by Renee Kira
‘That’s a lot,’ I comment.
‘We send everything to two labs in case of a false result,’ says the doctor. ‘Mistakes are very rare but they happen.’
They finish up, I hand over my Medicare card at reception and then I walk back out to my car. O-negative. Was that recessive? I sit for a minute, churning it over in my head before I turn on the engine.
There is something going on. Recessive genes and dominant genes. A high school biology memory comes floating back. I need help from someone who knows something about genetics.
As soon as my car’s Bluetooth picks up my phone, I dial Liam.
‘Hello?’ He answers. He sounds surprised.
‘Liam?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve got a really important question. Can a parent with A-positive blood type have a child that is O-negative?’
24
Isobel
‘It’s a complicated question.’
I’m sitting on the same barstool as the last time I was at the pub. Again, Liam is opposite me on the other side of the timber bar. However, this time the place is empty. It’s 2pm in the afternoon and the pub doesn’t open until five. We are the only people here.
‘But first of all, I think you need a drink.’ says Liam, looking me over as he speaks. That seems to be his answer for a lot of things.
‘You’ve got a medical degree,’ I say. ‘Look at these reports. My mother is hiding something from me.’ I hold up my phone showing the photos of the documents I photographed in the doctor’s office.
‘I don’t have a medical degree. It’s biomedical science. That’s like me calling you an accountant.’
‘Not really,’ I answer. ‘I can’t do your taxes, but I reckon you can help me figure this out.’
Liam pours two beers from the tap and places them in front of me. He jumps over the bar and then takes the barstool next to mine.
‘So, I think you’ve got to tell me the whole story. From the beginning,’ he says.
When I’d called him from the car, he had avoided answering my questions. Instead, he kept talking in a steady voice, telling me to drive to the pub. I’d come straight here from Waringal.
‘I don’t think Mum is my mum,’ I say. The look on his face tells me that he isn’t following my logic. ‘I saw some stuff at an appointment today. I took photos.’
Liam takes my phone from my hands, flicking through the photos of the medical documents that I had snapped in the specialist’s office.
‘Well, first of all, this is a massive privacy violation,’ he says, his eyes still fixed to the screen.
‘The doctor left it there to be violated,’ I counter.
‘It could have been an accident.’ He doesn’t meet my eyes, instead uses his thumb and forefinger to zoom in on a photo. ‘I’m not totally comfortable with this.’
‘Why? You don’t even work as a doctor anymore.’
‘I was never a doctor. You know that.’ This time he does look at me, his eyes narrowed. ‘I still have an ethical responsibility.’
‘Says the man who broke into a hospital last week.’
Again, he is real queasy when it comes to anything illegal. He was the same about the hospital. Has he been in trouble before, or is he taking steps to avoid it in the future?
‘As did you,’ he says. What does that mean? He’ll tell on me if I tell on him? It doesn’t matter either way. I need his help right now, the rest I can worry about another day.
‘There’s a lot at stake here. I really need your help,’ I say.
‘Okay,’ He sighs. My hand is resting on the bar. He gently places his own on top. I flinch a little but I don’t move away. ‘I never had anything to do with this, if anyone ever asks.’
I nod.
‘The thing is, Mum can’t keep a secret. Not if she tried. I found out that I could have Brittle Bone disease, it’s genetic apparently. But she’s never told me that or said I should get tested.’
He shrugs. ‘Sometimes people can surprise you with what are hiding.’
‘What if she didn’t tell me because I didn’t need to know? If I’m not her biological child, there’s no risk. And maybe telling me would reveal something else.’
‘That you have different parents?’
I nod. ‘If that’s true, I need to know.’
He thinks about it, leaning back a little. ‘So, you know that you carry two genes for blood type?’
‘Kind of. I think we did it in high school, right?’
‘You have two genes. O is a recessive blood type. To have O blood, both of the genes you are carrying have to be type O.’
‘So, she can’t be my mother? Not if she has A type blood?’
He shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. It’s more complicated than that. She could have AO blood. So her type would be A, but she could pass on the O gene to you.’
‘Right. So, all of this could mean nothing? I’m drawing massive paranoid conclusions?’
Did I imagine the look on the doctor’s face earlier today? Perhaps everything that is happening has put my brain on overdrive.
‘I don’t know, Iz. Maybe.’ He places my phone down on the timber counter. ‘You need to know your Dad’s blood type. Is there any way you could find out?’
I drum my fingers on the bar. ‘He came into the city one day. I used to donate blood, there was a centre close to work. One day, he was in Melbourne. He came and had lunch with me. I mentioned I was donating afterwards and he came with me.’
‘Right, so you know from then?’
‘I’m not totally sure. But I remember him making a joke about it. That his blood couldn’t make up its mind, he had two types.’
‘Two types. Do you remember the type?’
‘I want to say AB. He said it was rare.’
‘AB negative is the rarest blood type.’
I nod. ‘So, there’s no way I could have O blood. I’m impossible.’
