Blood Ties by R.B. Morey

Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER

Carolyn was a working artist during the 1980s and 1990s. Even though she works as a professional librarian these days, Carolyn the artist still occasionally walks the streets of Carlton in the early hours looking for materials to use for projects. She was able to buy a house in Carlton before it became impossible to even rent a studio space within a five km radius of the CBD. She travelled widely too. Spent a lot of time in India, Turkey, the UK. That was young travel though, when she was skint and just wandering. When meeting people and having experiences was the only purpose to the whole thing. She wants to go to Europe again, this time as a grown up with some hard-earned professional wage behind her. Hotels instead of hostels, first class trains instead of 12-hour $8 bus journeys. She wants her niece Lear to come to Europe too. She’s only ever been on some awful Contiki thing, probably hung over and asleep through most of it. To Carolyn, Lear is a substitute child, except they get along, they never argue, and they have a friendship that Carolyn suspects is unlike a traditional mother-daughter relationship. They can talk, about intimate things, without the hesitation and second-guessing that one or both is about to cop some barrage for a perceived wrong or past neglect. She’ll speak to Lear this weekend about her idea for a trip.

Lear is monitoring the slow development of her tiny, off the plan apartment, being built in Northcote. Something fun or useful was bulldozed to make way for the apartment block – a bowling alley? She can barely remember even though it was only three years ago. She signed the contract a year ago after a failed relationship that she’d given too much of herself to and it had nearly destroyed her. It was ridiculous really. She moved in with Sam too soon, not long after the ex had left. Then Sam decides she wants the ex back and Lear has to move out. Her little sister managed to get married and have a kid in the time it took Lear to resolve to finally abandon the same things.

What is she doing with her life? She hates her day job and has been working at a swimming pool and a dance studio to save extra money for her mortgage. The first time Lear was peaceful enough to seriously consider Carolyn’s idea was after work on the Monday after they’d spoken. Summer workdays are long and a brain drain. She turned the tv on to the latest test match. She doesn’t really follow cricket, but it’s perfect to sit in front of when you don’t want to think too hard. She has no idea who these commentators are, but it’s no ball-by-ball commentary from Richie Benaud, that’s for sure. He’s dead. Her immediate reaction to the idea of Europe was no, of course no. Europe? With a mortgage coming once this apartment is complete? But now that the idea is planted she can’t think of anything else but getting the fuck away from Melbourne for a while. Take a break from work, from exes, from friends and their drama.

“I should take the dog for a walk”, she says.

Man’s best friend my ass. Lazy shit needs to get off the couch for a while. Lear got up and put her runners on and got the leash down from its hook. The universal dog language symbol that it’s time for a walk. Most dogs go ballistic, but not her greyhound Goose, frontrunner for the laziest dog ever to walk the earth.

“Come on lazy doodle, get off the couch”, she said to the sleepy grey.

She mindlessly picked up her handbag as she headed down the hall, but it was the wrong bag. It was the day’s workbag, which she was done lugging around and did not want to touch again until 8:25am the next morning. She dropped the bag, left her phone and wallet where they were and just picked up her keys as they headed out.

“I lost my phone once”, she said to Goose as they were strolling towards the park. “I thought it was the end of the fucking world and I actually cried.” Goose glanced up at her to show interest.

“Perspective is what I actually lost”.

She did this a lot. Talked at the dog, even in public, looking like a dickhead. Goose often looked at her as if to say ‘good grief woman, can we not just walk in peace?’

They walked laps around the park until finally Goose decided it was time to go home. He does this by going off the track where there’s an exit gate – he’s not stupid – and this evening he’s not in the mood for the other dogs in the fenced off-leash area. Most days he just likes to look at them for a few minutes then gently pulls away, back to the track.

They were in the lift going up to the flat because Goose doesn’t do stairs, when Lear’s mind found its way back to Europe and the offer to accompany her beloved aunt. By the time they were back in the flat Lear decided she’d go. 

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