She was asleep when the phone rang. Sprawled out on the couch with Mack parked under her feet like a cushion. An old desk phone was plugged in and sitting on the coffee table, just in case the power didn’t come back on. A can of peaches with a fork sticking out sat beside it.

Michaela dived on the phone and Mack crashed off the couch, knocking into the table, sending everything flying. Michaela snatched at the phone.

‘Trisha?’ She was suddenly breathless, her heart pounding. The power wasn’t back on and the room was dark with shadows.

Trisha answered. ‘You okay Michaela? You sound like you’ve been running.’

Michaela took a calming breath. ‘Was asleep. Power’s out, got a fright when the phone went.’ She laughed a bit. ‘Can you talk, Trisha? What’s going on?’

‘What’s the time there? Didn’t mean to wake you.’ Trisha sounded uncharacteristically subdued.

Michaela looked around at the dark room. ‘Dunno,’ she said. ‘Late. Doesn’t matter. Listen Trisha, is there something wrong? What’s going on?’

She heard Trisha breathing. Mack whined and stuck his snout into her hand. She patted him without thinking. ‘Trisha?’

‘Yeah I’m here babe. How long will it take you to get here?’

Michaela sat back down. ‘I can’t just pick up and fly back to the States,’ she said, shaking her head even though Trisha couldn’t see her. ‘I have the orchard to run, the season’s just starting. There’s the house, and the dog.’ At the dog word, Mack jumped up on the couch and sat next to her. Michaela was shaking her head again. ‘I have all these responsibilities, Trisha.’ She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I know you’d already gone by then, but my grandmother died, remember? And now I have everything to take care of.’

Trisha didn’t reply immediately. ‘Why are you being a bitch, Michaela?’

‘What?’ Michaela stood up and stumbled over the toppled can of peaches. ‘Fuck!’ She wished the fucking lights would come back on. She took a deep breath. ‘I am not being a bitch, Trisha. You’re the one who wanted out, remember.’

‘Oh jeeze, Michaela, we went through all this at the time. What, you think I should have just forgotten about my family because poor little Michaela didn’t fucking have any worth knowing?’

Michaela took a breath and let it out slowly. ‘Fuck you Trisha, that’s a miserable thing to say and you know it’s not bloody true. I supported you working it out with you mother, remember? We both bloody knew I couldn’t come with you. And you never fucking asked me to anyway!’

Trisha’s voice spat at her through the phone. ‘How the bloody shit-damn fucking hell could I? You knew that for christssakes. You still bloody know that. And it wasn’t going to be forever you dumb bitch.’

Michaela wasn’t sure but she thought Trisha might be crying. She shook her head. No way, not Trisha.

But Trisha was talking again. ‘It wasn’t going to be forever, but then you picked up and flew back to the other side of the world and all I got was a fucking change of address card. So no Michaela, fuck you.’

There was silence on the line and Michaela pushed it against her ear in amazement. Trish had hung up.

‘Shit.’ That hadn’t gone well. Michaela groped around for the rest of the phone and put the receiver back. She straightened and ran both hands through her hair. ‘Shit shit shit.’ Mack barked. Michaela patted his head. ‘I fucked that one up,’ she told him. ‘Good and bloody proper.’

And with that, the lights came back on.

Michaela stared at the peach slices scattered over the floor and sighed. She picked up the fork and scraped them back into the can. She walked through to the kitchen, Mack at her heels and tossed the fork into the sink, the can into the trash. Leaning against the bench, she tried to get her thoughts into some semblance of order. But all she could think was how totally she’d messed up. She looked at the portable phone sitting on the kitchen bench. It didn’t ring. She picked it up. But Trisha was at work. And Michaela didn’t think she even had Trisha’s home number. She chewed on her lip and put the phone back down. Maybe Trisha would call back when she got off work.

‘Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly,’ Michaela said. She headed to the bathroom. She’d grab a shower and hit the sack. Hell, who knew? Maybe she’d even be able to sleep.