Malaise

by Max Henry

  He lets his eyes drift lazily over the length of me while the prison guard removes his handcuffs, Carver’s sight fixing on the new ink for a beat before he continues along my outfit. The restraints on him seem excessive, but I guess how are the officers to know which prisoners are compliant , and which are the ones looking for escape at every turn?

  I warm as Carver’s gaze returns to mine, a lazy smile pulling one side of his mouth higher. “Nice,” he mouths before the officer turns him to face the judge.

  We take our seats, and the session gets underway.

  “Brett Carver. You have been remanded in prison these past weeks on one count of breaking and entering, one of theft, and one of assault on an officer. I will recall each count to you and ask for your plea.” The judge lowers his glasses to look at Carver over the top. “Breaking and entering: how do you plea?”

  “Not guilty.”

  “Theft: how do you plea?”

  “Not guilty.”

  “And assault on an officer: how do you plea?”

  “Guilty.”

  Jon pats my leg twice before returning to his wide-legged, arms-folded posture.

  I can’t help but feel that this is some small victory; he’s pleaded not guilty to the things he didn’t do. Surely that means he’s decided to fight the unjust charges?

  “While you were in remand, I received new documents pertaining to your case. I will ask the court officer to now pass these over to your state appointed attorney for sighting.”

  The officer steps forward, taking two sheets of paper from the judge’s hand, and walks the three steps it takes to pass them to Carver’s lawyer. The middle-aged woman looks them over, and then passes them to Carver to read. His head is bowed, the silence unbearable as he reads what they contain. My fingers flex constantly, the wait too much to bear to find out what they say.

  Tanya leans across me to whisper to Jon. “What else do they have on him now?”

  Jon lifts a single finger to his lips, nodding toward Carver. “Watch.”

  Carver passes the papers back to his lawyer and swivels on the spot, looking over at Jon.

  “What have you done?” Tanya hisses.

  Jon simply smiles.

  I cease to breathe.

  “Brett Carver. As you are now aware, a statement has been given to the police regarding your whereabouts on the night in question. Through thorough questioning, it has been proven beyond reasonable doubt that you in fact have an alibi for your whereabouts between the hours of 4:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. on Thursday the eighteenth of November.” He reaches over and grabs his gavel, holding it aloft as he states the next part. “The charge of breaking and entering and the charge of theft have been dropped against you. However, the charge of assault on an officer still stands. As this is your first offence of such nature, I have decided to give you a suspended sentence of twelve months, and order you to pay court costs as assigned by the court officer.” He slams the gavel down, such a sweet sound that echoes off the walls of the courtroom. “You are free to go.”

  Tanya jiggles in her seat beside me. “Yay, Brett!”

  “Shush, woman.” Jon leans across me to try and contain her.

  I keep my gaze firmly on Carver throughout the exchange, watching as his shoulders sag with relief, as his head tips back and his lips move in silent thanks. The prison officer guides him toward the door he entered through, and I stay rooted to my spot, hands tightly gripping the back of the vacant seat in front of me. He turns, the same way he did at his preliminary hearing, and looks back at me over his shoulder.

  I could cry.

  His smile is the widest I’ve ever seen, showing teeth and all. But what has me laughing hysterically is the suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows as he’s led from view.

  “Where are they taking him?” I ask Tanya now she’s regained control of herself. “He’s free, right? As in he can go now?”

  “Yeah, of course. But they have to get him to sign paperwork, and change into his own clothes and stuff. We’ll meet him out back.” She starts toward the exit aisle. “Come on.”

  Jon rests his hand gently in the small of my back to urge me forward. “Follow the mad wench, would you? Your boy will be happy to see you.”

  I wait in the aisle for him as he wedges his stocky frame past a couple of older women. He jerks his head toward the lobby, and falls into step beside me.

  “What did those papers say?” I’m positive he knows the answer. The clues, his little hints, he knew this was going to happen.

  He did this.

  “Said that the boy was playing pool in the garage with me when the break-in occurred.”

  I stop walking when we reach the lobby, causing him to do so also, and throw my arms around the bastard. He might be one cold-hearted, callous son of a bitch at the best of times, but he’s just proven that beneath it all his heart still beats red.

  “Hey now.” He awkwardly pats me on the back. “Settle down.”

  “Thank you. So, so much.” I pull back. “What made you change your mind?”

  He slips an arm around my shoulders and leads us to where Tanya wiggles impatiently at the front doors. “I bumped into someone a few days ago.”

  “Who?”

  “Your dad.”

  He lets me slip out from under his arm so I can face him properly, read his expressions. “What did he say to you?”

  “Told me that my kid was to blame for his little girl fucking up her life. Said he’d ruin what was left of me, make sure I ended up in the ground with my wife, where I belonged.”

  “I can’t believe he did that,” I mutter. “What did you say back?”

  “Nothing.” He flexes his right hand as Tanya leads us out the automatic doors toward the left of the courthouse, and I only now notice the bruising on his knuckles.

  “You didn’t.”

