Annie
The graduation ceremony feels like a lot of unnecessary fuss, but the moment Dad phones to tell me they’re flying up for it, my feelings change. His pride is contagious. I mention to Bridget that he and Carol will be there, and she assures me it’s fine and makes no difference to her plans. But I see her grow more nervous as the day approaches, despite how hard she works to conceal it. This will be the first time she’s seen Dad since he moved out of our family home and her first meeting with Carol. It’s a lot.
‘Tonight’s not about me or Dad or Carol,’ she tells me on the day. ‘It’s about celebrating your accomplishment.’
‘It’s just a TAFE course.’
‘Don’t do that. Don’t diminish it. You could’ve gotten into uni if you were encouraged and supported.’
‘You got in without those things.’
She reaches for my arm, looking me straight in the eye. ‘Don’t you dare compare yourself to me. You were the last daughter standing. The pressure on you was twice what I had. Still, you trusted yourself, your mind, and you got out.’ She lets go of me and straightens. ‘This might seem like a small deal to outsiders, but you and I both know it’s not. Dad knows it too. That’s why he’s flying across the country. To watch you take a step in a direction of your choosing.’
I scrunch up my nose when I feel my eyes begin to burn.
‘Your eyes are leaking,’ Bridget says.
I press my lips together to stop from smiling. ‘Your fault.’
She gestures to the door. ‘Let’s go before you mess up the floors.’
The ceremony’s held in one of the amphitheatres on-site. We’re called up one at a time to collect our diplomas to the applause of family. Afterwards, they serve refreshments in the next room, enabling students to say goodbye to teachers and peers.
The best part of the night is looking across the room and seeing Dad, Carol, and Bridget having what appears to be a normal conversation. No one would suspect any tension between them. It makes me optimistic that their relationship can be mended. We could start behaving like a family.
‘It’s going to be weird not seeing you every day,’ Chris says as he keeps me company at the food table.
He’s been a solid friend over the past two years, even if the lines have blurred at times. We went on a few dates earlier this year. He wore me down. One of those dates even ended with a kiss, which another friend later told me is called a pity-pash.
I’ve never been able to give things a proper go, though Bridget assures me this will change when the right guy comes along. But I take relationship advice from my sister with a grain of salt, because she’s been thoroughly single since leaving home.
Chris is a nice guy—and he’s not secretly married, which is another plus. He’s also not Hunter. It’s nearing two years apart, and still he keeps a firm hold on my heart. I’ve received a total of four text messages from him this year. I don’t want to be dramatic and say he’s moved on, but the separation is easier for him now. At what point will it become easier for me?
‘Well, this just got awkward,’ Chris says, raking a hand through his sandy hair.
I laugh. ‘Sorry. That silence was a bit brutal. Yes, it’ll be weird for me too. But we’ll see each other at boot camp.’
‘And New Year’s. Party at my place, remember?’
Difficult to forget when he reminds me of it every day. ‘And New Year’s.’
Dad wanders over, Carol in tow. ‘Want to go get some real food?’
I look over at my sister. ‘What about Bridget?’
Carol gives me a warm smile. ‘We invited her too, of course.’
‘She said she’d go along with whatever you wanted,’ Dad says.
And so we go out for dinner as one big awkward family. Aside from Bridget insisting on paying for her own meal when the bill comes, and me scrambling to fill in all the uncomfortable silences, it borders on enjoyable.
At the end of the evening, I hug Dad and Carol goodbye and thank them for flying up. Bridget stands back, watching the road. Some walls remain firmly in place.
When we arrive home, there’s a bouquet of pink lilies sitting on the doormat.
‘Chris going with the less-subtle gestures now?’ Bridget asks.
I pick them up, knowing full well that if Chris was going to give me flowers, he’d do so in person.