‘There’s a lot of factors that you’re unsure about. The best thing to do is sit down with them and talk. There could be an explanation for all of this.’
‘Like what? I was adopted?’
‘I don’t know.’ He picks up his glass, taking a long sip. ‘Maybe you were adopted and they never wanted to tell you. Maybe you have different Dad and your Mum didn’t want anyone to know. Or maybe she didn’t realise until later.’
I shake my head. ‘She’s keeping something from me. The other day when you dropped me off, the front door to my house was wide open. I was about to call the police when I realised it was her. She let her herself inside. She was sitting at the kitchen table.’
‘Your Mum came to visit you. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Well, she never visits me, I visit her. I gave her a key for emergencies. It’s totally out of character for her to use it. And when she left, my filing cabinet was wide open.’
He shrugs. ‘Did you leave it open? What’s in the cabinet anyway?’
‘The usual stuff. Tax returns. Medical records.’
Liam tilts his head in thought. ‘What would she even be looking for?’
‘I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to work out. What if one of them isn’t my parent? Or both of them. Maybe she was looking for something medical.’
Liam lets out a huff of air. ‘Iz, I get you’re looking for an explanation. But this is getting farfetched. You look like your Mum. Whenever I see your Dad I do a double-take, you’re the only two people in the world with those pale green eyes. I’d be incredibly shocked if they weren’t your parents. You could have misremembered the conversation with your father. There could be a mistake with your own blood type. Your parents love you. They wouldn’t do anything to harm you.’
‘Then why? Why are all of these strange, terrible things happening to me? I stumble over a dead body while I go running. Someone’s been creeping in my house. Then everyone I know is hauled into a police station over a murder.’
‘I think it’s unfortunate. I think this is a
small town and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The rest of it… everyone knows that Veronica and I dated and it didn’t always go smoothly. Maya was her friend. And your Dad just drove the wrong kind of car.’
‘Someone was following me in a car. It felt like a warning.’
I bite my bottom lip. With my left hand, I move the glass on the bar around in a semi-circle. I haven’t drunk any of it.
‘Maybe you need to give yourself a break. Sometimes terrible things happen. It can be hard to accept. It’s awful that someone hurt Veronica. I can’t stop thinking about it. But the police are working on it. That’s what they do. And I’ll bet the reason that the investigation has gone quiet is because they know who did it. They will be getting their case together. It can take time; they’ll want to have their evidence straight. You should let them do their job.’
I nod.
‘Why don’t you leave it all alone for a while?’ he says. ‘Stop worrying about blood types. And definitely stop thinking about Veronica Hayes.’
I understand his argument but I don’t know if I can let things go.
‘What are you doing this week?’ His hand is still on mine. It sounds like he wants to change the subject.
‘This week? I don’t know,’ I answer.
‘Do you want to do something?’
‘What? Like break into a hospital together?’
‘I was thinking something less illegal. Like Thai food and Netflix.’
I look out of the window towards the car park. His question has caught me off guard.
‘Maybe we should wait for things to be normal before we act normal,’ I answer.
His face falls. I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. The only reason I’m turning him down is because I feel guilty. But he wasn’t dating Veronica, they weren’t even speaking. And things are well and truly over between Ben and me. There isn’t a real reason to say no.
I put my hand on his arm. ‘You know what? Things are never normal. What night is good for you?’
Liam smiles. He opens his mouth to answer but my phone rings. The ringer is on all the time now after the episode with Mum.
‘Sorry,’ I apologise, reaching for the phone. When I see the caller, I sigh.
‘Who is it?’ Liam leans forward in his barstool.
‘Edmund Keane. He’s called a few times. He’s a lawyer.’
He narrows his eyes. ‘Yeah, I know him.’
‘He keeps calling. Normally, I would have returned the call but… things keep getting in the way.’
‘Don’t mind me if you want to grab it,’ he offers.
‘No.’ I reject the call and put the phone on the bar beside me. I give Liam my attention again. But there is concern on his face now. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘What does he want from you?’
‘He knows I looked at office space. He just wants to suss out what I’m doing. He left a voicemail about a meeting.’
‘Are you sure that’s why?’
‘No. I’m just guessing. I don’t think he and my grandfather were on good terms. He probably doesn’t want me working around here.’ I shrug.
‘Maybe it’s something else. Edmund Keane owns the old hospital site. If Veronica was trying to sell it, he would be the person she was making a deal with.’
25
Maya
A white truck lets out a long beep as it reverses up Dad’s short driveway. One tanned arm out of the window, the driver gives a brief wave at my father. He waves back from the porch, standing crooked with one hand on his hip and the other on his oxygen tank. He looks concerned but it could be the sun in his eyes.
It takes two men to bring the hospital bed into the house. I leave them to assemble it; I’ll probably just get in the way. Dad’s old bed is already out on the back veranda. I dismantled it earlier this morning and dragged it out there on my own.
Dad walks back inside, letting out a sigh when he stops beside me. What does it feel like to look at a bed in a room and know that you will die there? I suppose the alternative is worse; waiting to spend your last days in a soulless hospital room.
