by Max Henry
“What changed, then? Between you two?”
A moment passes where Carver’s eyes seem to fog over; he looks at me, but he doesn’t see me. “Mum’s death.”
And here I am acting as though I’m the only one who lost someone close to them—I really am selfish. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She’s in a better place now.” He drops back into the seat again as he drags a hand over his face. “But, all this chit-chat isn’t sorting out where you can stay for a few days.”
What the hell did he mean “a better place”? Was she sick? Was home life that bad? He can’t just leave it there.
He does.
I finish my burger in humbled silence as he pulls his phone out and taps away at the screen. The thing chimes several times between his writing sessions, and he twitches a half smile at one point that leaves me with a pang of unjustified jealousy.
“Old man’s passed out on the couch,” he informs me. “Tanya said he went after the hair of the dog, and two beers in he was down for the count.”
“You and Tanya are close, huh?” Totally unjustified jealousy.
“We bonded, I guess you’d call it, over Mum’s funeral. Dad went AWOL and it was left up to us to arrange everything.”
“I guess our situations aren’t very different when you think about it.”
He shakes his head, a sardonic smile on his face. “Babe, they’re way different. You tried to fix things with your parents. Tanya and me? We’re stuck in this routine of denying there’s any real problem to sort out with Dad.”
I wipe my mouth with the paper napkin and ball it up on the empty plate before me. “Can I meet him?”
“What the fuck for? Have you listened to a thing I’ve said?”
“Maybe he won’t be so bad with me? What if I show him his bullying doesn’t affect me?”
“You’re living in a dream,” Carver bites back. “He’s got this… this way of getting under your skin.” He hunches his shoulders, his face screwed up in distaste. “He just eats at you until you break, and then he revels in it, the pain he’s caused you. The guy’s a fucking masochist, and there were days I seriously believed Mum had us kids so she had at least one person in the house that loved her. He’s just… he’s an arsehole, Meg, just like you said, and there’s no reason why you need him anywhere near your life.”
“Can I borrow seventy-five bucks then?” I lean back in my seat and cross my arms.
“What for?” he asks, exasperated.
“If I can’t shower at your place, or even show my face there, I need somewhere to stay the night. The motel near my work costs seventy-five a night.”
“No way in hell I’m letting you stay there on your own.” His eyes hold a fire I’m not sure I feel all that uncomfortable about. It’s the most interest anyone’s shown toward my welfare in a long time.
“So stay with me.” Where the fuck did that come from? I stay the course, upholding my false bravery while inside I melt into a puddle of nerves.
Carver holds my gaze captive across the table, his eyes searching mine, for what, I don’t know. “Would you like that?” The resonance of his low words tickles me deep inside.
“Yeah, I think I would.”
“I think I would too.”
SIXTEEN
Work is work. It’s the last place I expected to feel any inkling of normality, and yet, I do. Aside from my supervisor uttering a quick condolence on Den’s passing, nobody has said a single thing to me, which isn’t all that unusual.
The customers don’t know. The old lady who needed me to call up somebody to help her get the giant ten kilo bag of dog food into her car didn’t see me as anything other than a “helpful young lady.”
I’m anonymous here. I’m simply Meg the checkout chick, not Meg the delinquent, or Meg the alcoholic. It’s a refreshing feeling to have when I’ve been giving serious thought to how life is going to work from here on out.
“Sylvie, do you have a minute?” I grab my supervisor’s attention before she buzzes off to check on something else pre-lock up.
“Sure.”
“Are there any extra hours going? I’d be open to anything you have after exams have finished.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile and shakes her head. “If I did have any, then there are a couple of single mothers on staff who are looking for the extra cash. I’m sorry, Meg. What you have is all I’ve got.”
I thank her and stack my cash box away. I didn’t expect any more, but it never hurts to ask. The lights flicker on out in the car park, and I glance up to find a familiar blue sedan again. This time, though, it appears he’s alone.
