Her mouth dropped open and she laughed, but there was no humour in it.
‘Oh my god, you are such a hypocrite! Trying to make me feel bad and acting like Dan is the worst person in the world, when here you are making out with your best friend’s boyfriend?’
‘I thought it was just a summer hook-up,’ I said, a tone of mock sweetness in my voice.
She was shaking her head. ‘I knew it. I knew you still had a thing for him! Insisting it was okay when really you were just waiting for your chance.’
‘If you knew I still had a thing for him, why did you steal him from me?’
‘You kind of have to have something in the first place for it to be stolen,’ she spat out.
My head snapped back reflexively, my body reacting as though I’d been physically slapped.
I didn’t have much to say to that.
We spent the rest of the trip in bitter silence.
*
When we finally reached home it was after 1 am. Dan the Dickhead was already there, sitting on the kerb in front of my house, waiting for Anna. I guess she’d texted him from the road at some point. She ran straight into his arms and they took off, leaving me standing on my porch alone. The house was dark and quiet. I tried to figure out what would scare Dad less – using my keys to let myself into the house, or knocking on the door so he’d have to get up.
I went with the door knock. My stomach churned. He’d probably think something terrible had happened. Like, more terrible than what had happened which, while definitely terrible, suddenly seemed a bit trivial standing there alone in the dark, in the early hours of the new year.
I’ll never forget the look of panic on Dad’s face when he opened the door, still bleary-eyed from sleep. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks.
‘What’s happened?! Your mum? Eva?’
‘Everyone’s fine,’ I said. I couldn’t hold back a sob. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really sorry. I just wanted to be home.’
He drew me into his arms and for the second time in that long, awful day, I cried in a parent’s arms like I was five years old again.
I didn’t give Dad the whole story, just enough so that he understood why I might have shown up on the doorstep in the middle of the night (though I don’t think he fully got it; then again, neither do I). He called Mum – just as Anna had predicted, she was still out with Laura and hadn’t even realised I was gone. I swear I could hear her scream all the way from Cobbers Bay – and not just through the phone line.
They argued that night. And then the next day. They couldn’t decide what to do with me. What to do with the car. How to get Mum home.
Like I said: I really fucked up.
*
Which brings me to today. Dad’s at work. Mum’s intermittently sending me messages about how much trouble I’m in. Leila’s sending me constant messages asking if I’m okay and tagging me in cute animal pictures and ridiculous memes to make me laugh. Eva has tried calling me a few times and even sent me a message telling me to come back. Anna, meanwhile, has been radio silent.
This morning, I decided to bite the bullet. I messaged Anna and asked her to come over. We need to talk, I said, like some bad break-up line from a movie.
In a way, it kind of was a break-up. Not from Anna, not completely. But from our old friendship. Things haven’t been great lately. But I’ve been thinking: when were they ever truly great?
I mean, sure, we’ve had moments of greatness. Times when my sides ached and my face hurt from laughing so much. Where I’ve felt exhilarated and alive and more connected to Anna than anyone else in my life.
But in between those moments? I’ve always felt one step behind. Like any second I could do the wrong thing and be left alone.
I’m not saying it’s Anna’s fault. I think a lot of it comes down to my own insecurities. The way I never feel good enough.
But I’ve realised something in the past couple of weeks. I never felt that way with Leila. Or . . . or Beamer. And it was such a relief. A release from a pain I didn’t even realise I’d been feeling.
I think the blow-up between me and Anna the other night was probably a long time coming. As was the conversation we had today.
‘I’m really sorry, Maise,’ she said when she got here. I believed her. It just wasn’t enough.
‘Sorry for what?’ I said.
‘For . . . the other night. For getting you in trouble. I’m in trouble too.’ My mum had called Anna’s mum and they’d got into a huge argument, which just made Mum even more furious with me.
‘Anything else?’ I asked.
