When I walked out of the arrival gate, gaze automatically scanning the crowds for my mother and sister, my face fell a little when I locked eyes with only one brown-haired woman waiting for me. For some reason I stupidly hoped, now that Callie was more mobile, she'd be here waiting to see me again. 

Though honestly I don't know why I was surprised. Every time we had seen each other over the past few years, we've both struggled to even look at each other.

Trudging over to my mother, she immediately enveloped me in a hug before I could utter any words to her, squeezing me extremely tightly.

"I'd like to breathe," I managed to get through my windpipe, causing mum to finally release her hold.

Moving back, her eyes went over me, assessing me. "It's been too long, Lex," she whispered, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. Then she gasped and leaned in. "More piercings? How did you even get through security?"

With a roll of my eyes, I hoisted my bag strap higher on my shoulder and began nudging my mother towards the baggage reclaim area. Because I knew the piercings were only the start of the comments on my appearance.

Last I saw mum in person was a year ago now, with every interaction since then being through the phone. Back then, I hadn't gone through my full revamp in appearance—last she saw me, I still had long black hair and next to no piercings—so this was the first time she was getting a really good look at the new me.

Getting Callie onto a plane and down to Melbourne was quite the hassle for just our petite mother back when my sister was still using her chair. So usually I'd come up to visit them a couple of times a year, and mum would come down during the summer holidays while aunt Jojo would volunteer to look after Callie.

But the past year, I couldn't bring myself to be apart from my family with everything going on... so I stayed in Melbourne.

"I like the hair too," mum said, running her fingers through it again, rousing another eye roll from me. "Is this a specific style?"

"It's called a wolf's cut, mum," I responded, eyes focussed on the luggage now making its way around the conveyor.

"The purple ends are nice too. And I like the blonde."

This time she roused a laugh from me. "Then why don't you bleach and dye your hair?"

Mum scoffed and took a step back, looking me over like I'd lost my mind. "Because I'm not young and hip anymore, Lex."

Grinning at her, I threw my arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me. "You're heaps young and cool, mother dearest."

"Yeah, sure," she grumbled back, though her head rested on my shoulder and her arm wound around my waist. "I missed you, Lexi," she whispered.

"I missed you, too, mum."

Some moments of silence passed between us as we waited to spot my suitcase. But mum never knew how to be quiet. "How was the funeral?" she asked, voice hesitant.

"Depressing," I mumbled, knowing the question was bound to come up. Even though it was a week ago now and I had been anticipating it to occur all year, somehow it still didn't feel real.

"Losing a parent is bound to be."

"Mmm," was all I had to say back. Thankfully, before my mind could drift further and recall the year of suffering, my purple suitcase came into sight. Unweaving myself from mum's grip, I stepped closer to the conveyor belt and heaved my suitcase off.

"That's everything?" mum asked, looking over my shoulder like she expected more.

"Yeah," I said, yanking up the suitcase handle and starting to walk towards the airport exit. "We organised for the rest of my things to come up via truck." Because when you have a year to anticipate a parent dying from cancer, there was much time to arrange my inevitable return here. Plenty of opportunities to ensure the transportation of my things was the most cost-effective.

Strapped into the passenger seat as mum drove out of the carpark to take us home, I couldn't help but ask, "So where's Callie?"

Mum sighed and said, "She was going to come. But she said her leg was hurting too much today to put the prosthetic on."

"Why do you sound like you don't quite believe her?"

"I mean... I know she has her bad days where the phantom pain is too much or the socket rubs her the wrong way. And it had taken a lot of time to get the right socket and slip combo—"

"These are all words I don't understand, mum," I interrupted.

"Right... you don't know prosthetic talk. So the socket is the cup-like base that her leg slips into. That attaches to a metal shin that attaches to her prosthetic foot. Getting the right socket can be difficult based on how your stump heals and what works well for the person."

"Oh... kay..." I mumbled, not sure I was following.

And mum evidently heard it in my tone. "We will get Callie to give you a demo when we get home so that you have a visual to go with it," mum then decided.

"Yeah... because she loves talking to me," I grumbled.

"She loves you," mum quickly said. "She just... needs time to open up to having you around. You know she's very sensitive."

In response, I glanced out the window at the houses rolling by. In the five years that had passed, somehow Townsville had stayed the same as when I left—just a little more washed out. The paint on the buildings were in dire need of a touch up, bleached by the intense sun from the tropical north. And while the wet season was now among us, the surrounding grass was dried out—the town aptly leaning into its nickname, 'Brownsville'.

"No rain yet?" I asked, trying to make small talk with mum in the hopes she wouldn't turn back to the Callie conversation. Or, better yet, dead parent situation...

"Apparently we're in for some downpours next week. But you know what the weather predictions are like up here... I think the mountains around the town mess with the rain we are supposed to get."

Nodding, I looked back out the window, recalling the stores we used to visit when I lived here as a kid, and taking stock of those that had changed.

Most of the car ride continued on in silence, mum singing along to the radio. But when we turned off the highway, heading towards our suburb, my stomach churned as the car jostled over the train tracks.

"Callie!" mum called out when we walked through the door, hoisting my luggage up the small step into the house despite my arguments that I could carry my suitcase myself. She was too used to doing everything for my sister. "We're home!" she announced. "Come say hi!"

But as mum began to forward into the house, wheeling my suitcase behind her as she mumbled something about showing me my room and letting me settle in, our conversation was suddenly cut short.

Running at me with such speed was a familiar black-haired lady. Her arms enveloped me immediately, almost knocking the wind out of me. Laughing as she pulled back, I said, "Hi Auntie."

She grabbed my head between her hands, blue eyes studying every inch of my face. "Let me look at you. Ugh. This look is to die for, Lex. Love the hair. Love the piercings. It's so 2021 chic."

"2021 was a long time ago, Jojo," I mumbled back, trying to weasel out of her grip in the process.

Thankfully she did drop me. "Only ten years ago! You finally stopped growing, I see. It's crazy to think you and Callie are twins. I mean, the whole punk look versus your sister's I-woke-up-like-this vibe certainly off-set each other but... You're really just replicas of your parents instead of seeming like sisters."

When she finished spewing her nonsensical spiel—a thing Aunt Jojo always did—I finally chipped in my two cents by saying, "And that's why they call us fraternal twins and not identical."

"Yes, yes. But you're still related. You should at least look like sisters."

Rolling my eyes, I turned to mum. "Is my room still in the same place or did you renovate?"

Mum frowned at me and said, "You know I would have told you if I did a renovation to the house. C'mon. I'll show you."

And with that, we left my aunt in the living room to continue whatever she was doing before we arrived, shuffling down the narrow hallway and into my old room.

"I see this hasn't changed," I mumbled as I glanced around at the familiar purple walls, the same white dresser, the long mirror still covered in old stickers.

"I got you a new bed," mum commented, smiling at me like she was proud of herself. "Built it myself yesterday too."

"Thanks mum," I replied, sitting down on the mattress and continuing to take stock of the place.

Mum took a seat next to me, glancing around. "Now, just because you have a big bed doesn't mean you can invite boys over."

And any moment I felt I was having with my mother was over in an instant. Because I knew I still hadn't told her the part of me I had discovered in the past year.

But before I could correct any misinformation, she was back on her feet, heaving a sigh. "I'll let you settle in. Unpack your things and then we will catch up properly. Feel free to have a shower too. There's a towel in there and space in the vanity to put your things. You will be sharing with your sister, by the way." And then she began to walk out of my room, though not before pausing to call over her shoulder, "Oh, and upon emptying this room I came across your old memory box. I left it under your bed in case you wanted to keep anything."

And then I was alone.