Hopefully he’s gone by the time I clock out. Why would Jasper even be here? Was the shit said at school not enough? Perhaps he feels the knife could use another twist?
By the time I’ve rounded up my bag from the staffroom and headed back out to the car park, Carver’s arrived. And he’s parked diagonally across from Jasper. Shit.
I hit the red button to open the automatic doors after hours and step out into the chilly dusk air. Jasper’s door opens, and he steps out before I’ve so much as crossed the supermarket’s covered walkway to the asphalt. Go the fuck away.
The fact it’s near on night, and the floodlights cast shadows over the cars, means I can’t see what Carver’s doing inside the Falcon. I tuck my head down and keep walking toward his passenger door, doing a terrible job at pretending I haven’t seen Jasper.
“Meg.”
Damn it. “Oh, hey Jasper. I didn’t notice it was you.”
He gives me a look that says he sees right through my bullshit, but lets it slide. “You weren’t at school yesterday.”
“Yeah, I was.” My right arm crosses over my body on instinct. “Didn’t your girlfriend tell you?”
“Girlfriend?” He frowns, jamming his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.
“Amelia.”
He laughs, and steps closer.
I step back.
“Amelia isn’t my girlfriend, Meg. I’m not involved with anyone.”
I glance over at the Falcon, and he follows my line of sight.
“That jackass here for you?”
“He’s not a jackass.”
On cue, Carver’s door opens. He unfolds his towering frame out of the driver seat and softly closes the door. His measured movements are scaring the shit out of me, so God only knows what they’re doing to Jasper.
“You ready, Meg?” He walks the few metres to where we stand, a confident swagger in his stride.
“Yeah, I am.” I make a move toward the Falcon and Carver, but Jasper blocks my path.
“Well, I’m not. I haven’t finished talking to you.”
“Got anything else you want to say to him?” Carver asks me.
“Nope.” I try to sidestep Jasper, but the arsehole blocks me again with an outstretched arm as though I need protection. “Um, excuse me.”
“Why is he picking you up?” Jasper snaps.
“Why the fuck do you care?” I bite back. Until a week ago, I wasn’t even on his radar, so why the interest now? “And why are you even here?”
“Step away, kid.” Carver jerks his head to the side, arms folded over his chest, which only serves to make his muscles appear twice as big.
“Fuck off, old man. How about you let Meg make up her own mind without bullying her into anything, yeah?”
“Like you are?” I ask. “I’ve made up my mind, Jasper. I want you to move, and I want to go home with Carver.”
“Home?” He snorts. “Well that went quick.”
“Again, I don’t know what it is to you, but if you’ve got nothing else constructive to say, go find Malibu Barbie and Cindy to work out your pent-up frustrations on.”
Carver chuckles, drawing Jasper’s attention away from me.
“Seriously, you paedo, leave her alone.” Jasper makes a shooing motion toward the Falcon. “Go on and find yourself some bitch your own age, yeah?”
I give
Carver “this shit’s getting ridiculous” eyes, and take two steps back to have another go at getting around Jasper. It works a treat, given he’s so distracted by the hand heading for his throat.
Carver lifts Jasper to his toes as I hustle a safe distance to the hood of the Falcon and watch the showdown of testosterone unfold.
“Listen, you little fucker,” Carver sneers in Jasper’s face. “You’re the one making her uncomfortable, not me. She’s made her intentions clear, so respect the woman and back the fuck off.”
Woman. He called me a woman, not a girl.
“She know what Den was doing uptown yet?”
I push off the hood of the car and take a step forward, asking “What?” as Carver shakes the shit out Jasper.
“Shut up, arsehole,” he hisses in Jasper’s face. “She doesn’t need you breaking her heart about her brother before he’s even in the ground.”
“No.” I hold my hand out, walking up to stand beside the two of them. “Put him down.” I turn my attention to Jasper as he stands clutching his throat once Carver lets go. “What are you on about?”
