By next Monday, she was still sick. Freya came into her bedroom in the morning.

“You still sick, honey?”

“Mmm-hmm,” came a muffled voice. It was so quiet Freya barely heard it. She came and sat on the bed.

“Gab? Do you want to talk?”

Gab shook her head.

“Heard anything from your mum lately?”

Gab turned over so that her face wasn’t buried in the pillow. “I’ve been ignoring her. She’s been texting non-stop.” She reached for her phone, unlocked it and thrust it towards Freya. “Take a look if you want.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah.”

The latest message from Gina read: My darling Gabrielle, my angel, sent from above. Don’t forget me while your busy. Children who honor there parents are blessed. Come home soon. Its too quiet without you and I need help with shopping. Love Mum xx

There were about ten more from the last three days of a similar vibe.

“Ugh. How do you deal with this?” asked Freya. Gab shrugged.

“It’s my mum. Just do.”

“It sounds backwards to me,” observed Freya.

“How so?” asked Gab, sitting up very slowly.

“You’re the parent, the responsible one who looks after her, and calms her down when she’s anxious. And she’s the kid, relying on you for everything,” Freya said.

“Yeah. So true,” said Gab. “But after all these years, I haven’t managed to fix things, and I don’t know why.”

“Because it’s not your job, Gab,” Freya said, gently.

“Wish I had sisters like yours,” said Gab shyly.

“Well, seeing as there are four of us already, another won’t hurt. You can be sister number five.” Freya smiled. “Come back and stay with us sometime. If you can handle a house of six people, two dogs, four guinea pigs and homing pigeons.”

“Homing pigeons? What the? Are they a real thing?”

“Yeah,” grinned Freya. “They’re my dad’s. He’s super keen on them.”

“What! Your Dad sounds cool. How old are your sisters again?”

“Priya’s twenty-three, Indira’s seventeen and Lena’s fifteen,” said Freya, smoothing out the bottom edges of Gab’s doona. “My dad has Scandinavian and Scottish heritage,” she continued, “and my mum’s Indian.”

“Wow! How did they meet?” Gab’s curiosity was clouding out her nausea.

“Ha, they met at an art gallery in Berlin.”

“What! And … your mum’s a doctor, right?” This was good medicine.

“Yes, with endless energy. We can’t keep up with her!”

“And your dad?”

“He’s a primary school teacher. His favourite time of the year is when he takes his homing pigeons into school to show his Grade Sixes. It’s always during their module on technology.” Freya laughed. “Mum says he likes it better than Christmas.”

Gab was incredulous, busily piecing together such an unfamiliar family scenario. Freya’s tone suggested happy camaraderie.

Freya laughed again and began unplaiting and re-plaiting her dark hair. “Dad’s students always think he’s pretty cool. They aren’t quite old enough to scoff at his dagginess yet, but we give him crap all the time.”

“Does he mind?”

“Nah, he’s a good sport. He says, in a house of five women, he gave up on trying to win arguments years ago!”

Gab smirked.

The girls were quiet for a moment.

“Do you … ever see your dad?” asked Freya, her voice faltering.

Gab shook her head and shrugged. “No, never met him. Don’t even know his name. Doesn’t bother me mostly. You can’t miss what you never had.” And, although Gab had believed that until now, a sudden pang stabbed a hole underneath that belief and it slipped away. It was gone before she’d finished speaking the words.

“I had a great teacher in Grade Six actually,” she added, trying to patch up the hole just a little bit. “Mr. Cheng. He didn’t have homing pigeons but he was cool. Then he started teaching maths at high school and … oh … crap!”

Gab jumped up from the bed, clapped her hand over her mouth and ran for the bathroom. Freya heard retching sounds and felt sorry for her friend; she worried about these signs of unease. Gab hadn’t been eating much. She’d been sleeping a lot and was quieter than usual. Freya’s sister Indira had struggled with food and had teetered on the edge of an eating disorder. Freya wondered if she should call her mum for advice about Gab.