by Alex Dyson
‘Good to know.’
The pair wandered inside the Clifford residence. Caleb offered to ask Rachel to give Miralee a lift home to save her dropping another thirty-eight dollars on an Uber. She didn’t seem to be around so Caleb fired off a text.
Hey, when are you home?
He looked up at Miralee as he pocketed his phone. She was examining the pictures on their lounge room wall.
‘Is that you?’ she asked.
‘Nah, that one’s Nat. This one is me.’ He pointed at a photo of a small boy wearing a blue bucket hat and sitting in a miniature blue car. Little-Caleb was smiling widely, despite missing the majority of his front teeth (which had fallen out due to natural causes, not another Clifford brothers’ fight).
‘Oh my god, you were so cute!’ She surveyed the rest of the photos. Caleb was used to these family heirlooms, so it was interesting to watch an outsider observing them. However, he was acutely aware that, just to the left, his mum’s mantelpiece shrine to their dad sat overlooking the room. There was no way to stop Miralee from seeing it.
She moved along the wall, and her demeanour immediately changed. Caleb held his breath.
‘Is that your dad?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You look a lot like him.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’
There was a lot to take in. Roger in a fishing boat. Roger and Monica at an outdoor concert, sitting on a picnic rug holding up glasses of Champagne. Roger asleep in a recliner with a snoozing three-year-old Rachel on his chest. And the large black-and-white photo of Roger smiling at the whole room.
‘Do you wanna wait in my room?’ asked Caleb.
Miralee turned. ‘Sure.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t have time to clean up.’ Caleb tried to stuff the stack of discarded posters under his desk as quickly as possible.
‘Spring cleaning?’
‘Sort of.’
She spotted the Jake Townsend poster on top of the pile. ‘That’s such an awesome photo.’
It really was. One of Caleb’s favourites. Jake was in the middle of an intersection in Japan, with figures moving all around him in a blur of colour. He stood motionless, holding an acoustic guitar by the neck.
‘I met him, you know.’
‘WHAT?’ shrieked Miralee. ‘Where? When?’
‘The night of the party when you were, um … incapacitated.’
‘He was there? Oh my god, I’m such an idiot. What did he say?’
Caleb told Miralee the whole story. The Tetris. His nervousness. How his conversation with his hero ended with Rachel dragging him away to rescue her.
Miralee held her cheeks with her palms pulling her skin down, giving her face a ghoulish mask of embarrassment.
‘Caleb – I am the worst. Did you, like, get his number or anything?’
Caleb snorted. ‘No, but he did give me some tips on my project. I got a C-, though.’
‘Oh damn, that sucks.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, you’re going to Splendour, aren’t you? You can catch up with him there!’
Caleb sat beside Miralee on his bed. ‘I’m not going anymore. I really don’t think Jai is going to give us tickets after everything that happened.’
‘Ah, damn, that’s devo.’ She looked like she was thinking hard. ‘Maybe you should message Jake on Instagram or something? He’s got a record company. Maybe he’s looking for new artists!’
‘Miralee …’
‘Yes? It’s easy – tell him you’re a free agent now! I mean, what’s the worst he can say? No?’
‘Miralee, please, can we leave this?’ Caleb said, a bit too firmly. He didn’t mean to, but he was still feeling pretty fragile.
‘Fine,’ she said, becoming silent. She stared at Caleb’s doona cover, tracing her finger over the geometric pattern. Then, as if being shot by a sniper, she threw herself backwards and buried her head beneath the pillow. A soft groan emanated from underneath.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Caleb.
She slowly emerged from beneath the pillow with another groan. To Caleb’s surprise, her eyes were wet with tears.
‘Hey, what’s the matter?’
Miralee threw her body into Caleb. He put his arms around her, patting her back gently as she nestled into him again. He could feel the protrusion of her spine through the soft fabric of her dress. Or skirt. He didn’t know what the difference was. Either way, it was the closest he’d been to a girl who wasn’t his sister in a long time. Probably sixteen years, if what he knew about childbirth was correct.
