Page 33 of Where We Stay

It’s too late in the year to start the vegetable garden I want, but I can prepare the space for spring. Maybe plant some bulbs before the ground freezes. Flowers along the fence, herbs near the porch and vegetables wherever they’ll get the most sun.

The thought makes me pause.

Planning a garden for spring means assuming I’ll still be here to see it.

Usually, thinking that far ahead makes something in me panic. I’ve spent too many years knowing that any life I build could be taken away without warning.

But standing in my own backyard with dirt beneath my fingernails, the idea of being here months from now doesn’t frighten me.

It feels good to have something of my own to work on. Something that might grow because I stayed long enough to care for it.

I never had the time, space or freedom to do anything like this in New York.

I was too busy surviving to plant flowers.

Just after midday, I start growing restless.

Dean said he would bring my car back sometime this afternoon, but we never agreed on an exact time. It also occurs to me that I don’t have his number, which means I won’t hear from him before he arrives.

I should probably stay home and wait.

Unfortunately, patience has never been one of my strengths.

I tie the laces on my sneakers, pull my hair into a high ponytail and choose my favorite playlist. I place one earbud in, leaving the other out so I can still hear what’s happening around me.

Some habits are harder to break than others.

I saw Northern Beach from the lookout yesterday, so I have a rough idea of where I’m heading. According to the map on my phone, it’s only a couple of miles away.

Easy.

Probably.

I’m barely past G’s house when my music is interrupted by a text.

G: I just saw you leave. Please tell me you’re not one of those psychos who exercises on a SUNDAY!?

A second message appears before I can reply.

G: PS: I’m not stalking you. I’m just not used to having someone next door 😂

I laugh as I type back.

ME: Just a light stroll. Heading toward Northern Beach. If I’m not back in three hours, send help.

G: It’s almost impossible to get lost here, babe. You’ll be fine x

I glance back toward my empty driveway before sending another message.

ME: If Dean turns up with my car before I get back, can you stop him from leaving?

G: Oh, I’ll happily intercept Dean for you 👀

ME: That sounded threatening.

G: Happy strolling!

I shake my head before sliding my phone into the back pocket of my black flared leggings.