assumed was the direction of what we were after.
After I used my phone to Google what the hell kind of pellets wombats should eat, we bought a bag of pellets, some maize and some bedding hay.
We took it straight back to the motel and watched as the little wombat sniffed around his new bed, not too impressed by any of it. Trav threw his blanket and rumble-bear in there, and then he threw Nugget in there as well.
Once he’d figured out how to get in and out of it, he loved it. It was like a dark and cosy wombat hole. We fed him some apple and added a few pellets and bits of hay, and then we left him doing jumpy, burn out circle work on the carpet.
When we got back into the ute this time, I was smiling. I reached over and took Trav’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you.”
He smiled, all smug and knowing, like it was his plan all along to make me forget about Ma, even just for a little while.
“Now, we’ll go and find some human food,” he said. “And flowers for Ma, and we better make sure she has some of her favourite brand of tea.”
I looked at him and smiled. “You’re kind of wonderful, you know that?”
“You can thank me later,” he said, starting the engine.
“Oh, I plan to.”
“Twice.”
“Deal.”
* * * *
Because we couldn’t decide which flowers she’d have liked—I said the yellow ones with the ‘You’re a Star’ balloons, and Travis said the pink ones with ‘Get Well Soon’ balloons—and because people in the supermarket were starting to stare at us as we argued, we ended up getting both.
I know she liked mine better, she just said she loved them both the same, just so it wouldn’t hurt Travis’s feelings.
We took some barbeque chicken, chips and salad for George, and even Ma ate a little. She was still dozing on and off by then. They’d given her some drug that helped with pain and made her sleepy, George told us.
So we stayed for a while, made sure she was comfortable and made sure George ate something, then we said goodnight, promising to be back first thing in the morning.
* * * *
I loved a lot of things about Travis, but at the top of that list right now was how he gave me thinkin’-time silence. Ma and George both knew sometimes I just needed thinkin’ space and a little time to get thoughts right in my head. Maybe Travis learned from them, maybe he just knew me well enough, but when we got back to the motel, even despite the antics of a happy-to-see-us but give-me-all-the-attention baby wombat, Trav didn’t push me to talk.
He knew I would. He just knew I needed time.
He fed Nugget some more pellets and cleaned up after him, while I lay on the bed, starin’ at the ceiling. It was an awful reminder of the brevity of life, seeing someone you love be so sick. All the what-if’s weighed in, adding to the mass of guilt for not makin’ Ma see a doctor when we all knew she wasn’t well. So what if she’d yelled at us, or gave us the silent treatment for taking her to get a check up? Bein’ full-named and cussed at would be a walk in the park compared to seeing her where she is now.
My phone interrupted my thoughts, and I sighed when Greg’s name scrolled across my screen. I assumed he’d just read the email I sent him, telling him my farm was bein’ manned by my staff alone. Sure, there’d been times when I was away or George, but never both at the same time.
So Trav would know who I was talking to, I answered the call. “Greg.”
“Hey, Charlie, what’s up?”
“George, me and Trav are all in town,” I told him. “I told the guys back at the farm if it was an emergency to give you a call. Hope you don’t mind, but you’d be quicker flying than me driving.”
“’S no problem,” he said. “Anything the matter?”
“It’s Ma,” I said. “She’s not well.”
“Oh, man.”
“We’ll know more tomorrow. The oncologist is running tests.” I swallowed hard. “But they’re optimistic.”
I guess the word ‘oncologist’ told
After I used my phone to Google what the hell kind of pellets wombats should eat, we bought a bag of pellets, some maize and some bedding hay.
We took it straight back to the motel and watched as the little wombat sniffed around his new bed, not too impressed by any of it. Trav threw his blanket and rumble-bear in there, and then he threw Nugget in there as well.
Once he’d figured out how to get in and out of it, he loved it. It was like a dark and cosy wombat hole. We fed him some apple and added a few pellets and bits of hay, and then we left him doing jumpy, burn out circle work on the carpet.
When we got back into the ute this time, I was smiling. I reached over and took Trav’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you.”
He smiled, all smug and knowing, like it was his plan all along to make me forget about Ma, even just for a little while.
“Now, we’ll go and find some human food,” he said. “And flowers for Ma, and we better make sure she has some of her favourite brand of tea.”
I looked at him and smiled. “You’re kind of wonderful, you know that?”
“You can thank me later,” he said, starting the engine.
“Oh, I plan to.”
“Twice.”
“Deal.”
* * * *
Because we couldn’t decide which flowers she’d have liked—I said the yellow ones with the ‘You’re a Star’ balloons, and Travis said the pink ones with ‘Get Well Soon’ balloons—and because people in the supermarket were starting to stare at us as we argued, we ended up getting both.
I know she liked mine better, she just said she loved them both the same, just so it wouldn’t hurt Travis’s feelings.
We took some barbeque chicken, chips and salad for George, and even Ma ate a little. She was still dozing on and off by then. They’d given her some drug that helped with pain and made her sleepy, George told us.
So we stayed for a while, made sure she was comfortable and made sure George ate something, then we said goodnight, promising to be back first thing in the morning.
* * * *
I loved a lot of things about Travis, but at the top of that list right now was how he gave me thinkin’-time silence. Ma and George both knew sometimes I just needed thinkin’ space and a little time to get thoughts right in my head. Maybe Travis learned from them, maybe he just knew me well enough, but when we got back to the motel, even despite the antics of a happy-to-see-us but give-me-all-the-attention baby wombat, Trav didn’t push me to talk.
He knew I would. He just knew I needed time.
He fed Nugget some more pellets and cleaned up after him, while I lay on the bed, starin’ at the ceiling. It was an awful reminder of the brevity of life, seeing someone you love be so sick. All the what-if’s weighed in, adding to the mass of guilt for not makin’ Ma see a doctor when we all knew she wasn’t well. So what if she’d yelled at us, or gave us the silent treatment for taking her to get a check up? Bein’ full-named and cussed at would be a walk in the park compared to seeing her where she is now.
My phone interrupted my thoughts, and I sighed when Greg’s name scrolled across my screen. I assumed he’d just read the email I sent him, telling him my farm was bein’ manned by my staff alone. Sure, there’d been times when I was away or George, but never both at the same time.
So Trav would know who I was talking to, I answered the call. “Greg.”
“Hey, Charlie, what’s up?”
“George, me and Trav are all in town,” I told him. “I told the guys back at the farm if it was an emergency to give you a call. Hope you don’t mind, but you’d be quicker flying than me driving.”
“’S no problem,” he said. “Anything the matter?”
“It’s Ma,” I said. “She’s not well.”
“Oh, man.”
“We’ll know more tomorrow. The oncologist is running tests.” I swallowed hard. “But they’re optimistic.”
I guess the word ‘oncologist’ told
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