The driver brings in a large cardboard box. It must be the handrails and the rest of the order. ‘Where’s this one going then?’ He asks, directing the question at both of us.
‘In here is fine,’ I answer. I’ll go through it once the bed is done. The driver nods and puts the box down on the floor.
Dad turns his head towards me. ‘Is David coming over to put the rails up?’
I shake my head. ‘He has work.’ In truth, I didn’t mention anything about the delivery today to David. Instead, I searched how to put the rails up on YouTube. There’s a cordless drill in the back of my car.
David has said less than ten words to me since we argued in the kitchen. He offers no explanations of what happened the night Veronica disappeared. I don’t ask him for them. We move around the house from room to room, circling each other, listening but never talking. It feels like a game of chess where we move our pawns backward and forwards, never making a real move.
It’s a game I’ve played too long. The night he grabbed my arm should have been the end of our relationship. The purple imprint of his fingers took days to fade. David was drunk. So was I. It was a perfect storm, one I have worked hard to make sure will never come together again.
I tread carefully around him. I do everything exactly the way he likes. The threat lies underneath everything, that if I don’t, I’ll see the same dark side of him.
I think about what Isobel said: a relationship where you can’t communicate is impossible. I have not been honest for years. It’s how I keep our lives clean of conflict. How can you be loved by someone who you can’t be honest with? Without truth, they don’t really see you. You can’t be loved if you can’t be seen.
Dad is out the front, waving off the delivery truck. I’m in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers, looking for something to open the last box with. There’s no scissors, the best I can come up with is an old steak knife.
I take it back to the lounge where Dad has sat in one of the old armchairs, his body sunken and his shoulders hunched. He has his oxygen mask clamped to his face.
‘You okay?’
He nods. ‘I’m fine, love.’
Holding the box steady with one hand, I saw through the masking tape and then yank the edges open. I lay the handrails on the coffee table. On the website they looked white. In reality, they’re closer to cream.
‘Isn’t it right?’ Dad has read the expression on my face.
‘The colour is different,’ I say.
He shrugs. ‘No matter. Will David have time on the weekend?’
‘I thought I’d give it a shot,’ I answer. ‘That way it’s all done for you.’ I try to smile as I speak.
He grimaces. ‘I can wait until Saturday. It’s no problem.’
Nothing is going to change between David and I before then. The problem is, I don’t really want to speak to him. I don’t want him to help.
‘What’s wrong?’ Dad asks.
‘Nothing.’
‘There is something. I can always tell.’
‘It’s David.’ I let out a rush of air I didn’t know I was holding in. ‘Things are tough at the moment.’
‘Oh. A rough patch, eh?’
‘Something like that.’ I put the box to one side and sit beside him.
‘Everyone has them, darling. It’ll pass.’ He pats the back of my hand with his own.
‘I’m not waiting for it to pass, Dad. I don’t want to be with him.’ The words shock me as I say them. I didn’t know they were coming.
‘Oh. Oh, Maya. David’s a good man. I’ve known him since he was a boy. Maybe the two of you could go talk to someone? A counsellor?’
I shake my head. ‘No. He’s good a lot of the time. But other times are… awful.’
I don’t have the heart to tell him about the time he grabbed me or about how I have always felt some level of fear around him
ever since. Dad waits for me to say more.
‘He gets drunk. Sometimes he breaks things. Other times he just yells.’
‘Breaks things? What kind of things? When did this start happening?’ His eyes widen.
‘A few years ago now. It’s not all the time. The first time he was drunk. The other times we were fighting. He smashed a plate on the floor once. Another time he threw Jacob’s Nintendo at a window.’
Dad is silent for a full minute. ‘Have you spoken to him about it?’
‘I can’t. I can’t talk to him about anything. I’m always afraid he’ll blow up over something.’
‘You’ll have to have a conversation with him. Even if you want to separate, you’ll have to tell him.’
‘You’re right,’ I say, and he is. But even contemplating having that conversation fills my body up with anxiety. There’s no way I can actually do it. How would he react? Stone cold silence or white-hot rage?
‘Are you safe?’ asks Dad.
‘Yes,’ I answer. I think I am.
We both are silent now, looking straight ahead at the wall on the opposite side of the room. I don’t know how much time passes. There is a kind of sadness in the air, but I also feel relief. I’ve finally said the words out loud.
‘You know, you can come here. Any time you want. You don’t need to let me know. You can show up on my doorstep and time, day or night. There’s a spare room here, two if you count your mother’s sewing room. We could fix that up nice for the boys.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ It’s a generous offer. Maybe it could work. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’
‘Right then. I’ll go put the kettle on.’
26
Isobel
As much as I want to, I don’t call Edmund Keane back straight away. Instead, I say goodbye to Liam and drive myself home. Standing in my kitchen, I wonder what his relationship was to Veronica. And why he is interested in me. As I lean against the bench, I dial the number the lawyer left and wait for him to pick up.