“I came here to talk to you, but this dickhead turned up and got in the way.”
“Talk to me about what?” I blurt out. Just get to the point, already.
Jasper eyes Carver cautiously before he continues. “You remember my big brother, Nyall, right?”
I nod, brow furrowed while I try to work out where he’s going with this. His big brother left high school a couple of years before we started and promptly went off the rails.
“He returned from his OE a few months back, and not long after Den would show up at our place.”
“So?” I never bothered to ask who it was that Den associated with when he wasn’t around me; maybe it was legit?
“Dad sent Nyall off overseas to get him away from the crowd he was hanging with. But when Nyall came back, he fell right back into the same old shit.”
“Selling weed?”
“Yeah.” He glances at Carver warily before returning his focus to me. “Den and Nyall had no other reason to hang out, Meg. Nyall is ten years older than me. He wasn’t even at school when Den started.”
The news isn’t exactly shocking; I knew that Den smoked on occasion. Shit, he was the reason I had my first hit. I busted him getting high down the back of our property when the smell drifted in my open bedroom window. Curiosity didn’t kill the cat that day, but it sure as hell got it wasted.
“What’s this got to do with the accident?” I ask. My head pounds, and my eyes ache from the pressure.
Jasper moves a little closer, dipping his head to level our eyes. “You know who supplies in Whitecaps, right?”
“There’s a tonne of people who have backyard grow rooms, Jasper,” I murmur. “It could be anyone.”
“Nyall’s been using for so long, he only buys the best. Those cowboys that sell out of their garage are pedalling shit, Meg.”
Carver steps forward to intervene, but Jasper continues as he backs away to a safe distance. “He only ever bought from Brett’s old man.”
Jesus, I’m going to be sick. “I still don’t get how this is all connected.” Carver steps forward, arm out to pull me to his side. I lift my hands and back away. “No.”
“Den was on a run to get more green stuff for Nyall that day. They were going to have a sesh when Nyall got home from work.”
“Do you know this for sure?” Carver bites out. “Or are you just speculating, making up shit to try and make yourself the hero?”
Jasper sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “He told me, the other night over a beer. Said he felt responsible and that he needed to get it off his chest.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Fuck, it’s not as though we can talk to the old man about it, right?”
“As if your dad would do a fucking thing about it. Everyone knows you two get away with fucking everything because your old man pulls strings and bails you out to save your poor mother’s fragile heart,” Carver mocks.
“Sounds like jealousy, there, Brett,” Jasper quips in return.
I back away as they continue to bicker, my heart heavy as the mystery around what Den was doing that damn day finally pieces together. Did Carver know? Did his dad know? Den’s choices were his, but I can’t help but feel the bitter sting of resentment as it grows towards Carver. His family had a hand in tearing mine apart. Indirectly or not, it was his blood that stole away mine.
I cover my face with my hands, drawing deep, long breaths to try and get it together. The guys’ voices swirl around me as they sling insults at one another, bickering over who’s got my best interests at heart, and defending their own. I begin to rock, only realising when the car moves behind me that I’m literally bending at the waist as I tip back and forth, trying to block all this anger, this hate, and this pain out. A murmur builds in my chest, gaining momentum until I finally throw my hands down and tip my head back to scream.
Both men pause midfight, Carver’s hand in Jasper’s shirt, Jasper poised to punch Carver in the side.
“Just stop it, please!”
“Meg?” Carver drops Jasper like a hot potato and moves my way.
“Both of you,” I yell. “What good does this do? We all know you hate each other. But seriously, what the fuck is this achieving?”
Carver stops in his tracks, eyes wide. Jasper rubs his face sheepishly and shrugs.
“I appreciate your concern, Jasper, I really do. But so fucking what if Den was buying buds to smoke with your brother that night? He could have been buying a six-pack, or picking up KFC to take around with him—none of it changes the fact he was on that road that day, and that either he or the bus driver fucked up.”
