Dessi's Romance Read Online Free Page A

inside, my thoughts focussed on Abdul. I like his looks, his
intelligence. Yes, he is truly gorgeous. But Emma is my closest friend, and she
can get suicidally low. I think back to that bad time after her dad left home.
Even after she started to calm down, and date, both the guys she chose were
disasters. How I would hate for this to happen again.
    Personally, I’m proud of
possessing an internal ‘fail-safe device’. Look at how well I handled that
breakup with Jon McKenna. If it wasn’t for that accident, I would almost have
forgotten he even existed.
    Back in my
chair, still restless, still mildly bilious, in pain and totally exhausted, I
flick the remote and come to a program on Indigenous Affairs. Three weeks ago,
I’d hoped to take Anthropology as part of my degree. But now, how will I cross
a campus on crutches?
    I raise the
remote and shoot the TV.

6. EMMA, Flying North
     
    ‘Listen to this!’ Julie’s
cry comes from the living room.
    The morning
after my big date with Abdul, I emerge half asleep from my room. ‘What is it?’
    Julie is
clutching a sheet of paper. ‘This came in the mail.’ Her voice is low and
wobbly. ‘From the clinic.’
    ‘What clinic?’ I
ask impatiently.
    ‘You know, where
I had that mammogram.’
    ‘Give it here.’
I sit beside her. Suddenly my eyes won’t focus: ‘…discrepancies in your
results…nine times out of ten…a biopsy…counseling available ... ’
    Fear pricks at
me. ‘Oh, Mum!’
    Julie’s face is
grey. ‘Emma, what if I’ve got cancer…’
    ‘Look… LOOK
right here.’ I do my best to ignore a heart-hiccup because I know this is Mum’s
usual way of demanding attention. If only she could find a new partner to take
some of the strain off me. Sure, she has Hannah to confide in, but having a
close friend isn’t enough… not when Hannah has a new job, Graham is renovating
and Dessi is laid up with a broken ankle.
    I shove the
letter under her nose. ‘Read it again. Nine times out of ten it says it’s
probably nothing. Those machines make mistakes. You don’t feel sick, do you?’
    ‘No, but ... ’
    ‘Have you felt a
lump or anything? Is that why you had the mammogram? Why didn’t you tell me?’
    Julie is still
pretty if a little plump, and though I love using her as a model, telltale
lines around her eyes and mouth says lots about her anxieties, many to do with
her health. She says, ‘I thought I did tell you. And no, I didn’t detect a
lump or anything. I do that test every two years.’
    She’s making too
big a deal about this, I decide.
    ‘I suppose I
could ask Hannah to go with me,’ she says slowly. ‘Seeing you won’t be here,’
she adds in her little-girl-martyr voice.
    I refuse to be
blackmailed. ‘Yeah, great,’ I cry. ‘Of course Hannah will go with you.’
    ‘They say cancer
can be brought on by stress.’ Her mouth falls into discontented lines and her
chin wobbles slightly. ‘It’s been very stressful since your father left.’
    Here we go
again! In my opinion there’s nothing wrong with Julie that a well-paid job
wouldn’t cure. Three years since my dad Robert left with ‘that little slut of a
secretary’. Not that I’ve ever met Laura, or even had much contact with him
apart from birthday and Christmas presents. Still, I can tell Julie a thing or
two about ‘stress’ and how that break-up affected me. But she doesn’t want to
hear. She’s too busy being the wronged wife. I groan to myself. Half the kids
in my class have divorced parents and the mums usually find a new job, a new
partner, a new life.
    She begins to
cry. Oh no, not this again. If only I could float away like Chagall’s young
lovers. Despite my growing anger, I can’t help feeling sorry for her, so I give
her a big hug, keep my tone light, and say, ‘Come on, Mum… You’ll be okay. It’s
sure to be a mistake. Like a coffee?’
    She sniffles
into her hanky, blows her nose and nods. ‘Do you think coffee is a carcinogen?’
she asks in a