Hello there Knight Life readers!
I’m posting Laarni’s chapter very quickly, so this week you’ll be getting THREE instalments [today], Wednesday and Friday! Enjoy Laarni part two, and as always thank you so much for choosing to visit my blog and to read my lil’ stories!
Carla was a friend that Laarni had met on her second rotation when she was a Grad Nurse. Carla came from a wealthy and prominent family in Melbourne, however when she decided that she wanted a career change and began studying nursing, Carla’s family disowned and disinherited her. Laarni and Carla bonded over their diversity, no matter how separate it appeared to be.
Laarni loved walking to Carla’s house, who lived just a stone throw from Murrumbeena station. The houses that lined the thin roads were reminiscent of a forgotten generation of class, style and sophistication. Pretty white picket fences, shiny seven figure cars, picturesque living and dining rooms veiled by stylish curtains. Laarni heard her uncomfortable shoes squelch on the pavement, the harsh and disruptive sound feeling like a punishment, as if even her shoe-wear knew that she didn’t belong here. Nevertheless, she sniffed the air and pushed the thought away.
Turning down Hobart Street Laarni smiled as Carla’s house came into view. Carla had lost her husband, David, to pancreatic cancer seven years ago. Laarni had made sure that she wasn’t assigned to his hospital bed, so that she could be with Carla and David’s brother in the room with them as he inhaled his final breath.
Each time she experienced a death, Laarni could feel something ignite within her – a reawakening, an idea, a quiet connection. Carla hadn’t dealt with David’s loss well and had spent most of the past few years recovering from it. Laarni made sure to visit Carla at least twice a month, and as of recent Laarni was growing extremely worried about how truly stuck Carla appeared.
Passing through the gate, Laarni stood under the porch and knocked on the door.
“Laarni!” Carla appeared and tried to awkwardly hug her through the bag of laundry that she was carrying.
“Oh, sorry,” Laarni fumbled, dropping the bag at her feet and pulling Carla in for a meaningful hug.
Petite and fluttery, Carla was like a quiet butterfly. She had quick wisps of greying hair that curled down her small little face and meek little eyes that advertised the pain and heartache that still haunted her.
“Come in, come all! It’s so lovely to see you. I just put the kettle on, what perfect timing.”
The slightly bitter Melbourne air was swallowed by the comforting smell of baking fruit and spice.
“Smells delish in here,” Laarni commented.
“It’s just candles,” Carla half-laughed. “I don’t bake anymore, but I really should get back into it.”
They turned into the kitchen. “There’s nothing better than the smell of baking.”
“You’ll have to excuse me for my disarray.” Carla put a hand to her chest and raised her shoulders. “I’m thirty-nine and greying, so I’m owning it.”
“That’s okay.” Laarni sat on a stool opposite her. “Without sale packet dye I’d be greying too.”
Carla chuckled, a little flicker of light bouncing across her face. “Now, what’s with the bag? Do you need to use my laundry machine?”
Laarni had always thought it was quirky how she called it a laundry machine. “No, no, it’s okay. I’ll manage to do it in between my split shift.”
“Don’t tell me that you’re still doing those,” Carla said with a gasp, soft disapproval in her tone as she poured the tea. “Sue could get sacked for that!”
“She knows, I know,” Laarni said calmly. “She’s honestly doing me a favour, I need the money.”
“When we all die, what’s money?” Carla remarked.
Laarni raised her eyebrows, the statement being an unusual thing for her to say. “How are you, Carla?”
“Barely hanging actually.” Carla held out her hand for Laarni’s and squeezed it. “Time is meant to heal all wounds, right?”
“Right.” Laarni could feel the bones in her hand and her eyebrows sunk.
“Time just seems to make it harder for me.” She looked around the room as if she was remembering a happier time. “The silence makes it harder for me. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and David will be in the study, or in the bathroom, or in the garden.”
Larne saw the tears gather behind Carla’s eyes. She had heard David’s last gasp. She remembered the smell of the flowers that fragranced his funeral. She felt her best friend’s heart break as she held her the moment he had left this earth.
“It will all get better, Carla,” Laarni assured her. “It just has to.”
- Laarni’s story [Part Three] continues this Wednesday [WED/NOV/25].
- This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: firstname.lastname@example.org for any inquiries.
- Creative Credit for Laarni’s image goes to the wonderful and supremely talented Jinny Park, whose Instagram feed you can check out at: http://www.instagram.com/somethingpeach.
Thank you so much Jinny for this wonderful collaboration!
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