  “He deserved it, love. Right cunt is your old man, Meg. He thought it would be a good idea to lay into Tanya next, telling me about the little conversation you girls had with him and what he thought of my beautiful daughter.” He chuckles as we make our way down the service alley. “I thought it might be best to walk away before he realised why it is you don’t mess with white-trash families.”

  I hang my head, ashamed on behalf of Dad. “So you gave Brett an alibi to get back at him?”

  “He wasn’t going to do it. And as much as a right mongrel you know I can be, Meg, I don’t think it’s right that a dad treats his little girl like he has done to you. Especially after losing his only son. A man’s got to draw the line with his morals, and that’s where mine lies.”

  “Thank you.” I choose to say only that in case any more sentiment makes him uncomfortable. It appears to be all he expected, as he widens his stance and crosses his hands in front of him with a smile while we wait.

  Tanya lunges at the door to the courthouse every time she hears the slightest rattle of the handle. We stand for what feels like an eternity before the side entrance opens and Carver appears.

  He gives me a huge smile, yet heads straight for his old man, offering his hand.

  The two men shake, a quiet understanding passing through their locked gazes, before Jon breaks the connection, shoving Carver my way with a hand to his shoulder. “Say gidday to your girl, son.”

  “Me first, otherwise I’ll never get a look in!” Tanya lunges between us and pulls Carver in for a hug. He holds her as she sways them from side to side before letting go and taking a step back, her hands on his shoulders. “You did good, big bro. Just promise you’ll stay out of trouble now, okay?”

  He nods. “I think I can manage that.”

  “Good to hear.” Tanya takes Jon by the arm and guides him away. “We’re leaving so you two can catch up. You’ll need these.” She tosses Carver the keys to the Falcon. “Meg knows where it’s parked.”

  Jon and Tanya head down the alley, swinging a left when they reach the end and leaving me alone with Carver. We’re the only people out here, and it couldn’t be more p
erfect.

  “Ready to go home?” he asks quietly, drawing my focus back to him.

  I smile, looking over the man I’ve grown to respect and admire beyond comprehension these past weeks. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without him… if I’d even be here at all.

  “And where would that be?” I ask, stepping into his open arms to wrap mine around his solid middle.

  “Anywhere you are, baby. You know that.”

  I hum in appreciation, nestling my head against his chest. “You pled not guilty.”

  “Always would.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said,” he says with a light chuckle that tickles my cheek. “But did you honestly think I’d ever really settle for a sentence that wasn’t mine, knowing you were out here alone—looking fucking fine as hell might I add—and not knowing who was sniffing around you?” He coaxes my chin up with gentle fingers, turning my face to look up at his. “I meant it when I said we were supposed to find each other, Meg. You’re mine, girl. Always and forever.”

  “Then why did you say I needed to carry on without you? Why the hell did you make me think you were going to take the punishment, rather than fight it?”

  “Think about it.” He leans in, brushing his lips over mine as I frown, trying to work it all out.

  Why would he give me broken expectations, shatter my hope at our future? I fight to figure out his backwards reasoning, my head growing cloudy as his kiss grows more insistent.

  “Missed you,” he whispers against my mouth, his hand moving up to thread through my hair. “So much.”

  Fuck it. I can try to work it out later. My hands knit behind his neck, and I strain to my tiptoes to gain better access. Carver settles his free hand at the small of my back, and just like in the old-time movies, he tips me back and makes me feel like the prettiest, most lucky girl in the whole damn world.

  Because I am.

  No matter what happens from here on out, being with him is where happiness lies. He’s the rush of clarity I get when I take a deep breath, my oxygen, the constant that keeps me alive and trying.

  Carver moans, his breath stealing mine as he pulls me upright with him and releases my lips to press his forehead to mine, both palms flat on my cheeks. “You worked it out yet?”

  “You got me a little distracted for a moment there,” I tease breathlessly.

  He smiles, stepping back to take my hand in his and start us down the alley. “Tell me about your course. I heard you got accepted.”

  “How did you know that?” I ask, surprised. Nobody had been to visit him after me… that I’m aware of.

  “Message through the grapevine.” He winks. “Sometimes I actually love small town gossip.”

  I rest my head against his arm, as awkward as it is while we walk, just to grab that connection again. “I start February. Full-time study until October when I’ll graduate—hopefully—as a trained Veterinary Nurse.”

  “What do you mean ‘hopefully’?” he asks. “You’ll nail it, I’m sure.” He chuckles, causing me to lift my head and look at him to see what’s so funny. “Especially if I help you study.” He gazes down at me, the most wicked intent hiding in the navy flecks of his eyes.

  “I’d be lucky to pass a single unit if you’re going to keep that up.”

  “Not making any promises, baby.” He shifts his hand out of mine, and places his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “Now, which way is the car?”

  I point right and we set off down the street, the sun warming our backs, and the endless possibilities that freedom and the world laid out before us present. We could stay here, move somewhere else, or become transient. The ability to choose your path in life is a luxury for some, and I can’t fathom a world where that ability is restricted.

  Makes me realise how damn ungrateful I’ve been for what I do have, wallowing in what I’ve lost, since Den, and even before. I’ve been the first person to complain about what wasn’t gained, about missing out, and seeing it in perspective now, I hate to admit it, but I’m fucking ashamed.