Anna twisted her lips and looked around the room like she was searching for the right answer. She sighed. ‘Yeah . . . I’m sorry for everything. For . . . for Seb, I guess.’
I nodded, trying not to cry. I’d done enough of that in the last few days.
‘I knew . . . I knew you liked him,’ Anna continued. ‘But I was feeling really shit after everything with Dan, and Seb was being so nice and I felt like I deserved some happiness, you know? And . . . and I didn’t think you really had a chance with him, so I thought I may as well take mine.’
Aaaaand there went the tears.
Anna scooted closer to me on the bed and put her arm around me. ‘I’m so sorry, Maise.’
I shook my head, swallowing down my sobs. ‘I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have kissed Seb on New Year’s. For so many reasons. Including the fact you were with him. But Anna . . . I was hurt. You really hurt me.’
‘But you said it was fine.’
I shrugged her off. ‘You didn’t believe that, not for one second.’
‘Why did you say it was okay, then?’ She was getting angry now.
‘Because you’re my friend! Because I wanted you to be happy! Because . . . I didn’t think I really had a chance with him, either.’
‘So how can you be mad at me when you thought the exact same thing?’
I exhaled a huff of air out of my nose in a frustrated, not-really-a-laugh laugh. ‘Because you’re my friend! You’re supposed to want me to be happy, too.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘But what’s going to make you happy, Maisie?’
‘I don’t know,’ I whispered, rubbing my face.
‘Well let me know when you do, okay?’ She got up to leave.
Before she got through the door I called for her to wait.
‘I don’t want to fight anymore,’ I said.
‘Me either.’
We were quiet for a moment, then she said, ‘So what do we do?’
I looked up at her. I’d been so envious and angry at her without even knowing it. Or I’d known it, but I’d refused to acknowledge it. I’d pretended the feelings weren’t there. I couldn’t go on pretending.
‘I think it’s going to take time,’ I said. ‘We’ve just got to give it some time.’
‘Time,’ she said, chewing on the word before swallowing it. She bent down to give me a hug. ‘Time it is.’
Thursday, 4 January
2 things I discovered today
1. My dad is a gutless wonder.
Source: I sprung him in a huge lie that he’s been hiding from all of us for months.
2. I’m a gutless wonder too.
Source: My whole life, my mum’s told me I’m just like my dad. I’ve always been quite proud of that. But today . . . not so much.
*
DJ, you are never going to believe what I discovered today. My dad, the gutless wonder.
I thought I’d surprise him for lunch. Oh boy, did I surprise him. Surprised the security guard at the front desk of his office too.
‘Maisie? What are you doing here?’ Donna said. Without waiting for me to answer, she continued, ‘Do you need to pick up something for your dad? I’m afraid he’ll have to come in himself when everyone is back from holidays. I can’t let you in. Sorry, it’s protocol.’
‘Back . . . from holidays?’
‘Yeah, the office is closed,’ she said, speaking slowly. ‘Lik
e it is every year. You know that.’
‘But what about . . .’ My brain was trying to put together the pieces, but I felt like I was missing a big one.
‘Haven’t you seen your dad today?’ Donna said.
‘Yeah, this morning – before he left for work.’
Donna looked confused. That made two of us. What was going on?
‘Why don’t you call your dad and see where he’s at,’ she said finally, her face softening.
So that’s what I did.
‘Eminem! What’s up? Hope you’re not watching anything too terrible without me.’ Dad sounded really cheery.
‘Hey, Dad, um, I wanted to surprise you at your office for lunch and –’
‘Oh, sorry, Em, I’m flat out today, I can’t.’
‘But I’m at your office now. Where are you? Donna says –’
‘You’re at the office?’ His voice suddenly lost its cheer.
‘Yeah, like I said, but Donna says you’re not here. That no one is. What’s going on?’
After a moment of silence, he sighed and said, ‘Meet me at home, okay? I’ll . . . I’ll explain everything. See you there in twenty minutes.’ And he hung up.
