by Bill Condon
Another pause. A deep sigh. He starts again, more calmly now.
‘It didn’t hurt him but there was a look of astonishment. Can never forget it. I braced myself for him to hit me back but he didn’t. He did far worse than that. He simply cut me out of his life. From that day on he stopped being my father. All I did was defend Mum but that was it. Over. Because of one stupid act. And he died without ever forgiving me … I’m not like that, am I. David? You don’t hate me, do you?’
‘No, Dad. Never.’
Tears spill out of him as if they’ll never stop.
Do I say something? If I do, what will it be? Much easier to stare out the window. That’s where I’ll be until he’s ready.
In the quiet space I’ve made I mull over what’s he’s told me. Now I know why he’s never talked about his father. And I think I also know why we’re going back to Relay Point, despite the bad memories it holds for him. Dad wants to rewrite history.
Lanny drops me at the supermarket, as I ask him to. I need to walk, to sort things out in my mind. He toots the horn and waves as he and Hunny disappear. It should be the worst day of my life, with my parents’ separation becoming official, but Lanny has saved me. He seems to be always doing that. I’m thinking of him, not Mum or Dad, when the mobile cuts into my thoughts.
‘Caitlin?’
‘Mum …’
‘We need you here. Rory’s gone.’
‘What do you mean, gone?’
‘He’s run away from home!’
‘What? Are you sure? He wouldn’t do – ’
‘I’m sure! He left a note on his bed! Of course I’m sure!’
Mum’s nurse-in-control tone is torn to shreds.
The next voice is Dad’s.
‘I don’t think it’s anything serious, Caitlin – kids run away from home all the time – but your mum’s a little worried.’
Dad’s always been a master at understatement.
‘Where are you and we’ll pick you up? We’re leaving home now.’
In under a minute the car pulls alongside me. As soon as I’m inside it Mum hands me Rory’s note.
I hate Dad goen. Im not cummen back.
‘The little – why didn’t he say something to me? How long has he been gone?’
Dad answers me. ‘We think about half an hour. We’ve rung his friends but no one’s seen him.’
‘I’m sure he won’t have gone far,’ Mum says. ‘I just feel terrible that he would be driven to do something like this. I had no idea he was so upset – but I should have known – I should have made it my business to know.’
I tell her she’s talking garbage, but she’s not. None of us has seen this coming because we weren’t looking. We’d forgotten Rory had feelings. And I’m the worst offender of all.
‘What are you doing, Alan?’
Dad had stopped the car.
‘We can’t just drive around blindly, Denise. Let’s think about this.’
‘Just drive! Drive, will you? He has to be walking, doesn’t he? So drive and we’ll find him!’
Come on, I tell myself. Think like an eight-year-old. What would he do? Where would he go? One answer jumps out at me.
‘The basketball courts,’ I say. ‘In the school grounds. We should try there first.’
Dad nods and we’re on our way.
‘Hi. It’s Rory.’
… ‘Hi, Dad, Hi, Mum, Hi, Caitlin. It’s me.’
… ‘I took your mobile, Dad. Only for a lend. I was gunna give it back. How come you’re not there?’
… ‘Where is everyone?’
Dad parks at a crazy angle and no one cares. Mum doesn’t even shut her door. She’s out and yelling Rory’s name but already we can clearly see that the basketball courts are empty.
‘He’s not here, Denise.’ Dad tries to catch Mum’s hand but she wrenches it away.
‘Damn you, Alan! You haven’t even looked!’
‘But Rory’s not here. That’s obvious.’
‘Then where the hell is he?’
Mum’s words are met by a sudden gust of wind, howling through the courts, scattering leaves and papers and coldness.
‘Now it’s going to rain. Fantastic!’ She slumps against the chain wire fence. ‘Rory! Damn you! Where are you? Rory!’
‘I keep on ringin’ but there’s no one home, so now I’m gunna keep leavin’ messages until someone picks up. I don’t really want to talk to anyone. I just want to talk. Wait. I heard a noise. I’ll ring back.’
‘Try to calm down, Denise. Getting hysterical isn’t going to help.’
