My Favourite Part

63: the more things seem to change

One by one, all three of us fell asleep at some point during the movie. Mum said that coming home to see us all cuddled up on the couch like that gave her crazy déjà vu, like she'd time-travelled 10 years into the past or something. At first, I worried that she meant it in a bad way, like seeing us with Dad brought back too many memories of everything our family used to be.

But she said it with a strange, dreamy sort of smile – a peace. As though she knew that love would always unite us in some recognisable way, no matter what happened. When I think about it like that, I've got a hell of a lot to be grateful for.

Not to mention Walt. Mum hasn't stopped gushing about their date since she woke up this morning – literally. Luckily her phone rang, giving August and I long enough to grab breakfast from the kitchen before she starts up again.

"Oh, girls, it was magical!" August effuses in a falsetto lilt that's supposed to sound like Mum. She flaps the tail of her bathrobe like a ball gown. "We went dancing, he took me to see a show, and then we had 'shakes at the dinner!"

I snort, reaching a leg out to kick her stool.

"Hey!"

"Don't be offensive," I chide, "Mum's voice isn't that high. D'you think Walt's gonna move back in soon?"

"Dunno," August muses, swirling patterns in her yogurt. "I want him to, though; I kinda miss him. And his pancakes."

"Same," I agree, closing the pantry door when none of the cereals take my fancy.

"Mum definitely does. You should've seen how she blushed when I asked her if she'd see him again."

"For real?"

"Oh my God, yes. She went beet red. Ask her yourself," I tease when I hear Mum's approaching footsteps as she enters the kitchen.

We turn to face her with smiles on our faces, but there's a troubled look tainting her features. Mum tucks her phone into her pocket and shakes her head.

My eyes dart down to the phone. "What's wrong? Who was it?"

"Lisa," Mum answers, gnawing at her lip. "You remember her husband, Babe's father?"

There's an added gravity in her voice for subtext – Babe's father who went to prison for fraud.

I nod.

"Apparently, he's coming out. And Babe hasn't left her room since she heard the news."

***

Within the hour, I set off. I'm not sure if it's what I want to do, but I know that I have to. I have to be there for Babe, whether we're on speaking terms or not.

I only realize how long it's been since I've been to her house when I get to the bottom of the hill and can't remember whether her house is 10 or 11 Goldstein Ave. I stand outside, bang in the middle of the two, and think about which house is hers, and about a few other things.

For one, I think about Babe's father, Joey. I don't remember too much of him. It's been so long since I've seen him in person that I only recall him in that peripheral way that you recall a second cousin you've only met once: incorrectly – probably misremembering the colour of their hair.

But Joey was slick, I remember that much. He could talk anyone into believing anything. He talked Babe and Lisa into believing he'd be out in 'just a couple months'. Babe only stopped believing that 4 years into his 10 year sentence.

I remember the jokes she, Caz and I made up once Babe's parents got properly divorced, and we were old enough to have watched too many reruns of Friends. We said it made sense that her parents didn't stay together, because everyone knew that there was no way Joey and Lisa could work out.