On the eve of Mother’s Day, I thought of two little girls in Adelaide who lost their mother to cancer seven years ago. I remembered finding out about Mary’s cancer, her pregnancy and reconnecting with her as adults, chatting about our lives in the intervening years since we first met in high school.
This post is my first attempt at a short story and it was a no-brainer that it would be a dedication to my friend, taken from us too soon.
“Hey darl, you want me to pick up some bread and milk on my way home?” Kyle asked over a crackling line.
“Mila?” Kyle asked, concerned. “You there? Can you hear me? Hello?”
“I’m here,” Mila replied. Her voice was barely audible. “Just come straight home, darl.”
“Is everything all right? I’m sorry I couldn’t come with you for the scan today. Bruno’s got me by the nuts at the minute. It’s just…”
“Just come home,” Mila cut him off mid-sentence.
“Okay, I’m about half an hour away if there’s no traffic.”
“Love you,” Kyle said but Mila had already hung up.