Spoons

A text comes through on Anna’s phone, but she doesn’t hear it because she’s in the shower crying. The tiles are cool against her forehead, and she presses her cheeks down on rotation to draw out the heat on her face.

She hops out when she feels she can pat her face dry and not have to do it again for another half an hour at least. She walks into the kitchen and checks her phone. The drawn curtains filter the setting sun coming in from the west so that the carpet is speckled like spilt coffee granules. She turns her phone brightness up.

‘You still coming over today?’ it reads.

Tucking her towel under one arm, she types out her response with both thumbs, ‘yeah, just showering. Leaving soon.’

Twenty minutes later, Anna is in her car driving across Brisbane to her sister’s house. Tears threaten again just as she reaches the slip-on to Coronation Drive. God, make it stop. She turns up the radio and bops her shoulders to the pop song playing. It’s an adequate distraction and her eyes stop burning.

She pulls onto the shoulder of the road, behind her sister’s car. The rental only has one off-street park and Jamie’s roommate pays extra in rent for it, so Jamie and now Anna have to settle their cars under the jacarandas, which are currently shaking off the last of their flowers in the oppressive January heat.

Anna walks up the stairs and knocks on the door. She waits. The door swings open and Jamie, in her overalls and t-shirt, sees Anna and pulls her in for a hug.

‘Hey, A,’ she strokes Anna’s hair. ‘How are you holding up?’

Anna gulps down a fresh wave of tears. ‘Been better.’

‘I bet.’ Jamie steps back and takes in Anna’s pyjamas, ‘you hungry?’

‘Not really.’

‘Have you eaten today?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Are you lying?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m making tacos for dinner and we’ll watch a movie.’

‘That would be nice.’

‘Okay. Pick what you want to watch and I’ll be back in a sec.’ Jamie disappears into the kitchen. Anna takes a seat on the couch and picks up the remote.

Being in the company of others and laughing along to a funny movie makes Anna realise how

famished she is. Grief can keep a person full for days, she muses. She picks at the broken corn chip carcass of one of her tacos. ‘These were really good,’ she says, mid-mouthful.

Jamie smiles. ‘Thank you.’ She wipes her index and middle fingers over a salsa blob on her empty plate. She licks it off her fingers as she leans over and puts the plate on the coffee table. The living room is cloaked in darkness and the television casts technicolour over Jamie’s arms and face. She looks like pop-art, something not quite human.

‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ she asks.

Anna looks at her plate. ‘Working till 2. After that, I don’t know. Probably a bit more packing up of the apartment.’

‘What else do you need to pack?’

‘Most of my clothes. And my books.’ Anna rubs her cheek with the pads of her fingers. It’s hot to the touch. Her face has been hot under her hands since she came home four days ago to find all of Damien’s furniture gone.

‘At least you don’t have to worry about getting the big stuff out now.’ Jamie laughs. It’s a highpitched laugh. A making-conversation laugh.

‘It’s true,’ Anna sighs. The silver lining feels a bit grey in the present moment. ‘That’s about it.’

‘If you want to come over again tomorrow after work you can.’ Anna looks at her sister on the other side of the couch. Jamie hadn’t liked Damien but she had held her tongue on a lot of things. ‘Yeah. If I can, that’d be nice.’

‘Of course. Better that you’re not on your own.’

‘My eyes hurt all the time.’

‘Yeah. Crying does that. Put some spoons in the fridge and press them against your eyes when they’re puffy. It takes the swelling down. It also feels really nice.’

Why hadn’t she ever thought of that? She tucks the advice under her arm, nestled into the flesh above her beating, cried-out heart. Anna had cried so much she thought it was going to kill her. She is so, so tired of crying. When she gets home, she puts two teaspoons in the fridge, and then opens the curtains so that the neighbours might see just her walking around the empty living room. She doesn’t care. She is moving soon anyway, and she has decided she deserves to be happy.

WRITTEN BY ASHTON DARRACOTT

PHOTOGRAPHY BY JULIENNE PANCHO