  I’ve got so much to be thankful for: the man beside me, broken families like his that still pull through, the fact that even though I may not be on speaking terms with my own parents right now, the future is infinite and nobody can predict where we’ll be in a year or ten. However long it takes, they’re still here, still alive, and I’m blessed to have that opportunity to set things right still, to take a step back and breathe before trying again.

  Some people aren’t so fortunate.

  I glance up at Carver as we walk, a small smirk still on those full lips of his, and ask, “Where is your mum buried?”

  He frowns, looking down at me. “Why do you ask that?”

  “I haven’t visited Den yet, and I kind of wondered, if they were at the same cemetery, if you’d like to introduce me to your mum?”

  He’s at war with what to say, the expressions flitting across his face like pages of a book. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked? Maybe it’s still too personal?

  “That’d be nice, I think.”

  Maybe you never know until you try?

  “She’s buried in Whitecaps, then?” I clarify.

  He nods. “Yeah. I haven’t been to see her in a few years.” He ducks his chin, clearly ashamed. “I didn’t feel like I had anything worthwhile to tell her, that she would have been disappointed in me, you know?”

  “From what Tanya’s told me about her, I think she’d be proud of you. Maybe not what you’ve ‘achieved’, but definitely of the man you are.”

  He squeezes me into his side as the Falcon comes into view. “I think she would have loved you, too.”

  ***

  The weather has shifted by the time we reach Whitecaps and pull into the small gravel parking lot beside the graveyard. A typical New Zealand summer day; we step out of the car into light drizzle, although the wind blowing it across us in gusts is still mild.

  Carver shields me with his body, leading the way to the ornate gates that are covered in flowering jasmine, the scent amazing as it’s carried on the humid breeze.

  “You want to go to Den first?”

  I shake my head, catching a glimpse of the newer headstones at the far end of the plots in my periphery. “Can we visit your mum first so I can get used to being here?”

  Seeing the grave markers, catching glimpses of the heartfelt inscriptions, it makes it more real than ever before. This is where I’ll come from now on to feel remotely close to my brother. This is where he’ll lie forever frozen in time while I age, while I get older, start a family, and reach milestones that were only ever dreams for him.

  All those things I take for granted were never his to have. Life seems so trivial when you think of it like that; what’s the point in working for that promotion, or trying to impress the “right” people when all of it can be snatched away without warning? How differently would he have lived his life if he knew how short it was going to be? Would we have argued as much as we did, as brothers and sisters do? Or would he have been more patient? Would I?

  I’ll never know.

  Carver’s fingers thread through mine as we make our way to a short statue of an angel with her arms and wings wrapped around two small children, a third cherub nestled into her legs. As we near the marker, I realise the larger children are a boy and a girl, clearly supposed to be Brett and Tanya. The cherub—well, that explains itself.

  So damn sad.

  “We took out a loan to pay for it,” he explains after catching me staring at it. “I couldn’t imagine having just a normal headstone for her. She meant so much more to us than that; it didn’t capture who she was like this does.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, squatting down to read the inscription.

  Morgan Carver

  Beloved mother, dedicated wife, and forever in our hearts.

  Simple, but heartfelt all the same.

  “Hey, Mum.” Carver reaches out and rests his hand on the angel’s wing, a
bove the boy. “Hey, Rylie.” He touches the cherub’s cheek, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

  “I saw his picture at your house,” I explain. “Tanya told me about him.”

  “Mum never really let it go,” he murmurs, glancing up at the angel’s face. “She blamed herself. Thought she’d done something wrong.”

  “I can’t even imagine….”

  He simply shakes his head, drawing a deep breath that has his chest expanding and shoulders pushing back. I get a pained smile before he looks back to the grave marker and begins to talk. “I’m sorry it’s been a while, Mum.” He folds his legs, sitting beside the base and leaning a shoulder into it as he fidgets with the overgrown grass at the bottom of the stone. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed, but I guess that was pretty dumb now that I think about it. I mean, you’re everywhere, right? You would have seen the stupid shit I’ve been doing, anyway.”

  I sit on the ground opposite him, watching the way he methodically trims the grass at her gravestone by pinching it off as he talks.

  “It wasn’t even my idea to come today. I would have put it off yet again, waiting until I had something awesome to tell you, and never actually coming… you know how it goes.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I’ve got a friend who wants to meet you.” He lifts his gaze to find mine, and smiles. “She’s really something, Mum. You would have loved her. She gives me purpose again, and even after all the shit I’ve just put her through she’s still here. Still fighting.” He pauses, running his finger along the recessed words on the stone. “I love her, Mum. She’s the one for me.”

  “Brett…”

  “I mean it, Meg. I had way too much time on my hands to think about things while I was inside, and I realised some stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  He gives the headstone a grin, as though embarrassed to be talking in front of his mum about this. “Age doesn’t matter, right?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “So why wait? When I think about us, I think about it all. I want forever with you, Meg. I can’t imagine loving anyone else like I love you.”

  “Forever?” I ask, heart in my throat.

  Everything’s going so fast, but it doesn’t make me want to pull back. It excites me, and I’m hanging on his every word.