Chapter thirty-seven
Ben
Saturday morning rolls around again. This has become our habit. Our routine.
Antonia and I meet at the retreat and undertake some simple tasks. Not the spreadsheets, not the planning. The nice things. Plant the flowers. Walk around the gardens. Take in everything we’ve built so far.
I check my phone again. She hasn’t messaged me, so no results. Nothing.
They could come any time now.
It’s been ten days since she went into the hospital.
I know it can take time.
But I messaged my contact yesterday anyway, asking her to hurry them along. She told me what I already knew. The lab’s been dealing with sickness. There are delays.
I sighed and put the phone away.
I hate this part of my job. The waiting. The not knowing.
It’s the part I can’t control.
Anyway, it’s Saturday today. Not a day to think about lumps or futures or diagnoses. At least that’s what I tell myself.
I pull into the small coffee shop just before I turn off to the retreat. The queue is out the door, the line stretching around the corner. Everyone must have the same idea—they need something sugary to start the day.
I wait patiently.
Not so patiently. My foot taps against the pavement, keen to get to the retreat, keen to get to her. I eventually get to the front of the queue.
Two milky lattes and something sweet. Today it’s a cream-filled doughnut. Antonia loves those.
***
The retreat gates come into view as I turn off the main road. There’s a scattering of protesters now, not many. They’ve really thinned in the past few weeks.
Antonia instructed Julian to reduce PR. She needed a break. And for once, he’s done as he’s told. It seems to be working. The stories are fading; time is passing.
Funny how something that felt like the end of the world a few weeks ago can fade so quickly.
A break.
That’s what we all need.
More so now than any time.
I park up in the gravel next to the half-finished gardens. We’re busy today. The sun’s shining. That always brings out more volunteers. The recruitment program is new in the last month, but growing day to day. It’s great to have the extra help. We’ll need it for months and years to come.
I spot Antonia immediately. She’s on her knees in the soil, light blue tracksuit, pink wellies, planting flowers. Sure, she sweeps the pathways, washes the windows, but gardening is her happy place.
After cutting the engine, I sit watching her. Taking her in while she doesn’t notice.
Ear pods in, she hasn’t heard the car, and she certainly hasn’t spotted me. Her lips move, singing away to herself to whatever tune is playing.
She looks peaceful for once.
Calm.