don’t worry, Dad. It’s probably not even true.”
Once it was cooked, I served up the spaghetti and ate with Dad in near silence. I wrapped up the leftovers.
“Dad, there’s plenty left here for you to eat tomorrow,” I said while I put the bowl in the fridge. I hoped he’d actually eat it. He used to make spaghetti for us all the time when we were kids. It was Steph’s favourite. I’d always loved his risotto more.
“Okay, Dad. I’m off. I’ll come over on Sunday, yeah?”
Dad just nodded absentmindedly, obviously thinking about something - or someone - else. I stopped by his chair and leaned down to give him a kiss. He reached up and squeezed my hand.
“You’re a good girl, Jen.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Half the paparazzi out the front had gone when I came out to my car. Smarmy Matt Rivers was one of the absent ones, thankfully. The ones left just watched me idly as I climbed into my trusty old Astra. Maybe they’d gotten wind of Liam’s real whereabouts - or, even better, something more interesting to write about and photograph than peoples private lives.
I drove around to my rented house. One nice thing about living back in the countryside was rental prices. I could maybe get a teeny tiny studio apartment in Melbourne for the same price I was paying for this 3 bedroom house. Not that I needed 3 bedrooms with it just being me of course, but it was nice to have space after years of sharing apartments in the city. I could have my own study. And a music room! I could play my drums at whatever time I liked. I really should finish unpacking this weekend. I wasn’t planning on staying here long term, but the teaching contract was for ten months. No point in living out of my suitcase and boxes for that long.
I parked the car, but didn’t bother going inside. I looked down at my clothes. They’d do. I
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