June

“Gabrielle?”

“Yes, Mum?” said Gab, popping her head into the sunroom, having just put some veggies on to roast.

“I’m really sorry, Gabby, but … can I pleeeease borrow $50? Just for a bit—I’ll pay it back on pension day, I promise.”

Gab’s desire to help her mum wrestled with frustration. This was the third time in a fortnight.

“Mum, you haven’t paid me back that other $80 yet,” said Gab.

“Gaaab,” whined Gina. “I’m your mother! I just,” Gina bit her lip in self-generated distress, “it’s really hard, okay? I’ve never had much money … ”

“I know, Mum,” sighed Gab. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m saving up as much as I can and … ”

“I’ll give it all back to you on pension day, Gab—I promise. I promise!”

“Okay Mum, I’ll transfer the money to your account now.” That was the quickest way to do it.

In truth, Gina didn’t need it, no matter how much she thought she did. Or at least, she needed it for her own sense of fulfilment, but this was not in any accord with Gab’s goals and needs. Gina was using the money for online tarot readings and sessions with a spiritual healing coach. She had become convinced that she could find answers for her unquenchable existential discomfort, for her mental ill-health, if she could somehow get to the source of it all. The tarot readings were addictive, and now her monthly instalment for the coaching was due.

When the roast had cooked, Gab brought Gina her meal in the sunroom.

“Thanks honey,” said Gina with a big sigh.

“Are you alright, Mum?” asked Gab, worried, but also not wanting to know the answer.

“Oh, my body is just not interested in food at the moment.” Gina sighed yet again. “Everything I eat … bloating and more bloating. Acid reflux too.” She shook her head as Gab barely hid a grimace. “I’m sure it’s a sign of spiritual distress,” concluded Gina.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Why?” asked Gab, frowning.

“The body expresses the truth of the spirit,” said Gina knowingly. “Fix the spirit, and you fix the body.”

Gab wondered if it was true.

“So, you don’t want your dinner, Mum? Go on, you’ll feel better if you have some. Just a little bit?”

“Leave it here, Gab,” said Gina, as though she were making a painful concession. “I’ll try.”

So Gab did. Gina’s lack of interest in food worried her. Gab would collect Gina’s dinner plate from the sunroom each evening, and there was often two-thirds of every meal still on the plate. Gab wondered what it meant, and whether her mother was right about disruptions in a person’s spirit outworking themselves in that person’s body. She wondered what she could do to help her mother.

Gina had been a regular at the local GP for years, visiting at least once a fortnight with one complaint or another. That was why Gab hated going to the doctor’s—she never went for herself, but she had childhood memories of lying on the thick, shaggy carpet in the doctor’s waiting room, watching cooking show reruns on the TV there—and of hunching in the corner of the doctor’s room, pretending to play with the toys, while her mum told the doctor all the things that were wrong with her, what her latest symptoms were, why it was more serious than the doctor was willing to credit. Gab had stopped going on those visits as soon as Gina let her stay home by herself, when she was eight years old.

But now Gina was resisting going to the doctor, which Gab thought was strange. At least with her frequent visits to the GP, Gina was being checked on regularly. But she hadn’t been for months. Gab asked her mother about it the next morning.

“You haven’t been to the doctor in ages, Mum. Why don’t you go for a checkup?”

Gina just sighed and slumped back in her chair, her eyes closed.

“Dr. Waterfall is on leave. I’m not interested in talking to anyone else,” she said in a monotone voice.

“How long is he gone for?” asked Gab.

“Months. He’s taking long service leave,” said Gina, eyes still closed.

“But couldn’t you go see the replacement doctor?”

“No!” Gina’s eyes flicked open.

“Why not?” Gab pressed.

“Gabrielle!” Now Gina leaned forward in her chair, finally animated—which Gab preferred to the still, quiet, numb figure of a moment before. “I do not need a doctor. Not a physical doctor. Traditional medicine does not have all the answers!”. Which was a strange thing for Gina to say, Gab thought, because she relied on that concoction of ‘traditional medicine’ to get her through each day. Suddenly Gina screamed, “GO GABBY!! JUST GO!!” in a flurry of desperation, and Gab quickly backed out and shut the door. She wouldn’t say anything more about it.