‘It’s Dana. We kinda made up after our fight, but then I went to your gig, and she was all like, hmm, because I’d been telling her heaps about your music, and apparently that was weird because I was talking about you all the time, and I said not to worry about it because you weren’t even talking to me anyway, but then I kept checking my phone, y’know, to see if you’d texted back, and I think she was getting jealous or whatever, so we had another argument, and now we’re on a break again. Ergh. It’s just a whole stupid thing.’
Caleb was shocked by a few things in this diatribe. ‘She was jealous? Of me? But I’m a guy!’
‘Yeah, but I’m bi, and she just doesn’t trust anyone.’
This was news to Caleb as well. ‘Oh. I didn’t know that.’
‘Yeah. I’m just figuring it out myself, really. I told Dana, ’cos I thought she could help me, but all it did was double her insecurity.’
Caleb didn’t have anything intelligent to say, so he went with something unintelligent. ‘Hmm. So … what’s being bi like?’
Miralee stared back, clearly underwhelmed. ‘I dunno. I guess I’m just attracted to people? Like I said, I’m still figuring it out.’
‘Oh … that makes sense.’
‘Anyway, now that you’re not going to Splendour, can you come to Dana’s birthday party next Friday?’
‘Um, I don’t know –’
‘Come on, it’ll be fun. Her place overlooks the river. And I … could really use my best friend there.’
Caleb was on a good run of not going to parties by the river. It would be a shame to break his streak now. But on the other hand, he was feeling a lot of relief after his chat with Miralee. It almost felt like a new beginning. Maybe a party would be fun – if he wasn’t grounded.
Caleb’s phone buzzed with a reply from Rachel.
Sorry bro, I'm out at a friend’s.
Will be back later on xo
He sighed. ‘Let me go see if Mum can drive us.’
Caleb fiddled absentmindedly with the air-conditioning vent in front of him as Miralee chatted with his mum. Caleb had barely said anything the entire car ride, and instead stared out the window trying to work out how he was feeling. If his life was an emotional roller-coaster, the last few days had totally derailed it. He’d actually lived out his childhood dream of signing a record contract, but it had quickly turned into a nightmare. His long-term crush had rejected him, and yet he was feeling somewhat good from an afternoon hanging out with Miralee. He knew he had closed himself off for years, and hated himself for it, yet there was no way he would have been as good at making music if he hadn’t shut himself away. Being a hermit had its perks.
His mum was talking now. She seemed to be warming up to the conversation, and Miralee was clearly loving it. Probably because a few embarrassing childhood stories about Caleb were coming up.
Caleb moved onto the glove box, opening and closing it, creating a beat each time it clicked into place. He made a mental note to sample that click.
‘My house is just at the end of this street, Mrs Clifford,’ said Miralee.
Caleb opened the glove box again, and spotted something nestled inside that he had discarded long ago. It made him think. Could he? Could today be the day?
They pulled into number forty-two Briggs Street and came to a stop.
‘Thank you so much, Mrs Clifford, you’re the best!’
‘You’re welcome, Miralee. It was nice to fin
ally meet you properly. You’ll have to come round for dinner sometime.’
‘I would love that!’
‘I’ll walk you to the door – one sec, Mum!’ said Caleb, grabbing the square from the glove box and jumping out.
‘You didn’t have to walk me,’ said Miralee, the gravel path crunching under their feet.
‘And you didn’t have to come around. But I’m really glad you did.’ Caleb hugged her. Without asking. She hugged him back tightly.
‘Thanks, Caleb. I’m glad we’re friends again.’
Caleb smiled. He’d done it, just like Rachel said he could.
‘Hey – what are you hiding behind your back?’ Miralee asked as they pulled apart. He held up the square and showed her. Miralee smiled a smile that took up fifty-eight per cent of her face.
‘Ohhhhhh, good luck!’ she said.
‘Thanks – I’ll see you on Monday!’ Caleb said as he skipped back to the car. But instead of going to the passenger door, he stood next to his mum in the driver’s seat. She rolled down the window.
Caleb held up the L plate. ‘Can I drive?’
‘That’s it … gently … well done!’ said Caleb’s mum as he exited the roundabout. He had started off a bit shaky, but was rolling along quite well now.
