The Beach Boys were playing on the radio. I remember that clearly. You don’t hear much Beach Boys in this part of the world and I used to like that song.
We’d been having a pretty nice day up until then, until your phone rang. We’d been shopping and I’d blown all my money on a silver brooch that you have liked. You’d tried to stop me but I could tell how pleased you were. You were admiring it as we had coffee and then the call. Your Dad had suffered a stroke and you needed to go home, to go back to Australia. You left with barely a goodbye. You left the pendant on the table.
I understood of course. You had no choice. You were in shock.
You phoned a few times when you got there. A few times the first day, a few times the next week. The calls become less frequent, as did your talk of coming back.
That was a long time ago. I still have the brooch. I turn the radio off if the Beach Boys are playing. Thankfully, you don’t hear much Beach Boys in this part of the world.