A Reason to Exist

Chapter 6

Dressed in the lemon summer dress, I felt ridiculous standing by the apple crate vegetable boxes in our back garden. Tate was pulling tomatoes from the vine. The wannabe actor in him liked the attention. He was dressed in mum's favourite outfit, brown cord jeans and a purple and orange check shirt. He had a theatrical smile on his face. This was his chance to perform for Ivan the cameraman.

'Pick a zucchini now,' Ivan instructed.

Tate leant across the veggie box and picked something green.

'That's a cucumber,' mum called out. 'The zucchinis are on the right.'

Of course Tate had no idea, as we're never encouraged to pick vegetables. Mum is precious about her garden and thinks only Darren the gardener knows how to harvest things properly.

'Okay, let's take our shoes off so I can talk about the healing garden.' We slipped our shoes off and walked barefoot around the grass while mum described how we came from the earth and we'll return to the earth. She narrated, 'We need to feel the dirt on the soles of our feet to feel grounded. It's amazingly powerful. The first time I did this I literally cried.'

I felt so self-conscious in my silly lemon dress, grounding myself in my own garden, I could hardly remember how to move my arms as I walked.

All of a sudden, there was a loud crashing sound from next door. The lattice above the fence crashed down and a broad-chested, mean-looking dog leaped into our backyard and ferociously barked at us. Its jaw was big and blocky, its teeth sharp and menacing. Mum hates dogs, especially dogs like this. She was frozen to the ground, screaming for the neighbours: 'Get your dog, get your dog, get your dog!'

I heard their side door creak open. 'Diesel! Diesel!' It was Tucker's voice.

'Make him go,' mum yelled.

'Diesel, come here, boy. Diesel!'

The dog ran and launched himself back over the fence.

Mum took two steps towards their side of the yard. Her face was pale and her voice shook when she asked 'What type of dog is it?'

'It's a Rhodesian ridgeback, Boxer mix. We think there's some German Shepherd too,' Tucker said proudly.

One of my mother's worst fears – she thinks bitzer dogs are all killers.

'Is your mum home?'

'Yep.'

'Can you get her?'

Their side door creaked open. I heard voices discussing something. Then Tucker's mother came out the door.

'Hi,' she said. 'I'm Astrid.' We couldn't see her, as the fence was between us.

'Is the dog inside now?' my mother asked.

'Yes.'

Mum walked over to the fence and peered through a crack in the paling. She spoke in a low, slightly deranged tone.

'I'm Vivien. You need to know that I'm a single mother and I deserve for my children and I to feel safe in our own backyard.'

'I'm a single mother too, and that dog helps me feel safe,' Astrid replied steadily.

'Your dog has broken the fence,' my mother said.

'It's just the lattice. My son can fix it in ten minutes.'

'Good. I'd like it done as soon as possible. But I don't feel safe anymore. We'll need a taller fence. I'll organise quotes. We'll need to pay half each.'

'I can't afford a new fence.'

'You'll have to. It's the law.' Mum straightened her back. 'Nice to meet you,' she said, her voice sweet and sour.

Their side door opened and Astrid walked back inside without responding.

Mum turned to us and smiled as though that was the way negotiations are made.