Rosaline Wood (A Violet Eden Follow-on Reboot)

Chapter Two: Wait! Where are You?

I woke up around two on Saturday morning needing to use the lavatory. As I passed my parents' bedroom I noticed that the light was on inside. I could hear hurried conversation, muffled by the wood of the door but clear enough to understand most of what was being said. I stopped to listen.

    "... third time this week," came the soft voice of my mother, "... talk to Doctor Phillip...Griffin's worried...your form's been really off...hasn't wanted to say... look exhausted...a break."

    "M'okay," Dad's voice cut across Mum's, deep and soothing, "...thoughtful...unnecessary...just a bug." Then there was silence. I could just picture Mum's scowl as Dad sat looking totally trustworthy and innocent. I heard the scrunching of sheets signifying the end of the conversation. The light clicked off and I felt as though I was the only person in the entire world left. I crept off to use the bathroom and quickly snuck back to bed, my mind whirling.

As I lay under the cotton sheets, I stared blankly at the shadowy ceiling sorting through all my memories of Dad over the past weeks trying to diagnose the problem that afflicted Dad. I couldn't think of anything major. He looked a little tired, sure, but so did Mum or any of the others when they were rostered on for night patrols of the city. Finding nothing else, I opened the pictures on my phone and began to flick through the ones I had recently taken with my parents. No physical anomalies jumped out at me. Suddenly my screen glitched and I was taken to the start of my entire album.

    "Dammit," I grumbled under my breath, "Damn I-phones. Damn technology. Damn sickness. Damn..."

My eyes fell on the photo before me. It had been taken six months earlier when Spencer had given me a new phone after he snapped my old one in half. I was at the centre of the picture holding out my hand in the traditional selfie pose. The 'gift-man', as he had called himself, was to my right. Salvatore and Zoe stood smiling on my right and behind me were the grinning faces of Mum, Griff and Dad, who had his arms wrapped around my neck so I 'didn't hog the snap.' He looked astoundingly different. His skin was bronzer, eyes brighter, muscles more defined. He smile was genuine and his teeth sparkled. But what was perhaps the biggest difference of all was his weight. I flicked through a few more of the older photos before comparing them to the other side of the spectrum. I had never thought my dad to be fat or even remotely chubby but in contrast with the later pictures he made the new Dad look like a stick figure. How could I have not noticed?

...

    "Weeeeeeell," the voice over the phone replied, "From the pics you emailed I'd say your dad's lost about twenty kilos over the last half year."

    "Right?" I urged her to continue. There was silence for a few moments. "Can you give an example, Cam?"

    "That's like four ice-cream cartons," my friend said at length. In my anxiety, my brain couldn't take in the figures and so latched onto the only other possible part of the explanation.

    "Ice-cream?"

    "Yeah," she quipped, "The five litre triple choc and cranberry kind you can get on sale at your local store."

    "Ice-cream," I repeated.

    "Sorry, Rose," Cam's voice sounded a little stressed, "I was trying to make the news a bit softer. Twenty kg is seriously troubling. Plus I'm super hungry."

    "Had breakfast?"

    "Nope," she answered, "Parents are at some writers' convention this weekend. I've got the boys and they didn't leave any food for today. And I can't leave them at home while I duck down and buy some stuff."