Part Ten - A Walk on the Wild Side

Patty made her way to the kitchen, her feet moving on autopilot. She needed to think, to process what she had just witnessed. As she filled the kettle and set it on the stove, her mind whirled with questions.

“Oh my!” She muttered under her beath before looking to her audience, “I’m going to need something stronger than tea.”

Patty poured herself a neat whiskey gazing out her kitchen window into space. She wanted Teddy to be happy, to be true to himself, but she also knew the world wasn’t always kind to boys like him.

“Oh! This is silly!” Patty stomped her foot in irritation, downing the rest of her drink, “Those boys will be beside themselves in embarrassment right now. I need to talk to them.”

Patty stood outside Teddy’s bedroom door, unsure how to start the conversation she knew she needed to have. She looked directly to her camara in her imaginary show, “Why can’t Lucilla ball do this part? There is only so much medicinal support I can take.” She took a deep breath, knocked softly, “Teddy, Sydney, can I come in?” Patty’s voice was gentle, trying to convey reassurance.

“Yeah, Mum,” Teddy said quietly.

Patty entered the room, closing the door behind her and sat down on the edge of Teddy’s bed, facing both boys. “I... I wanted to talk to you both about earlier,” she began, carefully choosing her words. “And I want you to know that it’s okay. I’m not angry.”

Teddy fidgeted with his hands, not meeting her gaze, “Mum, we didn’t mean to...it just kinda happened.”

Patty reached out and placed a hand on Teddy’s knee, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I know. And it’s okay to feel... confused or unsure about things. You’ve got all these hormones racing through your body that you don’t know what to do with.”

“Heck! Missus L,” Syd shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks turning pink. “We were just curious. You said it was good to be curious.”

“Yes, Syd. Curiosity is a good thing…to a degree.” Patty paused, to gather her scrambled thoughts. “It’s perfectly normal to have these feelings…even if they’re different from what you might expect. You’re both growing up.”

Teddy looked up at Patty, his eyes searching for understanding. “I’ve never felt like this before,” His voice tinged with uncertainty. “Syd was feeling like me…He made me feel not so alone.”

Patty squeezed Teddy’s hand gently. “Hormones are... complicated, and they don’t always do as they are supposed to.”

Syd nodded in agreement, still avoiding eye contact. “Heck! Mrs L. Are we…wrong somehow? You know freaks.”

“Oh Sydney! Don’t think that about yourself. No one is ever wrong. You were made how you were supposed to be made,” Patty took a deep breath, trying to offer them comfort and support. “Whether you’re figuring things out or just pretty certain, I’m here for you.” She sighed, “I can’t say I understand all this…but I’ll try. I don’t have all the answers, but I am willing to find them out for you.”

Syd finally looked up, meeting Patty’s gaze with a hint of gratitude. She reached out and tweaked his nose, good naturedly. The tension in the room eased slightly, and Teddy managed a small smile.

Teddy and Syd exchanged a tentative smile, a weight lifted from their shoulders. As Patty left the room, leaving the door wide open, she felt a mix of emotions—concern, love, and a deep-seated determination to support the boys through whatever challenges lay ahead. They were both good kids. They needed someone on their side.

Patty just needed someone to seek out advice. Someone who wouldn’t reject her. They would listen and give her some information to help the boys. There was only one person who came to mind.

*********

Patty was hanging laundry in the backyard, thinking through her upcoming talk with Betty Knight. What would she say? How would she even start? A soft breeze began to rustle through the trees easing her anxieties for the moment.

Patty began to pin a shirt to the line when she heard raised voices from the front yard. Curious, she moved closer to the side of the house, staying out of sight but within earshot.

Freddie and Phil were standing by Phil’s truck, their faces flushed with anger. Patty could see their animated gestures and heard hushed snippets of a heated conversation. Their eyes keeping a furtive gaze on the world around them to make sure no one was paying attention to them.

