Great Escape - Luke Hemmings AU (IN PROGRESS)

6- Sunsets

"Hey, mum,"

"Daisy?"

I stood on the doorstep of my childhood home, my mum staring warily back at me, as though as I could float away and vanish into thin air at any moment. I felt guilty for not calling more often while I was away, despite being too drained to pick up the phone most days. It seemed over the past year that we only saw each other when something bad had happened, perhaps explaining the subtle worry in her tired eyes and the wrinkles I hadn't noticed until now.

Truthfully, the last time we had spent any quality time together had been James' funeral.

James.

It felt strange to think of him in the past tense, although he had died just over six months ago now. I tried to erase the memories, to push the pain away. I tried for months, so much so that the thought of him now felt strange. It was like another life, not the one now when I'm stood on my mum's doorstep and blinking back tears at 9am.

"Daisy, is everything okay?"

I nodded, swallowing thickly.

She stepped aside, gesturing for me to come inside.

It's funny how some things never change no matter how long you're away from a place. The house still smelled faintly of laundry detergent, family pictures lining the walls. I noticed they needed painting and made a note in my head to offer later. The old oak bannister still had notches in the wood from the time I'd broken a tooth sliding down, patches worn from the gripping of hands. I felt more like a child now, barely holding on, than I ever had in this house.

"Let me make some tea, then we can sit down,"

"No mum, let me," I smiled weakly, following her small frame through to the kitchen.

"It's okay, I can do it,"

"I know you can, Mum. Just for once in your life let me be the one taking care of you. You do too much, you look exhausted,"

I heard her sigh as I reached into the cupboard, the mugs having never left their original home. She really did look exhausted, I knew she wasn't taking care of herself and that it was partially my fault, the weight in my chest getting heavier.

When we sat down, I was first to break the silence.

"Are you sleeping okay, Mum?"

She smiled emptily, the gesture not reaching her eyes.

"I'm sleeping more nights than not. It's getting better. Sometimes the worry makes me sick and I can't push it away, but it's not how it used to be,"

I stared down at the carpet, trying to stop tears from blurring my vision as I focused carefully on the stitches. I knew it was because of me that she was like this, but I didn't realise how bad things had been.

"I'm sorry,"  the words felt heavy as I choked them out, exhaling shakily.

I felt the sofa dip next to me, her hand intertwining with mine. She rubbed small circles on my back with her other hand, her silent way of telling me it was okay.

"Daisy, you don't have to apologise. It's my job to worry about you. You've been through hell and back this year, you're young. We all make mistakes. No mother wants her child to go through what you have,"

"Yeah. I just feel like I haven't been there as a daughter. I don't want you to suffer because of me,"

The silence marked a forgiveness beyond words. Family is funny like that, you take for granted that they're there until they're not. It felt for the first time that my mum might be coming back. She may still have been the same frail woman with thinning grey hair and dark circles, but something had shifted in our relationship. I didn't feel like a burden, I felt like a daughter again.

"How has your first week back been going? You don't call anymore," she pulled away.

I chewed my lip, unsure of what to say. I had told her I'd try and call every day, but somehow I never managed it.

"It's been good. I've made a friend in my apartment block." I decided not to tell her he'd subsequently taken me to a bar, knowing she'd never believe me if I told her I didn't drink.

She smiled, a warm and genuine smile this time.

"That's wonderful. And you're eating okay? Getting outside?"

"Yes, mum," I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"Remember when you used to go to the beach every evening to watch the sunset?"

I'd almost forgotten that side of myself. I used to sit in the cool sand every night, a jumper wrapped around myself and watch the sun go down over Sydney. I missed those days.

"Do you ever do that anymore?" my mother's gentle voice pulled me out of my head.

"Honestly I'd forgotten all about it," I squeezed her hand, a nostalgic smile playing on my lips.

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When it finally came time to leave, I made sure to give her a long hug. I was making up for lost time, yes, but it wasn't any less genuine. It felt good. 

Outside, the evening was cool and the breeze smelled of eucalyptus trees. I walked with my arms folded, my skin prickling with goose bumps under the thin fabric of my shirt. All around me were the sounds of my home town- late night drinkers, buses passing, the waves crashing with a dull thud in the distance. The sun was beginning to set, the sky a mottled purple, drawing me back to the earlier conversation about evenings spent watching the sun set over Sydney from the beach.

I don't know why, but some part of me decided tonight was as good a night as any to relive the past, in spite of the cold air. Making my way to the beach, I noticed how it was much busier than it used to be, my little slice of paradise no longer my own. Sydney had changed so much in the two years I'd be gone that it almost felt like a different city.

I suppose that makes two of us.