‘Oi!’ my mother’s voice rang out through the hallway. ‘Who tracked mud into the kitchen?’
‘Sorry mum,’ all three of us – her very adult children – called out in chorus from the lounge room.
She appeared in the doorway, an exasperated frown plastered on her tough features. She’d grown up on a cattle farm, our mother, and even though she’d been living in suburban Adelaide for more than forty years, she always entered a room like she’d had a hard day of ranching.
‘Someone’s cleaning those tiles, and it isn’t going to be me,’ she huffed, stepping into the room and motioning for my brother to shift out of her favourite spot on the cushion.
‘Dibs not!’ I said quickly, putting a finger on my nose. Neither of my siblings joined in and I grinned triumphantly.
‘Thank you for volunteering, Derek,’ my mother said, changing the channel we were all watching. I swore under my breath. She mustn’t have heard me, or she would have thrown the remote.
‘Who’s driving me to the shops on the weekend?’ she asked the room when her game show paused for an ad break.
‘Why can’t you drive yourself?’ my sister whined.
‘Yeah, when did I become a disability support worker who helps with basic tasks?’ my brother piped up.
That time she did throw the remote. It hit him with a satisfying thwack, and I couldn’t help but laugh. She shot me an arched glare, and I quickly scurried off to find a mop.
When I got back – kitchen spotless – the conversation was still going.
‘I’ve told you, I’m seeing Michael this weekend!’ my sister was going on and on.
‘Excellent,’ my mother nodded. ‘He lives near the shops, doesn’t he?’
‘You’re not coming on my date just so you can pick up some groceries!’
‘I’m working,’ I added quickly.
‘I just don’t want to,’ my brother shrugged.
‘Well!’ our mother fumed. ‘Once again, I appreciate your support! Coordination in Adelaide has never been stronger than when I ask my family to help me!’
‘It’s not like that, Mum,’ I sighed. ‘We just can’t do everything for you!’
I realised, too late, that she’d managed to retrieve the remote.