Freddie seemed to lose his composure raising his voice, “You are sounding a lot like a wife! I’ve already got one! Remember!”

With that, Phil pushed him roughly away. Freddie almost toppling over. Phil jumped into the truck and roared away from the house.

Freddie clutched the letter box, his head bowed. There was a look of frustration that turned to weariness. He was stuck in a situation that was started to get to him.

Patty took a deep breath, stepping back into the yard and pretending she hadn’t witnessed the argument. She continued hanging the laundry, her mind racing with concerns.

*********

One crisis at a time, Patty thought, she could worry about Freddie’s fight with Phil much later. Their son needed her right now. She smoothed down the hem of her skirt as she stood on Betty Knight’s porch, her hands trembling slightly. She finally knocked on the door, and then began wringing her hand, anxiously.

Patty had spent the morning debating whether to come. Asking Betty Knight—of all people—for help was the last thing she ever thought she’d do. But when it came to Teddy, she’d swallow her pride.

The door swung open, revealing Betty in a flowing silk blouse, a martini in hand. Her eyebrows arched, “Patty! My dear,” Betty said, her voice lilting with amusement. “What an unexpected visit. I trust you’re not having a medical episode?”

“No Betty!” Patty said, glancing down for a moment before meeting her eyes. “I need your help. It’s about my son.”

Betty gestured for her to come inside, and they settled in the living room. Patty sat on the edge of the couch, her back ramrod straight, while Betty reclined in a chair, swirling her drink, “I thought this day would come,” Betty spoke, stirring the olive in her martini. “I noticed things while you were away…his flair if you like.”

“I need to understand,” Patty swallowed. “I want to know that this isn’t wrong…I didn’t give birth to an…abomination.”

“Why me?”

“Well, you seem to have associations with people like my son.”

“You have been a terrible snoop,” Betty studied her for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Alright, Patty. If you really want to understand, I’ll show you. But it won’t be easy.” She sipped the reminder of her drink, “I'll get back to you on the details.”

Patty nodded, her reply, “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Patty jumped up from her seat and hurried from the door. Betty watched her go with a curious smile on her face. She did not expect this much forwardness from such a pious puritan. Maybe, there was more to Patty than she first thought?

*********

Patty followed Betty into the dark streets of the town, her heart pounding. The further they walked, the more the scenery changed—gone were the tidy suburban streets and well-lit shopfronts. Instead, narrow alleyways and flickering neon signs loomed around them.

Finally, Betty led her down a set of stairs into a basement bar. Jazz music spilled out into the night, muffled but lively. Patty hesitated at the threshold, her instincts screaming at her to turn back, “What is this place?”

“Somewhere people can be themselves,” Betty replied simply.

Patty stepped inside and stopped dead. The room was small but alive with colour and movement. Men danced with men, women laughed and leaned close together, their hands brushing in ways that would scandalize Rosella Heights. A man in drag, his gown shimmering in the low light, was holding court near the stage, surrounded by admirers.

Patty’s breath hitched. This was a world she hadn’t known existed, and she didn’t know how to process it. She even recognised some of them.

“I can’t,” she whispered, stepping back toward the door. “This is... too much.”

Betty caught her by the arm, her grip firm but not unkind. “Patty,” she said, her voice low and steady. “You walk away now, and your son will be lost to you.”

Patty shook her head, “I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t... this isn’t right.”

“Honey!” Betty’s expression hardened. “What exactly isn’t right about it? These people just want to be happy. They live in fear every day, but in here, they get to be themselves. Their truest selves. Don’t you want that for your son?”

“Yes!” Patty’s eyes filled with tears, “I’m not judging them! I just... I don’t know how to handle this.”

“Then don’t handle it,” Betty said softly. “Just observe. Listen. Try to understand.”

Betty led Patty to a quiet corner, where they sat down. The music and laughter continued around them, but Betty’s expression grew somber.

