Finley Embraces Heart and Home by Anyta Sunday

And now it would never be like that again

K. Mansfield, “Her First Ball”

Itaxi to the hospital and run through the main doors. Colourful lines blur around the walls as I try to find the right ward.

ICU.

A heart attack. Another heart attack threatening my family.

My phone buzzes, a text. Ethan.

They sent us home. They said there’s nothing more they can tell us tonight. See you there tomorrow?

That’s not good enough. I locate a nurse. I’m choked up as I try to articulate what I want. To see him. To know he’s okay. Why won’t you let me see my family, you horrible piece of shit.

Calm down.

I drop my suitcase on the seat I’m steered to. It clatters against the plastic and the following silence feels as empty as my chest. I don’t understand why there are visiting hours when he might not have many hours left.

Mum and I never had a chance to say goodbye to Dad, and here . . . here there’s a chance and I’m not allowed to take it.

I sink next to my suitcase and squeeze my phone.

I recall Tom’s anguished call to me and guilt has my tears flowing thicker. I was supposed to call him sometime. I didn’t.

The air tastes of disinfectant, of fresh cotton sheets, and the lingering tears of my family.

I don’t know where to go. I don’t want to wake up Mum and Julia, they’ll need their strength for tomorrow. But I need to talk.

I get a taxi to Ethan’s but I don’t hop out. The lights are out inside, and I imagine him staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. I want to go in, comfort him. Have him comfort me. But I’m not in control. My impulses are wild. It all hurts too much. I need someone who can comfort me. Someone I won’t fail; I am not strong, not right now.

I text Ford.

He hasn’t read my text when I arrive at his flat. Probably he’s asleep. But I hope he won’t mind if I wake him for this.

The front of the house is shrouded in darkness; the porch feels cold behind thick bushes. No sensor light pops on. The buzzer is defunct. I knock, and at no answer, fumble with the key Ford gave me. He meant it—about me being welcome here. His offer was sincere. His time in Wellington showed me he wasn’t just acting.

The key sticks, like he said it might, and I skirt deeper into the shadows as I move toward the back of the house.

Sounds arrest my attention, a rhythmic squealing.

I slow my step and stop. Curtains are drawn, but the window is cracked and through an inch gap I see into the glow of the room.

A soft, female moan, followed by a series of grunts.

I still. He’s moved on then. That’s fast, but . . . that’s Ford.

I sag against the outside wall and the coolness seeps into my clothes. I laugh silently.

Moans crescendo— “Yes, yes, yes.”

No, no, no.

My stomach meets my throat. I know that voice. I’d know Maria’s voice anywhere.

So much for his claim he’d never screw around with a taken person.

I’d begun to believe him.

So much grief in the world, so much. Uncontrollable. And they have to actively add to it. Have to tear down the walls of the family Rush thinks he’s building.

They finish while I’m waiting out front for my third taxi of the night.

My phone rings.

Ford’s voice. “Fin? You okay?”

My jaw ticks.

Finley. Home breakers don’t get to use my nickname.

I’m fifteen and thinking the same thing as I stare down Tom.

How angry I was. How stubborn.

Grief rises in my chest and crashes through the soles of my feet. I should hate Ford for what he’s doing to Rush.

But I hate him for showing me how I’ve villainised Tom.

Tom, who doesn’t cheat on my mum. Tom, who has always been there if I’d wanted him. Tom, who never lies about how he feels.

I hang up and my vision blurs as I write Tom a message. Just in case there’s a way he can read it.

They’re not words I’d ever thought I’d say to Tom. I want to now.

They look so small. A teardrop in a river, when the river should have been made of them.

I love you.

The taxi arrives.

I slide into the back.

“Where to?”

Mansfield isa dark silhouette against a violet night sky.

Ethan is here. His car is parked out front. My nape prickles.

The wild pain of the hours before has been tempered with shock, with regret. I move quietly up the path.

I glance toward the bird’s nest. I have a feeling I might see Ethan there. But movement pulls my gaze left, toward the pear trees.

Ethan stands in a fork in the branches, halfway up. He’s saying something, but it’s not directed at me. Though he has to have heard the taxi roll up. He has to know I’m here.

His voice is strangled. “Mrs Norris, just come down, dammit.”

A tortured meow is Mrs Norris’s reply.

Ethan’s large frame shakes; leaves shiver in the moonlight. A pear thuds to the grass.

I can’t believe I ever thought to go anywhere else but to him.

“Eth.”

His sobbing continues; he drowns the sound.

For a moment it looks like he’ll fall out of the tree, and I drop my suitcase and launch myself toward him.

“Is that it? The End?”

“Not nearly! This princess cares about more than saving only herself. She looks over the prince’s shoulder and notices a poor young man, stuck in a tree. He’s calling out for someone to come to him.”

I start climbing the tree, twigs and leaves brushing my face, snagging on my clothes. I’m too hasty. My foot slips, catching on a lower branch. I keep going.

Mrs Norris lets out another wretched cry.

Ethan’s face is streaked with tears and snot; his body wracks harder, his eyes glance upwards, pleading . . .

I nod. Climb higher. Scooch and adjust and balance.

Mrs Norris’s claw is stuck in a knot in a branch. She hisses when I lean toward her and we both sway. “Look at me, Mrs Norris.”

She meows.

“I know we’ve got a . . . competitive relationship, but I want to help you.”

Another meow, quieter this time.

Balanced precariously, I reach her and firmly clasp her body. “Let me get you down and you can go back to hating me tomorrow.”

I unhook her claw and haul her furry body to my chest. She struggles and digs into my arms, painfully; I hold tight until I can release her safely. She jumps into the grass and scampers away.

The leaves continue to quiver.

“Thank you.” Ethan wipes his face with his sleeve.

I clasp his fingers first, then the warm soft part under his arm. I press against him, wrapping around him tight, tighter. I grip the tree trunk behind him, hauling myself closer still. My body soaks up his silent sobs.