Part 4 (final) of a serialised story by Jess Knaus

“Are you crying yet?” Maggie asked, pulling weeds from the garden bed, sprays of dirt flying over her forearms.

It took Penny a moment to realise what Maggie was asking.

“Oh…yeah,” she replied. There were no secrets, Maggie knew everything Penny was experiencing like a rerun of her own life.

Maggie continued to shuffle her hands through the dirt.

“Has a way of sneaking up, doesn’t it?” she said, pausing her gardening for a moment, giving Penny a knowing look through the fence.

Penny looked back, but said nothing.

“One time I remember walking through the hardware shop, seeing a wheelbarrow just like Malcom’s. Did me in. Left with my face in my hands,” Maggie finished.

After a while Penny spoke again.

“My father wants to see me,” she said.

“Mmmm,” said Maggie, “I’m sure he does. I’m also sure you don’t have to see him if you don’t want.”

Maggie lifted her head from the brown earth and winked. Penny smiled.

They continued on that afternoon, Maggie taking care of the snow peas and onions. Tightening the trellis and composting the kitchen scraps. Penny attending to her carrots and swedes, piling them up for the pantry. They didn’t speak much. But shoulder to shoulder connected with the earth – with the dirt, tree shadows and soaring clouds above. Making a new future with their hands.

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The cockatoos visited on hot and dry afternoons, their now familiar visits becoming a part of Penny’s rhythm.

Their cry was distinct – the sound of yellow-crested cockatoos was common, as were the crows, the magpies and the minors. But the black cockatoos carried an unusual sound – melodic and screech-like all wrapped together. You couldn’t miss it.

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“Maybe we package up some fruit and veg for Keith?” she asked.

Maggie waited.

“Yeah, he’d like that.”

Maggie and Penny met out on the street, each carrying handfuls of fruit and vegetables for Keith. Maggie wandered back to her garage and returned with a cardboard tray for the produce. They walked over to Keith’s back patio, stepping up to knock on his screen door.

“Oh what’s this? My weekly delivery, delightful! Put it on my tab,” he laughed.

“You want anymore you can pay for it, ya bludger,” Maggie joked in response. Penny smiled, enjoying the laughter between the old friends.

Keith took a moment to smile at his neighbours, before speaking as honestly as either of them had heard.

“It doesn’t go away,” said Keith.

Maggie and Penny took a minute to absorb his words. What did he mean?

His eyes locked with theirs. He knew it well, also.

“The sadness. The emptiness. It’s the price we pay for having love in our lives. It doesn’t leave, but we grow around it. We become bigger,” he said.

They all paused.

“At least, that’s what they used to say back home,” he finished, leaving them with a wink and a warm Irish smile, turning around to carry their gifts inside.

Maggie and Penny wandered back and began to wrap up their yards, cleaning up shovels, returning tools to the shed, placing fertiliser back on the shelf.

Penny found an empty tub by the side of the house, filling it with water, and placing it in the centre of her backyard.

For the three black cockatoos, circling above.

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Photo by Dalal Nizam on Unsplash