“I had a sister called Bernice. She was smart and bold. She wore pants and fire shot guns.” Betty smiled, wistfully, “Oh, and she could tell the bawdiest of jokes that would make your lashes curl on their own.” She bowed her head, softening for the very first time. “Then every changed when my father found the letters. She had been writing sweet nothings to another girl.” Her face looked sad, her eyes glinting in the light, “My father quickly married her off to the first man he could find so she could lead the life of a fit and proper woman…six months later…they found her lying face down in the dam.” Patty’s eyes widened, but she stayed silent. “Imagine my surprise to receive a letter from her after her death. She told me everything from beyond the grave. The final straw was being raped by her husband to teach her such wifely duties.” Patty gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. “I heard he got so drunk with grief one night that he burnt his house to the ground with himself still inside.” Betty sneered, her lips curving, “Justice served, wouldn’t you say?”

Patty’s chest tightened as she looked at Betty. For the first time, she saw past the polished exterior, the sly smiles and snide remarks. She saw a woman who had lived through unimaginable pain and come out stronger on the other side.

Patty took a shaky breath, her eyes darting around the room again. She finally saw the joy on the faces of the people here—the freedom they had carved out for themselves in secret. She thought of Teddy, of the struggles he might face, and realized she owed it to him to stay.

“What do I do?” Patty asked quietly.

Betty’s smile returned, softer this time, “You love him. You stand by him. And you fight like a wild cat for him.”

Patty nodded, her resolve hardening, “I can do that.”

They stayed longer than Patty had imagined. Betty introduced her to some of the clientele. She found herself forgetting all about her reservations. She even laughed at the bawdy comedy of the drag queen.

As they left the club, the cool night air hit Patty’s face like a balm. She felt different—raw, exposed, but also awakened.

“Thank you, Betty,” she said as they reached the car.

Betty lit a cigarette, her red lips curling into a wry smile. “Don’t thank me yet, honey. The real work is just beginning.”

Patty laughed softly, surprising herself. For the first time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she could do this.

*********

Patty stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the teapot, her mind elsewhere. The calendar pinned to the wall caught her eye. Mother’s Day was circled in red, courtesy of her children.

She dried her hands and turned to her audience with a wry smile. “Ah yes, that time of year again. Breakfast in bed, slightly burnt toast, and a chorus of ‘We love you, Mum’ as they hand over gifts that they proudly made themselves.”

Patty glanced over at the small shelf in the corner of the room, lined with past Mother’s Day creations—a clay blob from Teddy’s preschool days that was allegedly a cat, Lizzy’s attempt at a homemade candle that still smelled faintly of burnt sugar, and the infamous macaroni portrait that had started disintegrating but remained proudly displayed. Each piece, a strange and wonderful growth chart of their childhood.

Despite the teasing, a warmth spread through her chest. She never took this day for granted. Not after the childhood she’d endured—a home filled with tension, a father whose anger darkened every corner. Love had been scarce, tenderness a rare and fleeting thing. She was determined to be different. To create a home filled with love, laughter, and yes, even a little chaos.

Just then, Teddy came bursting in, his hands behind his back, “Mum, close your eyes!”

Patty obliged, and something soft was pressed into her hands. She opened her eyes to a beautifully decorated handmade card. Teddy had graduated away from ceramic blob cats now producing artistic gems.

First thing she noticed was the wording. “Best Mum Ever” were scrawled across the front in his careful, lopsided handwriting. Inside, Teddy had written, “Thanks for always being on my side. Love you, Mum.” There was a portrait image of Teddy and Lizzy sketched onto the back.

Her throat tightened. “Oh, my darling,” she whispered, pulling him into a hug. “This is perfect.” Patty proudly displayed the sketch on her shelf of past memories.

Then, as if the universe hadn’t finished destroying her mascara, the postman had left a beautiful card from her mother.