‘Hysterical!’
Mum looks like she wants to punch him. I can understand that.
‘She’s allowed to be hysterical if she wants to,’ I say. ‘It’s not like she’s lost her car keys, Dad.’
Gratefully, Mum holds out her arms and I walk into them. Inside her arms is more a home to me than any four walls and roof could ever be. I haven’t felt this close to her for so long.
‘We should walk around the school,’ Dad suggests, deftly changing the subject. ‘He could be in a doorway or something, trying to get warm.’
Mum is more than happy to snatch up any sliver of hope.
‘Yes, that’s a good idea. Let’s go.’
We run up the steps leading to the school buildings. I reach the top first. A torchlight shines directly at me. One step after me Mum and Dad see it, too. It has to be Rory.
‘Must have been a cat I heard. I threw some rocks at it so now it’s gone. I’ve got my back against an angel. I think it’s a girl angel ’cause she’s got long hair. She’s cold and hard but it’s not windy anymore. I tried to find your relative who’s here, Dad, but I couldn’t ’cause I forgot where he was. I didn’t really come here just to look for him. What happened was, I was playin’ on the basketball court for a while, but then the moon lit up all the graves and they looked spooky.’
The tape keeps cutting me off! Anyway, I thought it would be pretty cool, bein’ in the graveyard at night. I’ve only been here in the daytime – with you, Dad – remember? We came here one time when you were unhappy and I told you jokes and made you feel good. You gave me a piggyback on the way home. Remember that? I do. I reckon this is my favourite place now, except that it’s freezin’. I bet you haven’t taken Mum here, or Caitlin. Just me. That’s why it’s so good.’
‘What’s going on, folks? This is private property, you know.’ A security guard approaches us warily. ‘You’re not supposed to be here.’
‘I’m looking for my son. Have you seen him? He’s eight. Um – brown hair, fairly sturdy little boy – ’ Mum turns back to Dad. ‘He’d be wearing his yellow coat, wouldn’t he, Alan?’
Dad scratches behind his ear. He never notices what anyone wears. ‘Probably,’ he says.
I confirm it for her.
‘Yes, Mum. It’s Rory’s favourite coat. He’d be wearing it for sure.’
She looks hopefully at the guard.
‘No. Sorry, luv. I’ve just done my rounds. He’s definitely not here.’
‘Could we just have a look around? He likes basketball and he was upset so we thought …’
‘Yeah, sure. Go for your life, luv. Take all the time you need. Wander around as much as you like. But fair dinkum, if your boy was here I woulda seen him. Have you tried …’
As they talk the moon throws its searchlight over the cemetery on the hill behind the courts. The headstones look like a jumbled mass of rotting teeth. Dad’s attention is drawn to them too. He stares as if he can hear them calling him.
‘Denise,’ he touches Mum’s arm, ‘I have an idea.’
‘It’s me again. Rory. I haven’t been scared one bit – except for maybe the cat. I’ve got my ball with me so I knew I wouldn’t be bored, but I haven’t played with it much ’cause there’s heaps of really interesting stuff to check out here. Some of the graves you can’t read the writing, they’re so old. On a few the dirt has fallen in so there’s big holes and cracks, but I haven�
�t seen any bones stickin’ out. If I did, I reckon I’d jump. Oh yeah. If I see a hand come out of a grave I’m out of here. But I don’t think I will … I hope I don’t.’
The ground is uneven. Mum stumbles and Dad is quickly beside her.
‘You okay?’
‘Yes, yes. Keep going.’
It strikes me as a hopeful sign – that he is concerned, that she doesn’t swear at him. And then they run beside each other; Dad staying with her to make sure she’s okay, Mum letting him. I know I’m probably reading too much into it, but I’m desperate for good news. Like Mum did before, I snaffle it up.
‘Lots of graves have photos so you can see what the dead people look like. Some of them look pretty happy. And guess what? I’ve found my favourite grave. Right next to the angel. There’s a whole family in it – the mother and father and two girls and three boys. It must be huge. They’re all dead. I didn’t like that at the start – I dunno why – it just seemed sad. But then I found out they died a long time ago when the doctors couldn’t fix stuff like they can now. Then it didn’t bother me so much. When I get really old they’ll be able to fix everything so I won’t have to die. I don’t want anyone to die.’
