Page 127 of When Lemons Give You Life

“Lisa . . .” His voice is as rough as gravel. “I . . . I’m so happy to see you. Please, come in, take a seat. Sorry about the mess, I’ve been packing, got to be out of this place this afternoon.”

The room smells of citrus and the faint must of newspaper. I move some cookbooks off the black leather couch and sit. “Where are you going?”

He lowers himself into the chair opposite. “Booked a train out to Adelaide tonight and then on to Perth. Plenty of small towns near there where I won’t bother anyone.” His smile is strained.

“I saw you on the telly. Took some guts to do that.”

He shrugs. “It was the least I could do.”

“Thanks for the box of Beau’s things.” I pause. “You couldn’t bear for him to be alone, could you?”

Griff’s hand curls into a fist on his knee. “He was scared out of his mind. I . . . I couldn’t leave him anymore. What I did was unforgivable, but I wanted him to have some peace, some dignity; for us to have a little time that was ours, before it slipped away. I know that he was your best friend, but he was my entire community.”

“I see that now,” I whisper. “You weren’t trying to push me away, you were holding on to what mattered. I should have understood it wasn’t about me at all.”

Something shifts in Griff’s posture. Cautiously, he moves from the chair across from me to the couch. Still a cushion between us. His presence beside me is unfamiliar, the careful stillness of someone who doesn’t know if they are allowed to be here.

“I’m so, so sorry, Lisa,” he says, voice low, gaze on the floor. “For what I’ve put you through this past year, and that I never forgave you for what happened at our engagement party.”

“I know I’ve said it a hundred times before, Griff, but I should never have shown up drunk. I said awful things. I was jealous and stupid and hurting . . .”

He lets out a soft, hollow laugh. “Beau was pretty spectacular. I’d have coveted him too, if he wasn’t mine.”

“The thing is . . .” I reach across the cushion and rest my hand gently on his. “I wasn’t jealous of you, Griff. Not really. I was jealous of him. Because he had what I always wanted: a place in your life.”

His voice splinters. “There’s a place for you now . . . I’ve got nothing but a place for you now.”

I hesitate. “There’s something I just can’t move past, Griff. Why donate to me now? Why not to Mum?”

He takes a long slow breath then meets my eyes. “Lisa, it wasn’t me who refused the donation . . . it was her.”

“What?” My voice is barely audible.

“Mum refused to accept my kidney, even though I desperately wanted to donate. She wanted me to save it in case you ever needed it.”

The words hang in the air.

“She made me promise never to tell you. She didn’t want you to carry any guilt or think she gave up her chance to live for your sake.”

I close my eyes, feeling everything and nothing at once. The itchy tag of my T-shirt, the blast of the aircon, the weight of the past pressing in. Everything else—time, space, logic—folds in on itself.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving before she died.” The words catch in his throat. “That I wasn’t there when you needed me. I should have stayed and helped you. Protected you.”

A bitter laugh slips out before I can stop it. “It’s not like you were ever the protective, brotherly kind, you didn’t even fight the imaginary monster I thought lived under my bed.”

“No,” he says quietly. “But I did fight a real one.”

I frown, the shift in his tone pulling me upright.

“The kidney wasn’t the only secret Mum made me keep from you.” His voice is fragile. “It was your dad too.”

“I know you hated him. I figured it must’ve been hard getting a stepdad and an annoying baby sister dumped on you all at once. I . . .”

He shakes his head, his eyes dropping to his arm. He turns it over and touches a pale ridge below the elbow—a scar from some kitchen mishap, no doubt. “He hit us, Lisa. Me and Mum.”

“He what?” The words scrape out of me, razored and thin.

“When I pushed you away, when I shouted—it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I was trying to keep you out of it. I didn’t want him to touch you. Or for you to see what he did to her.”