Chapter 20.

                                    

                                          
Kate sat alone in her home, in the middle of the day, on a weekday. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she had ever done that. The apartments or dorms she had lived in throughout her Africa time were always shared and rarely considered home, and her times in Australia were mainly couch surfing or university share dorms. She watched Ludo swim around in circles, completely unfazed by the intricacies of human life as he foraged for forgotten flakes at the bottom of his habitat and flapped his tail when the sun catcher in the lounge room window directed a rainbow of light into his bowl. Her head felt like it was finally clearing, like a fog was lifting. But at the same time it was creating more questions as she saw things in a different light.
                          
Joan had stayed the night last night, it wasn't often Joan stayed at her house; it was usually Kate going to Joan's house, mainly because she had a key to the neighbours house, but also because Joan was far more comfortable in her own space. Kate walked into the bedroom and curled back up on the unmade bed. She could still smell Joan's scent in the sheets and on the pillow. She breathed deep, allowing her brain to process the information it held. 
                          
Things were adding up in a peculiar fashion. She didn't like the line they were forming and she wondered if she was over thinking the whole situation. She liked to believe the best in people; she liked to think everyone wanted the best for everyone else, because that's the way she was. But that's not how the rest of the world worked. Kate had learnt that the hard way, too many times. It created more questions in her brain. 
                          
Opening the bedside drawer she fished around underneath notebooks, stray pens, abandoned hair lackeys and an assortment of other discarded items to find the business card she had stashed away. The one that held the name and number of the forensic psychologist. She stared at the card for a long time as she held it gently between her fingers as though it might burst into flames and burn her at any moment. It was made from a thick card that felt crinkled when you touched the white surface and was embossed with the insignia of corrections, her name, two phone numbers; an office number and a mobile number, along with an email address and a fax line. 
                          
Kate sat up and hung her legs over the bed, her feet finding the cold floorboards. Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye and she turned to face the open bedside drawer. An open packet of cigarettes peeked at her from the darkness of being half buried. She had completely forgotten about that packet she had stashed for moments when she needed a bit of something to calm her nerves. 
                          
"What the hell," Kate said out loud to herself as reached into the drawer and grabbed the old packet of cigarettes. With nimble fingers Kate fished one solitary stick out of the packet, grabbed a lighter that was also hiding among the treasures of the drawer and tucked her phone under her arm before walking down the hallway into the back yard. 
                          
Standing on the back veranda she lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, savouring the taste of her abandoned habit. Kate leant against a pole and closed her eyes as the head spin hit then took another deep drag. Opening her eyes again she fished her phone out from its safe place and unlocked it with her fingerprint. She dialed in the mobile number on the card. Her finger hovered over the call button.
                          
Another drag. The end of the cancer stick glowed red as she inhaled the toxins and nicotine and she felt her muscles relax more as she exhaled. 
                          
The green button to dial glowed at her as though it could do no harm and Kate found herself questioning her intentions. What was she seeking? Why was she dialing this number? Was it a selfish move; something she was doing for herself? Or was it something she was doing for Joan? A million questions chased themselves around her head as she stared at the illuminated screen.
                          
Kate looked away from the screen as she inhaled deeply once more, her bright green eyes gazed around her backyard as she blew the smoke from her lips. The trees were overgrown, they required trimming again. The lawn needed a mow. The garden beds needed weeding. And the reticulation still needed fixing; she had never quite gotten around to that when she had moved in. Kate made a mental list of all the things she was going to do when she secured some proper time off before returning to the task at hand.