We’re panting when we reach the top of the hill. Dad ducks through a hole in the fence and we follow. Then we’re running down pathways, graves on each side of us, running with no direction until I hear a familiar bounce, bounce.
‘This way!’
‘I hope the stupid message doesn’t cut out this time. I hardly get to say anything. You’ll have to fix that, Dad … Anyway, the best part about this grave is that on the front of it – the headstony thing – above all their names it says PERFECT PEACE. That made me feel good. But then the moon went away and it got so creepy dark. I don’t think dead people can come alive again but just in case, I thought I should stand next to the angel …’
Dad says, ‘Rory.’
Rory says, ‘Aaarggh!’
‘It’s all right, honey.’ Mum throws her arms around him. ‘Don’t be scared. It’s only us.’
Rory squirms free and pushes himself against Dad.
‘I’m not goin’ home. You can’t make me.’
I try: ‘Come on, Rore. I’ve got a delicious box of chocolates at home – you can have them all.’
‘No!’
Mum tries: ‘What’s wrong, hon? You tell me and I’ll fix it for you.’
‘Why does Dad have to go away?’
She is stumped for an answer. Me too.
Dad squats down in front of Rory. For once he bypasses the committee and answers directly. ‘Because I broke a promise to Mum,’ he says. ‘A very big promise. It’s like … you know how when you’re little you might be sent to your room if you’ve done something bad?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, when grown-ups do something really bad, sometimes they have to go away. Do you understand now, Rory?’
‘Not really. I thought if you break a promise, all you have to do is say sorry and then it’s all right again. Isn’t that what you told me, Mum?’
‘Oh, Rory. I wish it was like that all the time. It’s different for grown-ups.’
She hugs him and this time there’s no hope of him getting away.
‘We’ll talk about this when we get you home,’ she says. ‘Come on, now. It’s going to rain at any minute.’
He shakes his head. ‘I don’t like it when youse fight and yell. It’s better here.’
Now Mum kneels beside Dad. It looks like they’re both praying to the angel. Maybe they are.
‘I promise you,’ Mum strokes Rory’s hair, ‘when we get home we’ll have a big long talk about this. We’ll see if we can work something out to make you happy.’
And Dad – no doubt with some angelic inspiration – adds: ‘And I’ll never break another promise to Mum. Okay?’
‘Okay … but Dad?’
‘Yes?’
‘Will I get into trouble for havin’ a lend of your mobile?’ He hands it back. ‘I was callin’ you but no one was there.’
Mum and Dad smile together. When he isn’t being bratty – which I have to admit isn’t all that often – Rory can be a cute kid.
‘No, mate,’ Dad says. ‘You’re not in trouble. Not a bit. You want to come home now?’
‘Will you give me a piggyback?’
‘You betcha.’
‘All right. But can we play basketball first?’
Mum glances at the sky, and shivers. ‘Now? ’
‘Yeah, Mum.’
‘But sweetie, it’s going to rain.’
Dad looks almost as hopeful as Rory. Playing in the rain is definitely a boy thing
Mum relents. ‘Yes. Sure. We can do that – just for you.’
‘We haven’t done anything together for a while.’ Dad is beaming. ‘This is going to be fun.’
Right now, anything we do together is fun to me. Bring on the rain, I don’t care. Nothing can knock me down as Dad hoists Rory onto his shoulders and we leave the cemetery behind us. Soon we’re at the courts. The moment Rory jumps from Dad’s back he’s off and racing, bouncing the ball as he goes.
‘Come on! Come on! Let’s play!’
So here we are, the Stewart Family, at ten o’clock at night, playing basketball. It’s good to run because it warms me up, but within minutes of us starting, the rain pelts down. Rory watches Mum and Dad, waiting for one or both of them to call a halt to this insanity. They don’t.
‘We can’t get any wetter than we are,’ Dad reasons.
