Nona and Me by Clare Atkins

studied Medicine postgrad.”
    Mum’s surprised. “I didn’t know that.”
    â€œBecause I don’t generally tell people about my shameful other life doing Actuarial Studies.”
    Nick asks, “What’s that?”
    Graham grimaces. “Maths. Boring, horrible, endless maths.”
    He’s smiling now, and Nick grins back at him. “Sounds like a shocker.”
    â€œIt was.”
    â€œWhose idea was it – your mum’s or your dad’s?”
    â€œBoth. They thought it would be a ‘solid career’.”
    Nick sounds almost grateful. “That’s exactly what Dad says about Business.”
    â€œThere you go.”
    The men swap another smile. Mum ladles out her lentil soup.
    *
    Over dinner, Mum raves about the virtues of organic food and her attempts to start a vegetable garden. She’s constantly “preparing the soil” or buying seedlings from Ian at the community nursery. But while our neighbours are harvesting baby tomatoes and pawpaws and rocket, we’re yet to get anything more than a clump of spring onions.
    â€œIt could be something to do with the fact you always forget to water it, Mum.”
    She’s indignant. “Well, you could help me.”
    â€œIf I didn’t have to catch the school bus at seven twenty I would.”
    Nick sounds amazed. “I’m not even out of bed by then.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œWhat time do you get up?”
    â€œSix thirty.”
    â€œOuch.”
    I turn back to Mum. “If we move to town, I’ll help you water your garden.”
    Mum’s retort comes quickly, her irritation hidden behind a smile. “If you find me a new job in town, one that comes with a house, we’ll move. How’s that for a deal?”
    Nick is completely innocent as he says, “Dad reckons the mine’s always looking. They’re expanding, you know. A guy from school started there this year. Straight out of Year 12, says he’s earning two grand a week just for holding a sign.”
    I brace myself for a lecture about how the mine has insidiously destroyed Yolŋu culture and knowledge and poisoned the land. But Mum holds back and gives Nick a polite smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    I give Mum a grateful look and she smiles back, as if to say,
See? I can act normal
.
    Graham is looking distractedly towards the kitchen. “Is there something in the oven?”
    I can smell it too now. The smell of burning. Mum jumps up from her seat. “Oh no. The dessert.”
    She hurries to the oven and opens it. Grey clouds of smoke billow out. She grabs a tea towel and pulls out a black and brown lump of sizzling something. “Ouch.”
    The smoke alarm goes off: a high-pitched beeping. Mum flaps the tea towel at it, ineffectually, as Graham opens the window wider and tries to wave the smoke outside.
    I glance over at Nick, who is trying hard not to laugh. I’m sure his mum never burns anything. I shake my head, embarrassed.
    The alarm finally stops.
    Graham indicates the ex-dessert. “What was it going to be?”
    Mum whacks him, smothering a smile. “Shut up. It’s apple pie. Can’t you tell?”
    I can’t help myself. “Did you use organic apples in that, Mum? Smells delicious.”
    Mum is grinning as she says, “You can all go to hell.”
    Graham is quick to joke back. “Is this what they serve there? Charcoal pie?”
    Mum laughs. Nick finally lets himself laugh too. And then we’re all laughing. It feels good to laugh together. And for a brief moment I think maybe this dinner could go okay.
    *
    We finish our plain vanilla ice-cream, and relocate to the lounge room to watch the ABC news. I’m appalled that Mum insists on watching it even though we have a guest over, but Nick tells her it’s cool, he doesn’t mind. He’s in the home stretch now, on his way to gaining full parental