Page 41 of The Quirky Vet

The three of us chug the rest of our drinks in silence. The burst of sugary coolness rushes down my throat, a welcome relief from the scorching heat.

"How's it coming along?" Gramps asks, taking in the progress we've made on the fence line.

"Yeah, good." Fitz points out the remaining gap we've got left to fix. "Once that's done, you're all good."

"Thanks, fellas. I really appreciate it." He drops his head. "I'm ashamed I have to ask for the help in the first place."

"Gramps, you're a fucking legend. There's nothing to be ashamed of. You've fixed your fair share of fences."

"Fucking doctor's orders," he mutters, kicking at a patch of dirt.

He went for a checkup two weeks ago, and the doc musn't've been happy with the results. She ordered him to slow down. Itmust be serious this time since he actually listened to her and has been taking it easy.

He won't tell me anything when I press him for details, so I've been keeping myself distracted by staying busy and doing all the things around the place he can't and shouldn't be doing.

"Is there anything else I can do?" he asks when we slide our empty glasses onto the tray. "Are you fellas hungry?"

"We're fine, Gramps," I answer for both of us. I don't want him exerting himself. Also, the man can't cook for shit, unless you count burnt-to-a-crisp meat and soggy veggies.

"Thanks, Sid. We're almost done anyway."

"All right." The old fella looks at me, his eyes dancing with a mischievous joy. "I'll leave you and your husband to it."

"At fucking last." I shoo him off, and he heads back inside.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" Fitz asks as we tackle the final patch of fence line.

"I am. The stubborn bastard won't tell me what his current prognosis is, but I have a feeling it isn't good. I don't know what I'll do if he…" My throat clogs with raw emotion, and I can't finish that sentence. That man's been like a father to me, and fuck knows I'm way closer to him than I am to my mother.

"Hey. Think positive. Like you said, he's stubborn. And he's a fighter. He's not going anywhere anytime soon. You've got years left of putting up with his teasing."

I manage a smile. "Yeah, I hope so."

We work in silence for a bit, but after about ten minutes or so, Fitz digs the shovel into the dirt and keeps it there with his foot. "What's the actual cause of the beef your mum has with Sid?"

I put the wire down and walk over to him.

"It's my mother. She's the actual cause." I know Fitz wants a proper answer, so I drop the wire and point to a nearby tree. "Come on." We plonk ourselves underneath it, getting a very welcome respite from the sun. I fold my legs and rest my forearms on my knees. Where do I even start with her?

"Some people are just cold. They lack empathy, and they don'tgive a damn about anyone else but themselves. As much as it pains me to say it, my mother is one of those people. Gramps has gone out of his way to be accommodating to her, not saying a word when she yanked me from here to Sydney. Not calling her out when she promised I could come and visit on school holidays and then kept changing her mind at the last minute. Mum's the woman Dad chose to marry, so Gramps has always been respectful of that."

"Sounds like she didn't make it easy on him."

"She's never made anything easy on anyone."

"Is that why you keep your distance from her?"

I nod, staring straight ahead. "It's easier that way. I'm sure she's not an evil person, that a lot of her behaviour might be due to whatever unprocessed trauma she's got going on. I'm speculating because of course I could never havethatconversation with her. She'd shut it down straight away and grumble about how all the woo-woo people in Scuttlebutt have brainwashed me. But I'm sick of her taking her shit out on me."

"There are a lot of woo-woo people here," Fitz says with a wry grin.

"True. But I like that. I like that, despite this being a small outback town, people can be free to be who they want to be here. I never got that. I had to put up and shut up. I sometimes wonder?—"

I cut myself off.

"What do you sometimes wonder?" Fitz presses after a moment, his tone gentle and caring.

It's only because I trust him as much as I do that I'm even able to verbalise it. "I sometimes wonder what it might have been like to grow up in a household where thoughts and opinions were accepted. Fuck, no. Weren't just accepted but encouraged to be shared. I wonder if I'm so guarded and it takes me so long to process shit because it's not natural for me. I have to go through so much internal wrangling before I even know what I think. Much less have the courage to express myself. Like you." I glanceover at Fitz who's watching me intently. "I love how you're just so free and expressive."