Mum doesn’t need convincing. She drops her head back and opens her mouth, tasting the rain and the moment.
Rory tugs at her sleeve: ‘Are you playin’, Mum, or what?’
There’s so much water running down my face and in my eyes that I’m having trouble seeing the ball, but that doesn’t matter. It’s enough that I can see Mum and Dad and Rory splashing through the puddles, each of them like little kids. And the harder the rain falls, the more we laugh. At one point we can’t hear anything except the pounding waterfall being tipped on us. It’s one of those times you want to remember.
Rory’s imagination hits overdrive. He’s giving us a commentary of the game and naturally he’s the star.
‘And now Rory’s got the ball! He’s passing player after player! The fans are going crazy!’
The net is so close and Mum’s the only obstacle. Too easy! Rory leaves her flat-footed. Goal!
‘Did you see that?’ Rory grabs my arm. ‘Did you see it?’
‘See what?’
‘No! You did so see it, Kadey! You’re just saying that! She saw it, didn’t she, Mum?’
Mum stands there, sodden wet, her hair plastered down, clothes clinging to her. More alive than I’ve ever seen her. She shares a look with Dad. Just happiness. I know it can’t last. It can’t possibly last. But while it’s there – for a few seconds, if nothing else – I take the moment and hold it.
Driving again.
‘How far is Relay Point, Dad?’
‘Not far now. There’s a club at Tumburra. That’s a few minutes away. We’ll get something to eat there. You hungry?’
‘Yeah, sure … but do you think we’ll be back tonight? I’ve got a rehearsal for the play.’
‘The play, yes. How’s that going? You’re doing the lighting, is that right?’
‘Lighting and music. I didn’t want to go for an acting part – I’m the worst actor in the world.’
‘As long as you’re doing your best. Achieving. That’s what it’s all about.’
‘Right … So, do you think I’ll make it for the rehearsal? It starts at six but if I get there at seven it will still be okay.’
‘No. I’m afraid not. They’ll have to get by without you this once.’ Dad doesn’t think about it for a second. ‘How would you like to camp out tonight? We’ll still go fishing, of course, but we can make a real adventure of it. Find a good spot. Build a fire. Sleep under the stars. It’s a fantastic night. What do you say? You want to g
o camping with the old man?’
‘Um, yeah. I suppose.’
‘Don’t be too enthusiastic, David.’
‘It’s just that …’
‘Say it.’
‘Well, it’s Mum. She’s gotta be wondering what’s going on.’
‘I told you before – your mother is not here. It is you and me!’
‘I knew you’d get angry.’
He shakes his head, lips sewn tight together.
The silence pushes down on me and I know it’s only going to get worse if I wait it out. I’ll talk. I’ll babble. And I’ll keep on until he has to say something, even if it’s only shut up.
‘You’re right. The rehearsal doesn’t matter. I was wrong before. I want to go camping. It’ll be fun.’
The speed builds again. All around us the fields are yellow and dry. Farmhouses are a hazy blur in the distance. It’s desolate country, outside the car, and inside it too.
‘I really want to do it. I love doing stuff with you, Dad. You know that.’
‘What is your problem, David?’
‘There’s no problem.’
‘I am trying to make an effort. Can you see that? It is not easy for me today. It is not easy!’
There’s a sign pointing to a bowling club. Dad turns the steering wheel hard and we blast along the road towards the club.
‘We’re having lunch. Is that all right with you? It’s not too difficult, is it?’
I don’t dare to open my mouth.
He cruises once around the parking lot, fast. The only vacant space is reserved for the club president. It’s near the clubhouse door where a burly security guard stands. He’s got tattoos on his muscled arms and he’s staring at us. Dad sees him and still backs into the president’s spot. Actually, I think it’s because the guard is staring that he does it.
‘You better move, Dad.’ The security guy is on his way over. ‘You’re not allowed to park here.’
‘I am fed up with petty offcials telling me what I am allowed to do. I’m not in the mood to be dictated to. If he doesn’t like it, he can come and see me. I’ll be happy to discuss it.’