Finding Abby

27

Minda is splayed on my bed wearing my jeans and t-shirt. She's left the Sari on the floor but I'm folding it up for her. It's the first chance we've had to chat properly. We can hear the voices from the wake humming through the closed door – all those people crammed into our little house, talking and catching up and getting to know each other. It seems surreal to me that only a few weeks ago it was only Mum and me. The two of us going about our business of trying not to disturb the other one. And now, thanks to Ben, and that mixtape, here we are surrounded by more relatives and friends I could have ever imagined.

"Leave it Jensy," Minds says, waving her hand at me as I try and work out how to get all those thick layers of the Sari to fold up neatly.

"Why don't you keep it on? It looks awesome."

Minda crinkles up her nose. "We literally ran from the restaurant to the airport and then I sweated on the plane all over it. It smells kinda like a public toilet."

I have to admit the material does have a bit of a wafting rancid odour. I curl it up into a large pile and put it by my desk, sit down next to Minda on the bed and take her hand. "I'm so glad you're back. I missed you."

"Me too." She passes me a small tissue-paper wrapped package. "I got you this for your birthday. It's not much, I'm sorry."

I shake my head at her ridiculousness. "Just you being here is enough." I unwrap the parcel and inside is bronze statue of a monkey with twinkling green eyes.

"It's our god of strength," Minda grins. "But also, you know, staying young and having fun."

I pull her in for a hug before I jump up and place my new monkey friend on my windowsill next to the elephant Minda brought me home last time she went to India. "I love it. Thank you."

"I can't believe all the stuff that happened," Minda sighs as I sit back down on the bed next to her. "My dada. Your dad. Finn. It's crazy."

"Did your dada's funeral go okay?"

Minda waves her hand at me. "Yeah. It was sad but one thing was good - I feel like I got to know some more of my rellies. But" — she grins at me and squeezes my hand — "Jensy, what about Finn. What was it like? Please tell me so I can stop wondering about his—"

I have to laugh but then I feel an inkling of reluctance to talk about Finn in that way – I don't want to joke about him because I know he wouldn't joke about me either and I think about Mum and Dad and Ben. Some things are best left unsaid "I can't give all his secrets away..."

Minda scrunches her nose up and peers at me. Then a wave of realisation sweeps across her face and she sits up straight. "Jensy," she says, her eyes going wide, "oh my God. It's serious, isn't it? Are you and Finn like, seriously ... in love?"

I look down at where our hands are holding on to each other and think of Finn's hands in mine and his eyes on me and his skin next to mine. A warmth fills my stomach that rises through me at the idea that I really am in love with Finn.

I lift my eyes and look at Minda and her eyes are soft and understanding. She squeezes my fingers and breaks out her beautiful smile. "Oh Jensy," she sighs, and I can tell she's thinking hard about something. Then she says, "How about your dad's guitar? How exciting to have something of his when you had nothing. And now you've got so much."

I hug my knees to my chest. My grandparents have given me Dad's electric acoustic guitar. It's in its original case and has a bunch of notes and songs Dad wrote tucked inside it, along with his guitar picks. I didn't dare to touch anything after I'd opened the silver clasp and looked at the smooth, blonde wood glowing up at me. There was a distinctive oaky, warm smell that drifted out of the case. The minute it hit my nose, I knew minute fragments of my dad were all over the guitar and inside the case. I'd shut the lid, knowing I'd need to be alone when I opened it and took the guitar out so I could breathe him in and read his songs and be close to him.