I looked at the phone and then up at Donna, my face clearly showing the horror I felt, judging by the sympathy on her own.
I hurried home, feeling sick, my mind racing. What the hell was going on?
It must be an affair, I thought. What else could it be?
The good news is it wasn’t an affair.
The bad news is – well, you’ll see.
Dad was already home when I got there. He was sitting on the lounge, his head in his hands. He looked utterly defeated.
‘Dad?’ I hurried to sit next to him. ‘Dad, what’s going on?’
He didn’t say anything.
‘Dad, you’re scaring me.’
He let out a heavy sigh. ‘Oh, Maisie. What am I going to do?’
‘What’s happened? Tell me.’
And he finally did. He explained how, after months of rumours swirling that there were going to be huge cutbacks at work, he’d been called in to a meeting with his boss.
‘I thought they either had to be giving me a raise, or firing me,’ he said with a grimace.
They were firing him. Well, making him redundant. Apparently there’s a difference. Redundancy isn’t as bad as firing, in the sense that you didn’t do anything wrong, but your job isn’t needed anymore. You’re not needed anymore.
It sounded kinda worse to me.
I think it sounded worse to Dad too. He said he couldn’t face telling Mum. Telling any of us. He was humiliated. Depressed. It had happened in November. I was stressed about school, Mum was in the middle of her annual pre-Christmas shopping frenzy. We were all looking forward to the holidays. He didn’t want to ruin that. He’d tell us after, he decided. When he’d found another job. His redundancy payout meant we were okay for money, for now. It was his pride that hurt the most. And his hope for the future.
‘No one’s hiring,’ he said. His face was in his hands again. ‘At least, not someone like me. What am I going to do? I’m too old to start over.’
I didn’t know how to answer that. And I had questions of my own.
‘But what were you doing all those days you said you were at work?’ Even though he’d finished up in early December, he’d still been getting up, getting dressed as usual, out the door by 8 am, home after 6 pm every night. Talking about all the stress at the office. Talking about the big project he was working on. I couldn’t believe the lengths he’d gone to in order to hide the truth.
He huffed, sounding more bitter than I’d ever heard him in my life. ‘Went to the library. Went to the park. Went to the pub.’ Guilt was etched in every line on his face.
‘Why couldn’t you just tell us?!’
‘I couldn’t, Maisie. I couldn’t.’
‘But why would you lie?’ I was trying to stay calm – I could see how cut up he was – but I was pretty cut up myself.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ was all he said.
‘All that bullshit about having to work through the holidays, and you weren’t even working at all! Why would you do that? Why?!’
‘I just needed some space to myself, alright? To get my head straight. A bit of Netflix therapy, you know?’ He was smiling a smile of camaraderie now. Tentative, but there.
I did know. It just made me angrier. Because he’d lied and he’d hid and he’d been a coward and he’d wanted to avoid hurting us, but really he just hurt us more. And that made me mad as hell.
But what made me absolutely ropeable was this: I did know. I got it.
‘You’re just like your father,’ Mum’s said to me countless times, usually accompanied with a sigh and a shake of her head. And it’s the truth. What I had done, the way I had run, wasn’t so different to what Dad was doing. Trying to avoid problems. Fleeing rather than facing people head on.
I’ve lied. I’ve hidden. I’ve been a coward. And the person I’ve hurt the most is probably myself.
‘We’ve both got to stop running,’ I said finally.
Friday, 5 January
3 things I discovered today
1. It really is better to face things rather than run away. I know I said I discovered this a couple of weeks ago, but I guess the lesson didn’t quite sink in. Not enough. Maybe it will now.
Source: Not to jinx things but . . . everything is starting to look up.
2. Sour apple slurpees are not a good idea.
Source: My tastebuds, via a random servo that didn’t have raspberry flavour (wtf).
3. I actually don’t mind some of Dad’s music.
Source: I listened to a lot of it today. I especially like Crowded House. Just don’t tell Dad.