“I just wanted—”
“It doesn’t matter what you wanted.” I cut Jasper short. “The raw truth of it is that you came here to tell me what you have, not to put my mind at ease, but to implicate Carver’s family in all of this. Right?”
He stares down at the ground, unable to answer me.
“Right?” I press again.
He can’t even look my way, let alone at me. Fucker.
“Maybe Den was buying off Carver’s dad. Maybe he wasn’t. But even if Carver’s old man was the last face Den saw, it doesn’t matter. He wasn’t the one riding the bike; he didn’t force Den to collide with that bus. None of it matters. Yeah, I’m angry, and yeah, I’m looking for somebody to blame, but you know what?”
Carver looks to Jasper, urging him to answer. Jasper takes two steps back, frowning as he mutters, “What, Meg?”
“It was a fucking accident,” I growl, low and throaty. “An accident. Nobody is to blame. And that sucks so much more, because what the hell do I do with all this anger and resentment now?” Tears spill over my cheeks as I clench my fists before me, shaking my head.
Carver moves for me, wrapping me in his warm embrace as I cry at the pointlessness of it all. Den died for nothing: no great cause, no higher purpose. It was just a fucking accident.
“I’m sorry that’s how you feel,” Jasper mutters. He takes two steps back toward his car. “Just don’t look back on this and say I didn’t try to help.”
I bury my face in Carver’s chest, unable to even look at Jasper as he climbs in the driver seat and starts his car. My body shakes with supressed sobs, the effort to hold them in immense.
Carver runs his hand gently up and down my spine. “You handled that well, Meg.”
Did I? Sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. “I’m so tired of crying.”
Carver places his fingers on the underside of my jaw and tips my head toward him. “I know. Let’s just head back to the motel, okay?”
I stare into his eyes, mustering as much conviction as possible. “Did you know?”
He shakes his head and sighs. “No. I didn’t.”
I believe him. The sadness, the regret in his eyes: he really didn’t know that his dad was the last person Den likely spoke to.
“I want to talk to him, your dad.”
/> “And then what?” Carver asks gently. “What closure do you think that’d give you if Jasper was right?”
I shrug, looking over at the dark street where Jasper’s car left. “I just want the whole thing put to bed. Even if your dad doesn’t have anything good to say, at least I know for sure what happened, right?” I frown, letting the confusion at what’s real these days stave off more tears.
Strong arms wrap me tight, and the warmth of Carver’s breath heats the top of my head. “If you want answers, baby, we’ll get them. But not tonight, okay?”
“Promise?”
He slips his hands to my hair and holds me close as the lights in the front of the supermarket systematically switch off. “Promise.”
I listen to his heartbeat beneath my ear, steady and sure, as near darkness envelops us. A week ago this man was nothing but a mystery that I sometimes caught a glimpse of outside the auto shop. But now, here he is, making promises to me that in all reality he has no duty to uphold.
Why me? How did I get so lucky to have this constant in such unstable times? Was it fate that we crossed paths? Was I supposed to get to know him so I’d get answers about what Den was doing that day?
Maybe, but I like to think it’s more.
I lift my left hand and slip it along the side of Carver’s face. His eyes drift closed and he lets out a slow, satisfied sigh through his nose. My fingertips explore the hard edges of his jawbone, and the taut flesh of his neck. I wait for him to pull back, to put distance between us like he always does. And yet he doesn’t. He leans in.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs. “Make me that promise.”
“I’m not going anywhere tonight but back to the motel with you.”
“I don’t just mean now.” His brow pinches, and he unleashes those baby blues on me when I’m at my weakest with him. “I mean always. After your exams are finished, don’t leave this town without me.”
“Where could I go?” I ask honestly. I’ve got hardly any money, no options, and a future that’s so far off the planned track I can’t even see the fork in the road anymore.