What About Angie?: She'll have to lose herself to discover who she's meant to be
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Arts coordinator Angie knew what she wanted in life and attempted to paint the picture-perfect version: setting up home with Brent, her partner of two years, in his family's beautiful rural home and raising babies between its walls.
But a secret from Brent's past coupled with the cold recep
Sioban Timmer
Sioban Timmer grew up in Perth's South and now lives near Byford with her family. She produces humorous stories and poetry for adults and children and enjoys sharing her work through readings and writing workshops. Sioban has three publications: Toughen Up, Princess, Feral Fergus and Don't be Afraid, a poetry collection. Her poetry has also been published in anthologies in the US and Australia. Sioban enjoys inspiring others to get creative and encouraging adults and children to get inspired and write. She has coordinated writing and self-publishing expos, literacy programs and children's competitions and particularly enjoys finding new ways for people to see writing as a creative art.
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What About Angie? - Sioban Timmer
SIOBAN TIMMER
titleWomanCopyright
DP-logoPublished by Dragonfly Publishing, April 2024
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.
CiP imageISBN (sc): 978-0-6458702-6-8
ISBN (e): 978-0-6458702-7-5
Produced in Australia
Cover design by Lorri Lennox
www.dragonflypublishing.com.au
For you.
For all you were
For all you are
For all you will become.
You were always strong
You are still remarkable
You will be… well, that remains to be written—
But I know it will be glorious.
PaintBack where it all began…
‘L
eave the teabag in a few minutes. I don’t want that dishwater you made yesterday.’
Angie rolled her eyes and shouted back, ‘Feel free to make your own tea, Dad.’
A frown crinkled her brow. She sighed, resting her palms on the cool bench, letting her head and shoulders droop.
Angie finished making the tea and carried the cups out to the verandah.
‘What? No bickies?’ Her dad, Mitch, shook his head and pouted like a little boy, not a grown man of nearly seventy.
Angie touched his arm and said gently, ‘Of course there is. I just couldn’t carry them and the tea, Dad.’
The sparkle came back to his eyes. ‘Good on ya, love. You know how I am if I don’t get my tea and bickies in the afternoon.’
She did know. Two o’clock is teatime—yesterday, today, tomorrow and always.
Angie walked back to the kitchen, paused at the counter and ran her finger along the edge of the smooth pink and yellow biscuit plate. She knew all too well it wasn’t about the biscuits. He had shared the ritual of tea on the verandah with Iris, her mum and his wife, for over forty years. Though he never said it, Angie understood this was his way of honouring the love they shared by continuing to do the simple things that they had once enjoyed together. That was what real love looked like.
Mitch finished the biscuits and kissed her forehead before heading inside for a nap. Angie sat on the wicker chair, staring off into the distance. She hugged her knees to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut and pushing down the overwhelming urge to cry. Lately, as soon as she was alone, her body took it as a cue to let go, but if she opened the floodgates, well, who knew what would happen. Determined not to succumb, she inhaled, pulling the breath down as deep as possible, attempting to fill the emptiness inside her with air and not suffocating sadness. She held it as long as she could, then exhaled, recentred for the moment.
Collecting the dishes, Angie went inside to wash up, do some jobs, organise dinner and get an early night. Sleep meant not having to process the hard truths. Busy was better than reality. Busy meant not thinking about the future she had been longing for—a future that slipped through her fingers and evaporated. Now, she was here like a helpless child. Back where it all began, back in her father’s house, back in her mother’s kitchen.
Angie opened the pantry door and removed an apron from the hook. She placed the strap over her head, tied it around her waist—the same way she had watched her mother do countless times. Holding the memory, she mustered a smile. Busy, just keep busy.
paintbrushThe alarm clock screeched announcing another day. Angie sat up bleary-eyed and hit snooze. Since being back in the family home, a strange combination of disorientation and déjà vu met her each morning. It took a moment to register she was back in her childhood room, which had