‘Miralee seems nice,’ his mum said as Caleb continued down the road.
‘She is,’ said Caleb. ‘Really nice … She invited me to a party next Friday,’ he threw out there.
‘And what did you say to her?’
‘I said I couldn’t. I haven’t been very good at my grounding, so I want to improve.’ He kept his eyes on the road, but could sense his mum smiling slightly.
‘That’s it, easy on the brake. Now you have right of way.’ Caleb accelerated smoothly. It felt good being behind the wheel. His fingers were a little sore from gripping it so tightly, but he was loosening up now. He felt in control.
‘Excellent, Caleb,’ his mum said as they headed towards the turn-off to their suburb. ‘You’re a natural. The next step is driving Rachel’s car. Manuals are a lot trickier.’
‘Dad told her to get a manual, didn’t he?’ Caleb said. ‘I remember he said if you can drive a manual, you can drive anything.’
‘That’s true,’ she said, looking wistfully out the windscreen. ‘Not that I listened to him when I got this one,’ she added. ‘Now, move into the right lane. This is our turn.’
Caleb nodded, but the car continued in a straight line.
‘Caleb – home is that way!’ his mum exclaimed as they zoomed past the cross street.
Caleb smiled. ‘Sorry, Mum. We’re not going home yet.’
CHAPTER 25
The White Rose Cemetery and Mausoleum was surrounded by a thick green hedge, with wrought-iron gates that opened into a finely trimmed two hectares of mourning. Caleb found a park right out the front.
‘Button, I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t have to do this,’ Monica Clifford said to her son.
‘I know,’ he replied. ‘But I want to.’
She smiled and undid her seatbelt.
They walked along the manicured lawns towards Roger Clifford’s headstone. He had wanted to be cremated, but Monica had said she wanted to be able to visit him in a proper plot, so he’d agreed on the condition that he could pick the inscription. Their mum was okay with that. ‘Happy wife, happy death,’ Caleb remembered his father saying one time towards the end. He had a weird sense of humour.
It had been a while between visits for Caleb, so he trailed his mum as she took what was obviously a familiar route. He browsed the other gravestones as they walked, and unconsciously began taking note of who was born the earliest. Seth Stevenson was almost a century old when he died. That was a pretty good effort. Much better than Roger Clifford’s forty-four. Although, Roger was an advocate of quality over quantity. Who knew if Seth was happy with his innings?
They were almost at the edge of the cemetery when they reached Caleb’s dad’s plot. The stone was marble. The flowers were slightly wilted.
‘I would change these, but I didn’t bring any to swap them with,’ his mum muttered, maybe to Caleb, maybe to herself. Maybe even to Roger – it was hard to tell. She knelt down and started arranging the drooping flowers to make them stand up a bit better.
Caleb looked at the stone. It was a lot less elaborate than the other ones around it. No psalms or photos. Just his dad’s name, his birth and death dates, and the inscription: Let it be.
Trust Dad to have a Beatles lyric as his farewell message.
‘There we are.’ His mum stood up. ‘That looks a lot better, doesn’t it?’ Again, it was hard to decipher where the comment was directed.
Regardless, Caleb nodded and looked around at the stones and eye-level hedges. He wondered what problems the people under the earth faced. The problems they’d had when they were living, that is. Did any of them get humiliated? Have their heart broken? Or their music career squashed in its infancy after a Microsoft update issue and some testicle damage? And if so – did it bother them now?
His thoughts were interrupted by some muttering coming from his mother. Caleb put his hand on her back.
‘Sorry, Button. I’m being silly.’
‘It’s okay, Mum.’ He grasped her hand, and they stood there quietly together, the sounds of birds and a distant lawnmower accompanying their thoughts. After a while, she took a big breath.
‘Okay, we’d better go,’ she said. ‘I’ll grab some fresh flowers next time, if you want to come.’
‘I will,’ Caleb said.
‘And I was thinking … if you want to go to that party with Miralee, you can.’
‘No, Mum, that’s all right. I wasn’t trying to get you to agree to that –’
‘I know. But I think your father would have wanted you to have fun.’