Dearest Patricia,

Thank you for the night gown. The days are starting to cool so this will come in handy. I don’t say this enough, but I am so proud of you. You have built a beautiful life for yourself and your children. You are the kind of mother I always wished I could be. Happy Mother’s Day, my darling girl.

All my love, Mother.

She pressed the letter to her heart, then looked out the window where Teddy and Lizzy were giggling over some private joke. She had done it. She had built a home filled with love. And that was the greatest Mother’s Day gift of all.

********

The lunchtime feast was laid out in all its glory—roast chicken, buttery potatoes, fresh greens, and a cake that Teddy had insisted on baking himself (though Patty had discreetly supervised). Somehow it still came out lopsided covered in runny pink icing.

The table was set, the house smelled delicious, and Patty sighed, ready to bask in a moment of family bliss.

That was, until Lizzy cleared her throat. “Mum, I made you something extra special this year!”

Patty’s stomach did an involuntary flip. “Lizzy, darling, I love your experimentation, but please tell me it’s not your homemade ‘shampoo’ again?”

Lizzy huffed, “That was ONE TIME! I just got the composition wrong.”

“After a day, it smelt like rotten eggs,” Teddy butted in.

“It’s the thought that counted!”

“Yeah, a bottle of farts!”

“You philistine!” Lizzy thumped his arm. Teddy grizzled at her. She ignored him and presented a small vial filled with a shimmering, bubbling purple liquid. “I call it ‘Mum’s Marvelous Mood Mist!’ It’s supposed to release calming and happy feelings in the air. I tested it on the neighbor’s cat, and it—well, it didn’t exactly run away in terror, so I think we’re good!”

Patty hesitated. “And… how does it work?”

Lizzy beamed, “I’ll demonstrate.”

Lizzy upturned the entire vial onto the burning centerpiece candle. There was a moment of silence. Then a loud POOF! A thick pinkish fog erupted, swirling across the dining room like something out of a mad scientist’s laboratory.

“Lizzy!” Patty yelped, waving her hands as the fog engulfed them.

Freddie, who had just walked in carrying the gravy boat, took one look at the chaos and immediately turned on his heel. “Nope. I’m too old for this.”

Teddy coughed, “Why does it smell like lavender and—oh God, is that vinegar?”

Patty blinked rapidly as the mist began to settle. But then, she noticed something bizarre. Teddy was swaying slightly, draping a napkin over his head like a scarf, crooning in a husky voice, “Falling in love again… what am I to do?”

“Why is he Marlene Dietrich?!” Patty gasped, then let out a sudden shriek, clutching at her skirt. “A mouse! A mouse! Oh heavens! It’s going for my ankles!” She jumped onto her chair, which promptly gave way beneath her, sending her sprawling onto the floor.

Teddy, still dramatically posing, struck a finger to his cheek, “Ah, but darling, we can fix that.”

With an impish grin, Lizzy grabbed his homemade cake and hurled it straight at Teddy, who caught it full in the face.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mum!” he shouted, voice muffled through sponge and frosting.

Freddie reappeared, taking in the carnage. “Alright, enough of this nonsense.” He strode to the windows and threw them open, then grabbed a dish towel and began wildly fanning at the mist.

As the pink fog drifted outside, the Hendersons—who had been gardening next door—suddenly froze. Mr. Henderson burst into an impromptu tap dance on his front lawn while Mrs. Henderson began serenading him with an operatic rendition of Bicycle Built for Two.

The Love family crowded at the window, watching in awe.

“Oh dear,” Patty muttered. “We’ve chemically unhinged the neighbours.”

Lizzy beamed. “Best Mother’s Day ever.”

Inside, there was a beat of silence. Then, one by one, the Love family dissolved into hysterical laughter.

********

Patty was in the middle of hoovering trying to work through the joy of Mother’s Day. The reaction of The Hendersons still caused a chuckle to escape her lips. The phone rang. She switched off the machine and reached for the receiver, “Hello, Patty speaking,” she said, tucking the receiver between her ear and shoulder.

