Page 45 of One Last Thing
‘So, in for four, hold for seven and out for eight.’
I go through the process along with her, encouraging her to repeat it a couple of times, before we continue together without having to say anything. After she’s done it a few times, I open my eyes and whisper, ‘Do you feel better?’
‘If I say “yes”, will you spend the rest of the trip going on about the benefits of meditation and mindfulness ultimately causing me to stab myself in the eye to get out of holidaying with you?’
I fight a laugh. ‘No. I promise I won’t do that.’
‘Okay, then, yes, I do feel better,’ she admits, her voice softer now.
‘Good.’
There’s a beat of silence and then: ‘Thank you, Megan.’
I close my eyes. ‘You’re welcome, Mum.’
***
I’m woken up by Mum prodding my arm. ‘Megan.Megan.’
‘What? What time is it?’
‘I have no idea. Late slash early.’
‘It’s still dark, what are you doing?’ I say, irritated and turning away from her.
‘I think I heard a bear.’
‘Mum,’ I groan.
‘I’m serious!’ she says in a hushed but panicked voice, reaching over to grab my arm. ‘I can hear somethingroamingoutside.’
‘You can probably hear the horses. Go to sleep,’ I order.
‘What if it’s a brown bear?’
‘Then, it will go for the people wearing perfume first.’
‘Oh my god, I’m wearing perfume!’ she squeaks. ‘I did at least four spritzes after I dismounted from the horse!’
‘I know. I was joking. It was a joke.’
‘That’s not funny!’ she hisses, then gasps. ‘Listen! There it is again!’
I sit up, leaning back on my hands, groggy, tired and impatient. I wait a while but hear nothing.
‘I’m sure I heard something,’ she whispers.
‘It was probably a deer,’ I surmise, getting comfortable again and closing my eyes. ‘Try to get some sleep, Mum.’
‘All right,’ she says, lying back down. ‘But if a bear gets me, I want you to report to the press that I had an inkling it would.’
‘I wouldn’t have the chance,’ I mumble, so tired I’m already drifting back to sleep. ‘If a bear gets you, it would get me, too.’
She mutters something quietly which I can just about make out, but I’m too drowsy to really comprehend it or comment on it. It’s only when I wake up in the morning and see her dozing next to me, I think about what it was: ‘Not on my watch,’ she said.
***
The next morning, Mum grabs my arm when I’m brushing my teeth and pulls me closer to her so she can whisper in my ear, ‘A bear stole my bra.’