Caleb smiled. The pair turned and headed back towards the entrance, and Caleb noticed there was a spring in her step. It surprised him. He had always thought of the cemetery as a place for the dead. But as they got in the car and his mother checked her make-up in the passenger side mirror, he realised he was wrong. The living needed the cemetery a lot more.
‘Pop it in reverse, that’s the R. Good work. Now, gently, let’s head towards the shops. I should get some stuff for dinner …’
When Caleb and his mum got home, they found Rachel and Nat sitting on the couch watching First Dates.
‘Hey, where have you guys been?’ Rachel asked.
‘Visiting Dad,’ Caleb said.
‘Oh, how was he?’
Caleb and Rachel exchanged the tiniest of grins. It was the kind of joke Dad would have loved.
‘What are you up to?’ asked Caleb.
‘Well, I’m watching trashy TV with my widdle bwuvva! He’s so cute!’ said Rachel, wrapping Nat in a tight bear hug and covering his head with rapid-fire kisses.
‘Get offfff!’ Nathaniel wriggled around, trying to extricate himself from the vice-like grip of sisterly love. Caleb giggled as he sat on the opposite couch. He couldn’t remember the last time Rachel had hugged Nat. Nat, to his credit, seemed to be taking it pretty well, the smallest grin visible under his cries of distress.
‘Caleb, help me!’
‘Shhh, the commercial is almost over,’ Caleb replied.
‘Calm down, guys, you don’t want to break another tooth,’ their mum said from the kitchen.
With that, Rachel let Nat escape. ‘Move over, I’m sitting with you.’ Nat motioned for Caleb to shift his feet, and the mulleted teen slid in next to his brother on the other couch.
‘Come join us, Mum. I need someone else to cuddle now!’
‘No, I’ve got to get dinner ready,’ she replied.
‘Come on,’ Rachel said. ‘Dinner can wait.’
‘Come on, Mum!’ Caleb chimed in.
Monica sighed. ‘Okay, just for a few minutes.’
She sat next to Rachel just as the commercial break finished. She wasn’t quite as relaxed as her children, and
yet, there they all were. The four of them together, watching a TV show as a family. Sure, it wasn’t Caleb’s ideal choice of program, but the guy on the date, Phil, was quite entertaining in his poor attempts at using chopsticks to eat dinner.
‘Goodness, that reminds me of me and Roger on our first date,’ their mum said out of nowhere.
The kids all glanced over at her. Caleb expected to see tears but, to his surprise, she seemed okay. The glow of the television illuminated her face as Phil feebly tried to transport food to his mouth using thin pieces of wood. Caleb and Nat were too nervous to ask a follow-up question, but not Rachel.
‘Why, what happened on your date, Mum?’
‘Well … Roger took me to dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant. So you know, he was being goofy and pretending to be a walrus with his chopsticks and everything, and then we had some pho, and Roger sipped the broth way too fast and ended up burning his whole mouth. He was panting and drinking water, but he tried to play it cool, even though there was definitely chilli in it as well … he was such a funny guy. I don’t even remember what he said, but he kept making me laugh. And then at the end of the date we went outside, and we were just standing there not sure what to do, because neither of us wanted to go. It was awkward. I asked him if his mouth was okay, and he said it hurt. And then I said, “Oh, well that’s no good”. And then he said, “Well, maybe you could kiss it better” …’
‘What!’ Rachel exclaimed. Caleb gasped. Nat just sat with his mouth open.
Their mum grinned. ‘And so I did. And that was our first kiss.’
‘Oh my god. Go Dad!’ Rachel said. ‘What a smooth operator!’
‘I know,’ their mum continued. ‘I just thought to myself – this guy’s got it.’
Caleb was stunned. He’d never heard that story before. In fact, it had never really occurred to him that his mum, millions of years ago, was a young person herself. Someone who went on dates. Someone who flirted. Someone who fell in love.
‘Aw, Mum, that’s so nice.’ Rachel gave their mum a hug.
‘It was nice. But, you know, some people are just unlucky.’