“Patty, darling, it’s me!” Diana’s voice bubbled through the line, filled with excitement and a hint of mischief, “Happy Belated Mother's Day!”

“Diana! You would not believe the Mother’s Day I had,” Patty began, rubbing her forehead. “Let’s just say it involved pink fog, Teddy channeling Marlene Dietrich, an imaginary mouse that sent me flying, and Lizzy throwing a cake at her brother.”

Diana let out a peal of laughter on the other end, “Oh darling, your house is a circus. I adore it.”

Patty chuckled. “A chaotic mess, more like. But it was fun in its own ridiculous way.” She wasn’t feeling so envious of her sister today. Her spirit was lighter, “So, how was Paris?”

“Oh, darling, Paris was magnifique! I don’t even know where to begin!”

“Start with the man,” Patty said, arching an eyebrow. “There’s always a man in your stories.”

Diana sighed dramatically, leaning forward. “Fine, if you insist. His name was Pierre—of course it was Pierre—and he was an artist. He had these dark, brooding eyes and wore a beret, Patty. A beret! It was like he walked straight out of a postcard.”

Patty rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “Did you meet him at some fancy gallery?”

“No,” Diana said, laughing. “Even better. I was wandering along the Seine, pretending to be one of those mysterious women in a film, when he stopped me and said, ‘Mademoiselle, you have the face of a muse.’”

“And you believed him?” Patty teased.

“Of course I did!” Diana said, tossing her head. “Wouldn’t you?” She whispered into the phone, “Oh! I didn’t tell you the best part yet! I posed for him…not a stitch of clothing to be seen.”

Patty gasped. “Diana! You didn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely did,” Diana said, leaning back with a smug grin. “It is my chance to be immortalised on canvas.”

Patty burst out laughing, “You’re impossible!”

“And then,” Diana said, her voice softening, “after I posed for him. Pierre and I walked through Montmartre. The streets were alive with music and laughter, and there were painters everywhere, capturing the city’s magic. He bought me a rose from a street vendor and said, ‘You belong in Paris.’”

Patty’s smile faltered slightly. “Sounds like a dream.”

“It was,” Diana said, her tone wistful. “But dreams don’t last forever. I had a plane to catch, and Pierre had his art. We kissed goodbye under the Eiffel Tower, and that was that.”

“Must be so nice,” Patty said. “Compared with my lot in life.”

“Oh! You’re not our mother! Find your own equivalent to my Paris adventure,” Diana didn’t seem to notice. “I must dash but we’ll talk more later. I am off to Hong Kong. Love you, Patty!”

“Love you too, Diana. Safe travels.”

Patty hung up the phone and stood there for a moment, lost in thought. Diana’s glamorous life and carefree adventures contrasted sharply with her own routine. No matter how much she adored Mother’s Day with her family, she felt a surge of jealousy and longing for her own dreams. With a sigh, she switched on the hoover and resumed her work.

*********

The library was unusually lively that afternoon, the quiet hum of conversation blending with the rustle of turning pages. Patty sat near the back of the community room, idly flipping through a pamphlet about upcoming events.

The librarian, a wiry woman with half-moon glasses, clapped her hands. “Alright, ladies, let’s settle in. This afternoon’s class will focus on practical first aid in the home.”

Patty barely had time to straighten in her chair before the instructor walked in—a very familiar face. It was Ruby King. It seemed she knew far more than bush tucker. She noticed some of the women begin to squirm a little, some whispered like a pack of vipers, and one or two stood up and left the room.

Ruby seemed to take this in her stride, “Morning, girls,” she said. “I’m Ruby King. I’ll be teaching you the basics of first aid today.”

Ruby’s lesson was clear, practical, and engaging. She demonstrated how to clean wounds and manage a burn, and even a few techniques for calming a child during an emergency. Patty found herself nodding along, appreciating the no-nonsense way Ruby explained things.

