Part 8 (1/2)

Chapter Eleven.

Gabby doesn't realize how obsessed she has become until the emails stop coming.

She waits, all morning, for Matt to send one of his customary emails, determining he should be the one to make the first move, not her; but by lunchtime she is worried. Everything changed when she said no. Why did she say no? Why did she not keep it going for just a while longer?

At two o'clock she can't take it any more. She can't focus on anything, and with a shaking hand she sends him a text, attempting to keep it light, fun; attempting to stay in the spirit of their correspondence before last night.

But she is careful not to a.s.sume that the intimacy that existed between them is still there, not until she is rea.s.sured that he feels the same way. No *Surf Dude' today, no easy jokes. She needs to wait to see where she stands.

Matt, just wanted to thank you for a wonderful evening.

Hope your meetings go well.

Speak soon ...

Delete.

Much too formal.

Dear Matt, great evening! Thank you!

Let's do it again!

Delete.

M a A delicious, dangerous night. Thank you. xx Send.

*Hi, Liv.' Gabby comes into the kitchen just after Olivia, who caught the bus home, has walked through the back door. *How was school?'

She doesn't know why she asks this question. Every day, when the girls get home, Gabby has a need to ask them how school was. Perhaps, she reasons, this is because she was never asked. Somehow this has become cemented in her head as being symbolic of what kind of a mother you are: a good mother, an interested mother, always asks how your day was.

Alanna usually says fine, even when Gabby can see the day hasn't been fine. She is quiet these days, frequently going straight upstairs to do her homework, rather than sit at the kitchen table, as she has always done.

Even when her teen and tween both grunt in response, Gabby has to ask the question. There are other things she tries to do in order to be a good mother: freshly baked cakes sit on the cake stand for when her children get home, although Olivia announced lately that she is on a diet and will not eat anything with sugar or flour in it. Still, there is something about a kitchen that smells of cinnamon and sugar and caramelizing b.u.t.ter that is homely, that makes their house what Gabby thinks a home should be like.

Olivia duly grunts in answer to Gabby's question before dumping her backpack in the middle of the floor and opening the fridge, peering in at the shelves.

*There's nothing for me to eat,' she says belligerently, and Gabby slides her out of the way to point out the cheese, the yoghurts, the fruit.

*I don't want fruit.'

*So have a yoghurt.'

*I don't eat yoghurt. I'm vegan.'

*What?' Gabby shuts the fridge and turns to stare at her. *Since when?'

Olivia shrugs. *I've been avoiding meat for a while. I just decided today to go completely vegan.'

*Great,' Gabby says, not unsarcastically. *What am I supposed to feed you?'

*Vegetables. Salads. Bread. Pasta. Quinoa.'

*Eggs?'

*No. Nothing from an animal.'

*Cheese?'

*No. Dairy products are the worst.'

Gabby sighs dramatically. *What am I supposed to do with the macaroni cheese I made for dinner tonight?' She suppresses a smile as Olivia pauses, her mother's home-made macaroni cheese being her most favourite food in the world.

*Are you just saying that?'

*No!' Gabby opens the fridge again and pulls the foil off an oval dish to show her.

*I guess I could eat it tonight. I'll start again tomorrow.'

*Absolutely.' Gabby turns away, knowing full well that this, as with all of Olivia's fads, will last approximately two weeks, at most.

*The garden guy wants to see you. He's outside,' Olivia offers nonchalantly as an afterthought.

Gabby grabs her chequebook from the desk drawer and runs outside, writing a cheque for fifty dollars made payable to cash for the mow, blow and go guy in the driveway, then she goes straight back inside to check her phone, except it isn't where she left it a on the desk above the chequebook drawer. d.a.m.n. Where the h.e.l.l is it? She turns and casts her eyes over the counter, until Olivia's voice, filled with suspicion, pipes up from the family room.

*Mom? Who's Matt?'

Her heart thumps in her chest. *What do you mean?'

Olivia stands up from where she has been hidden, slumped down in an armchair facing the fireplace, and turns to face her mother, her expression a mixture of distrust and confusion, anger and also a need to be rea.s.sured.

*”ur wicked s.e.xy when drunk ... wink Matt kiss kiss hug kiss.”' Olivia, her hand on her hip, her eyebrows raised as she reads, stares at her mother accusingly.

Gabby is aware that the colour has drained from her face. How should she play it? What should she say? What the f.u.c.k was she thinking, leaving her phone around unlocked? But, wait ... she didn't leave it unlocked.

*How did you unlock my phone?'

*Alanna and I have both known your code for ages. Which doesn't explain why you're getting these texts from someone other than Dad.'

*It's not what you think,' Gabby says quickly. *Dad knows about it. It's the guy who interviewed me and we were joking that he fancied me. Let me see.' She holds out her hand for the phone and reads the text. *Wow, it sounds like he really did fancy me.' She feigns surprise. Badly.

*What about your text to him before that? I'm not stupid, Mom.' Olivia grabs the phone from Gabby. *”A delicious and dangerous night”? What the f.u.c.k does that mean?'

*Excuse me?' Gabby's voice rises in shock and guilt. *Don't you dare speak to your mother like that.'

Olivia's voice also rises. *Don't you dare send texts like that to someone who isn't Dad!'