Mona’s side of the bed is neatly tucked in. There’s no sign of her. My cup of coffee on the counter is cold. There are dry plates in the dish rack. A nurse phones from rehab at Hanmer Springs. She’ll let me know in a couple months if I’m allowed to visit. Apparently, I’m enabling Mona’s problems. Her counsellor has told her we’re co-dependent or some s**t. Whatever. I don’t have to stay put and listen to people criticise me.
I score this Subaru WRX and spend a year driving it. Feels like a year, anyway. Some expanse in my memories. I get it from this dude who used to play bass in The Exponents back in the 80s. He owes me three grand and he’s too out-of-it to react when I pull his keys out of his pockets while he sleeps. The Subie has been lowered too much, so it’s not roadworthy, though.