As Ruby was demonstrating how to bandage a wound, she invited the group to come forward and practice. Patty watched as a few of the ladies approached hesitantly, their movements stiff and awkward.

“I think I’ll just watch,” one woman murmured, stepping back with a tight-lipped smile.

“I don’t need to be touched,” another said loudly, folding her arms across her chest.

Ruby didn’t flinch. She simply gestured to the bandages and said, “That’s fine. The most important part is understanding the steps. If you change your mind, let me know.”

Patty’s chest tightened as she noticed a woman near the front, a red-haired housewife named Ethel, lean toward her neighbor.

“Can you believe this?” Ethel whispered, her voice loud enough to carry. “Of all the people to teach us first aid, they send her?”

Her neighbour—a pinched-looking woman in a floral dress—nodded, her lips pursed. “It’s not right. I’d rather have one of the nuns teach us at least they’d be clean.”

Patty’s stomach churned as the women tittered quietly, their words biting and cruel. She glanced at Ruby, expecting some sign of hurt or anger, but Ruby’s face remained calm, her focus entirely on her demonstration.

Patty stood up, “You can practice on me.”

Ruby smiled, nodding her head as if her first assumptions about Patty were proven correct. She invited her up to the front and applied the bandages. The other women looked on appalled.

When the session ended, the women gathered their things and began filing out of the room. Ethel and her neighbour whispered to each other as they passed, their expressions smug. A couple of them could be heard complaining to library staff who looked on in disdain.

Patty lingered near the back, watching as Ruby packed up her materials. She noticed how Ruby’s hands trembled slightly as she folded her notes, the first crack in her otherwise calm demeanour.

Patty approached cautiously. “You were wonderful up there,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “You’re a jill of all trades.”

“Thanks. Patty,” Ruby looked up, her brows raising slightly. “You must be thirsty for knowledge if you came back for some more.”

“I guess so,” Patty hesitated before asking, “I’m sorry. Those women were so rude.”

Ruby shrugged; her expression unreadable. “Oh pet! It’s my every day. I came to do a job and I did it. No matter the meowing of those tabbies.”

Patty’s throat tightened. “It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not,” Ruby said simply. “But I don’t do this for them. I do it for the ones who listen. The ones who want to learn.”

For a moment, Patty didn’t know what to say. Then, impulsively, she asked, “Do you have time for a cuppa? If your free that is.”

Welcome Inn was a respite from those ignorant women. The café allowed service to Aboriginals. They stood by their name. A welcoming place for all.

The scent of fresh scones and strong tea lingering in the air. They found a small table near the window, “So, my girl,” Ruby said, leaning back slightly, “How was your Mother’s Day?”

“Chaotic but so my family,” she smiled. "And you! Oh! I don't even know if you have children.”

“I do!” Ruby smiled wistfully, “I guess it is time I told my story,” Ruby’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I became a nurse because there weren’t many choices when I was a girl. I was taught in the mission school. The nuns drilled it into us—if we wanted a decent life, we had two options: work as a domestic or train as a nurse. I figured I’d rather be cleaning wounds than scrubbing floors.”

Patty nodded slowly. “That must’ve been tough.”

“My girl,” Ruby smirked. “You could say that. I am still scrubbing floors, but I am also helping people. I spend most of my time cleaning up the muck of human indignity.”

Patty frowned. “Muck?”

Ruby lifted a brow, “I get the bedpans, cleaning blood off the floor because they know I won’t complain. I’d lose my job.”

“That’s awful.”

Ruby gave her a steady look, “I gotta pay the rent.”

Patty shifted in her chair, feeling the weight of Ruby’s words. “Do you ever think about leaving? Finding work somewhere better?”

“And go where?” Ruby asked, her expression unreadable. “People are like those women everywhere I go. There is no escape.”

Patty hesitated before asking, “And you're doing all this on your own?”