*
Guess where I am, DJ!
Go on, guess.
I’ll give you a few more seconds to think about it.
Three.
Two.
One.
Ding ding ding! If you guessed I’m right back at Cobbers Bay, you’ve won the grand prize of being right! It’s a good feeling, isn’t it?
Yes, we drove back to Cobbers Bay. Dad and I. Not Anna and I. Anna stayed home, with Dan the I’m-no-longer-supposed-to-call-him-a-dickhead-because-they’re-fully-back-together-but-I-still-think-he’s-a-dickhead Dickhead. I haven’t seen her since our big talk the other day. Time, and all that.
Meanwhile I’ll have to plant a tree to make up for all the extra petrol my shenanigans have wasted this week.
Shenanigans. Isn’t that a great word? That’s how Mum described my week. Right after she grounded me until I’m thirty.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me take you back.
You remember how Dad fessed up, right? Of course you do, it only happened yesterday. Anyway, we talked about how he had to tell Mum the truth, and he couldn’t do it over the phone. Since she was kind of stranded in Cobbers Bay thanks to me, Dad figured we could kill all our birds (metaphorical birds, I’d never kill actual birds – not even those myna birds that Grandpa says are rats with wings) with one stone (metaphorical stone, literal car) and just drive to Cobbers Bay together. Of course, this meant I’d have to face some demons of my own. I needed to, I knew that now. I was still shitting bricks. Dad was too.
We agreed that dragging it out would only make things worse, so we joined hands and bravely rode into the belly of the beast together.
The drive itself was actually kind of nice. We spent the whole time talking, as if to make up for the distance and the silence of the last couple of weeks. I think we were also avoiding getting lost in our own thoughts. I know I was.
I told him properly about everything that’s been going on. (Well, not everything. Some of it is strictly NSFP – not safe for parents.) It hit me all over again how much I’d missed having him around.
Here’s Dad’s take on it all (the condensed version):
Eva: ‘I just want her to be happy. I want you both to b
e happy.’
Mum: ‘We’re not getting a divorce. At least, not if I can help it. Your mum is the most important thing in the world to me, next to you kids. But I’ve really messed up this time. I hope she can forgive me.’
Anna: ‘People change. Friendships change. You guys will figure it out. Or not. But you’ll be okay.’
Beamer: ‘Terrible taste in movies, never speak to him again.’ (I only told Dad the bit about the movie challenge. The rest is totally NSFP!)
Seb: Um, most definitely NSFP! TOO EMBARRASSING!!
Leila: ‘She sounds delightful, can’t wait to meet her. If I survive your mother, that is.’
The beauty pageant: ‘You’re not gonna let some wankers on the internet stop you from doing something you want to do, are you? Don’t give them that power, Em. That power is all yours.’
My dad. He’s alright sometimes.
*
We arrived in the Bay just before dinner.
Mum came rushing out of the cabin when we pulled up. I was barely out of the car when she grabbed me and said, ‘Maisie Martin! You’re never leaving my sight again! Not until you’re at least thirty! You are so grounded. I never expected such shenanigans from you.’ But she gave me the tightest hug she’s ever given me in my life.
Dad appeared at the front of the car. Mum pulled away and their eyes met. I held my breath, and didn’t let it out until Mum walked over to Dad, placed her hands on his face, and said, ‘I’ve missed you, you bastard.’
Dad held her for a moment. Then he pulled away and said, ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about.’
He asked her to go for a walk with him down to the rock pools. I knew it was their favourite place, but I wondered if it was a wise idea for him to break the news to her in such an isolated, rocky, watery spot. Seemed like he was making it easy for her to murder him if she didn’t take it well.
But I kept my mouth shut.
*
Another guessing game: this one’s called guess who showed up while Mum and Dad were gone?
No, it wasn’t Beamer. Why would you think it was him?
It wasn’t Seb, either.
It was Eva. My darling older sister.
What I Like About Me Page 14