A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (inspirational books for students .txt) 📗

Tara bit back a rising ‘Sorry’. Instead, she said, ‘It’s all a bit of a mess. The staff are working under difficult conditions so I’m grabbing them food and coffee.’

‘Sit while you wait.’ Rhianna kicked out a chair.

‘Thanks.’ As Tara sat, she remembered the cricket barbecue. ‘Do you want me to bring a salad or a dessert on Saturday?’

‘What’s easier for you?’

‘A salad.’ She relaxed, giving Rhianna an appreciative smile at her thoughtfulness. ‘Thanks. The veggie patch is going gangbusters at the moment.’

‘Ours isn’t. What’s your secret?’

‘Worm castings.’ Rhianna gave her a blank look. ‘Worm poo. I heard about it at the community garden.’

Kelly snorted. ‘You taking advice from Muslim peasants now?’

Tara tensed. ‘Last time I looked, Lachlan McKenzie wasn’t Muslim.’

‘But Fatima is.’ Kelly glared at her. ‘I got your email. What’s this shit about inviting her to book group?’

Tara tried not to flinch. ‘She and I had a really interesting conversation on the weekend about feminism and religion.’

‘So you’re ignoring us and socialising with her now?’ Kelly’s belligerent words were laced with hurt.

‘I’m not doing either of those things. I worked on Saturday and ran into Fatima,’ Tara said wearily. ‘Didn’t Al tell you I saw him at the store?’

‘No. Oh! Did he order the teak two-seater for the garden for Christmas?’ Kelly clapped her hands over her ears. ‘No, wait. Don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise.’

‘My lips are sealed.’ Tara wished the coffees would hurry up.

‘Tara, we’re worried about you,’ Rhianna said, her expression its usual calm.

A hundred thoughts flitted in Tara’s mind, from ‘Thank you’ to ‘I didn’t know’.

‘Yes,’ Kelly said. ‘We were just discussing it when you walked in. You’ve changed.’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Yes, you have! First you went all early midlife crisis on us training for a marathon, but since Jon got sick …’

Unspoken words hung between them.

Rhianna sighed. ‘We’re trying hard to be there for you and Jon, but you’re not making it easy.’

Incredulity pummelled Tara. ‘I’m not making it easy?’

Kelly nodded. ‘Every time we reach out, you block us.’

Reach out? Her mind floundered, trying to find an example of them reaching out. ‘When did I block you?’

‘I’ve been asking on WhatsApp when we’re all getting together, but you ignore me. You haven’t even set up an event.’

‘You could have done that.’

‘I’m hardly going to invite myself to your house, am I?’

It hasn’t stopped you before.

Tara spoke slowly to keep her voice even. ‘I meant you could have invited us over to your place—’

‘You know the house isn’t finished.’

The Kvant house had been in a state of permanent renovation for six years. ‘The weatherboards don’t have to be freshly painted for a barbecue!’

‘There’s no need to lash out at Kelly,’ Rhianna said. ‘This is a perfect example of what we’re talking about.’

‘And we always come to your place,’ Kelly said. ‘We even did brunch when it wasn’t convenient.’

‘I’m working.’

‘We’re all working,’ Rhianna said. ‘And to be fair, Kelly’s been working more hours than you for years.’

Tara lurched between fury and incomprehension. ‘Your husbands don’t have a chronic illness that’s changed your lives forever. You’re not constantly worried their medication is going to make them binge eat or binge shop or worse. You’re not doing the bulk of the cooking because sharp knives and hot pans need a steady hand. And you don’t have to plan your day around the hours their energy levels are at their peak and deal with the times they can’t do things everyone takes for granted.’

‘Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?’ Rhianna tapped her spoon on the edge of her cup. ‘Jon says the medication helps. He makes it sound like it’s no big deal.’

And Tara both understood and hated why he did that. ‘You’ve known him longer than me, so you know his pride is both a blessing and a curse. If you always ask him how he is in a public place, he’ll always tell you he’s fine, even when it’s obvious he’s not.’

‘Well, that’s not helpful,’ Kelly said. ‘Especially as we haven’t had any private get-togethers lately. If you’d been honest with us, we’d have known you needed help. We’re not mind-readers.’

Zac’s voice drifted into Tara’s head. Been doing a bit of reading. What did it say when her millennial personal trainer took the time to try to understand the impact of Parkinson’s, but Jon’s lifelong friends hadn’t? A flare went off behind her eyes, turning everything vermilion.

‘Al and Brent know Jon’s coordination is unreliable,’ she said. ‘And that day at brunch, I told you sometimes I have to tie his laces.’

Two bright pink spots flared on Kelly’s cheeks, then her nostrils flared. ‘And I’ve told you how I feel about Fatima, but that didn’t stop you inviting her to talk at book group about something none of us want to know anything about!’

‘What’s that got to do with you supporting me?’

Heads turned, interest clear on faces, but Tara was beyond caring. Her brain hurt from trying to fathom Rhianna’s and Kelly’s thought processes.

‘Look, Tara, we’re sorry Jon’s got Parkinson’s, we really are, but you’re not exactly helping yourself,’ Rhianna said. ‘And flying off the handle at your friends doesn’t help either. You’re obviously not coping so the best thing for you is to go and see Stephen Illingworth. You need to get a mental health plan.’

Tara lurched to her feet. ‘What I need are friends who can think beyond themselves. Friends who don’t wait to be asked for help but actually do practical things like dropping off a meal or inviting my kids for a sleepover or a play date.’

‘Tara,’ Nancy called. ‘Your order’s ready.’

With hands shaking worse than Jon’s, Tara stacked the coffee carriers and left the now silent café without looking back. When she arrived at the store, her heart rate had slowed but she desperately wanted to strap on her running shoes and pound out ten kays.

Instead, she had to host morning tea and check the staff were coping. Jon didn’t join the first tea shift and she hoped that