Ruby exhaled slowly, wrapping her hands around her newly arrived cup of tea, “It’s complicated.” The air between them grew heavier. Patty sensed that whatever Ruby was about to say wasn’t something she shared often. “My husband, Sammy, was a shearer,” Ruby said at last, her voice quieter now. “Good man. Strong. We had three kids together.” She paused, then added bitterly, “One day, he just drops dead, and the next, my kids were taken from me.”

“Whom by?”

“The government,” Ruby said simply. “A widow has no place raising children on her own.”

Patty felt sick, “Did you ever—see them again?”

“I tried to find them,” Ruby said. “One of my kids’ lives right here in this town. I just don’t have the stomach to tell him. He doesn’t even know me. He was just a bub when they took him.”

A long silence stretched between them. Outside the café window, life bustled on as though nothing had happened.

“I’m so sorry,” Patty whispered. “And here I am rubbing my Mother’s Day in your face.”

“Oh! No! My girl! I wouldn’t take that joy from you,” Ruby beamed. “I chose to work a double shift at the hospital to cover for the nurses who had kids waiting for them at home.” Ruby shrugged, taking a slow sip of her tea. “It’s easier that way. Less time to think about things.” Ruby exhaled, her gaze drifting toward the window. “The last one I had with them, my eldest made me a bracelet out of twine and buttons. Called it ‘the most beautiful jewelry in the world.” She smiled faintly. “I still wear it from time to time.”

Patty’s throat tightened, “Ruby...”

“It’s alright,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “I tell myself every year that it’s just another day. And most of the time, I believe it. But sometimes...” She trailed off, staring into her cup, “At least now I get to see one of them. I just keep my distance. Try not to cause a fuss for him.”

Patty swallowed the lump in her throat, “Ruby, I—”

“Oh pet! You don’t have to say anything,” Ruby said, her voice gentler now. “It’s just the way things are.”

Patty gripped the edge of the table, “But it shouldn’t be.”

Ruby studied her for a moment before offering the faintest of smiles. “No. It shouldn’t.”

The two women sat in silence for a while, their drinks growing cold between them. Finally, Ruby sighed and straightened. “Alright, my girl. Enough of my sob story. Tell me something about you.”

Patty let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, “I don’t think my life’s nearly as interesting as yours.”

Ruby chuckled, “Try me.”

Patty smiled faintly. “Well... I have two kids. I spend most of my time baking, worrying, and trying to keep my house from falling apart.”

Ruby smirked, “Sounds like a war zone.”

“Some days, it feels like one.”

For the first time, they shared an easy laugh.

“If you have time. I’d like you to meet my son.” Ruby put a finger to her lips to shush her, “But this is between you and me. He can’t find out…not yet…not until I’m sure.”

Patty wasn’t sure what had brought her to Ruby that day—maybe curiosity, maybe fate. But as she looked at the woman sitting across from her, she knew this was the beginning of something important.

Ruby dragged her away from the café. They walked through the quiet suburban street, their steps synchronized with the gentle rustling of leaves in the autumn breeze. Ruby’s heart raced as they approached the modest, neatly kept house where her son lived. Patty could see the tension in her friend’s eyes and squeezed her hand in silent support.

Someone emerged from the front door. Patty gasped in shock. Syd, her son’s new friend, was strumming a guitar. He sat down on the porch, attempting to master some basic cords.

“There he is! That’s my boy,” Ruby whispered to Patty.

No. It couldn’t be so. Sydney was Ruby’s son. The same boy that was getting close and comfortable with her own son. This was now such a dilemma. Should she tell her new friend that Syd is known to her or keep it to herself? And what about the boy? This could shake up his life. Did she have the right to be a party to that?

#LGBTQIAStories #AustralianFiction #FictionOnTheWeb #1950sHouseWives #FemaleProtagonist #SocialChange #FemaleFriendships #Dramedy #SoapOpera #TeenLGBT #StrongFemaleCharacters #Nostalgia #QuirkyReads #FunReads